TG: h3y m1ss gl4c13r fr33z3 g4tor4d3
AG: Well, now. Typing like a cert8n other tool I know, are you?
AG: So I see the mind-g8me master finally got you to go through with it.
AG: Well done, D8ve. Good show.
AG: So should I t8ke this as proof th8 you’re actively trying to kill John, or should I w8 for you to br8k out the broken c8nes and whatnot
TG: 1m not try1ng to k1ll john
TG: dang 1t
TG: 1v3 b33n try1ng to pry h1m out of your gr1p
TG: w1thout 4 doubt th3 most 4bsolut3ly fr1gg1n m4gn4n1mous 4ct 1 c4n th1nk of
TG: 4nd 1nst34d of g3tt1ng on your kn33s and th4nk1ng m3 for 1t
TG: youv3 don3 noth1ng but sl4nd3r m3 4nd wh1sp3r sw33t l1cor1c3 l13s 1nto johns 34r
AG: So what are you trying to do?
AG: Get me to give up?
TG: t3ll john th4t you w3r3 wrong
TG: wh1ch you w3r3
TG: 4nd th4t h3 s3r1ously n33ds to t4lk to m3
TG: wh1ch h3 do3s
AG: Or else what?
TG: or 3ls3 1m go1ng to h4v3 to br34k your f4vor1t3 toy
AG: To that I can only say
AG: Lots of luck.
TG: i 4pprec14t3 th3 g1ft
AG: W8 wait.
TG: 1 thought you kn3w b3tt3r th4n to b3 s4rc4st1c wh3n us1ng pow3rful words
TG: 1 know h4v3 a s1gn1f1cant fr4ct1on of your luck
TG: “lots of 1t” 4s 4 m4tt3r of f4ct
TG: or so t3r3z1 t3lls m3
TG: so long
turntechGodhead ceased pestering arachnidsGrip
AG: ...You what, you're more like her than I thought.
AG: Good show indeed.
OPEN PESTERLOG #22
TG: i tried to be fair with the lady of the eights
TG: and failed
TG: what all sick gear am i gonna need to take the spiders apprentice down
GC: Alright, let’s see.
GC: You’re going to need a combination of our most powerful weapons.
GC: I’m sending you a code now.
GC: Combine it with Caledscratch.
TG: what about the snoop dogg machete
GC: Oh, please.
GC: It sacrifices cutting power and style for a simple freezing spell.
GC: Caledscratch is definitely the better choice.
TG: if you say so
GC: And what’s more, those shades are definitely not your style.
TG: im not going to play dressup like vriska managed to get john to do
TG: ill take your freako smellovision powers
TG: ill take half your species
TG: i am not in any conceivable way going to take your fashion sense too
GC: Well, at least change your glasses.
GC: For me?
GC: Do you still have the glasses your Bro gave you?
TG: why madam im insulted
TG: is the insinuation that i threw them out like so much common garbage after i took johns ben stiller glasses
TG: these glasses were the first and perhaps only gift bro ever gave me
TG: and they rest on a shrine in my room awaiting the day they will be worn again
GC: Okay, jeez.
GC: I just wanted you to alchemize them.
TG: with what
GC: The Ruby Contraband.
TG: and let me guess
TG: you want me to wear a reasonable facsimile of your red glasses
GC: Was it that obvious?
TG: yeah it was
OPEN EVENTLOG #7
John was normally an easygoing guy. But darn it, there was work to be done. He needed to level up more, to be better than the ever-looming threat of half-Dave, half-Terezi annihilation.
And then he appeared.
“I tried to sweet talk your girlfriend, John. Turns out she’s every bit the witch I was led to believe.”
His voice had a slightly nasally tone to it. You could barely tell it wasn’t all Dave, but for the slightly uncanny tone to his skin, and the bright red anime shades he now wore.
Of course, John admitted to himself, he probably didn’t look much better.
“So, I’m gonna have to come straight to you. Is this whole brouhaha going to end quietly? Or am I going to have to get loud?”
John preemptively pulled out the Octosmasher. He’d been practicing. He reliably could get 6’s, 7’s, maybe an 8 if he prayed particularly hard.
“I don’t have anything to say to you, Dave. You’re a puppet, and what’s more, a stupid one. You think Terezi would stop at killing me?”
“Dude, she’s not killing you. I didn’t even want to hurt you.”
“How much longer are we gonna debate this, huh? How hard are you going to cling to what little Miss Mindfang told you? Is it twoo wuv? Because God forbid I get in the way of that.”
John rolled the hammer again. Luck shone on him. A 7. The Octosmasher grew to easily 3 times his size, with eight spikes growing out of either hammerhead. It thudded to the ground with an imposing BWOM.
Dave said nothing. Instead, he reached behind him, willing the newest (and so far, only) weapon from his 1/2POLEARMKIND specibus into existence.
It was of imposing length, easily a meter if not more. On both ends were shattered blades, hilted by ornate carvings of dragon heads.
It was called the Draconiscratch. And it was Dave’s new favorite weapon.
The two half-trolls stared each other down, almost daring their counterpart to make the first move.
This was totally going to happen now, and could in no way conceivably be interrupted by a sudden end to the chapter.
It's like watching a bulb go out - one moment Dave is upright, the next he's sprawled on the floor and sleeping deeply.
A low growl resounds behind Davesprite, joined in an instant by a cacophony of others piling in with their own voices. He turns slowly, arms and hands manifesting as he does. Davesprite: Retrieve arms, he thinks for a moment and smiles. The beasts behind him are so much taller than he is but who gives a fuck. Not him, that's for sure. The sprite carefully reaches up to his chest, braces himself for a moment, and pulls the sword out.
Pain shatters him and glues him back together with all the pieces in the wrong place. It happens so quickly that he barely has time to blink before the pain is over, gone, done away with. He can breathe again. It feels strange, like the sword in his hands is still a part of him even though it's been removed. If Davesprite still had legs he would have planted them square on the golden tiles, but as it is he just coils slightly. He stares up at the monsters before him and smiles grimly. There's a tiny voice in the back of his head that sounds like Dave, not him. Four months of time-hopping put him squarely into puberty, and self-prototyping froze him at that point, so he's a little rougher than his past self. You're not going to last through this, are you?
Maybe. Maybe he'll be torn into shreds and scattered to the sluggish winds of LOHAC. Maybe he'll cut them down and fall moments later, his penance for spending four months in a doomed timeline served. But those are thoughts for cowards, he decides. He's going to do this. He's going to make this hapen.
Davesprite spreads his wings, and faces the oncoming horde.
It's not that I think he'll die, I'm just sad that he said his time is ending as in he's not really gonna be in the comic anymore. He'll be wandering by his lonesome trying to look for bro and won't need to watch over AlphaDave anymore.
The Note Desperation Plays, part six (The Sorry Fate of Rawn Corcoran)
"You’re tripping back now to places you’ve been to
You wonder what you’re gonna find
You know you’ve been wrong but it won’t be long
Before you leave ‘em all far behind" -The Who
"We are gathered today to honor a man who we all hold dear to our hearts, a man whose words built worlds in our imaginations. A man-"
Dave opened his eyes to a blue sky.
It was bizarre what you could get used to. For the past- had it been four months already? For four months he had seen purple in his dreams and rust-red gears when he was awake. The idea of looking up and seeing blue, white clouds, the tops of nearby trees... it almost seemed silly. He could her birds. Cars. People. People?
Dave looked around. People. He was sitting in a white folding chair, surrounded by people. Everyone was sitting down. It took a few minutes for it to register where he was. This was an outdoor viewing. The chairs were arranged with an aisle down the middle and they were facing a coffin, piled high with flowers. Dave couldn't see the body from where he was sitting, but he had a feeling it wasn't anyone he knew. He searched the faces of the other mourners but he didn't recognize any of them.
what am i doing here? he wondered. and then, and who's the stiff?
People were coming up to the front and giving little monologues about how they knew the deceased, and who he had been to them, but Dave couldn't even hear the words. He was lost in the nonsense of it. Was he asleep? Why wasn't he in Derse?
Dave checked his sylladex. None of his items were there, which happened sometimes when he transitioned to Dream Dave. The rules seemed to be inconsistent on that matter. But he wasn't wearing Dersewear. He was dressed in the Four Aces Suited outfit, and he blended in perfectly with the other mourners.
who, for some reason, accept having some complete stranger kid at their wake. sure, dave, that makes tons of sense. shit, while you're blending in, why don't you get up and do a little speech yourself. 'hello, ladies and gentlemen, i'm pretty sure i've never met the deceased but i'm not in crocodile jail anymore thanks to them, so let me extend my condolences.'
A speaker sat down, to polite but solemn applause. Dave's attention wandered across the crowd until it fixed on a girl.
She looked 18, maybe 19. Long black hair, glasses, wearing a blue windbreaker. She was gorgeous. From the first moment he saw her, part of Dave immediately realized who she was. The rest of it was busy explaining very carefully why that was incorrect and likely impossible. She was too old. She was already dead. And if all of that wasn't enough, this was probably a dream anyway.
In the middle of one of a personal speech about the deceased, the girl stood up and shuffled out of her row of seats into the aisle. People shifted out of the way to make room for as she passed, but they seemed to do it without even noticing her. As far as everyone else was concerned, she wasn't really there.
"Hey," Dave said, loud enough for it to be rude to the rest of the guests. Predictably, no one responded.
"Hey," she said.
"Is that you? You look different."
"Yeah. It's me."
He nodded. "These people either cant see us, or they are extremely tolerant of our mysterious bullshit in the middle of their wake."
She laughed. "They can't see us. I'm dead and you're an astral projection."
"Awesome, sit down next to me. Let's pay some fucking respects."
She sat down next to him, on his right. The man two seats down from Dave shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Jade passed by, but other than that he gave no indication that he was aware of their presence.
"So, whose funeral are we at?"
"It's the wake of Dr Alan Alexander Moon," she said. "British author. His body was found here in Houston about a week ago. No one knows how he got here, but he had his ID on him and everything."
"Weird," Dave said. "We're in Houston?"
"Yeah. Houston, Texas, Earth, 1991." She rubbed her arms and made an exaggerated grimace from the cold. "December."
"I didn't know the dead got chills."
"The kind that have bodies do, yeah." She slipped her arms inside of her sleeves. "Anyway, we met this guy last time I saw you. With Rose."
"The dead guy?"
"He was the wizard I had to fight. He'd brought a horrorterror to the Table, and we had to fight him to wear him out."
"Huh. Is that why he died?"
"No. No, he lived a long time after that. And he isn't really dead now. This is his real body, but this is just where he ends up. A year further down this timeline, Dr Moon will return from the jungles of Brazil and reveal that he was just on vacation and that everyone mourning him is an idiot."
"And then... eight years after that he disappears into the Furthest Ring, leaving no trace behind but a crazy letter to his editor. They never find the body."
"Right, because they're going to bury it here in 1991." Dave shrugged. "Weird time shit. Are we on Earth, then? Our Earth?"
"Sort of, yes?" Jade shrugged. "We're pretty sure this is the right Earth, but if it isn't it's close enough for causality to stick to us. We can go to alternate Earths, sometimes, in our sleep. Especially Derse dreamers. It's a phenomenon, but it's predictable, with magic." She smiled at him. "So we predicted it. And so... we're both here. It was like waiting for an eclipse."
"And you're... actually Jade? Dead Jade?"
"I really hope that doesn't stick as a nickname. 'Lady Harley' is soooo much cooler."
"Dead Jade." Dave nodded thoughtfully. "You've, um. You've grown, overnight."
"It's been six years, Dave. ...I've... grown a little." She looked down. "You haven't aged a day."
"Well... it hasn't been a day."
"I know. I knew. It's just, hard. Mr Time Traveler Cool Guy." She pushed him playfully. "I liked you, y'know. A lot.
"I thought maybe you did." He looked away. "Sorry we haven't reversed yet. But you don't look like you've been in a dungeon for six years. What've you been up to?"
"I wasn't. It's been different. I sort of... joined the Felt."
"The green guys? Whose asses we kicked?"
"That was just a bad day." The wake seemed to be winding down, and people were starting to stand up and talk to each other. About the deceased, about parties to come later, maybe about how they were each coping. Jade stood up as well. "It's freezing here and I'm sure you aren't interested in the rest of this. Let's go for a walk."
"My title is just Lady Harley, but officially I'm ranked as a sixteen. I've worked very hard to establish myself."
"Well, like... what do you do? Manage the dungeons, or... guard gates...?"
"No, it's more..." she walked off towards the sidewalk, over the grass. "My car's over this way. I mostly direct strategy for our empire on Alternia. Where we're opening new businesses, directing local law enforcement, squashing rival gangs..."
"So you're a mob don, basically?" Dave scratched his head. "I mean, what, is there a whole society of... green guys?"
"Green guys, exiles, and a whole lot of trolls. A lot of trolls. Not the ones we met, of course. Survivors. Rebuilding their civilization. It's a pretty complex operation."
"This is your car?" He looked it over. "A blue Prius?"
"I like it! It has a camera that shows how far I'm backing up. It's neat."
"It's like a giant shoebox." He opened his door and climbed in. "How do you even have a car? Aren't we ghosts, here? Or, something like that?"
"I conjured it, and we do have some contact with reality. When we want to. We're solid, anyway." Jade climbed in and turned the ignition. "It's a cool car, and I like it, so dont make fun of it."
"Yeah, if there's one thing I want my magical temporary car to have, its gas mileage. And it'll definitely be inconspicuous, more than ten years before this model is released."
She ignored him. "Anyway, it's not just our operations on Alternia. I'm in charge of our arcane enclave. We've sort of been... studying other sessions, I guess. How they played out, and what patterns extend across the game."
"Yeah? Like the trolls?"
"The trolls for starters, yes. But there's a whole multiverse out there, Dave! Sessions of uncooperative worm people, and industrious bug people, sessions of carapaces... Some were played to win and spawned other universes. Some were just played to evacuate as many people from their homeworlds as possible. Some were broken to begin with, like ours. But there are patterns, sometimes. Are you hungry?"
"Okay. We're not driving far. So, with titles. For example. Heirs are much more likely to be the first into their sessions, although Knights will sometimes fill that role. Seers are most likely to be the first server players, and Witches and Mages almost always fall at the end of the chain. Witches are prone to unfortunate proto-"
"Could you turn on the heat? It is like fucking freezing in here."
"It's got to warm up, give it a minute! These kinds of patterns are echoed across a multiverse of sessions, and if you compare, like, four sessions it doesn't seem like a big deal but after you've looked at upwards of five hundred you start to worry about home. And that's why I'm hijacking your dream."
"Why, what bad stuff happens to Knights?"
She looked over her shoulder and backed out of the parking space. "Knights? Inner conflict, usually. But Titles 'of Time' are prone to self-sacrifice on a large scale in order to complete the game."
"Well, yeah. I'm going to have to sacrifice myself and become a sprite to save this timeline. It's shit, but I already know about it, so... what's this about?"
"Do you know the way to the Galleria?"
"Uh." Dave looked out the window. "Yeah, sort of. You have to go a little farther uptown, ish. It's not far. Do you know where Woodway is?"
"I think so. I'm not really good with-"
Jade slammed on the breaks, right in front of the intersection. Another car turned out of the same way, taking a right turn. They had barely avoided a collision.
"Jade, can other people... see this car? Is it like a dream car?"
"Ummm." Jade gripped the wheel and the entire dashboard lit up light a lightbulb. Dave jumped in his seat trying to avoid what looked like molten hot car interior. Then the glow faded, and the truck behind them honked.
"That should be better!"
"Great, go, the friggin light is green.
"Okay." Jade focused her attention on the road. "And I'm turning on Woodword?"
"Woodway. I'll tell you when to turn." He relaxed a little and turned the nearby heat jets in the dashboard to face him. "This street looks different. Has the city changed since now or what?"
"It's a little different. In four years it will be hit by a meteor, and that'll bring down a lot of infrastructure. And all that gets rebuilt."
"Hmm." He turned on the radio and adjusted it to a local station. Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" poured out of the speakers and Dave quickly turned it off again. "Maan. The 90s."
"I don't like the radio anyway."
"So should we warn someone? Find whoever is going to distribute Sburb and kick their ass, or... what? I mean, don't tell me why those things wouldn't work because I already know they wouldn't. But what are we doing here?"
"There's something you need- oh! I turn here, right?"
"Yeah, take a right here."
"There's something you need to see. Dave, do you remember what you got John for his birthday?"
"Yeah. I wrote, like the sappiest bromantic letter and, um... gave him a Midnight Crew poster. The one with Clubs Deuce on it, I think, where he has the cane, and..."
"That really sounds right to you? A Midnight Crew poster?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. I remember it specifically, I bought it on Potatoco. What does that have to do with anything?"
"That's not the gift you wanted to get him, though, right?"
He rolled his eyes, not that Jade could see them. "Okay, no, I had this totally awesome gift idea but it was pretty stupid and it didn't work out anyway."
"Alright well see you know how John loved Nicolas Cage? And, uh, Con Air?"
Jade nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off the road.
"I was going to try to get the bunny, like the actual prop bunny used in that movie."
"I don't really know anything about that movie."
"Okay. Well, it's an idiotic movie. You aren't missing much. But essentially, in the movie, Nicolas Cage, playing the protagonist, basically murders a man over a stuffed rabbit. Which, the more you think of it, the more hilarious it becomes. It's steeped in layers of irony, stemming from Nicolas Cage killing a man, him doing it as an action hero, him doing it over a stuffed toy, and all the cheeseball cornyness of the movie kind of reflects in on itself creating a maelstrom of ironic hilarity. I was going to buy the bunny for John."
"The actual prop?"
"Yeah, but this motherfucker sniped my bid at the last second. So, you know, I got him the poster. But he'd be so bummed if he knew how close he came to getting it, so I didn't mention it."
"You should have gotten him the bunny."
"Yeah, well, it's too late now, anyway." He thought about that for a minute. "Wait, is it too late? It's 1991..."
"No, you were right. It's too late for this timeline. It's things like that that are what I'm talking about. This timeline has been fractured and the cracks are spreading throughout the past and future. It's gone beyond causality, at this point. There's no event you could simply tamper with that would make everything turn out right."
"So I cant save John."
"Until you fix the universe, no. We're here." Jade turned into a large parking-lot centered around a small stripmall. "We're getting out here."
"This isn't the Galleria."
"Yeah, I just knew it was near the Galleria. I've never been here before, Dave! Cut me some friggin slack, okay?"
Dave was out of the car, staring at a particular shop. It caught his eye immediately- it was certainly the most decorated of any of the buildings on the strip. It was a brick building, painted red, right in between a yogurt shop and a Tobacco Zone. From the product in the window, it appeared to be a record shop. The sign said
SPR SLIME RECRDS
The O's were records, just like the ones Dave had worn on his shirt for years. There was a poster in the winodw of John's ridiculous asian slimer shirt. It was Coolkid Mecca.
"This is where you will arrive on Earth, in four years."
"Hopy shit. This place... I mean, I know this place. Bro used to talk about it all the time, it was his favorite record store. He said they sold music and comics and shit. Are we going inside?"
"It's not quite time yet. We're a little early."
"Okay." Dave leaned back against Jade's boxy hybrid. "Early for what?"
"Did you know that until December of 1995, Game Bro Magazine was a property of Harley Corp?"
"No shit? Why would you read Game Bro, you dont even play games."
"I dont. This isnt really about Game Bro. Game Bro Magazine was published out of Harley Corp from its founding in 1989 to 1995 because its founding senior editor, Davan Strider, was the director of Harley Corp's telecommunications division. He set it up as a private project."
"Are you telling me Bro founded Game Bro?" He blinked. "Wow that sounds so stupid when I say it out loud, can we just pretend I already knew that."
"He wrote under a pseudonym for the magazine, anyway. I forget what it was, Digital something. It took us a while to figure all of this out. But at some point during this period, Davan stopped sending in columns. He claimed he'd become too busy with other job, but Harley Corp records show that most administrative work was being handed off to some other guy named Brandon Mose.
"So he founded Game Bro, realized how lame they were, and made up a lie to get out of it."
"No. Well, maybe. But he really was busy during that time. Starting some time after January of this year, Davan Strider practically disappeared off the grid. The only records that can be found on him are Harley Corp expenditure reports that place him all over the world, constantly. Plane tickets to Aruba, a cruise off the coast of Singapore, a credit transaction for Chinese takeout in Paris, everywhere. And his files always correspond with those of fellow Harley Corp employees, Jonathon Egbert and Rosalyn Lalonde."
"Okay this is starting to sound a little bit more relevant."
"We don't know what they were doing, but a lot of money exchanged hands, and suddenly Harley Corp was on the cutting edge of the telecommunications market despite spending less than 2 million in R&D over three years. And a few years later, Pesterchum beats AOL to the instant messaging field. PesterchumV1, which looks suspiciously like a dumbed-down Trollian for Windows 95. Troll technology, Dave."
"And then suddenly I dont understand anything again. What the fuck do the trolls matter?"
"Anything that affects our universe on a fundamental level affects theirs, and goes on to cause the original error in our universe! It's a double reacharound mobius circuit in paradox space."
"I really have no idea what you are talking about."
"Well, you haven't studied other sessions! But it's called an ouroboros and it actually is a cataloged phenomenon in binary universes like ours. But someone used it to damage your universe, and it's rendering the whole thing into a broken spiral of alternate timelines and it's really just gotten impossibly messy."
"Oh gog, do I have to fix that?"
"No, that's what our parents are fixing. With my help, and the trolls help too though they don't really know what they're doing. And the help of our exiles, and a little help from my gang back on Alternia."
"But you will have to hold in there too, because... oh, he's coming out. Back in the car, hide!"
The two ducked into the Prius as a sixteen year-old Davan Strider exited SO POOR SLIME RECORDS. He climbed into one of the two other cars in the lot (a hot pink Delorian that was so tacky it was painful to look at) and pulled out of his parking spot.
"That's my brother," Dave said. "I couldn't have talked to him or anything?"
Jade shook her head and the two watched Bro drive away. "You have nothing to worry about. Whatever cosmic perils the universe is facing, that guy could power right through them. You'll see him again."
They waited for another minute, then Jade opened her door. "Okay," she said. "We're going inside."
Rawn Corcoran cracked his knuckles and picked up his new issue of Justice League Quarterly (#5). It was a whopping 84 pages of JLI goodness. When Davan was at SPS Records, sure, Rawn had to focus on his job. He had to pay attention to customers, he had to keep track of paperwork, and if he hit a point in the day when he just wasn't busy, Davan would expect him to get started on stocking the boxes of pawned records they had in the back room. Fuck. That. He wondered how many smoke breaks it would take to fill the day, if he closed early at around 4? More than he had on him, certainly... which might necessitate a trip downtown.
The automatic doorbell played the chorus of "Rock The Casbah" signaling that someone had opened the door. He hated that song. Davan had to know he hated that song.
Damn that kid!
He lowered his comic to greet the customers and for a moment he didn't see anyone there. No one at the door, no one in the store, no one at a weird angle, hidden by a strategically placed object. No one, at all. And then suddenly Davan was there, with his older girlfriend, like he'd appeared out of nowhere.
"Hey dude," he said. "Sorry I'm back already. Think I left my keys here."
Rawn nodded numbly. Keys, of course! He just forgot his keys, after being gone for fifteen minutes, entirely reasonable. "Did you set them down when you were opening boxes in the back room?"
"That must have been it," Davan said. "I should go check. Back there."
Rawn got up and walked straight for the back room, feeling numb all over. He wasn't sure that he'd left the bong out after his last break, not for definite, but he didn't want Strider being the first person to check. Fuck. That was all he needed. That psychokid riding him even more than he already did. Rawn fumbled with the keys in his hand and unlocked the stock room, taking about five times as long as he should with it. He slipped into the room as stealthily as his bulk would allow, not wanting Davan to get an accidental view of whatever Rawn had left inside.
But he had worried for nothing. His pieces had been stashed under a jacket, well out of sight and suspicion, and the room's excellent ventilation had masked any sign of smoke. Rawn breathed a sigh of relief and almost walked right out again before he remembered why he'd came. Keys. Strider's keys, to send him on his way. He checked the floor, under the chair he liked to smoke in, under the jacket, behind the boxes... no key. Was Strider fucking with him?
There is a key, a voice said in his head. You have 8t!
No he didn't, that was silly. Did he? Had he maybe... picked it up when he was back here before? No. He would have remembered. Wouldn't he?
Check your hand, the voice insisted. Look in the palm of your hand!
He looked. There was a key. Hey. Look at that.
wait those are my keys
You should give the Strider guy his keys, the voice said. You should give him his keys so he can leave and you can smoke more of your sopor leaves in peace and read a8out your spandex heroes. You would like th8t, r8ght?
Well shit. He would like that. That sounded like just the best idea. And it wasn't like he wasn't going to give his boss his keys back. After all, he'd gone back here specifically to find them. The very concept seemed ridiculous.
"Here," Rawn said, after slowly wandering back to Jade and Dave in a creepy trance. "Here's your keys DV, have a good evening."
"No problem," Dave said, and the older girl grinned and pulled on his arm and they went outside.
Rawn paced around for about fifteen minutes, then locked the door to SPS Records, loaded a bowl, and read his comic book.
"Okay, so what's the big deal? Who's the big guy? Why'd we steal his keys? And how'd you hypnotize him like that?"
"That was Rawn Corcoran," Jade said. She was quickly back over to the Prius and opening the trunk. "He served as manager of So Poor Slime Records until the day the meteor hit. A record store Davan Strider owned. In that period of time, according to the data we've amassed, he embezzled about ten thousand dollars from your brother." She lifted an object out of the trunk, held it up horizontally, and tosses it to Dave. "Approximately sixteen years from now he's going to outbid you on a collector's prop bunny and send us into the Medium with a broken session."
Dave looked at the object Jade had thrown him. It was a metal baseball bat.
"What are we here to do again?"
She raised her own baseball bat and gave him a toothy grin. "We're going to smash the hell out of his car."
Last edited by Sushi Database; 11-05-2010 at 04:34 PM.
It's common knowledge that people make mistakes. Most are small, like telling a secret on accident, or spilling coffee in a superiors lap. Others are extreme, like getting a girl pregnant or running over grandma with your SUV. Of course, no-one has ever made the mistake of bringing a group of trolls to school.
The mistake may have been somewhat overlooked, if the right trolls had been chosen. Kanaya, for one, would have been a brilliant guest in class, and Nepeta would have gathered strage looks but nothing further. It should have been obvious, however, that the one troll not to bring to class would be Vriska Serket.
"Vriska... put... the boy... down." Said KC calmly, stretching his open palms toward the thirteen year old troll girl and the screaming boy she had hoisted above her shoulders.
Vriska shook her head like a petulant child.
"Vris," began Eridian, but the Jumper held him back.
"Vriska, he didn't mean it. I don't know what he said to piss you off, but he didn't mean it."
"The hell he didn't!" and with that Vriska hurled the poor lad through the wall.
The teachers chin had long since hit the floor, and was currently making considerable progress towards the mantle. The police officer who had been called was in a similar state, what after the irate Vriska had tossed it into low orbit.
"What did he do?" whispered KC to Eridian. Eridian shrugged.
"I don't know. Girls, the final fuckin mystery."
"Yeah. I seen rocket scientists give up on ladies. Admittedly, the ladies usually give up first." Respondedthe human as Vriska tossed another boy out the window.
The police officer had finally gathered his wits enough to fish out his tazer and shoot it at Vriska. Unfortunately for him, Trolls can take alot of hurt, and Vriska was exeptionally hardy. The tazer gave her the equivilent of a static shock from a playground slide.
She whirled to face the deputy. He quickly dropped his gun, but Vriska didn't abate in her rage. Instead, she managed to hurl the rather big man halfway to the window before gravity crashed him to the floor. She rectified this without delay.
"WHAT?!" she screeched, whirling on KC.
"We're on the first floor."
It was several days beore they let him out of the hospital. During that time Doc Scratch made his first visit to this world, only to be rather violently hit with a golf cart and pummeled by a few rowdy teenagers. This is how he found that his powers were considerably reduced in this world.
The Parents returned home. They found the trolls in the living room, but luckily Vriska was outside hunting for spiders, and Eridian was quietly soaking in a bath. Thus their first contact with the trolls was relatively peaceful, if not a little odd.
Equius had hidden some Alternian High Art in KC's bedroom. His parents mistook the art for the Jumpers own stash and left it alone. It wasn't until years later they found out their son wasn't a furry. They also found a box of dresses, a dragon suit, a pile of wands, makeup, and some smashed 8-balls. They never did find out about the truth there.
And finally, far away, but still in America, a gate opened. This was not the green, flashy gates that Scratch used, nor the Purple flash of a trans-universal jump. It was a pale blue in color, and through it tumbled the keys of success for mankind. The keys calmly dusted themselves off and made their way to florida, and the boy who resided there.
All in all, a pretty boring week. And although the Jumper knew that his own world had to be a story, he did not connect the trolls to his own plotline, nor di he even realize that the plot would take place in his lifetime. In his innocence, he belived that he was simply part of the backstory, a tangent character in his own book.
“Of course it is! Who knows more about the mind then me from the future? Me right now that’s who! I’ve seen inside what inside troll minds and I know the way they work so don’t doubt me again! Calm that furry butt down and help me with this!”
Nepera blinked and started pushing the heavy console in front of the door while Vriska made a show of pulling. “And you’re purrfectly sure we can keep an eye on them?”
Vriska grinned and pulled out six spiderbots. “Of course! What do you take me for, some blind cripple manic-depressive angry robot sexer? I made these awesome things from my own arm. You would never guess looting from your own corpse would be so much fun! There are so many bases to cover than you would get dizzy from trying to see them all at once! I have all the cameras linked into my room so we can see the fu- rehabilitation.”
“And... This will help both of them?”
“You bet! I’m all about helping trolls and all that stuff. This will fix his broken redrom so he won’t keep getting it mixed with blacky black black. And then he will see how flusssssssed you are! Would I lie to you?”
“Are you Mindfang?” the catgirl asked suspiciously.
Vriska just laughed and walked away. After a moment Nepeta bounded after her.
“Why the hell does my head feel like a fucking Lich shat it out on my neck?! Damnit! What the hell happened?! Hey! If I don’t get some fucking answers I’m going to fly off the fucking handle and rip out someone tongue to use it to get my highly important message out twice as loud!” Karkat looked around. The room was sparse, holding only only two bedrolls and a dull yellow light. He walked over to the door and banged on it, but it wouldn’t open. It was immune to his shouts and threats but it didn’t stop him from trying.
“Whoaoaooa... What is going on motherfucker? I just had a some good damn pie and was riding a motherfucking horned musclebeast into a rainbow moon. Did that happen? I think it did motherfucker. Miracle.” Gamzee got up and walked over the a wall. “Wasn’t there a motherfucking Kanya over here? Or was it that honk pile? Pile of honk. Honk honk.”
“Shut the fuck up you drugged failure! Go do something useful and break that piece of shit door down!”
“Yeah sure my motherfucking grubber from another grubber.” Gamzee knocked on the door. “Can you open this shit up for me?” After a moment he turned back to the angry troll. “I think this motherfucking thing is broke. It won’t even talk back.”
Karkat scowled and facepalmed. “Fuck my shit filled life.”
So, yes. They fought. And I admit I could go into breathtaking detail about it. But let’s be honest: it would get pretty tedious after the third chapter or so. So I’ll just Skip to the End, much like this universe has in previous instances.
OPEN EVENTLOG #8
“And another thing.... I don’t approve of your relationship with Vriska.”
Dave had been bantering this entire time. And he had slowly been getting worse at it.
The two sort-of-ex-friends stood across from each other in an empty arena-ish area in the Land of Wind and Shade, ringed on all sides by blue rocks and black water. The ground around them was scarred from a good 30 or so minutes of dicehammer-on-broken-polearm warfare.
But that was all beside the point.
“What are you, my dad?”
“Well, I am the oldest male person here. And you are certainly not leader material so long as you’ve got a brain IV to the arachnowoman.”
John didn’t really have a retort for this. He had been quite paranoid over the past few hours.
“John, don’t listen to him. Roll the hammer again!”
“Are you sure? It’s been kind of... low, lately.”
“That might be sort of my fault.”
“Just roll it!”
With a rather lethargic swing, John re-rolled the Octosmasher for the eleventy-millionth time that day.
He rolled an 8.
The hammer grew more. And more. And it kept growing until I was by all rights bigger than the Fear No Anvil in its native state.
It was powerful. No doubt about that.
John swung the newly-empowered Octosmasher around, abusing its incredible reach to pin Dave into the corner. Once Dave was backed into the wall, John pinned him to the rock using the massive heft of the hammerheads.
“What now, huh? You got any snarky one-liners left?”
Dave was close to blacking out from the sheer weight of the hammer on him. But then he spotted something.
“Yeah... I got one.”
With a quick upward kick, Dave punted the fluorite die that hovered between the hammerheads.
“Your luck just ran out.”
The die flew up, but didn’t fall back into the hammer. Instead, it landed somewhere far away, with a distant ploosh. The Octosmasher shuddered, then shrank. It reduced itself to a stick about the size of a ballpoint pen.
While John was boggling at this unprecedented turn of events, Dave gave him a swift kick in the chin, following up by knocking him to the ground with the shaft of Draconiscratch.
Placing one foot on John’s chest to keep him pinned, Dave began what would be his last banter of the night.
“I thought you were a scientist, John. What happened to the experimental process or whatever? You should know better than to base your whole thesis off of false evidence.”
“It isn’t false. You’re going to kill me right now!”
Dave sighed, hefting the Draconiscratch over his head.
“If that’s the case...”
“Who do you believe now?”
John opened his eyes slowly. Instead of inflicting the horrifying chest wound he expected, the Draconiscratch was buried hilt-deep in the ground right by him. Dave was extending a hand, offering to help him up.
“Am I gonna get an answer today?”
“I... I suddenly don’t understand anything.”
“You’ll get used to it. Now get up. We need to fix you.”
As John stood up, he could hear Vriska’s voice fading back in. She had been oddly silent during most of the fight.
“No, John! NO! It’s a trap!”
“We need to de-imprint you to cure you of all this spider crap Vriska’s been feeding you.” “Don’t listen to him; I’m trying to help you!”
“...Alright. Do it.” “No! Don’t do this to meeeeeeee!”
“I’m sorry, Vriska. You’ve been in my brain for too long. I hope you liked what you saw.”
There was a flash, and she was gone.
OPEN EVENTLOG #9
Vriska sighed, face-down on the console.
EB: or so you think
EB: this is being sent back to you from after you cross sessions.
EB: me and dave made up.
EB: I need you to go do the same with terezi.
Slowly, Vriska stood up, and began the long process of unlocking her transportalizer pad.
There’s going to be hell to pay for this.
OPEN PESTERLOG #23
FUTURE ectoBiologist began pestering CURRENT twinArmageddons
CTA: ii’m 2iick of running errand2
CTA: iif iit’2 another iimpriintiing, forget iit.
FEB: I only need you to do one more
CTA: and then you can promii2e me that ii will never have two do one again?
CTA: who ii2 iit
FEB: me with Vriska again.
CTA: are you 2eriiou2
FEB: we’ve found a way to reverse it on our own. you don’t have to worry.
CTA: but don’t you ever call me agaiin
OPEN EVENTLOG #10
There was a flash, and she was there.
The plan, whatever it had been, had worked. She hadn’t really paid attention to what was going on, but when Karkat bellows at someone to jump through a gate, the first instinct is to jump.
And now here she was, hefting a satchel of her only worldly possessions, captchalogued in 8-ball form. She found herself on a balcony of the monolithic tower John had made of his house, looking for a nice, non-imp-infested room to settle down in.
“Vriska, over here!”
She couldn’t see him. But she could hear him.
“Yeah, over here!”
As she rounded the corner, she came face-to-face with one sight she thought she would never see again.
“You’re a troll again.”
“May I ask why?”
“Well... I figured you’d be pretty depressed after leaving the last remnant of your universe behind. I thought you might need a little... cheering up?”
“And you decided to cheer me up by turning half-me again.”
“I’m suddenly reminded why we fell in love in the first place.”
“I thought it was to make Karkat angry.”
“That too. So, are we going to make out or what?”
OPEN FINALOG #1
The adventure continued, as of course it had to. But for a few hours, at least, all was silent around the Egbert home.
And if anyone noticed Karkat running around downstairs, babbling about something that “CANNOT BE UNSEEEN,” they didn’t say anything.
But wait! There's more! Work will begin on an epilogue just as soon as it can possibly can.
The prototyping just complicates the definition. Inter-interspecies? Or perhaps Partially-Interspecies?
Graven: I thought that part was a bit abrupt, not in terms of the fight but rather in terms of what happened to Vriska (and to a lesser extent, John) afterwards. It took me a little while to pick up the details. I know there's still an Epilogue to go but I figured I'd just say that before you move on. Still good though!
God I can't stay mad at Noir.
He's like when a tiny puppy murders a squirrel and brings the corpse into your house as a present to you and it's wagging its tail and is SO PROUD of itself.
Then it goes into your house, tears your couch apart, and shits on all of your carpets.