Chapter Text
The timeless world
Mrs. Protagonist, save everyone's stupid ass ===>
“Run.”
“We can’t just leave you behind!”
“Yes, you guys can, Pyrope; you all have done it before!”
“I just got you back! There’s no way I’m going to let you go again!” Rather than the expected tears forming in the eyes that I blinded not too long ago, her eyes were spewing sparks of anger. Her hands reached up and clasped my shoulders as she looked at the white of my eyes. Those were the same hands that caused the loss of my pupils. “Three years ago...” she paused as if that incident hurt her more than it hurt me. “I don’t want to end up losing you again!”
“Look, none of you can help me here!” I yelled with the attempt of being heard through the tumult of crumbling walls. “While all of you were off on your adventure through Can Town, I was in the dream bubbles training my ass off! And you think you can help in this battle, Pyrope?”
“I’m still alive aren’t I?” she sneered, about half of her 32 identical fangs leering at me through the crack of her frown.
“Fuck!” I yelled, stretching out the 'u' in eight long syllables. “Strider, Vantas, get her out of here!”
Dave took off his broken shades, shoving it in his sylladex. He glanced at Karkat as if to ask if it was smart to listen to me. Karkat gave an annoying shrug to share his unclarity on the matter; it wasn’t a matter of helping me, but rather, he wasn’t sure if they could get Terezi out of here in the first place.
Dave had cuts and bruises all over his body. His god tier outfit was intact, but the blood dyed the red garment an even darker red. He was healing slowly – slower than usual - and it seemed his time abilities were becoming useless. I heard from Aradia that exhaustion is an actual thing for players of time. Karkat wasn’t any better; he was bloody, his mutant red blood visible, and beautifully illuminating, on his black, torn shirt.
Yes, I did expect a human and a Troll, both with possible dislocated shoulders, cracked ribs, and bloody, well, everything, to carry a seven sweep old vicious and seemingly healthy - although covered with wounds - Troll onto a ship directed towards Earth while leaving me behind in the process.
Bite me.
It did surprise me, however, when they did what I asked. Karkat, being, not the weakest but, the most wounded of the two, couldn’t do much but help Dave grab Terezi; the way Troll Shrek grabbed Troll Fiona in that one movie that Karkat made me watch, title too long to be expressed right at this moment, but I believe the human equivalent was simply dubbed ‘Shrek’. In this situation Dave was Shrek and Karkat was Donkey; Fiona was obviously Terezi. For some reason I didn’t think the role matched her at all, but I digress.
Terezi tried fighting Dave and Karkat, hitting them both, yelling and snarling back at me, to no avail, and to my surprise. I didn’t expect Dave, a human, to possess the ability to carry an semi-fully grown Troll. Then again, he did seem to have trouble while doing so, then I guess that is where Karkat came in. I smiled at the thought of Karkat being an Equus africanus asinus, or, in Alternian terms, a demented hoofbeast. However, I frowned when Terezi’s eyes met my own.
I turned away so she couldn’t see that strange look my eyes bore at that moment, because, fuck! Why did that dancestor of mine give Terezi her eyesight back? No, more like, why did Aranea even agree to my favor of giving Terezi her eyesight back? Like seriously, what was I thinking? I, for one, never ask for favors. It’s times like these where I say ‘fuck you’ to guilt eight times in a row because that bitch-of-a-platonic-hate-friend-due-to-a-temporary-truce-we-made wasn’t even grateful for her newfound eyesight!
The floor shook violently, and I almost toppled over, except, I never topple over.
I glanced back to see a few of my allies remaining. Meenah, Kanaya, John, and Equius were only some of the many willing to risk their lives to win this so called ‘game’. Many of the doomed timeline Trolls had already served their purpose, leaving only what I assumed where the original alive timeline Trolls and humans, with a few exceptions for the alive part, such as yours truly.
Even though our numbers had dwindled since the start of this strife, we still had an advantage in quantity; outnumbering our single, final foe. However, there was no way we could beat the final boss; none of us were ready. Lord English had us all fooled and our overconfident asses got us all pulled into a trap - mostly due to the trust some of us had in Gamzee.
“What are you all doing here?” I growled loudly back at those who decided that they should stand and fight together with me. These losers never know when to quit. “Get the fuck out of here!”
“Vris-”
“Shut up and go!” I yelled. “Where is that trust you all had in me? I had to deal with so many irons, with an equal amount of fires, in order to get this far! I am stronger than all of you and I can handle this guy on my own! Now go on that ship and leave this fight to the pro!” I ended my words with a smirk that would even make The Condesce feel proud. Slowly, but surely, Trolls and humans alike started leaving until two stubborn and troublesome accomplices were left.
“Girl, we are in this together,” Meenah said with acrimony, while walking towards me in annoyance. The anger she held right at that moment felt unusual to the normal carefree attitude she showed when we decided to give up on winning this game. “We had a braided truce; so don’t go glubbin' saying that we got to leave you-”
“Leave,” I said coldly.
My powers had grown from when I was dead, since being dead means I had no limitations and I couldn't feel pain (at least, not much pain), the possibilities were infinite. So during the three years I was dead, and through training and lessons from Aranea, I found tricks on how to control people of higher blood caste than I. Although I disliked mind controlling those I found it in me to consider friends, I usually found acceptable and liable excuses for reassurance of committing such deeds. Although for a short time period, the highblood screamed obscurities at me as I led her away to where I found slow lowbloods to help with the dragging of the highblood. With the reassurance of low caste minds to handle the dreadful and stubborn ally, I turned my attention to the next aversion.
“You should go as well, Fussyfangs,” I said to Kanaya. “There’s nothing you can do to help me in this situation. Nothing you do, or say, will help; we’re not morails anymore. Besides, don’t you have a fellow light player waiting for you?” I asked, raising and lowering my eyebrows profusely. She stayed a while before telling me-
“Good luck.”
“Oh, please,” I said stretching out both words evenly. “I’ve got all the luck. All of it, remember?” With that said, she turned and started walking away, at first hesitantly, then later with false confidence. Before she left, however, I added.
“Tell Captor to lift off when all the Trolls and humans board....” She stopped. “Don’t wait for me.”
“Is that all?”
“Tell... that I...” It was difficult to open my mouth and have my vocal cords release a sound that would eventually project that one word. Fuck. “Tell her that she is a fuck up and should consider screwing herself in the near future.” Kanaya, fortunately, understood what I meant.
“I will,” she said and hastily walked away left. Even though she only said two words, I could automatically tell she was crying. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. Don’t judge me; I simply used her possible tears as motivation.
I turned back only to stare straight into the colorful eyes of Lord English himself, emerging from the hallway in front of this room. We managed to decapitate him, and then abscond, ending up in what seemed like a ballroom with walls painted a vomit-colored green.
The large man was at least eight times taller than I - his power level seemed to also mimic his height advantage. His eyes glared at me, possibly at my soul, which is ironic considering that I'm already dead. His green skin seemed as one of a reptile; cold and hard; just like his personality.
He was a tough foe to defeat.
I rolled my dice, all eight falling out of my grasp onto the hard floor covered in bodies of doomed timeline Trolls, humans, and robots. In addition to the bodies, there was blood everywhere; the floor painted an ugly brown due to the mixture of all the colors. I hoped my luck wouldn’t fail me and my dice would give me a good roll. Although, I knew it wouldn’t matter if I got a good roll - there was no way I could beat English on my own. I was only sticking around because, well, if I wasn’t, those whom I mustered enough strength to call 'friends' wouldn’t manage to escape.
Seven of the eight die scattered to a halt, all displaying that lucky digit of eight. The remaining die span its final round, and eventually to a halt, suddenly possessing the ability to change a fate already decided under the hands of a certain slick bastard. The die radiated a warm white, surrounded by light cerulean sparks. The clothes grew on me, light blinding not only my adversary, but also those blinded by death. A sharp blue blade appeared upon my hands, being gripped by the ghostly fingers of enmity. I only took one step forward, but even so, I felt newfound power surging though my body like electricity.
I decided that it was a favorable roll, the result bringing out an ancestral awakening of a pirate whose name would strike fear in the worthiest of opponents; but the glory of such a role didn't feel satisfying. The antagonist wasn't the type to patiently wait for the anti-hero's preparation. He attacked first and although I dodged a direct hit, I was still hurt by the pressure.
By the time I got my bearings back, I was hit once again, this time directly, and sent flying to the nearest wall - which was about four meters away. It took me a whole eight seconds to get back up, but as I did, I started coughing out the distasteful cerulean blood. The pain my insides held was near unbearable, but standing up still seemed possible at that moment.
I charged at my adversary, only to be knocked down again. The blue blade flew out of my grasp to landed a few feet away from me. Hilt in the air while the edge pierced the earth. The villainous man took his time even though he didn’t need to worry about running out of it. He was made of time; a true player of time, as he over ranked the one in my session and the one in John’s session.
I got up again, coughing out more blood than before. My body slowly started feeling numb and staying awake became difficult - simply breathing felt difficult. Yet, the change of senses from the numbness of my body gave me the ability to track my wounds; more serious wounds being beyond torpid than lighter ones. Those I couldn’t feel were presumptively not attached to my body. The only part of my body that felt this way, however, was the left side of my face. I marked it as cowardly to reach up and feel the burned tissue encasing half of my face. I assured myself that I would inspect all my wounds after the battle, although I wasn’t entirely positive that there would even be an ‘after’.
I dived for my blue blade, but when I reached it, I was hit again.
Wait- what?
That’s not right; I actually did grab it. There was a jump, and a blinding red as the blade slashed through the cherubs titan-like neck, but when I jumped back to prepare for another offensive strike, it all faded to black for an instant. I heard faint susurrations, and although quiet, they echoed in my eardrums.
By the time I realized what had happened, I was back at the cognition of half my face being gone. My blade was also a few feet away from me again. Perplexed about the current situation, I made the mistake of diving for my blade, exactly how I did so in another timeline. Then I was hit. I placed my left hand on the ground and skid to a halt. I later found that to be a horrible idea as the skin on my left palm was ripped off along with the rest of my pride.
The building shook, making the task of lying in one place excessively difficult with the amount of debris from the already crumbling walls crashing down on the only floor available for balance; which was a pile of corpses anyway. The pressure of both Mituna’s and Sollux’s powers vibrated even the tiniest cells in my body. I smiled for the first time in a long time, thankful that the humans and Trolls I considered my allies were finally leaving the abhorrent void. The thought of standing for at least eight more minutes, before letting my body join the many corpses already littered across the floor, felt possible with the newfound motivation. At least I hoped eight minutes would be enough time to aid their escape.
So then I guess I needed to stand for eight more minutes, or else Lord English would get to them. I saw my tall adversary stumble at the shaking of the building. I took advantage of his moment of dawdle and charged at him.
My name is Vriska Serket and I’m currently charging into my possible death.
Fortunately, bitches don’t die that easily...