The sky is dark. A featherbeast in a nearby tree keeps calling "Who?" and you really wish it would shut up. Warm wind blows past and rustles the leaves of the nearby trees. You've been sitting here for at least an hour, just waiting on the front step of Gamzee's hive. He didn't answer when you first knocked, or when you kicked the door, or even when you started yelling at a window you couldn't really see into. So you've waited. He has to come outside eventually. He's your moirail and you sure as hell aren't going to use John as a substitute forever – he's too smiley and goody-goody.

Trollian hasn't been helpful either. No one knows what to say to you, and anything they do tell you is so utterly stupid that you're running out of ways to say they aren't helping. Not even Terezi has anything clever to suggest. That's how you know shit's serious.

You know he can tolerate his... whatever that Kurloz guy is supposed to be, but the guy really isn't much of a conversation partner. He rubs you the wrong way. You don't like knowing that he's the only one Gamzee is around, even if nothing can happen. Maybe you're overthinking it. From what you've seen, Kurloz is awfully nice; but maybe that's why you don't like him. He's practically a silent John.

In your deep musing you didn't hear the door open. Your blood pusher skips a pulse as none other than Gamzee Makara plops down on the step beside you, smiling like the nutcase he is.

"How long you been out here, Karbro?" he inquires, looking curiously at you.

Something's off. He doesn't look quite as dopey as he usually does. You bare your teeth at him and snap, "Forever. What a shitty excuse for a friend you are."

"Aw, don't be like that." His reply enrages you to a whole new level. He doesn't know how many times you've knocked or messaged him or yelled at his hive. This is you being patient. He's lucky you didn't lose your shit.

"No, don't YOU be like that, bulgesniffer. I've been waiting like this every single day because I thought hey, maybe he just ate himself into a slime coma – but nope, here you are, just as much of an asshole as ever. What the fuck have you been doing all this time?" you demand. There's a drop of liquid on his cheek that must be your saliva from yelling so much. He doesn't notice it.

He scratches at his unruly hair and then stares at his hand, wondering if he messed up his crappy makeup. Then he grins at you again. "I've been all up and learning some great tips, Karbro," he replies, "and it would be so motherfuckin' cool if you joined me."
What the? "I told you not to read those terrible books Nitram sent." you say. "That shit isn't real."

But Gamzee shakes his head. For once, you're the one that's out of it and he understands something you don't.

"Not Fiduspawn, motherfucker. Somethin' much more on top of the scale of important shit that needs to be learned by my best bro." His smile won't go away. Usually it doesn't bother you, but it still seems wrong. Whatever he "learned," it's probably some creepy juggalo nonsense. It's a damn good thing he's finally talking to you, because his mysterious cult blabbering has gotten worse. It's silent now and you think he either spaced out or is awaiting an answer.

"Okay, so what have you been 'learning?'" you ask, getting really impatient. His smile widens, but he shakes his head. "It ain't my job to teach you that, bro. But you can all up and join me, motherfucker."

He waves a hand towards the hive, still smiling like the creep he is and you feel something telling you this is a bad idea. But he's your friend and you can't let whatever this is keep messing with him. You've always seen yourself as a sort of leader, like the glue that keeps everyone together even through all the petty shit. So you stand up and walk into his hive with him. It's littered with sopor pies, horns, and clubs as usual. A lone unicycle rests in the corner of the main room behind a pile of even more horns. Out of the thirty of them you pass on the floor, Gamzee only steps on two of them and he doesn't flip out like he usually does. This was definitely a bad idea and something is wrong. Normally he's all over these things, cursing like a buccaneer and wondering how the "motherfuck" they ended up all over the floor. Today he's aware and while that should be a good thing, it feels ominous.

The walk is quiet and uncomfortable. Gamzee doesn't even stop to make sure you're following him; only when you reach Kurloz's respiteblock does he finally turn to give you a toothy grin. He knocks on the door, his lazy eyes glued to you as he calls, "Broloz, we got plus one motherfucker in need of some sweet educating."

There is no answer. You can't fathom how stupid it is for him to assume he'd get one (verbally, anyway). Gamzee opens the door after a second's waiting.

Kurloz's respiteblock is darker than Gamzee's and there isn't a single horn or pie in sight. He must be the clean type of weirdo. Of all the times you've been to this hive, you've never entered this room. It's very organized – a red crowbar encased in glass on his nightstand by the recuperacoon is the only form of decoration you can see. As you stare curiously at it, the closet door shuts and Kurloz is there smiling at you like you're best buds.

"This is my top compadre, Karbro." Gamzee says, but you already know Kurloz and he already knows you. Gamzee looks at you and gestures to his guardian, adding, "And this is your brand new motherfuckin' master, Karkat."

That sounds a little off. You start to say "What the fuck" and look at Kurloz, hoping he can sign language some sense into your moirail, but the world turns blurry and dark and your auricular sponge clots are filled with a low humming. You can feel your jaw drop into a stupid expression and this is freaky as shit, but then all you want is to listen to that deep echoing voice that's telling you to
[CLEAR YOUR THINKPAN AND PAY SOME ATTENTION, CANTANKEROUS MUTANT FUCKER.]