Chapter Text
2002
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] began pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 12:13 --
TT: Hi.
TG: uh hey
TG: not to be super rude or something
TG: but who the hell are you
TG: and how did you find my handle
TT: I'm Rose. We've met. You just don't remember me yet.
TG: okay uh whatever that means
TG: im dave
TG: do you read my comic or something
TG: then you had to talk to me because how cool is this fucking guy
TG: that happens
TG: a lot
TT: Yes, I've read your comic. I find a lot of it very interesting, including your extreme lack of filter and its implications. Still, I think you can do better.
TT: For a given value of "better."
TG: that is the shittiest screaming groupie speech i have ever heard of
TG: like you didnt even say how awesome you think i am
TG: or ask me to sign something rated PG-13
TG: youre gonna have to work on that
TT: I'm not a groupie, Dave.
TG: uh okay then
TG: hi rose
TG: nice to meet you i guess
TG: but im kind of busy
TG: im kind of a big deal
TG: adventuring and all that shit
TG: what do you want
TG: if not to jump on this bandwagon while its on its way up
TT: I need your help.
TT: You're a programmer, right?
TT: I can't get these .~ath files right.
TG: why
TG: the fuck
TG: does anyone do that shit
TT: I have my reasons. Is that a no?
TG: no i can kick the shit out of that code
TG: ill look at it
TG: its just
TG: WHY
TT: We can't all be the creators of the next ironic masterpiece of the century.
TT: I'm a girl, anyway. Mystery. Et cetera.
TG: im a 15 year old guy
TG: not retarded
TG: anyway
TG: i have hacker artifact hunting to do
TG: give me 10 minutes
TG: while i make angelina jolie as both lara croft and that chick in hackers look like fucking amateurs
TG: brb
TT: Great.
TT: This. Is so exciting.
April 2003
You name is DAVE STRIDER. This is obvious, because there is literally no fucking way two guys as cool as you are would be lucky enough to also have a life this cool – a coolness which even your friend ROSE admits, so it must be true. You were raised by your adoptive father and his bros to be an ADVENTURER, and took up the art of computer skillz and hacking the shit out of stuff on the side.
You're SIXTEEN YEARS OLD now (almost seventeen actually), and you're so great at fucking up computers left and right and playing code like Snoop plays the ladies that it's mind-blowing. Like any Turing test-passing motherfuckers would blow a motherboard and wind up in computer intensive care or some shit if they came across you. BOOM, you lowly circuit-based sons of bitches.
Okay this is getting stupid, so fuck it.
A bro like you's got a lot of shit going. Like you also whip up some SICK COMICS in MSPaint, and have a fanbase that's only gotten bigger since you started updating more frequently despite being such an obvious rockstar all over the place otherwise. You're also a RAP CONNOISSEUR and will not shut the fuck up about it if people happen to exist and have the wrong opinions, but can't do much personally because adventures, that's why.
Thing is there's only one way to keep on the move and have all your brass as fuck balls in the air, get it, of course you do. It's a SWISS ARMY BACKPACK, which you got from Herb one year for Christmas. You got more shit on your back and look cooler than any god damn videogame character. Even Link from Zelda would go damn that smooth fucker has a computer, swords, guns, and survival supplies in there? Actually he'd say what's a computer and then after you explained he'd go holy shit you're a wizard do you work for Ganondorf? But eventually he'd just be impressed by a badass who also could survive on islands covered with monsters who ALSO has shades sharper than any Hylian sword and then you'd give him a fucking autograph.
And thank fuck you aren't saying any of this out loud because your DAD... hahaha you don't even want to think about it no really.
You are in WASHINGTON right now, the state, not the boring-ass capitol where the politicians are all so stupid you almost think that maybe the batterwitch conspiracies are real because it would at least explain how people could be practically brain-dead, walking, talking, and holding down a job. DC mostly annoys the shit out of you because your dad insists on going there at least once every two months, and puts you in lockdown every time for no apparent reason.
Your dad is really good at lockdown.
Speaking of your dad. Here he is and he's not in a good mood (when is he though anyway, sometimes you think he's going to stab you in the face, but it's all in good fun since he hasn't done it yet). "Kid," he says, "it's time to go back to work."
Which you don't mind at all. There's more of the Old Lady's proprietary shit to find, fuck up, and sell to the highest bidder, which is kind of the coolest homeschool setup ever.
God DAMN is your dad awesome.
Your dad's bro Drago calls. You know this because Drago keeps setting Dad's phone to have the dumbest possible ringtones for all of them just to piss him off a little, except for Drago's, which is "Eye of the Tiger." Drago is awesome, too. What, your dad demands at the phone, then goes off grumbling and bitching about ONE JOB and NOT THAT HARD TO FIND A KID and Jesus Cesar get your shit together.
(Cesar is fucking hilarious, but if you laugh and Dad notices you'll get that look and probably have to clean the dirt off of everyone's shoes after the hike, so fuck that.)
Anyway, Dad hangs up and points into the woods. Herb hauls his own Swiss Army backpack over his shoulder. Here you are, all badasses, and it's time to go ransack this shit like a bunch of awesome Vikings who actually bathe and have technology and medicine, and actually it would kind of totally suck to be a Viking what the fuck.
Yeah. The Old Lady really liked building computer labs in the middle of nowhere. But who gives a shit. You don't. Because it's time to fuck shit up and take another look into JADE ENGLISH's awesome builds and try not to have a technologically-based crush on a woman who was older than dirt when you were born, because Rose would never let you live it down.
Speaking of the high priestess of Knit-thulhu herself or whatever...
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] began pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 15:13 --
TT: Are you going to stop in one of these days?
TT: All this traveling you do and you never consider coming here. I have to wonder why.
TG: yeah ill just haul my ass to treesville
TG: we can hang out with your trees
TG: and your lab
TG: and your cat
TG: i cant believe you knit AND have a cat
TG: are you just giving up on getting laid ever
TT: As usual I have to ask why you're so interested in any of my sexual expressions or fantasies therein.
TT: Is it possible that my occasional mention of knitting and needles has given you ideas?
TG: rose we are not doing this
TG: we are not doing psycho picture theatre where you make me think of
TG: oh dammit
TG: you dont do that do you
TG: thats some fucked up shit
TT: There is in fact porn like that.
TT: I know you were wondering.
TG: i wasnt
TG: i really wasnt at all
TG: jesus
TG: what the hell is wrong with you
TT: Rose - 1, Dave - 0
TT: Pwned, Strider.
TG: never say pwned again
TG: i am so embarrassed for you
TG: like
TG: youre just no dont
TG: also
TG: im not a stalker or anything you know that
TG: and you just asked me to fly over and hang out and watch you knit or something
TG: whats your last name anyway
TT: I've mentioned. Haven't I?
TG: i think id remember you not being cryptic for once in the last year
TG: but lets play yeah daves a drooling moron for two seconds and you tell me again
TG: rose
TG: where did you go
TG: its been like twenty minutes youre still there youre not even idle
TG: what the fuck
TG: you are unoffendable as shit
TG: you make howard stern look like the amish
TG: like i could start posting pokemon porn here and all youd do is psychoblahblah the shit out of it
TG: all interesting choice of pikachu fucking ash with his lightning tail dave is this a metaphor for your phallic something something
TG: why are you
TG: oh fuck it
TG: ill hit you later
-- temperedGramr [TG] ceased pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 15:30 --
Two hours later, you're inside a damp cave leaned over your laptop to protect its screen and shit, your other gear tucked inside your backpack, because the writing on the wall – literal writing on the wall, it's obscure Asian ASCII code or something – is the closest thing you can get to a decoder on this menu.
Dad recognized it and chalked in some helpful details but he told you to figure the rest out and get back the hell out or he'd leave you behind. You're not sure he's joking, so you're hurrying. You can still hear him and Herb arguing over the Bluetooth, though, so you're probably good.
That's when she hits you back first.
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] began pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 17:35 --
TT: I would say that Pikachu penetrating Ash with his tail would be a larger indicator of your issues with your father, actually.
TG: wow holy shit
TG: welcome back to you too
TT: That doesn't make sense.
TG: okay fine you never answered my question
TG: but i dont care
TG: you want me to visit yeah fine
TG: lets do this
TG: whens good for you
TT: Wow. You've managed to surprise me.
TT: Rose - 1, Dave - 1
TG: ill never get why you act like you know me so well
TG: youre just some chick who pestered me randomly
TT: Then you're just some dude I pestered who wants to randomly meet me.
TT: Are you sure you want to go down this road?
TT: We're friends, Dave.
TT: Aren't we?
TG: can you at least tell me
TG: are you secretly a dude
TG: or a fifty year old unmilf
TG: or a fifty year old dude
TG: or anything besides i dont know
TG: 16 year old rose cryptic mcmystery psychobabbler extraordinaire
TT: Everything I've told you is the truth.
TT: I think you know that.
TT: Shouldn't you get back to work? We can plan later.
TG: yeah
TG: i guess
TG: later
-- temperedGramr [TG] ceased pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 17:20 --
When you alt-tab to the decryption, you see it's done, thank god. There's .~ath files, which means going through probably endless lines of sociopath code, and you do your best to stay cool and not glare through your shades. There's also a text file titled "readme!.txt" and you already hate this.
You open it anyway.
sunglasses boy, i think you already know this, but you really should not run these files!
i believe you will do what's right with them, in fact i know that you will, so i trust you as long as you trust in yourself!
best of luck always,
jade
You stare at the screen, then quickly close the file before somehow your dad comes back. Then you copy the .~ath files onto one of your drives and delete them from the disc. The rest you can play with on the way back home.
It finishes up just in time for your dad to stick his head into the cave and give a curt nod; you shut your laptop and cram everything into your backpack, and adjust your shades.
Your hands aren't shaking. Everything is fine.
Everything is fine.
Everything is fuckin' great, and you are awesome.
August 2003
Your name is ROSE LALONDE, even though your placronym says otherwise. Your placronym, you decided three years ago when it was engraved, will be the first thing you destroy when you turn eighteen. You are SIXTEEN YEARS OLD, though your seventeenth wriggling day is not far off, and you are literally counting the days.
For the record, today marks the 475th day until you could technically be free of your MOTHER.
Your hobbies, besides yearning for freedom from heinous maternal figures, include knitting, creative writing, cryptozoology, and combinations therein. You have a talent for ANCIENT MAJJYKS, though few people believe you on the topic, and your mother pretends not to know or notice.
She knows. That passive-aggressive bitch.
One of your main problems is that you live in the middle of nowhere. There's a library full of books and consistent wifi, as well as all the technological advancements anyone could hope to have under one compound's roof. You have staff ready to wait on you hand and foot. You want for nothing. By all standards you are an incredibly lucky teenage girl. That is, you would be if you had ever been allowed to leave the compound unsupervised.
It should be noted that this isn't an exaggeration. You're not allowed to leave the compound unsupervised, and that accounts for a whole once or twice a year at most. The psychology books that have reassured you on many things have also reassured you that cabin fever is hardly a real concern for the occupied mind; without this piece of advice, you might have developed a bad case of it yourself.
This is not to say that you have much human contact, though. Or any human contact at all.
It's probably obvious by now that you have plans and secrets. You're not going to reveal them. Not yet. Not by a long shot.
And, probably, only to him, when you're both good and ready.
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] began pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 10:34 --
TT: When is your flight coming in?
TG: about that
TT: I see. You're standing me up.
TG: can we not do the date comparison
TT: Am I making you nervous?
TG: look im already getting shit from my dads bros
TT: I can take a picture if they want to know if I'm pretty.
TG: please stop
TT: You make this way too easy, Strider.
TG: okay the point is
TG: whats your game
TG: i have a weird feeling about this
TT: Go on.
TG: no dont start enjoying this
TG: this is not psychoevaluation time
TG: im serious
TT: Did you have a dream?
TG: what
TT: I think my question was fairly straightforward.
TG: no
TT: Strider.
TT: I'm not fucking with you right now.
TT: Did you have a dream?
TG: who cares dreams arent actually a thing
TG: theyre just
TG: brain puke
TT: That's an interesting way of putting it.
TT: But you're wrong.
TG: look id have to go on my own and your mom might get all weird
TG: like were online dating or something
TG: do you get that
TT: Hmm.
TG: dont
TG: no hmming
TT: Hmmmmm.
TG: seriously
TG: fuck
TG: if itll stop you hmming
TG: i hate dc
TG: i hate just sitting in the hotel room
TG: but i just dont fucking know
TG: like whats your deal
TG: are you a serial killer maybe
TG: going to turn me into a skinsuit
TG: put me in a hole
TG: listen to bad music and dance in a stridersuit
TT: Please stop referencing Silence of the Lambs.
TT: We're talking about our first date here.
TG: its not
TG: but
TG: anyway
TG: itll be next tuesday
TG: 815pm or something
TT: I'll pick you up.
TT: We have guest bedrooms. I won't make you cuddle with me.
TT: This time, anyway.
TG: ninja hackers dont cuddle rose
TG: we disappear into the night
TG: like shadows
TG: then find peoples embarrassing wizard fanfictions
TG: and post videos online of dramatic readings
TT: Even if someone did have embarrassing wizard fanfictions,
TT: You would be welcome to try to find them.
TG: awesome
TG: permission
TT: Sure.
TG: cool
-- temperedGramr [TG] ceased pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 10:58 --
You smile to yourself, count the days on your fingers casually, then look instantly up at the sound of the droids starting to move around downstairs. Now you're not smiling.
She's home.
You shut your laptop and snatch up your most current knitting project, a purposely ugly purse for her. Best to hide it until it's done, so she can see all the work you put in to achieve the maximum effect of absolute tackiness, and you can see the look on her face as well. If she sees it too early... well, she expects better of you than that. You stick it under a pile of skeins.
The droids chirp and clank behind her as she heads up the stairs, a sharp tick against each marble stair as the stiletto heel strikes it. You pointedly don't shut your door. You don't look away, or make any pretense of anything but hyper-vigilance around her. It's not weakness. It's the game.
You see her face first, her sharp smile. Her eyes flash onto your face, then her hair, her perfect hair, it sets your teeth on edge. Even if you didn't know for sure, even if there was a sliver of doubt, you would know. She's too vain to hide it. She is what she is and she loves being it.
Even if you couldn't see past the Snow White fair skin and dark flowing locks like something out of genuinely terrible fanfiction, not like yours, you would know. You would see the way she shimmers and the colors in her eyes and the highlights in her hair, the way a shattered rainbow desperately flashes through every inch of her façade like a warning to all who might come close.
She's not human.
"My Rose," your mother drawls, pleased, and strokes her fingers, her fingernails, more like claws, through your long blonde hair she makes you keep as an obvious and trite reminder that you're hers, and you hate her, you hate her, you hate her.
But you smile again as she releases you and strides away.
You open your laptop, disconnect from the wifi, and plug the USB hidden in the pendant around your neck into the computer. There's no point in impatience, in worry, in fear. It's always been you against her, and a chessboard full of pieces only you can look on to and direct from a distance so far no one but you would be able to see.
You begin typing the moment the command prompt finishes loading and the encrypted channel opens.
We're on track. Nine days. I would tell you to expect us but you seem to already. Enjoy your lone island vacation while it lasts. Soon you'll have tourists to deal with.
You close the window, eject the USB, clasp it around your neck, and easily reach for your knitting as though nothing at all is, or has always been, wrong.
As it turns out, no one really cares if you go to visit Rose.
For some reason you find this incredibly weird. No, actually for like seven reasons. Dad usually crams you in a room with Cesar and puts Herb in charge of not letting either of you burn the hotel down, and Rose's mom by your best guess is probably a huge bitch and control-freak who wouldn't go all oh hey Dave Strider come on in and violate my daughter, have some free condoms. Not that you're planning on violating anyone, or touching anyone, or even looking twice at anyone. It's just way too easy.
Maybe everyone thinks you're gay. You try not to think about that, not that there's anything wrong with that. (You're pretty sure Cesar and Herb are dating, anyway, so who cares.)
You're packing, which is nothing new, this shitty Austin apartment is just a parking space for your bullshit, and you have Pandora blaring and the billboards outside are flashing. You don't think about impressing anyone as you grab stuff. You don't think about good shirts or bad shirts because you wouldn't have bad shirts, fuck no. You're cool. Your instincts are cool so your choices are cool.
You do throw in a suit. You don't think too hard about that either.
Eminem's rapping up a storm. Storm wishes she could make this kind of weather event happen, and Zeus is like oh shit let me just give my lightning to this fucker. You don't even like Eminem that much but you have to give him props because the guy can lay down some sick rhymes. You think his beats suck, though. Maybe one day you'll try this shit out. It can't be that hard if faygo-chuggers like ICP do it.
You have ignored the fuck out of ICP on your Pandora. They still show up sometimes. Fuck those guys.
Em's handing people their asses left and right, movie stars, politicians, like this is an ass line during the great ass depression, and you almost crack a smile or a smirk or something, but stay cool, when you hear the audio cut out. A woman's voice drawls, "OBEY. LISTEN TO YA MASTERS. SAVOR YA SLAVERY, MA PETS."
There isn't a word for the reaction you have. Not one you know. If you didn't think Rose would think you were totally fucking psycho and be raring to slap a diagnosis on you, you'd ask her if she knew a word for it.
You have finally lost your shit. Your shit is lost. You put that shit down for one second and then you turned around and where the hell is it now, who knows, your shit is LOST like the show with the polar bears.
You turn to look at your computer, eyeing it like it might explode. Then you exhale, slowly, set down the t-shirts, and approach it, looking more closely at the screen.
The song's still running but there's no track playing, just a humming sound you can barely hear, and a mechanical chirp here and there. Obviously your Pandora is fucked up beyond recognition.
...And so are the ads.
CEASE REPRODUCTION. TRUST ONLY IN YOUR CORPORATE OVERLORDS. SURRENDER AND SLEEP. PEACE WILL COME TO YOU THROUGH OBEDIENCE.
You slam the laptop shut without thinking, and get back to packing. You shut your eyes hard when you can't get the voice out of your head, when the taste of acrid fear and vomit are at the back of your throat. You are too cool for this. For crazy. For conspiracy theories. For batterwitch nutjob shit.
Your PDA goes off.
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] began pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 09:58 --
TT: I can't pick you up myself. I know you were looking forward to it. Deeply sorry. I'm sending you a fancy car instead.
TT: But I'm going to need some help.
TT: There's a protest tomorrow. BCCcorp Maryland. Meet the driver, he'll get you here. I'm on a tight timeframe, though, so if we could banter less today and get to the point that'd be great.
TG: uh
TG: what does the protest thing have to do with
TG: anything??
TT: A good question.
TT: Do you know how many protests have successfully made a stand at Crockercorp or its subsidiaries, Dave?
TG: no
TG: again
TG: what the fuck
TT: None have.
TT: No protests. No strikes.
TT: You have no idea how important this is.
TG: is this one of those oh no they add chemicals to their whatever
TG: or technology is scary or whatever
TG: because you know thats bullshit
TG: serious bullshit
TG: like the pile of shit behind bull lawyers
TG: that serious of bullshit
TT: Dave.
TT: I need you to trust me.
TT: There's got to be something you can do to take out BCCorp MD's security.
TG: why
TG: i get it
TG: hippies
TG: but
TG: are these good hippies or bad hippies
TG: are they going to blow shit up
TG: holy shit are you a terrorist
TG: why am i even surprised
TT: Strider.
TT: Play stupid if you want.
TT: But I know you've seen it. All around us.
TT: Her shit.
TT: I know you're smarter than you'd ever let on.
TG: the fuck is that supposed to mean
TG: im smart
TT: Smarter than that, then.
TT: I didn't want to do this. Not this early.
TT: But if I have to, I will.
TG: oh god
TG: what
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] ceased pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 10:04 --
-- godelsGirl [GG] began pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 10:04 --
GG: hi dave!
TG: what
GG: my name is jade.
TG: what the fuck.
GG: hahaha, you kids these days.
GG: dave, you need to wake up!
TG: rose put you up to this right
GG: rose is trying to help all of us.
GG: you don't need to fight it so hard, i promise
GG: it's okay to believe
GG: and we're all here to work on this together!
TG: sorry you still lost me
TG: are you uh
TG: are you jade english
GG: yes!
GG: now do you remember those files you found?
GG: the code i wrote!
TG: um
TG: yes
GG: you're a smart boy :)
GG: i know you'll figure out the rest
GG: now trust rose
GG: she's a good girl
TG: hahaha
TG: do you even know her
GG: yes
GG: i'll see you soon, dave!
GG: happy travels!
TG: uh
TG: okay
TG: thanks
-- godelsGirl [GG] ceased pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 10:06 --
-- temperedGramr [TG] began pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 10:06 --
TG: is this shit for real
TG: jade english just pestered me
TG: you know my dad basically bounty hunts her tech
TG: obviously you know because you know everything
TG: which is fucking unsettling
TG: and youre dragging me into your shit
TG: seriously deep shit
TG: so you could tell me something
TG: anything
TG: what is going on whats this shit about bccorp
TG: we could go to jail
TG: were both too pretty for jail
TG: answer dammit i swear i am just going to stay the fuck here
TG: my ass stays in austin
TG: enjoy hacking security mainframes by yourself
TT: I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important.
TT: And,
TT: There are worse things than prison.
TT: Trust me or don't.
TT: You know how to find me.
TG: yeah
Something tugs in your gut.
Why do you trust her? Why does she matter so much to you for no goddamn reason at all?
You'll never know.
TG: you cool?
TT: Yeah.
TT: Just help me with this.
TT: We haven't got time for the infodump now. I'll explain everything later.
TG: you know you just guaranteed youre gonna die right
TT: I should go.
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] ceased pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 10:20 --
TG: wait
TG: rose
TG: shit
You're sweating. And it's not just the Austin heat.
What the actual fuck was that.
Something changes in your head. Like a video camera swinging rapidly away from its original focus. You're disoriented, vision and focus blurred, you shut your suitcase and put it on the ground, climbing onto your bed and into the range of the fan to breathe in fresh air.
The stylish music technology of Pandora washes over you again. You wonder when you opened your laptop, but you're too drowsy to care.
You dream of Rose. The dream, as usual with brain puke, has completely shitty lighting like some sort of low-budget sci-fi show trying to cover up its mistakes. But she's costumed like an idiot, too, in some sort of purple princess dress, and she's not hot, even if you can't look away from her and you can't really talk because your throat just stops.
It's a stupid dream, you decide, in the midst of it, and close your eyes. What kind of dream would let you just freeze up and ignore the actually kind of hot chick in the princess dress? Fuck this dream.
Days in the future, but not many...
An ANCIENT EMPRESS takes short steps to develop the battlefield advantage to ensure her rise.
"If you fuck this up, Jackie," she says as she looks over the maps strewn across her desk, "I'mma make you think death is the coolest option you coulda got. Hear me?"
"Yeah boss," Noir says. (He's annoyed. Who cares.) "We got it under control. Locked down tight. Old Lady's good as toast."
This is inane. The EMPRESS hangs up on him.
The picture of JADE sits on her desk, too, all carefree and childish and most of all human. She couldn't raise her daughters to be what she is, this world too soft, their bodies too weak and wrong.
Until now.
"Hope you're ready for Mama, my babies," she says, and sets the picture atop the maps as more a target than a keepsake.
For the first time in about a century, this whole thing is starting to feel right.
You get out of the gate at Reagan, for once on your own, and it feels completely fucking weird, but that particular ping of weirdness goes away pretty quickly once you see your name on a sign held by a robot.
Probably worth repeating that because you're stuck on it: your name, on a sign, held by a robot.
Okay then.
"Uh," you say to the robot, then you realize you don't even know if there's a point in talking to it but keep going because you've already started, "yeah. I'm Dave Strider."
The robot nods, and turns around, lowering the sign to its side. You chase after it. "Wait. Hey. Robot. Luggage. Dude."
It ignores you and keeps going, and you spot a sign; apparently it's taking you down to the luggage carousel. Whatever. You're going to try to tune this crazy out, no matter how weird it is. What the fuck, Rose. Robots.
Now you're stuck at a luggage carousel with a robot that doesn't talk as far as you can tell, and no one seems to think anything of it, and yeah, robotics is totally a thing and you're decent at it but what the fuck, it's not exactly normal. Is it? Do most people have robots who drive them around and carry their luggage?
Homeschooling. You've heard it does this.
-- temperedGramr [TG] began pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 20:38 --
TG: did you seriously send me a robot butler
TG: do you have robot butlers
TG: is this an east coast thing
TG: wait
TG: is this YOUR robot butler
TG: am i being led into a trap
TT: No.
TT: That is my robot butler, I promise.
TT: I would recommend being particularly careful around it, though.
TT: I'm not sure how long the reprogramming is going to hold.
TG: what
TG: seriously
TG: are you putting me in a car with a robot that might go homicidal
TG: WHEN ITS DRIVING THE CAR
TG: how is this a good plan
TT: I'm working with what I have.
It hits you, as your luggage appears on the carousel and the robot butler goes to fetch it, that none of this makes any sense. Again. You wonder how many times you're going to be reminded of that until your brain finally surrenders to the part where Rose's life is completely fucking insane and you're a part of it now.
TG: you got a minute
TG: i have some questions
TT: I don't, actually.
TT: I'll see you later.
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] ceased pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 20:45 --
TG: fuck
You mentally write up a pop quiz for Rose McMystery herself.
Question 1: Why are you sending me to BCCorp Maryland?
Question 2: Don't you live in Treesville?
Question 3: What the actual fuck is going on, really?
Question 4: Do you really expect me to hack the security of the biggest corporation in the world?
Unfortunately, that last one is both probably a yes and "there's no time to ask that question right now" based on the crazy timetable she's vaguely given you. Robot butler takes you to the towncar (yeah, that's not conspicuous, thanks Rose) and you settle in the back, plugging your wifi enabler into the USB port of your laptop. The main issue here is going to be untangling who supplies the security.
Which is in fact what the issue turns out to be. Fifteen minutes into the drive you're just about grinding your teeth, then you instinctively alt-tab through your stuff to see you have an explorer window open with the .~ath files from Jade English.
Except there's a .jpeg there now along with the others. There's no way that was there before. How could there be a .jpeg in there, you would have previewed that shit immediately.
You're grumbling about the Old Lady out loud like your dad does, so you stop, swear at yourself for being stupid, then open the fucker.
There it is – a logo of a shield and spikes in a disturbingly familiar pairing of red and white – your eyebrows raise above your shades – and a tablet-drawn smiley beside it. You pause, and exhale.
You get it.
-- temperedGramr [TG] began pestering godelsGirl [GG] at 21:05 --
TG: thanks jade
-- temperedGramr [TG] ceased pestering godelsGirl [GG] at 21:05 --
She doesn't answer, so you're not going to acknowledge that happened. Or the reaction you're having to having even reached out to her. Nope. You still don't have a crush on the Old Lady. That would be too weird even for your life right now.
The .~ath files, based on just a skim, are nothing good for anyone who runs them, but what else is new, they're .~ath files. Some quick research into the BCCorp databases and subsidiaries gives you a name and logo that matches perfectly to the one on your screen: Imperiacorp.
Whipping up a virus and a file to hide it in is easy enough. Breaking through the encrypted network their IT is hardly competent enough to protect from you and sending it as an update to all of their computers is an equal fucking cakewalk, ironically enough.
You grin to yourself. Just for a second. You are so. good. You are so good Hacker Jesus would let you go ahead and walk on water first. Go ahead, you rad motherfucker, he'd say. You earned it.
-- temperedGramr [TG] began pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 21:25 --
TG: think i got it
TG: your hippie friends putting flowers in guns yet
TG: still not entirely sure what these files do
TG: not sure i want to
TG: jade scares the shit out of me
TG: guess well see
TG: hey
TG: you too busy singing we will overcome over there or what
TG: whats going on
TG: do you mind telling me shit now
TG: think i earned it
TG: just pulled off some seriously sick shit
TT: Later, Strider.
TG: christ
TG: are you serious
TT: STRIDER.
TT: LATER.
TG: well
TG: shit
TG: okay
-- temperedGramr [TG] ceased pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 21:30 --
She shouted at you. Well. "Shouted." Rose can get angry. That stuns you a little, no lie.
You're starting to worry that if she starts to answer questions that you'll just have more and things will get even more fucked up.
Ignore it, you decide. Enjoy the scenery. Or look at the code you sent to the world's biggest everything to see exactly how badly you just fucked up your life for some girl you've never met in person.
Yeah. No. That's not happening.
Check it out. There are trees outside.
Hours in the past, but not many...
On a pacific island, an ELDERY REVOLUTIONARY walks in the jungle with no less than five computers on her person, like a reasonable person.
She adjusts the soothspecs on her face. She has a young friend to reassure.
-- godelsGirl [GG] began pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 19:01 --
GG: rose
GG: there are 30 of them
GG: and you have dave on your side
GG: i know you trust him
GG: what else is there to do?
GG: the plan is in motion.
TT: I can't sit here and wait.
TT: There has to be something else I can do.
GG: they'll be there soon.
GG: you'll be able to do plenty for them from your computer. remember, i am giving you access to the grounds controls.
GG: and you are well-armed, it's safe to say. :)
GG: don't you think?
TT: Is it unreasonable to worry?
TT: To feel helpless?
TT: Even with all the plans we've made, and how well-armed I am, as you say.
It makes the REVOLUTIONARY smile, sadly, and think on childhood losses and anger burning more brightly than the heart of any volcano.
She speaks.
GG: not at all.
GG: that's what she does.
GG: she makes you question yourself.
GG: but all you need to do is take heart.
GG: remember who you are.
GG: i know you know that quite well.
TT: Sometimes I'm not so sure, Jade.
GG: if you can't trust yourself.
GG: then trust me.
GG: before we go ahead with this plan
GG: you need to know that i am so proud of you.
TT: Jade.
TT: Stop it.
GG: it's okay!
GG: everything is going to be okay, rose.
GG: i saw them safe and sound.
GG: trust in skaia's knowledge.
GG: it sees and knows.
TT: Maybe I'm too selfish for this,
TT: Too weak.
TT: I'm afraid.
TT: For all of us.
GG: you are the furthest thing from selfish.
GG: take care of yourself and dave.
GG: he'll need you.
GG: i believe in both of you. that we can do great things. that we can stop the witch in her tracks.
GG: you believed in me. let me believe in you.
TT: I will, Jade.
TT: Thank you.
GG: i will see you soon, rose.
TT: I can't wait.
-- godelsGirl [GG] ceased pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 19:16 --
She looks into the sky. She sees, and she knows.
Things aren't as clear to her as they once were, her eyes and her reflexes gone weary, but there are very few tricks up her MOTHER's sleeve that she hasn't seen over the course of a century.
Skaia hasn't told the REVOLUTIONARY. She just knows.
"Come and get me," she says. She knows what needs to be done.
The BOY must be shielded from the witch. She goes.
You look outside at the compound grounds, where drones and employees usually mill through, and you smile down at the sight.
For once, the sun setting on BCCorp Maryland, the place you've called home your entire miserable life, is a welcome sight. Because it'll be the last time you'll lay eyes on a sunset from confinement. You and Jade have worked too hard on this, risked so much, and you may do your best to be hardened and cynical but you're still sixteen. You have to grudgingly admit to yourself, if nothing else, that your main hope in this relies on the unfairness of your aforementioned miserable life being dictated by a series of choices for some reason made by an alien psychopath.
You have to believe Jade. She's never lied to you. In a world built from manipulation and thoroughly gaslit, she's one of the only people you've even considered trusting.
(Of course, you can trust your mother to behave certain ways. You can trust the employees and the drones to studiously ignore you, at least until ordered otherwise. But that's a different kind of trust.)
The butler picked up Dave, and he's on his way to you, working on the hack. You don't want to think about the kind of trust you have in him right now, the kind you've placed in his hands, because it's still impossible to tell if it's valid. He could turn at the last second.
You really, really don't want to think about that. It makes you nauseous, for so many reasons.
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] began pestering godelsGirl [GG] at 20:30 --
TT: Are we go?
TT: I thought they were supposed to be here.
TT: Should I reach out to Luke?
TT: Jade.
TT: You're worrying me.
TT: Please let me know how it stands on your end.
TT: Jade?
TT: Are you all right?
GG: i only have a moment, rose
GG: go to your computer
GG: i'll install the controls for the grounds
GG: luke will contact you
GG: i love you.
GG: now take heart. go.
TT: I,
TT: Yes.
TT: I'm ready. Thank you.
GG: <3
TT: <3
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] ceased pestering godelsGirl [GG] at 20:35 --
You breathe in and out. You remind yourself there's a plan. You remind yourself you have no choice.
You open your laptop and click to open the grounds controls setup Jade gave you access to. It's time to get to work; you're not going to have the time to do all this when Dave and everyone else's efforts make it blatantly obvious what's happening.
-- parisBound [PB] began pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 20:38 --
PB: Rose
PB: We're here
PB: Your friend with the code
PB: Has he got it under control
TT: He will.
PB: Might be difficult to get on the property if security isn't down
TT: Yes, that's a fair assessment.
PB: Are you sure he can do it
TT: Absolutely.
PB: What now
TT: As long as you follow the strategic positions we discussed. I'll make way for you.
TT: Do you trust me?
PB: Definitely
PB: You make a good Patton, Rose
TT: You have no idea. I'll see you out there.
PB: :)
-- parisBound [PB] ceased pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 20:38 --
You settle in with the controls. The gates are the most obvious thing, but opening them would tip off security, and at this point that's the last thing you want to do. What would probably be your best bet is disabling the electric fence instead.
There it is. You smirk, and cheerfully disengage it.
Other things you can do – this is like playing Sims except it's letting you undermine your mother's empire, how great is this? – include: locking down the drone base in the main building so no reinforcements can be called, lowering the oxygen levels in the security wing so as to throw off the humans involved just slightly enough, that kind of thing.
As fun as this is, though, now it's probably worth checking to see if you've captchalogued and packed everything you need or want ever again. Somehow you think you're not going to be able to sneak back here to pick up something you forgot.
You're dizzy as you look through your things, convincing yourself to leave your yarn behind, that skeins are replaceable even if they are just the right shade. Unlike that of the security guys, the lightheadedness isn't because there's less oxygen being pumped through the vents. This is it. This is it.
You're on your way out.
Finally, you stare at your placronym where it sits propped up as a reminder of why. You captchalogue it.
Dave is signed on, not idle, so he must be working at the hack, and you don't want to interrupt him, because for once something more important than trolling Dave is happening. You pace. You thumb your needles nervously and think about kicking dents in your wall. And, finally, you snap.
It's been sixteen and a half years. You have waited too long.
You throw yourself in the computer chair and the freedom of it all is intoxicating. Here we go. You lock the doors on the human security first. You open the gates. Then you kill the power.
Yes, there's a backup generator. But it'll take a minute to come back up, and that's just enough time, considering how dark it is right now.
Enough of that. You captchalogue your laptop, put on your HUBTOPBAND and flip the night vision capabilities on, shouldering your backpack. There shouldn't be drones in the house at this hour, probably, considering your mother isn't home and technically they think you're locked in, which you never actually are.
You sneak out and then HOLY FUCK you were wrong and there's a drone. You think there's a serious possibility you're going to have to blow it up and everything is going to go to hell in here, because when one drone is in this house, there are at least five, and you can take them all out, but everything they see she sees and you are totally doomed.
Its camera takes you in and it moves forward to take you into custody, you can tell, and you just want to scream like a child because this is like every escape attempt you've ever had when you were seven, eight, nine, eleven, thirteen –
But it stops. It whirrs. You scan it with the HUBTOPBAND. It's on sleep mode.
Oh. Oh.
He did it.
A smile crosses your face and your stomach turns, but this nausea is different. This is good nausea. Because Dave came through for you, and you are so incredibly fucking elated that he did and you can't say a word because he'd never let you forget it, but you don't care.
Your heart is beating hard, from fear, from intense joy, all of it. You rush past the drone. There are two more on the stairs, likely having been alerted by the first one, but you ignore them because they're just as asleep. From a window on the first floor you can see the flash of Skaianet weaponry and red and white shrapnel flying through the air, and that terrifies you on an instinctive level because things are going too well.
You strain to look out the window, and that's when you see the bodies.
You know better than this. You do. You knew that people were going to die, you were supposed to be able to deal with this. People are dying at her hands, you remind yourself. We have to make sacrifices to make her stop.
A voice in the back of your head chimes in: Or just make sacrifices to get you free?
You shunt the thought away, because the lights have gone back up, the human security guards are out there, and things are getting really unpleasant. You have to step in, you do, even though things might really go to hell if Heiress v 2.0 shows up to kick ass and take names.
You remind yourself: Trust in Skaia. Trust Jade.
You have nothing to lose, nothing to do but lass scamper the fuck out there.
It's a battlefield out there, quite literally; the power's back on, so is the propaganda signal, and the guards have basically no resistance to it. You can't see Luke, who Jade assured you sticks out, being over six feet tall and also fully capable of wielding two electrified short swords of Jade's own invention, but that's probably just because he's busy having a reasonable discussion with, or physically dominating, the biggest two or three security guards out there.
Or possibly not. Because a fairly large one has just spotted you.
You freeze despite yourself – just this once – then you let the adrenaline take over and a smile crosses your face for a moment.
"Do we have a problem?" you ask him, and show him the THORNS OF OGLOGOTH.
He makes the mistake of laughing at you, so you disarm him, throw him to the ground, choke him out a bit, and dislocate his shoulder. Then the HUBTOPBAND warns you that you're not alone again, which seems redundant considering the whole battlefield thing until you hear gunfire in your direction. You instinctively deflect it with majjyks.
That stops the gunfire for a few seconds, both because they realize it's not helping and that you have majjyks and what are they up against exactly?
Apparently they don't realize who they're working for.
All the better, really. You smirk, and advance on them.
-- temperedGramr [TG] began pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 21:25 --
TG: think i got it
Strider is pestering you. REALLY?
You suppose it isn't totally fair of you to complain, considering, but what timing.
TG: your hippie friends putting flowers in guns yet
TG: still not entirely sure what these files do
TG: not sure i want to
TG: jade scares the shit out of me
TG: guess well see
TG: hey
TG: you too busy singing we will overcome over there or what
TG: whats going on
TG: do you mind telling me shit now
TG: think i earned it
TG: just pulled off some seriously sick shit
Okay, two of them are down. That's a start. You can answer now.
TT: Later, Strider.
TG: christ
TG: are you serious
Shit, that one got back up.
TT: STRIDER.
TT: LATER.
TG: well
TG: shit
TG: okay
-- temperedGramr [TG] ceased pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 21:30 --
You make a point of kicking that last guard in the balls.
Oh, fuck, this feels good. You think you could be into this kind of thing. The fresh air – the THORNS in your hands, finally crackling with power – the rebellion, here, on your doorstep, to help you – the destiny of it all, just as Jade said – wait. Jade. She hasn't pestered you in ages.
You start to speak, to pester her, but another guard comes at you, a faster one now, and there's no time, you're being fought into a corner.
There's a horrible electronic shrieking sound a second later and half the combatants throw their hands over their ears, and you fight through it, tie this guard's hands up, and try to think past it. You glance at your wrist and exhale, grinning for an instant. The light has stopped pulsing.
The signal is down.
Shouting breaks out instead of fighting, shoving and arguments, less bloodshed, and you're starting to wonder if maybe there's a way to get everyone, most everyone, out of here – climb on top of something and use majjyks as a bullhorn to rally the people, maybe? How cliché – then gunfire rings out again and there's screaming, high-pitched, and chaos breaks out worse than ever.
This day, you swear to the Old Gods. You go to save some people's asses.
Dave, where are you – no, you can't think about that, not right now –
One moment you're in the fray, breaking a security officer's arm and knocking him out, then the next there's a blinding light and the most horrific kind of screaming and the smell of burnt hair and scorched rubber and sulfur, and
There's blood on your face and your clothes and you blink and swipe it off the lens of your HUBTOPBAND, slowly, because you can barely move through the shock and confusion. What, why, how, why are there bodies for a hundred feet or more around you, why has everyone turned to shoot up, up into the sky, where –
It's a ship. A spaceship. It's red, and white, and huge. Her mark is there. You can feel her, there.
Strider again. You look, because it's better than this.
-- temperedGramr [TG] began pestering terminalTelesilla [TT] at 21:38 --
TG: holy fucking shit
TG: what was that
TG: i was joking about the terrorist thing
TG: you didnt actually blow shit up did you
TT: How far are you?
TG: just saw a nuke go off or whatever
TG: 5-10 max
TT: Meet me by Building 38C.
TT: Don't worry, Strider.
TT: We've got this.
TG: to be worried
TG: id have to have any clue whats going on
TG: so
TG: cool
TG: all good here
TT: See you soon.
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] ceased pestering temperedGramr [TG] at 21:43 --
You think that's the longest you can pretend that any of this is okay.
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] began pestering godelsGirl [GG] at 21:43 --
TT: Jade.
TT: I don't know where you are,
TT: Or if you're all right.
TT: But she killed them.
TT: She'll kill us all.
TT: I think it's over.
TT: I'm sorry.
TT: I love you, too.
-- terminalTelesilla [TT] ceased pestering godelsGirl [GG] at 21:44 --
You impatiently brush tears from your face and run for 38C, over and past bodies of people you didn't know but knew of you and fought for you, or who had no clue who they were working for, actually.
You have another message, from Jade, hopefully, or, no, no no no no fuck
-- )(er Imperial Condescension [)(IC] began trolling terminalTelesilla [TT] at 21:47 --
)(IC: got a present for ma gurl
)(IC: open up baby tinyurl.com/justformarosie
)(IC: and smile for tha cameraaaaaa
You falter and take steps back and you hate yourself for it, pushing yourself to stand your ground as you see her step off the fucking ship about a hundred feet away, readying her cameraphone at you like you're going to high school prom.
Her trident is bloody. Fuck do you not want to open the link. But you have to.
You're trembling when it loads. Jade. This is not okay. Jade. You can't let this go unpunished. You have to avenge her. You have to. It rages in your head, the echo of the throes.
You look past the photo of Jade, crumpled, bleeding, to your MOTHER, still captivated in fury and unwilling to admit that this all could fail even when Skaia knows.
She snaps a picture of you. You stare at her, speechless in guilt and vengeance, and that's when you see it. Either she doesn't care or she can't control it, or the propaganda signal was doing part of the work for her – whatever the reason, she's now essentially visible as what she truly is. Even you aren't prepared for what you're seeing, honestly. It's the most open she's been in years.
All of this is the most open she's been in years.
"Gills," you say, skeptical. "Gills and... and magical rainbow auras. And... is that a third eye?"
"Rose," she answers, gently, grinning, smirking, taunting, all of it, somehow. You may be snarking but your body can't decide how to handle it, to cry, to collapse in terror, or to fly at her in rage, so you wind up just staring at her in the most potent impotent rage possible. "Rooooose," she calls. "Come to Mother."
"You killed her," you say, flatly. She's winning, and that makes you hate her more than ever. "Don't you understand? You won. She was forced out, in hiding, why would you even hurt her, this was my idea – mine! Why would you need to – want to – what gives you the right?"
"All of this – " She gestures at the bloodbath, and there's another blast of light and screaming and you fight off tears desperately – "All this, baby, and you have to ask why?" She follows your gaze to the blood dripping from one side of her trident. "Girls like you, discipline's key."
Oh, shit. Your face is flushing now. You have no control. At least in the rage and the throes you can live with yourself, for now. "You can try to kill me if you want." You draw the THORNS again. "But I think all my patience with your stupid game has earned me first shot. Have I not earned your respect yet?"
"Ain't about respect." She eyes the THORNS. "I knew you could do it, both of you, and you know that. And I know you know why-y," she finishes in a sing-song, her eyes narrowing.
"This is stupid," you interrupt, sharply. "Do I get first shot or not?"
"Oh come on, let's enjoy this, Rosie – "
"Don't call me that!" You lash out with powers from the Void.
You expected her to react better to that, pleased, even, but she doesn't take well to it, her mouth pressing into a firm line. Power crackles from her fingers in near-blinding, flickering colors as she smashes your attack aside. Ridiculously, you think of what Dave's stupid metaphor might be, and – what the hell, Rose? – anyway –
"You're right, I could kill you too," she drawls out, gestures grandiosely, and the GodCat appears next to her. You huff despite yourself; you hate that thing, and it hates you, and this is just insult to injury. "Oh, who am I kidding, baby? I kinda have to, don't I."
"Oh my god, shut up and try or go back to Mars," you say. It's not remotely clever but you're too pissed off to care that much.
"Not from Mars, Rose, and you know it," she answers without missing a beat, and smirks. "Right?"
Fucking taunts. You attack her again and again and again, and you can't even tell if it's getting past her defenses, but you don't care. You don't care that a small voice in the back of your head is suggesting you're becoming more like her than you want to. You don't care. You don't care.
Your MOTHER lowers her hand; she remains untouched.
"Time to play," she says, and saunters towards you with that awful swing in her hips.
You take slow breaths.
This is it.
You catch one side of the trident in the THORNS and she spins it, you duck, you blast the trident out from your grasp but of course it's in perfect condition, still, and she's so close that you just know, you know this is it, and in one way, one way, this is freedom –
No.
You punch her in the face, which mostly just hurts your hand, then blast her away ten feet while she's distracted by your audacity.
"You little bitch," she shouts at you. "Not the face!"
You chop your hair off with a lash of the THORNS, staring her down with a faint, probably totally insane smile.
"Fuck you," you say.
She looks at you, mortally offended because your precious hair or whatever, her idiotic ego as usual, then she laughs in a way that can only be described as wicked. Then she hits you with a rainbow lightning bolt, seriously, and the next thing you remember you're on the ground, and –
Here we go again.
You have finally arrived at BCCorp Maryland, and promptly have begun to feel like a major asshole. Like, holy fuck, yeah, this DAVE STRIDER guy is a douchebag, an awesome douchebag who can do incredible things with a computer and survive in any wilderness, but a douchebag nevertheless.
You don't know if Rose is completely insane or whatever, and she probably is because she makes barely any sense to you most of the time, but right now you are a douchebag for doubting her for everything because there are definitely evil robots and a fuckton of dead bodies and a red and white spaceship parked right over there.
"38C. 38C," you repeat urgently to the robot butler, and punch him in the arm without thinking to get him going faster. "Ow, fuck – "
"You have told me sir," the robot butler says.
"You can talk? Oh shit that doesn't matter just go faster," you say as fast as you can. "Hit the gas, motherfucker!"
The car jerks forward as he hits the gas and it plows over a few hopefully dead bodies – you cringe and really hope you didn't just kill some possible survivors, but most everyone looks pretty horribly ugly dead there so – before skidding across a courtyard and right up by the spaceship.
"Oh, shit, no, not by the spaceship," you shout at the fucking robot. "Dude no I did not sign up for aliens – "
"This is Building 38C," the robot butler says pleasantly.
"Well – shit!" There it is on the building. Doesn't look like you have a choice here. Dammit, Rose. You throw the car door open, climb out and just about run before you remember to tell the robot butler to "STAY HERE."
"Yes sir," the robot says, and turns the car off.
"LEAVE IT ON," you shout at him again, and take off running.
You stop dead when you see her. Them. Shit, fuck, damn, hell, holy motherfucking christ it's an alien with gills who you are definitely not having sexy thoughts about, and Rose is using magic wands? and you have a really horrible feeling about this because if that's – if that's –
You can't let yourself think about that.
Rose gets blasted to her feet by some kind of rainbow-y lightning strike from the fish-alien and you're shouting her name before you can stop yourself even though that's a recipe for getting a lightning bolt yourself and you fucking know it. The fish-alien's head turns to you and your instinct is to freeze – is that a third eye? Is it blinking? – until you break out of it and draw your sword.
"Oh sweetie," the alien drawls, "you got the wrong idea."
"Yeah well you aren't gonna kill Rose," you say, and it almost sounds like you're not terrified, which is surprising considering that you absolutely are. "I'll kill you first."
"Oh really, Dave?" HOLY SHIT SHE KNOWS YOUR NAME and that's when you start having a really hard time not admitting that this fish-alien might be Rose's "mom" and you don't really want to think about the implications of that any further, also not really the time is it. "Because I don't think so."
"Then let's do this, Aqua-Mom," you say, and ready your sword.
She considers that, tilting her head as she gazes at your sword, but Rose is stirring, and she glances her way instead. "...Later, boys and girls," she says, and blows Rose a kiss – and rainbow electric shit bursts from her fingertips and electrifies Rose, who starts screaming and twitching, and you rush forward but the alien's on you and slams you to the ground with the side of her trident to your head. Your sword clatters to the ground and jesus christ this is going badly, you realize, as she glides away walking like Betty god damn Boop or something to her over-branded spaceship.
"What a bitch," you mumble.
The spaceship leaves. It takes you a few minutes to climb to your feet comfortably, and you probably have a concussion, but it's not like it's your first one. You walk to Rose and kneel by her; you're going to have to see if she's alive and you know it but god you don't know what the fuck you're going to do if she's dead. You touch her lips, accidentally, as you test to see if she's breathing, and in spite of yourself you flush because you're a teenager, dammit, and in person, asleep, even with a crazy-ass haircut, Rose is kind of hot.
This isn't exactly how you imagined your first meeting. But now that you think about it you can't imagine it turning out any other way, because, it's Rose for fuck's sake.
"Weirdest fucking day," you say to the unconscious Rose, and pick her up. "Come on. The robot butler's waiting for us."
You wake up. The last thing you remember is being flattened to the concrete, so lush bedding and soft lighting is surprising but not unpleasant. The first sound you recognize is the gentle clack of laptop keys, and you blink sunlight from your blurry vision, which finally shows you who's there.
"Dave," you call to him.
You startle the hell out of him. "Uh, hey," he says, turning around quickly, playing it cool. Does he think you're going to believe that? "You're up."
"Yes." You sit up, cringing and wincing at all the pain that's everywhere, and your head's still sorting itself out. "Should I... leave the questions for later, or..."
He hesitates. "I don't know. I figured you'd want food first."
"We're in a hotel," you conclude.
"Yeah," he says.
"Room service? Can we afford it?"
"Rose, I ransacked BCCorp Maryland's accounts, they won't be needing that shit anyway. Place is ruined," he says. "We're good. Also probably we're both in deep shit with the law. Or at least Crockercorp. Woohoo," he finishes in a deadpan.
"It's not a matter of 'probably,'" you say. You can't stop looking at him, but you're not out of it enough to just stare. It's just so good to see him. "We're on the run, Strider. Ready for it?"
"Something like that," he says. His eyebrows rise above his sunglasses. "You owe me, by the way. I saved your ass."
"Did you?" you ask dryly. "Really."
"Yeah," he says. "From a fish-alien."
You smile, in spite of yourself. "Do you know how insane that sounds?"
"Nothing crazier than what you say on a regular basis," he says. "You got everything you need from that place, because I can mess their shit up again if you need somethin' – "
"No," you say, immediately. You don't want to go back. It hurts to think about. "No, I'm fine." There's a long, awkward pause, and he seems to be expecting you to say something. "You did it."
"Uh, yeah, and you have magic powers or something," he points out, clearly uncomfortable with this idea. "What the fuck was that?"
"You never believed me, did you," you ask rhetorically.
"Who the hell would? It's Girl Interrupted, padded room crazy shit. And now I'm – " He cuts himself off, and puts his hands up, then turns back to the laptop. "Whatever. Order breakfast. Lunch. Whatever it is."
It makes you pause. "Strider," you say.
He doesn't turn around. "Yeah?"
You think it through, again. "Dave."
His shoulders relax. "Yeah."
"Thanks."
"Yeah," he says, quietly.
You pick up the menu and the phone, and avert your eyes from him. He needs time, even if your time is running out. You can wait.
A century in the past...
An ANCIENT EMPRESS holds a human wiggler in her arms.
It disgusts her, as all such things do. She is not a jadeblood; she is not meant to care for things, to keep them from dying. The glory of her race was – is – her only priority.
The wiggler is wiggling, appropriately, she supposes. The EMPRESS wishes she could throw it to the ground and shatter it. But the power that's been given to her; the things she can do; the things that she's seen; the things that she's done; the price she's had to pay for it; it's all led up to this, and what will come far too soon after.
She has no choice. She must be ready, now. Humanity is frail, and will be easy to break.
The troll race will rise again. Her Master will bleed candy red and taste defeat, or she will at last find freedom from a multiverse in which she serves no purpose.
It's too early to tell. But either way, she's gonna make him pay.