Chapter Text
=You have been connected to a secure network=
=██████████ started trolling carcinoGeneticist!=
69: We can’t force you to join us, it would be against His word.
69: But we would advise, milord, that you make your decision promptly.
69: Ascension is less than a sweep away and our protection will be of no use to you unless you choose to join us.
69: Might I remind you that without us your culling order is at the highest level.
69: You could say it was off spectrum.
CG: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!? CLEARLY MY FRAGILE SAINTLY PAN HAS FINALLY TIPPED ITSELF OVER THE EDGE AND INTO THE CAVERNOUS DEPTHS OF BULLSHIT HAVE ACTUALLY GONE MUST BECAUSE KNOW THAT THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY YOU MADE HEMOSPECTRUM JOKE AT ME JUST THEN
69: Milord if you do not join us I can assure you your death will not be pleasant.
CG: CALL ME MILORD ONE MORE TIME MOTHERFUCKER I DARE YOU
=Secure network has disconnected=
CG: AAAAARRGHGHAKDGHSGKJSHKSLAFALSJDFASjladfks
Your name is Karkat Vantas, ascension is in less than a sweep and you are royally, righteously screwed.
---
They contacted you first when you were barely two. You were sat in front of your kiddie husktop, the best your moderate allowance could buy, ready to get good and schoolfed for one of the first times EVER and you were excited. Crabdad had proudly hooked up the grub you’d been sent and you vibrated with excitement as it squirmed into action and then... died. Right there and then as if it had been struck by lightning. The screen of your husktop lit up with your mutated blood colour and flooded your block with it, lighting up the walls until you could have sworn they dripped red, and a gentle voice told you to hush. Do not be afraid. We are the cult of the Sufferer and you are --
But you don’t remember that.
It wasn’t until you hit 6 sweeps that they started to contact you for real. The first time that little red symbol showed up on your husktop screen you threw up. By then you knew what you didn’t know at 2, about the hemospectrum and the abhorrent colour of your blood and what that meant for you and you kept thinking, ‘This is it,’ you kept thinking, ‘they know, oh god they know, they know and I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die.’
When you dragged yourself back to your chair on shaking legs, resigned to finding a warning, a threat, or maybe even blackmail, you were greeted by a wall of candy red text that threatened to bring up what was left of your internal organs. You swallowed it down and you forced yourself to read it, oh, you forced yourself to read it and you almost wish you hadn’t.
They told you that the were from a cult. Sufferists, they called themselves, and they followed the teachings of a man from long ago called the Signless Sufferer who dreamt of a world where trolls lived in peace together regardless of the the colour of their blood. He preached his radical doctrine of hemoequality all across Alternia. He inspired the masses with his candy red blood, just like yours, and even years later when his body was in ashes and his story had been erased from the Empire he inspired the revolution of the Summoner. His teachings, kept safe and spread underground by his loyal Disciple, lived on, giving hope to those who Suffer under the Empire as he did.
As they spun the story of him and his clade and the sacrifice they gave they spoke with pride and religious fervor but all you felt was horror. They had been the ones who had rescued you from the caverns when your mutant birthright should have been an early death. They got you a hive and a real (-genetically modified, jesus you were going to throw up again-) lusus, set you up to live a relatively normal life as a hemoanon where you could be safe (-normal?? SAFE?!-) instead of living the life of the pariah as your ancestor did. They’d been watching you, tracking what little they could get from your computer although it was well protected (-praise be to Sollux Captor-) and even checking up on you personally as a wriggler just to make sure that your secret was still safe. Your “coming”, they said like you were some kind of fucked up deity (-oh god, oh god the bile was coming back-) was prophesied and he believed, they believed, that with your coming would come the end of times. The Empire would fall at your word and the lowblood rebellion would rise. The hemocaste would be abolished! You and your lowblood friends would be saved. All for the low, low price of your freedom.
After you’d screamed yourself hoarse, wearing your typing fingers to the bone with pure, gut tearing rage the first thing you did was throw up again.
The second thing you did was contact Sollux.
=carcinoGeneticist started trolling twinArmageddons!=
CG: OH GOD. OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD
CG: OH GOD OH FUCK OH FUCK SOLLUX HELP
CG: I’M SO SCREWED. I’M SO SCREWED. GOOD BYE SOLLUX, I’D SAY YOU CAN HAVE MY HUSKTOP WHEN I DIE BUT I AM GOING TO EMPTY MY INSIDES ALL OVER IT
TA: wouldn’t want your 2hiitty hu2ktop anyway.
CG: OH, OH I SEE HOW IT IS
CG: I’M GLAD YOU FIND MY MORTAL DISTRESS HUMOUROUS CAPTOR
CG: UGH. NEVERMIND. SEE YOU IN HELL SHITBREATH
=carcinoGeneticist stopped trolling twinArmageddons=
=twinArmageddons started trolling carcinoGeneticist!=
TA: no waiit come back
TA: 2hiit ii’m 2orry you’re actually 2eriiou2 aren’t you?
CG: OH GOD OH GOD YES I’M SERIOUS YOU PANDEAD FAITHLESS SHITHEAP.
TA: what2 happeniing?
CG: I’M GOING TO FUCKING DIE IS WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!!!
TA: calm down.
TA: what do you need me two do?
CG: OK. OK. CALMING DOWN.
CG: I NEED YOU TO COME TRACE THIS FOR ME.
And he did. Good friend. Good nerd. He managed to trace the network off planet, but he was promptly locked out of all channels before he could get any real information. You watched as he struggled to keep his excitement under control and failed spectacularly, spitting and swearing and chasing the elusive, anonymous, 69 like a rabid barkbeast on the hunt. At one point you leant past him to drop coffee onto the desk and he was grinning so wide it was scary. Finally after hours of watching him from a safe distance as the sun slowly rose behind the curtains he spun round in your chair, a little frown marring his otherwise triumphant face. That little frown worried you more than any headache fueled crease on his stupid scrawny face had ever worried you before. You frowned back.
“So? What’s the damage, hotshot. Are the culling drones about to swoop down in all their glory and ride my ass from here to the green moon? Who the fuck are these people, if they are even actual people and not the hallucinogenic manifestation of every daymare I’ve ever had finally come to taunt me though my computer. Please, fucking enlighten me because I would love to know.”
“They’re an ancient cult, called the Sufferists.” He spat back, parroting the lines they fed you.
“...Oh.”
“It’s 200% legit KK, it’s coming from off planet and everything, but they’ve got half their power thrown into rerouting the damn thing so I can’t get hold of the ship. Their helmsman must be running--”
You held up a finger to stop him and shook your head. No. No fucking way. You weren’t letting this grubfucker get distracted running loops around engines again, that never ended well. It wasn’t that you didn’t get it, you did, okay you got it. You couldn’t even imagine what that did to a troll, knowing that since you hatched you’d been signed up for a life of dribbling on yourself from the centre of a thick net of biowire and all the brutal implications of that, but you hated watching what it did to Sollux. He’d go rabid with it, sometimes, huffing down every leaked infobyte he could find, cross referencing the rumors with the rampant propaganda. You’d been subjected to more than a few rants on the matter when Sollux was at his least lucid. When Terezi went through her fucking hideous Helmsman romance novel phase and they all started disappearing out of her hive you were pretty sure you knew exactly where they were going. Hell you were pretty sure you knew where he was hiding them. If there was anyone who hated and feared the empire as much as you did it was Sollux and you’d happily hash that shit out with him any time but not now. There was no time for that shit right now.
“...Sorry.” Said Sollux.
“It’s fine.” You said.
“Seriously though you’re in deep shit. What are you going to do?”
Long seconds ticked by as you leant back against the desk, claw tapping against your lip. Sollux watched, hunched over in your chair, his head propped up on one elbow. For a moment everything was weirdly relaxed. It was just two bros huddled round a computer and quietly thinking, like the problem was a bug in some shitty code not a life or death situation. The computer whirred and the blinding alternian sun shone through shitty worn blinds. Sollux’s breath whistled between his oversized fangs and you frowned, face settling into something closer to determination than fear. They wanted resistance? Oh they would get fucking resistance.
“Dig up every festering crumb of information about these assholes from the Imperial Network. Key players, where they come from, who the fuck this Sufferer guy was, shit, get me their fucking shopping list for all I care. I want to know everything.”
---
Boy, did he deliver. Except suddenly you were almost eight sweeps, ascension was fast approaching and you still didn’t have a plan.
That’s not true, you had a plan. You actually had several plans, each one just that little bit more soul crushing and awful than the last. Currently it seemed like the world and his hoofbeast was pestering you incessantly about what was quickly becoming plan A. You didn’t fucking want it to be plan A. You were still staring longingly at plan V for “Vantas that is never going two fucking work” with the light of hope convulsing in it’s death throes in your damningly red eyes. Sollux had set up what he’d lovingly (obnoxiously) nicknamed the ‘2ecure’ network precisely so that this pestering could occur. Sometimes you were even the one initiating the pestering. One by one you and your small team of assholes had been approaching people you wanted or needed to join you and, well, pestering them about the plan. It was a downright fucking pester party up in here.
This last one was apparently on you, because while him and your shit brained second in command apparently bickered enough that he didn’t want to have the conversation himself, they were still close enough that Sollux didn’t want him to die. Figures.
You sighed and flicked open the little black window.
This was one of the tasks you’d been putting off for a while.
=You have been connected to the 2ECURE network=
=carcinoGeneticist started trolling adiosToreador!=
CG: ALRIGHT ASSHOLE GET YOUR OCULARS IN GEAR, SLAM THE BRAKES ON YOUR FOUR WHEELED DEVICE, CRAM YOUR RIDICULOUS GIRLY GAMES BACK UP YOUR WASTE CHUTE AND PAY FUCKING ATTENTION. YOU ARE NOW ABOARD THE SERIOUS BUSINESS 9000. THIS RIDE IS ABOUT TO DEPART PLEASE KEEP ALL USELESS LIMBS AND STUTTERING RESPONSES INSIDE THE CART
AT: tHAT IS NOT, i GUESS, mY FAVOURITE GREETING?
AT: i AM NOT CONVINCED, fOR EXAMPLE, tHAT I SHOULD STAY, oR LISTEN TO YOUR NONSENSE AT ALL,
AT: aLSO, uHH,
AT: yOU HAVE, kIND OF OBVIOUSLY HACKED MY COMPUTER? wHICH I’M NOT SUPER COMFORTABLE WITH,
CG: WOW I DON’T CARE
CG: I REALLY, REALLY DO NOT CARE
CG: SERIOUSLY THE PART OF ME THAT REGULATES HOW MUCH I CARE ABOUT YOUR COMFORT LEVELS MUST HAVE SHRIVELLED UP AND DIED
CG: BESIDES YOU CAN BLAME SOLLUX SHITLORD CAPTOR FOR THIS PRIMITIVE COMMUNICATION METHOD EXCEPT DON’T BLAME HIM, THANK HIM, BECAUSE THIS CONVOLUTED TRASH SYSTEM IS GOING TO SAVE YOU FROM GETTING CULLED
AT: uHHH,,,
CG: DO YOU HAVE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT YOUR LORD AND SAVIOUR KARKAT VANTAS?
AT: uH, wHAT?
CG: OKAY HERE’S THE DEAL.
CG: THE EMPIRE IS SHIT. THE EMPRESS IS SHIT. ASCENSION IS SHIT
CG: I DON’T WANT TO GET CULLED AND NEITHER DOES SOLLUX
CG: SO WE’RE NOT GOING TO
AT: uHH??
AT: tHAT IS A GOOD THING, aBOUT NOT GETTING CULLED, i MEAN, bUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU ARE TELLING ME THIS,
AT: eSPECIALLY THE PART, wHERE YOU SAID SOME THINGS THAT ARE, uH,,, pRETTY ILLEGAL??
CG: YEAH IT TURNS OUT “PRETTY ILLEGAL” SUMS UP A VAST MAJORITY OF MY LIFE
For a moment the overwhelming stupidity of the situation hit you like a truck. Deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the gills or whatever the fuck it was. When you finally peeled your hands away from a spectacular facepalm x2 combo the little grey line was still blinking damningly at you from the end of the line. Okay. Okay. Time to pony up and make this happen. You could do this.
CG: BEFORE YOU START HYPERVENTILATING DON’T SWEAT, CAPTOR HAS MADE DAMN SURE NO ONE ELSE IS READING THIS
ii’m readiing thii2
CG: JESUS FUCKING SHITFISTING CHRIST ON A TWO WHEELED DEVICE CAPTOR I AM GOING TO FLAY YOU. I THOUGHT THE WHOLE POINT OF ME RIDING THIS BULLSHIT-RODEO WAS THAT YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH WHATEVER THE FUCK BULLSHIT ISSUES YOU TWO HAD
AT: i WAS NOT AWARE, uHH, tHAT YOU HAD AN ISSUE WITH ME, sOLLUX?
you were takiing two long 2o ii’m hiijackiing thii2 expo2iitiion traiin. choo choo motherfucker2 lii2ten up.
turn2 out kk ii2 de2tiined two be pathetiic cullbaiit forever by 2hiitty made up diiviine riight. my hatchriight ba2ically 2uck2 hoofbea2t dong two 2o ii’ve deciided we’re goiing two run away like grub2, and by run away liike grub2 ii obviiou2ly mean 2tart a bada22 2uiiciidal terrorii2t movement. 2iince you’re a liifetiime card holder of the pathetiic cullbaiit club ii told kk two iinviite you along.
and hone2tly we could u2e 2ome brute force liike you. between your 2iick gun2 and your top tiier ph2yciic abiiliity we could really u2e your help.
AT: tHAT IS, aLL VERY NICE OF YOU TO SAY, aBOUT ME NOT BEING USELESS AND, tHE STUFF ABOUT MY SICK GUNS ALSO, }:)
get that 2miiley out of my 2iight 2o help me.
AT: bUT ACTUALLY, i’M NOT CULL BAIT? vRISKA HAS, uH, gOT A PLAN FOR THE LEG THING AND, wITH ALL THAT NICE STUFF THAT YOU WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT,,, i’M PRETTY CONFIDENT THAT I’M, wELL, nOT GOING TO DIE?
AT: uNLESS I JOIN YOUR, uH, “sUICIDAL TERRORIST MOVEMENT” wHICH, tO BE HONEST, sOUNDS LIKE YOU ARE GOING TO DIE, wHICH I WOULD LIKE TO NOT DO,
AT: nOT THAT I WANT YOU TO DIE, i HOPE THAT IS NOT A THING THAT HAPPENS, iT JUST SEEMS PRETTY LIKELY,
AT: nO THANK YOU, iS UH, bASICALLY WHAT I AM SAYING,
you’re 2eriiou2ly 2tiill goiing two throw your card2 iin wiith VRII2KA??
AT: yES,
CG: HOLY SHIT WHY.
CG: ACTUALLY. NEVERMIND. FUCK THAT. I DID MY PART I’M OUT. IF YOU TWO LADIES WANT TO BATTLE IT OUT BE MY FUCKING GUEST BUT I’M DONE. IT WAS A HORRIBLE, GRATING CHORE KNOWING YOU TAVROS, YOUR PATHETIC STUTTERY BULLSHIT WILL BE SORELY MISSED. SEE YOU NEVER, LOOK OUT FOR ME ON THE MORNING NEWSFEED. I’LL BE THE ONE KICKING ASS AND TAKING NAMES AND PROBABLY MAKING MYSELF LOOK LIKE A COMPLETE AND UTTER TOOL
CG: TRY NOT TO GET CULLED OK?
=carcinoGeneticist has disconnected=
If the empire didn’t find you thought you might die of brain hemorrhaging or maybe just reach into your stomach and pull your own intestines out so you could throttle yourself with them.
So that was that then, the gangs all here, revolution all prepped and ready to go. Except it wasn't all prepped, and the gang wasn't all there, it was just you and a handful of idiots who couldn't just let you die being kept alive solely by the stubbornness of one Sollux Captor. You looked out at the clear, cloudless purple of the late night sky and you couldn't quite shake the feeling that this had never been how this was supposed to go.
You needed to talk to your moirail.