A Little Story of Hats and Advancement.

You place your dearest companion in the sopor pool and leave Sarima to her own devices with a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek. You have a job to do after all and there's no time to waste. From your cursory research into the planet you live on, you know that the higher a troll is on the hemospectrum the more durable they are. Indigo bloods especially are known for their great physical strength. As much as you adore your sweet sweet Thompson, you believe that it will not be enough to bring your target down in a timely manner. As charismatic as you are, you sadly do not have the skill to convince Cillya to stand still while Joe unloads a dozen clips into his body.

Therefore, you are going to need something more if you want to take down the genocidal bastard. Something you will not be able to obtain in the time you have before the party will begin. At least, you can't get anything alone. You dedicate yourself to some last minute networking. Although you need to get experience with using troll technology, you opt to just use your personal computer for this task. You... just cannot deal with a writhing laptop at the moment.

You equip your mask and get to work, strolling the Alternian internet like its your personal playground. You know that there is a large rebellion presence in your area and you have seen the results of their destruction firsthand. So you take a look at any and all rebellion information that you can find. Upon taking a closer look, you see that every troll and their lusus has decided to start a rebellion. There are rebellions against Cillya, rebellions against the Condesence, even rebellions started to rebel against other rebellions. Each and every one appears to hate each other for some reason or another, it is honestly difficult to keep track of the grievances they have.

So you decide to make a different alternate account for every single rebellion social media site that you can find in your area. With how lacking most rebel security is, the most difficult part of joining a site is coming up with new troll names. You introduce yourself to rebellion sects small and... smaller. Their leaders are a mixture of suspicious and ecstatic to have someone interested in their group. They seem pretty desperate for new members, though they would have to be if they were willing to each make public recruitment pages on grubbook.

Sadly, no group that you can find has the resources that you need. Sure, they each have something nice, whether it be a couple of explosives, guns, or a powerful psychic, but alone no one has the capacity to safely take down one measly indigo. Well... That isn't entirely true. A few of your recruiters do mention a troll that might have what you need, a strange loner that lives somewhere within the rebellion wastes. They are not officially recognized by any other rebellion, but this loner seems capable of kicking the ass of any troll that comes their way and has a distaste for the Fuschia. Some say they have an army of ghosts backing them up, while others say that they can bend metal with their mind. About the only thing anyone can agree on is that you should stay away from them.

So of course you're gonna ask your mystery monster for help~ You know that the typical rebels can't help you, so it is only natural that you look for help from the one person who might be able to. Besides, you believe that most of your new rebel "friends" are catching onto your ruse. Some start to demand proof that you are dedicated to the cause while others accuse you of being a spy. You decide to systematically set each of your accounts to culled and take a break from social media for the night. If you need more information, you can always make more accounts. Grub book will never be able to ban your rule breaking ass.

With your mask safely stored back on your back, you slide down the stairs. You see that while you were occupied Bubbles decided to show Taco her favorite grubtube accounts. Taco is... less than entertained.

Taco: ...Uh... Y-Yes, very funny Bubbles! Absolutely... purrfect.

Bubbles: [///] I know : D I've been watching grubcraft stuff since I was little. I'm glad I can share this. : 3

You: Sorry to interrupt, but I'm going out to fetch some last minute tools. Would one of you mind waking up Joe? Guy needs to stretch.

Taco: Oh! I can do that! Sorry bubbles, assassination business and all that.

Bubbles: [//|] O-Okay. Try and hurry back though!

Taco: …Of course : 3 wouldn't want to miss anything.

Taco hurries upstairs while Bubbles continues to absorb the stream of digital comfort food. At the very least she's gaining a bit of confidence in herself. You make a mental note to kidnap an influencer for her later as you head out the door. You don't exactly have an address for where your mysterious friend is, but they can't be too hard to find. All you have to do is search until you find a place devoid of firefights.

You stalk the war-torn streets, avoiding the rebels with relative ease. You will never call traversing a war-zone easy, but you have gotten good at it over the sweeps. You wish you could explain some surefire trick to it, but in all honesty the only thing that matters is luck. It just so happens that your luck at avoiding stray bullets is pretty good. You leave the warring teenagers to their troubles and head to the one area even they will not traverse, looking for a hint towards your mystery monster's identity.

You: hELLO! iNTERLOPER hERE! i aM vERY sPECIFICALLY dISTURBING yOUR sHIT! cOME gET mE, i gOT a tIGHT sCHEDULE tO fOLLOW aND wAITING fOR yOU iS nOT oN iT!

You whistle and occasionally clap your hands like you are trying to summon a lost doggo. You would show a bit more tact, but you really do have to hurry this up. You have like forty minutes to get help and then get back home for the assassination. There is no time to be lost acting cool.

You are so desperate in fact you don't immediately go back home when you find your mystery friend's hive. They certainly did not take many steps to hide the thing, decorating the large factory like complex with blood, gore, and decapitated heads on metal spikes. But hell, on Alternia, those are practically just lawn decorations.

You: oI, nICE hIVE! yOU bETTER cOME gET mE bEFORE i cOME iN aND rAID yOUR fRI-AGHCK!

And get you they do! You got so busy trying to be noticed that you ironically did not notice the troll coming up behind you to give your head a hard smack. Your face plants against the cold hard ground and your assailant grabs you by the back of your shirt. You try to resist the obvious consequences of your actions, but your attacks prove futile. When you slam your fist into the side of the bastard, the only thing you feel is pain. You are pretty sure you manage to break a finger or two just by punching this incredibly well built bastard.

You shed a few tears as the six foot troll lifts you up like a cat and brings you inside the complex. It seems your new sworn enemy is not alone, for the building is filled with trolls presumably identical to the unseen man. The spacious area is filled with metallic entities built in the shape of a troll, each one clearly nonorganic with piercing soulless eyes. Worryingly, the rumours you heard appear to be correct. Although the robot takes you only a short distance, you see several hundred robots in the building with a lot more likely hidden from view. At the very least the thing has not killed you yet, so maybe there is still a way to recover from your blunder.
Soon, you are brought before the creator of the mechanical army, unceremoniously dropped before them like a criminal before a king. Of course, that doesn't mean you can't try to be friendly!

You: gOOD nIGHT fRIEND, hOW dO yOU dO?

???: why d9 y9u c9me here, there is n9thing t9 6enefit fr9m b9thering me

???: why are y9u here!!! There's n9 m9ney, n9 weap9ns n9 friends!!

???: it makes n9 sense!!

The creator of these robotic bruisers is a small troll wielding a big sniper rifle pointed right at your face. His hair is black and messy while his horns are rather large. His attire of choice is a pair of protective black glasses and an apron, stained with oil and burns. You can not make out his blood color, but frankly you do not really care. You talk right past his rifle like it is not even there.

You: iM jUST hERE fOR a bIT oF hELP wITH aN aSSASSINATION iM pULLING oFF lATER tODAY.

You: wE cAN bOTH bENEFIT fROM tHIS, fRIEND.

Smol boi: why????

Smol boi: I enj9y my space, and all 9f y9u idi9ts think y9u can just c9me in??? And take it????

You: i cANT tAKE aNYTHING fROM yOU, i kNOW tHAT. yOU aRE sOMETHING oF a lOCAL lEGEND yKNOW. aLL i cAN dO iS aSK fOR yOUR hELP.

You: sO, wOULD yOU kINDLY hELP aN uP aND cOMING hUMANITARIAN kILL a dICTATOR?

The mystery troll paces around the room, full of anxiety. His shaky hands manage to keep his rifle pointed at your skull, though you wish he would take his finger off the trigger. Frankly his robotic platoon is more than enough to keep you in place, but you choose to keep your criticisms to yourself.

Smol Boi: I d9nt kn9w I d9nt kn9w I'm tired and I can't sleep cause if I sleep y9u will just keep c9ming 6ack and it's ann9ying.

You: iM jUST tOO dETERMINED tO lET aN aRMY oF dEATH rOBOTS kEEP mE fROM hELPING pEOPLE, oR fROM aDORABLE mECHANICS wITH fLOOFY hAIR ; 3

You: i wONT aSK fOR mUCH, jUST fOR a lITTLE bIT oF fIREPOWER.

Smol Boi: what d9 I get???

You: a fAVOR. a fAVOR fOR wHATEVER yOU wANT. nOT tO mENTION a mUCH nICER nEIGHBOR tO wORK wITH.

Smol Boi: 9kau yeah sure just

Smol Boi: let me sleep and y9u can have 10 69ts

You: i nEED tHEM nOW, i mUST aDMIT. mY fRIENDS eXPECT mE wITHIN tHE hOUR wITH hELP.

Smol Boi: just d9nt c9me 6ack, ever, f9r 8 nights

You: …tHIS wAS sURPRISINGLY pLEASANT. i wONT bOTHER yOU fOR tEN wHOLE nIGHTS iF yOU gRANT mE yOUR gUNBOTS, i sWEAR.

You: dEAL, fRIEND?

Smol Boi: thr9w them 9ut

The same group of robotic assailants that dragged you in drag you out before you can get a word in edgewise. They take their directions literally, tossing you out in the dirt with little fanfare. You land right on your recently injured hand causing pain to shoot through your entire arm. As you suppress a screaming swearing fit, seven robots March out of the hive right behind you, staring intently at you.

Your mechanic pal said he would give you ten, but he was probably too tired to count. Even worse, he was too tired to actually mention anything of how to use the blasted tin cans. You are out on your ass with a broken hand, too few weapons, and no idea of how to actually use them…

This has to be the absolute worst thing this mystery mechanic has ever done.

At the very least you know you have medical equipment at the base. As you walk from the hive the seven robotic soldiers follow in a perfect line, mimicking your movements almost perfectly. You try to ask them to be more subtle, but they do not seem to understand. That or they're just assholes. Honestly on this planet both are equally likely.

With a group of clanking and glowing robots walking behind you, sneaking out of the war zone is much more difficult. You duck and weave between rubble, but your friends simply make subtlety near impossible!

You: Okay, guys! Can we please try to not wake up the entirety of Alternia?

They stare at you blankly.

You: …Okay, how about this. When I raise my hand, like this, you will wait in place unt-

You raise your good hand in the air to try your hand at nonverbal communication. Seconds after, you feel a sharp pain as a sniper's bullet rips through your wrist. You scream as you fall to the ground, your hand exploding into a burst of golden viscera. This is honestly probably your fault, but you are more than happy to blame your robots for putting you out in the first place!

You: SWEET LOLTH MOTHER OF VENOMOUS TERRIBLE BEASTS I HATE ALL OF YOU!!

The robotic platoon blasts into the air via rockets built into their feet, riddling bullets off in the distance, presumably where your assailant lies.

You: YOU COULD FLY THE WHOLE ASS TIME YOU STUPID ASS GOBLIN BUMPERS!?

It only takes the soldiers a few seconds to dispatch your opponent, at which point they get right back to standing idly next to you. You clutch your bloody stump as you climb on top of the first robot in line.

You: OKAY, NO MORE WALKING, WE'RE GOING INTO THE AIR!

You: FLY!

Nothing occurs.

You: ...UP! BLAST OFF! VROOM VROOM!

Still nothing.

You: Please?

No matter how direct or polite you are, the robotic weaponry refuses your commands. You... assume their must be some kind of keyword they would listen too, but fuck if you know what it is. That or your friend forgot to make them listen to you. You can not count either option out. The only thing you do know for sure is that if you do not find medical attention soon, you will bleed out. So, you push through the pain and hobble your way through the war zone. Luckily you manage to avoid any further trouble as you walk through the destroyed city streets, letting you take the walk of shame back to your base.

You drag yourself to your front door and just when you think your problems are over, you remember a little something.

Your hands don't fuckin work.

You can't open the damn door.

You sigh before gently banging your head on the door, over and over.


Sarima ceases her petting of Beecat and moves her way over to the door. Once it swings open, she immediately gets a face-full of a pretty banged up pawn and an army of robots behind her.

Sarima: 𝒪𝒽 𝓂𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈! 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊???


You: I attempted to educate a group of METAL MORONS while in line of a rifle's sight line… Honestly I'm lucky my hand is all I lost.

You: Much as I would hate to bleed all over our poor carpet, can I please come in for some bandages? We have a job to do after all.

Sarima quickly hauls you in, lying you down somewhere soft and comfortable. She moves through the hive searching for what could be used to help stop the bleeding, then giving them to you.

Sarima: 𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝒾𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒶?

You: Would it be weird to say it doesn't really hurt that much? Of course it hurts, definitely, but not as much as it usually should… Probably a troll thing. I can't promise it's a good idea, but if we don't do it now then we'll have to wait an entire month for another opportunity, a month Cillya can spend reinforcing security and terrorizing the town. No, it has to be tonight.

Joe is quick to present Angel with scavenged medical equipment, allowing her to wrap up your stump and even give you a splint. It certainly isn't the best, but it's a far cry from bleeding out.

Joe: I knew I should have come with. I'm so so sorry I let this happen my lord! ;-;

You: Hey, better I get shot than both of us. Don't worry about it.

Sarima: 𝒮𝑜…𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃?


You: I thought you'd never ask~

You: GATHER ROUND THE TABLE CHILDREN, IT'S TIME TO START OPERATION TELEMACHUS SETS SAIL!

Bubbles: [/||] what? Who's that and why are you shouting? [!!!] HOLY GOG WHERE'S YOUR HAND!?

Your party comes down to the living room once you call, each one expressing varying levels of shock towards your missing hand. You don't want them to lose confidence in you, so you continue in stride, practically ignoring the fact you are now the proud future owner of a hook hand. Joe is kind enough to slide your mask onto your face as your new friends murmur.

It only takes you a moment to find some pictures of your target's hive. You thought you were just going to settle with the troll equivalent to Google maps, but it seems your target just loves making it easy for you. The entirety of the mansion's exterior is meticulously documented by the owner himself, revealing the entrance behind the mansion, a rigorous amount of windows on the first floor, and a balcony with a sliding glass door. With your one semi working hand, you triumphantly place your mask on the living room table.

You: HANDS ARE FOR THE WEAK AND THE WUSSIES!

You deploy a conversational smoke bomb by tapping your mask, your dearest equipment projecting a holographic representation of the pictures you found online, assembled into a model of the manor for all to see.

You: So! Since you've acted as a guard in the past, I'm guessing you know where the back door leads and Cillya's typical schedule?

Taco: I… know some things. Usually he makes me guard his purrsonal respiteblock, where the guests aren't allowed to go. Sometimes I get a good tussle, but usually I'm just a glorified doortroll for whenever he needs a balcony smoke break. Though I'm sure he'll want me around more tonight, considering I'm the only one he has left~

Bubbles: [!!!] okay but are we really just gonna ignore the missing arm???

You: And when he gets a smoke, he's entirely isolated from the partygoers?

Taco: As fur as I can purceive.

You: Hypothetically speaking, would it be possible for a troll to enter the manor and get into this room, unbeknownst to the host?

Taco: Pawsibly. What are you thinking, Stumpy?

You: Firstly, I resent that nickname.

You: Secondly, you will resent that nickname once I regale upon you the amazingly impressive stratagems of Operation Telemachus Sets Sail.

You: Step one! Angel, assuming I'm on your back, how long would it take you to rise twelve meters and travel a distance of forty meters?

Sarima: 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔, 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒! 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎.

You: Lovely. Your job will be to sit with me until Cillya is in the right position, then fly me and our robotic friends into the balcony.

Sarima: 𝓘 𝓪𝓶…𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓯.

You: I know that they will attack if I am attacked, ergo we will have to manipulate Cillya into attacking me in an isolated area.

You: In fairness, they did dispatch the indiscriminate shooter without issue.

Sarima: 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃…𝑒𝑔𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝑜𝓃, 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂?

You: Quite correct!

Sarima: 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅, 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝐼'𝓂…𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝒻𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉.

You: Your job is to simply get me on the balcony. Sadly, I was not born with wings like you.

You: You are the only one capable of getting me on the balcony, I would sneak through the manor for more information, but the robotic pals would make hiding difficult.

Sarima: 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉! 𝒪𝓌𝒪

You: Now, Step 2! Joe, Bubbles! Your job is the most vital. With help from Taco, you will make your way inside the Manor and sneak your way upstairs. I know you aren't really built for sneaking through a party, but Bubbles can likely help.

Beecat says that's… a bit short sighted. If you want them in the room, Sarima could just fly them up. Assuming she can actually carry Joe.

You: Huh… Angel, how about it? You up for carrying five hundred some pounds of asexual?

Joe: I'm only four hundred, my lord ;-;

You: I'm counting your gun and mace.

Sarima thinks on this for a moment, until finally resigning that she really could not, even on her best day, leaving her to shake her head. Three hundred? Probably slowly, but doable. Five hundred? That's pushing the boundary far too much.

You; Don't worry about it Angel, I'm sure Bubbles can get Joe through unscathed.

Bubbles: [/||] Uh… I-I don't know, he's pretty loud…

You: If you encounter any trouble, I promise Joe will be able to get you out safely. I'd ask Taco to help you, but she has to handle-

You; Step 3! Your job will be to run interference on Cillya until Joe is in position. He can't go upstairs until he's in the room, understand?

Taco: Spending time with that sorry sack of ego sounds terrible, but if it gets him riddled with bullets, I suppose~

You: Great!

You: And for the final step, once Cillya is being attacked by the robots, Joe will position himself in the exit and keep him from escaping. He's tommy gun should help keep Cillya occupied until the sturdy Indigo is a foul memory.

You: Any questions?

Beecat has a few questions for you. She notices she never got mentioned in the plan, what is she going to do?

You: Your job will be to stay at the hive and make sure dumb and dumber don't escape the cellar. If they do somehow manage to escape, please don't try to fight them. We can afford their losses, we just can't lose them needlessly.

She supposed that is fair, though she does have one more. Specifically, are you out of your think pan??? You are already crippled, how can you defend her Bubbles if things go wrong?

You: Honestly, I can't defend her. Joe, on the other hand, will be with her every step of the way. I can personally guarantee that she will make it out of this unscathed no matter what happens.

Bubbles: [/||] Well… I guess I shouldn't worry too much, but what will we do after Cillya's dead? Not that we really have a chance at doing that… but still, fun to talk about.
You: A good question! One should always worry about the exit strategy. Assuming all goes to plan, everyone will end up in the balcony room. From there, we can either establish ourselves in the manor or just escape depending on the party's mood.

Taco: As long as Cillya's dead, I can't say I care what you do after. We can furgire it out after.

You: In that case, I believe we're good to go. If anyone has anything they need to do, please take care of it in the next ten minutes. I thank you all for your support on this endeavor, it truly wouldn't be possible without you : )

You disperse your group to perform one last round of preparations before going out. Joe dismantles and reassembles his weapon, Bubbles gives her poor worried Lusus some assurance, Taco does a few stretches, Sarima cleans her butterfly net, and you meditate for a moment. This is, effectively, the last chance to back out after all. You could technically call off the entire operation right here and now, stop your crusade against the natural order of the world and simply live your life. It is a tempting offer, with your skill you could probably live a good long time hidden on Alternia. You could be safe. Your friends would be safe.

Perhaps it is egotistical of you to take on the entire planet's problems; Some people would even call your bold interference outright evil. It is undeniable that a lot of people are going to die if you go forward with your plan and it will be all your fault. You know that, you have learned that time and time again. People will jeer at you as much as they cheer you and they will be right to do so. No matter what, you will still be an outside force imposing your will upon the world through force. In all likelihood, you are just leading people who believe in you, your friends, into an entirely preventable death.

You: Look at me now / Will I ever learn?

You: …Prolly not ; p

Your self pity is broken as Taco places a hand on your shoulder, shaking you lightly.

Taco: Don't tell me purr think pan is as broken as your mitts. Stop mumbling to yourself and move befure the sun comes up. I can't wait another moment fur this~~~

You: Right! Let's move.

You fix your communication device back on your face before striking out with your posse, robotic weaponry close behind. The walk to the manor is drenched in silence, everyone focused on the task at hand. By the time you arrive your entire party is itching for some action, tired of the building anticipation. It is time to kill the first of many Rulers of Trash Mountain.



You silently motion for your party to move ahead as you, staying very far behind them. If you got anywhere close to the mansion, your glowing robots would be seen in an instant with all the windows on the first floor. You cover the unruly robots with loose foliage and wait with Sarima for your call. You have never been more excited to receive an ass kicking from an asshole before.

Meanwhile, Taco, Bubbles, and your dearest friend Joe make their way inside the manor. Taco is the only one to enter the front door and is immediately greeted by a swift hard backhand to her face. Her grey skin turns green and one of her teeth comes loose from the shock. She swallows her anger, and her tooth, before looking up with her friendliest smile. She is presented with her employer, Cillya Sombic, a massive indigo blood that is built better than a tank. His black eyes are filled with anxiety.

Cillya: Yourefuckinglate.Howcouldyoubefuckinglateontonightofallnights.

Taco: I... was just getting ready purr you. You pay me to be at my best, after all!

Cillya: Ipayyoutobeonfuckingtimekitten!Yourentirepackgetsthemselvesputinthegroundinasinglenightandallimleftwithisyou,thefuckingrunt.GogIshouldjustcullyouforentertainment.

Taco: Then who would guard your purrty, hm? Keep them away from purr special things?

He takes one of his large fingers and digs them onto Ofbeel's right cat ear, threatening to pierce her eardrum. She hates this more than anything else in the world, but she still grits her teeth as her ear rings.

Cillya: Cutthemoff.

Taco: They... aren't horns, Sir. We talked about this with my-

Cillya: Andnowshe'sdead!Soshutupandtaketheopportunity.TomorrownightIwanttheseunsightlymutationsgoneorI'llripthemoffmyself.

Taco: Y-Yes Sir! I will, I promise, please stop that!

After a few more seconds of torture, Ofbeel finds relief when Cillya smashes her head against the wall. He leaves with little more than a grunt, his mind turning to things he finds more important. Taco tenderly strokes her poor ears, her cat ears safe for another night. She thinks that maybe her handless friend is not capable of taking Cillya down, but she does not have a choice. If she does not have Cillya's bloody organs inbetween her teeth by the night's end she is going to explode. She picks herself up off the ground and gets to work, staying as close as she can to Cillya without attracting his attention and fury.

By all accounts, the party that Taco is meant to guard is deader than dead. Every Mid blood of any importance has been forced to gather into the main hall of the manor. Their only entertainment is a boom box that is playing Jazz at far too high a decibel and and an Indigo giant ripping his hair out while muttering impolite greetings. The job of Taco's old group consisted largely of making sure no one got on their phone or took one of Cillya's many knick knacks or dared to leave before the end of the loyalty test. No one will mourn his passing.

Especially not Taco, but for tonight, she is going to be the most loyal guard a dictator will ever ask for! She gets to work catching poor trolls off guard, integrating herself into the party. Anyone who so much as looks at their phone gets called out for a verbal and physical lashing from Cillya. Usually the pack would have let small things slide in exchange for favors, but tonight the biggest favor they can give is a distraction. Taco reports several guests one after the other keeping Cillya busy.

Cillya's screams are almost enough to drown out the Jazz as he raves about the ungratefulness of the party goers. He says he needs their support now more than ever and all they can care about is themselves!

Cillya: ILETYOUINTOMYHIVE,BRINGORDERTOTHISGARBAGEHEEP,IEVENGIVECIVILITYTOYOUANDTHISISTHETHANKSIGET???IFTHEHEIRESSCOULDSEEYOUNOWSHEW-

Cillya's lecture is interrupted by the sound of crashing plates and a hive shaking smash. Taco's face drains of color, she knew that the back door led into the kitchen. She did not think it was worth mentioning, considering the only troll in the kitchen was a chef with no peripheral vision, but apparently Joe can not do ONE SIMPLE JOB without beating someone up.

Taco: I'll take care of it sir! I wouldn't dream of letting a common thug inpurrupt your feast.

Taco rushes off towards the kitchen before Cillya has the chance to say otherwise, hoping he will stay with the party when there is no staff left. The mess she finds is exactly as bad as she thought. Broken plates are everywhere, cerulean blood is splattered on the wall, and Joe is in the middle of the room punching the chef directly in the face over and over while Bubbles' tries in vain to pull him off. Joe's face is contorted with an unnatural rage. Taco has only known Joe for a day, but she feels that sheer anger is not typical for the bronze blood. It is almost scary to see the cheery character nearly frothing from rage as they beat someone to death.

Especially since his blind rage is going to attract Cillya's interest if it goes on much longer!




So, just a lil problem seems to have arisen : 3 How is Taco going to handle this?

1. Knock some sense into Joe [8]
Joe is huge, angry as hell, and honestly just a little bit better at combat than Taco. Convincing him to back off of his quarry will not be easy, but it's the best way to guarantee Cillya doesn't notice.

2. Knock some sense into Joe, after he's done beating the chef to death [5]
Honestly, Taco doesn't want to mess with Joe too much. It might be best to just let him get all his angry out before making an approach. It is will certainly attract Cillya's attention, but Taco can... probably divert it. It will make sneaking around very difficult in future rolls.

3. Get the Mary Sue Self Insert on the phone [9]
If anyone could calm down the 400 pound hunk of fury, it would probably be his palemate. Doing so would likely inspire them to try and sneak into the kitchen with Taco, which would be hard even if they weren't injured and followed by a platoon of malfunctioning robots. This option would help Joe the most, but it would practically shoot the original plan dead.


((Heyo Lovers, Future Lovers, and Jilted Lovers. It's your boi back with another update on the best story to ever be penned by mortal hands. The time to complete your first real mission is rapidly approaching, I could almost shed a tear from joy. Also, we've reached page 2 of the forum : D I think that should count for something. Please enjoy : 3

Taco: What the hell are purr doing! Stop it! B-Bubbles, what the hell happened??

Bubbles: [|||] I don't know he just went crazy! Please make him stop ;-;

Having sparred with Joe in the past, Taco knows that she does not have the capabilities of bring him down quietly. Panicking almost as much as the crying burgundy blood, she takes out her cellphone and makes an emergency call to the one person who might be able to deal with this mess. They pick up on the first ring.

You: Good morning and how do you do? We're competent squad and-

Taco: Shut up! Purr bronze friend has gone crazy! He's beating up the chef and won't let up. I thought the plan was to cull Cillya, not some random cook!

You: ...Well fuck. I'll be right there. Don't move.

Taco: Don't mess this up for me! If Cillya isn't dead by sunrise, you will be!!

As Taco threatens and frets the line goes dead. She wonders if you will actually come to help or if they will use this warning to go away. She knew she should not have trusted some amateur smooth talker with assassinating her boss. It takes twenty seconds for you and Angel to burst through the kitchen door, making even more noise. You gracefully leap off Angel's back as she crashes, making your way towards Joe without any delay.

As Taco fumes about the mess you walk up to Joe. It is worse than you thought, even your presence is not enough to get his attention. You do the only thing that makes sense and kick him right in the face. In honesty, it probably hurt your foot more than it hurt him, but it is still enough to finally break him out of his anger. Joe lashes out at you, grabbing you by the neck and holding you against the wall. The expression on your mask does not change; You just keep a small pleasant smile as he raises a fist to beat your skull in.

You: I know you fancy yourself a chef, but I didn't think you'd be the jealous type.

Joe drops you immediately, his anger turned to shock for what he was about to do.

Joe: My lord! I am... so, so, so sorry, I didn't know it was you!

You: Don't worry nothing about it, happens all the time. Though, I am worried about what caused this outburst. I'm fairly certain that chef isn't Cillya.

Joe stammers out meaningless syllables, unable to form a proper sentence. You give him time to calm down, but he seems trapped within his head. Soon his panic reaches a head as he falls to his knees. He places his head into his hands and simply starts to weep, his whole body shaking.

You: ...What the hell happened Joe?

Joe: I-I... It... a child... an infant.

He speaks through gritted teeth, unwilling to keep his grief from you. Joe has always had a soft spot for children, but you have never seen him like this before, not in your lifetime.

Joe: That... That damn monster had... cut into so many... I... saw so many of them on that... fucking cutting board of his!

Joe: I SAW HIM PUT A TIED AND BOUND CHILD IN AN OVEN!

Like a switch was flipped his grief once again turns to rage. He gestures towards the recently broken piece of cookware without looking at the gruesome scene he left behind. Everything is exactly as he described it. You... don't care to put any more detail into it.

Joe: WHAT KIND OF A MONSTER DOES THAT TO A CHILD? HOW COULD ANYONE DO THAT?! I... I'LL KILL HIM! I'LL FUCKING KILL HIM!

You: SIMMER DOWN! And stop swearing, it's not becoming of you!

You: Besides, from what you said, there should still be a child here. What's more important, killing or saving?

Joe: ...Saving.

You place a hand on his shoulder. You can feel the tensity still in his body, but at least he remembers that it does not matter. Cillya will not stay out of the kitchen forever, not will all the screaming, and right now there is only one thing that really matters.

You turn your attention to everyone else, your gaggle of confused and slightly scared trolls. Bubbles is hiding behind Angel and Taco has nearly torn her ears off.

You: Alright! Change of plans my dearest of friends, Cillya is now a secondary objective on this mission. Our main objective now is to save the child trapped within this mansion and safely remove them from the situation.

Taco: What the hell are purr talking about? Who cares about some fancy meal Cillya had planned, I'll be the one cut up and served if he isn't dead by sunrise!

Sarima, although solemn and quiet throughout this entire, honestly horrifying situation, raises her hand up slightly.

Sarima: 𝐸-𝑒𝓍𝒸𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉…𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉. 𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝒶𝓈𝓉! 𝐼𝒻 𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝓊𝒷 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒷 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓉𝑜 𝒶 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 :𝟥


Joe: …Lolth, they're still in the oven. It's off, I made sure. I'll… catch up, promise.

Joe gets up, still shaking with anger, and walks back to the bleeding Cerulean Chef. He raises his boot above the troll before looking back at you.

You: Make it quick, if you kindly.

Much to an unseen audience's incredible amusement, Joe swiftly ends the cerulean's life by crushing their comparatively weaker throat. It could be said that, from the perspective of his culture, the man did nothing wrong. He was just a chef working with meat, nothing more. But sometimes morality has to rise above reason, even if your companions are not exactly innocent in the crime of cannibalism. With how widespread it is, how could they be innocent?

Regardless, fuck that guy.

Taco: Welp, this is a fucking travesty. Guess I'll just cull myself!

You: Will you shush for five minutes! I promise we'll still kill him, just give Angel and me a moment to help the child!

Sarima slowly makes her way over to the oven, stepping over the many broken dishes and small puddles of blood. Once at the oven, she creaks it open to see the grubbling inside.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"

As soon as the oven is open, an ear piercing scream is released. The small grubbling inside has already metamorphosed from its grub state into a full wiggling troll. They may still be bound, but they are certainly not gagged. They chewed right through the metal inside their mouth and have decided the best course of action is to scream unendingly into the night as they struggle against the chains restraining them.

Sarima quickly takes out the child gently from the small space and brings them over to Joe, being careful to keep them from falling or hurting themself.

Sarima: 𝒮𝒽𝒽𝒽, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓊𝓈! 𝒲𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓇.


Joe briefly frets over the child being exposed to the gluttony of destruction and blood he has caused, but the child is far past keeping any innocence. He takes hold of the chains keeping the child restrained and begins to pull on one strand with all of his might. He visibly strains with the well made metal, tugging on it with all his strength until it finally snaps.

He is only able to partially free the child, but it is of no consequence. With part of their body free, the small troll is easily able to squirm and chomp their way out of confinement, ripping apart the chains with only moderate difficulty.

They scream as they do it and they scream afterwards, even louder now that the metal covering their gills is destroyed beyond recognition. Without the metal covering them gone, their strange gills and fins are revealed, as are their violet bruises.

Sarima: 𝒪𝒽…𝑜𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓅𝑜𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 ;-; 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈.

A troll and a girl: I AM NOT A THING! I AM A TROLL AND A GIRL D: <

Sarima: 𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎, 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓊𝓈!

A troll and a girl: I AM NEVER WORRY! WHO ARE YOU? ARE YOU WITH THE PINK MENACE? YOU ARE, AREN'T YOU! I WON'T FALL FOR YOUR TRICKS AGAIN!!! GET CLOSER AND I'LL KAPUNCH YOU IN YOUR DUMB BLUE FACE!

Sarima: 𝒪𝒽, 𝓃𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓃𝑜, 𝓌𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒾𝓃𝓀! 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓅 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝓌𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝒲𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓎𝒶𝓁𝓉𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃.

A troll and a girl: HM… I DUNNO, WHAT IF YOURE TRYING TO DO SOMETHING SNEAKY. I WAS PROMISED A LUSUS AND INSTEAD IM HERE SO IM NOT HAPPY!

Sarima: 𝐼𝒻 𝓌𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎, 𝐼 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝒾𝑔 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓃. 𝒲𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝒻 𝓌𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝒾𝒹𝓃𝒶𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎! 𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓃𝑜 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒, 𝐼 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓊𝓌𝓊

A troll and a girl: HMMMMMM…

The small troll extends a tiny hand towards Angel, her face as serious as she can muster.

A troll and a girl: THEN I WANT IN! I WANNA KAPUNCH THE CANDI… KONDA… CON… THE PINK MENACE IN HER STUPID FACE!

…Sarima glances over at Pawn, with an obvious look of "I adore this child and her spirit but I know there is absolutely no way we could allow her to actually fight with us but I do not want to disappoint the baby pls help." Or perhaps it isn't that obvious due to her literally having no eye features other than shining stars. Either way she's looking for a bit of advice on what to do.

You: Uh… child-

A troll and a girl: I AM NOT A CHILD!! I AM A GIRL!


Sarima: 𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒, 𝒶 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁?

You: My dearest apologies!

A troll and a girl: …UH…

Sarima: 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊…𝒯𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓌 :𝟥

Sarima: 𝒯𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈…𝑜𝒽, 𝒦𝒶𝓀𝒾𝒸𝓀!

Tulips: TULIPS KAKICK? …I LOVE IT : D

Tulips: EVILDOERS BEWARE, TULIPS KAKICK IS OUT AND READY FOR ACTION >: D

The tiny child pumps her fists in the air, happily jumping while inadvertently putting cracks in the floor from sheer strength.

Sarima: 𝒴𝑒𝓈! 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 >:𝟥

You: …Now, I hate to be the dumbest person in the room, but are troll infants typically this strong Angel?

Sarima: 𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝒯𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉. 𝑀𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝒶 𝒹𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔! 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒.

Sarima: 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝒽𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇.


You: Hm… Tulips, I'm always happy to have a true hero to assist our little group! And I think I have an incredibly important job for a hero like you.

Tulips: YEAH? : D

You: Now, our poor Angel here is not a fighter and honestly neither am I. We're here to put a spot to the terrible tyrant who serves the pink menace under this very roof, but we're simply not fighters. If you could protect us, stay by our side, things would go so much smoother!

…Sarima regrets signaling Pawn for help.

Tulips: WOULD I GET TO KAPUNCH ANY BAD GUYS?

You: I'm sure you will, but you have to promise to stay right next to Angel at all times. She's as fragile as a butterfly.

Sarima: ;-;

Tulips marches next to the towering Angel, positioning herself right against the Cerulean.

Tulips; DONT WORRY FRAGILE ANGEL, NO ONE IS GOING TO GET PAST ME! >: D

You: Thank you very much, great hero! I'm sure she'll be able to stay out of trouble with you by her side, at all times.

You nudge Angel ever so gently, hoping she'll take the hint.

Sarima: 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓊 𝓉𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 ;𝓌;

Tulips: I KNOW, BUT YOURE NOT TOO BAD YKNOW! YOUD MAKE AN AMAZING SIDEKICK WITH A LITTLE HELP : D

Sarima: 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒

The tiny violent violet baby leaps onto Angel's back to give her an aggressive hug. At the very least you can say you tried to not have child soldiers when the inevitable war crime trials come about. You and Joe are quite happy to have a competent caretaker for the lil baby, but Taco certainly is not. She takes you by the hand and, to keep her from making a scene in from of Tulips, you let her drag you over to Joe.

Taco: I have no idea, none at all, what in the purring hell could pawsibly have convinced you two to mess up the plan you made! Was this some stupid purrloy to get me to help you steal a violet?

You: Look Bestra, I understand your frustration here, but this couldn't have been helped. We had no way of knowing we would have to save a kid during the mission.

Taco: ...I... I didn't think it was worth mentioning what the living purroof of the mothergrub's cancer was having for dinner! I also didn't mention his fancy scuttlebuggie or his stupid wine collection! That shit doesn't matter for culling the bulgemuncher!

You: ...

You: Okay, all of that information, incredibly useful. I literally cannot stress how much easier this would be if you mentioned all of that earlier. Now you're going to tell me he has frickin a supply closet with duct tape and power tools just lying around.

Taco: So what if he does? It means nothing! I just don't understand, you know you'll die too if this goes wrong. How can you care more about some stupid wiggler than that?!

You sharply inhale as you momentarily consider your options. You were so used to going on missions while reliable individuals you did not think to ask basic questions about the mansion. Somehow you just magically expected this untrained cannibal to give an in-depth strategic overview of the entire facility. This is why it is important to always ask questions, no matter how stupid or seemingly obvious. People will think you are dumb, but at least this shit can be avoided. Still, you saved a kid, that is all that matters. You exhale, calmer than you were before.

You: It doesn't matter. We are running out of time and bickering will just waste what little we have. I'm sure Cillya loves the sound of his voice, but even he'll have his limits. Frankly, we are lucky to have had this long.

Taco makes some snide comment, but you do not pay attention to it. You just talk over her, anything she has to say is irrelevant now. You had to use your little time to coddle the kid or else they might have fled; but Taco is debatably an adult, she can be reasoned with swiftly.

You: You have two options right now, predator. You either tell me what I need to know and participate in the killing, or you run and take your chances alone. Either way Cillya will die.

Taco: Run? Purr kidding me, he'll hunt me down! I... How about I just give him your head as a peace offering, your guy messed this up! I-I can still fix this, I just need more time!

She forces her sharp claws against your neck, close enough to draw a little blood. The poor thing is trying to look intimidating, but you can see the fear in her eyes. You do not move an inch as her claws quiver against your skin.

You: You know that won't work. If Joe doesn't kill you for it, the bots certainly will. Like I said, you have two options. I won't judge either one, but you make your decision now.

You wait seven seconds for her to respond and not a second longer. You take a step back from the sharp weapon at your throat and turn your back on her, directing your attention to your Bubbles and Angel. She made her decision before you asked, this just forces her to stop looking for a third option that might screw you over.

You: Angel, Bubbles, let's go! We need to make some-

Taco: GOG! ...The stupid car is in a garage under the stairs, the stupid wine is in his room behind a red door, and the stupid closet is on the second floor! It's the only door in the hive with a stupid bolt lock. And just so you can't say I didn't warn you, they'll be some limp bulge goldie hiding in the closet. I think he's harmless but maybe you'll take offense to his stupid pink shirt and cull him! NOW FUCK OFF AND DO PURR STUPID PLAN ALREADY!

You: Thank you Taco : 3

You: Now enough talk, let's do this already! Taco, Bubbles, stick with Joe. Angel, you're with me. It's time we get some blood on our hands. JOE! DO THE THING!

Due to your recent inability to open doors, Joe is kind enough to open the kitchen door for you.

Taco: WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT!?

Violet: WHY ARE YOU SO LOUD AND MEAN >: (

Bubbles: ... [|||] why did I let myself get talked into this ;-;

It seems you opened the door at just the right time. Cillya is right before you, seconds away from opening the door to discover your little plot all by himself. The massive beast of a man looks down at you with a mixture of disgust and confusion, as if your very existence offends him.

Cillya: whothefuckareyou!?

You: FUNYA!

Before the confusion can dissipate, you release your war cry as you slam your notoriously hard head against his crotch. You have not confirmed that troll crotches were sensitive, but the loud shriek of pain that is released when your head collides with the soft target is promising. While you hit Cillya low, Joe hits Cillya high. He slams his fist into the underside of Cillya's chin as hard as he can, his muscle shattering indigo bone. The combination of your attacks is enough to send the troll to the ground, squealing like a pig and bleeding from the mouth.

Taco: ...h-huh.

As the rest of your party hesitates, Joe presses the advantage your stealth got you. He slides one of your throwing knives out of your pocket and jams it directly into Cillya's battered crotch. The metal knife is able to pass through the most sensitive area of the troll with relative easy. Before Cillya can begin to comprehend the incredible pain he is in, Joe moves up his body and starts to smash the indigo with his horn club. Indigo gore splatters with each hit, each heavy hit only adding to Cillya's pain and disorientation.

After a few hits Cillya finally gains the mental wherewithal to counter attack. With both of his legs he kicks Joe right in the gut, the force sending Joe flying away from both Cillya and you. He is flung so high he nearly hits the ceiling on his way down, landing on his right side when he lands. Joe rips a hole in both the tile and his bicep. Despite that, he leaps to his feet not a second later, ignoring the bits of ceramic stuck inside him like its nothing at all. Cillya forces himself up aswell, knife still firmly planted in his body, and they both charge angry as all hell.

Some people in Cillya's party will likely join the fighting soon, as will the people in your party, but for now everyone's focus is on the bronze blood who managed to draw first blood.

You: Oi, guys! What are you waiting for, a formal invitation? Go get him!

Bubbles: UH... [???] AAAAAAAAAAAA!?

The increasingly fearful Ofbeel charges in as Joe and Cillya collide. Refusing to be outdone by either of them, Bestra rushes in right behind her. As Bestra storms at her ex-boss she gives you a momentary funny look. You can not tell if it is a look of respect or enmity for how you coerced her into it. Either way, she will have to acknowledge your skill once you pull off your new, slightly adjusted, plan!




1. Throw the hottest cocktail party on the block! [11]
If there's one thing you know how to do, it's make alcohol explode. With Sarima's help, you could make your way upstairs and steal all Cillya's wine. Troll wine is bound to be more volatile than typical wine so making Molotov cocktails for an ambush won't be too difficult, even if you don't have any hands... The only difficulty is if Joe and co can keep the fight going until you're done.

2. Take a hint and leave the party fashionably early [9]
Your friends are tough, but they might not be tough enough to last through the fight. If you steal Cillya's car in the chaos you can flee before anyone is permanently injured. Your robotic solders will no doubt cover your escape. Of course, the only place you really can run to is the little floofy mechanic's hive to get more soldiers. There's absolutely no way to predict how they will act, but anywhere is safer than where you are right now.

3. Kaboom [14]
This plan is genuinely awful. With a combination of the tools in the closet and some wine you MIGHT be able to turn Cillya's car into a moving explosive given enough time. Of course, this leaves your people fighting for the longest amount of time and will definitely result in injuries and property damage, but it is the only way to guarantee everyone goes down. This route guarantees Cillya's death along with the death of anyone who would go against you at this party. Any other route would lead to future problems. The only downside is that a success is near impossible. : 3


((Greetings homestuck weebs. Last time we broke the second page on Sufficient Velocity and now we've broken 100 pages on the google doc. We're really knocking firsts out of the park this mission. Or I've just been making my chapters too long ; 3 I'll admit it's been difficult to find strict choice points, but I hope you still enjoy. (also I think I overestimated my ability to put purr into words. If anyone would like to make a new quirk for Taco that's just fine by me).

You: Alright Angel Face, you heard the woman. Get my sorry armless self upstairs before Cillya gets the upper hand!

Sarima doesn't hesitate, gently placing the violet baby onto her back as she scoops up Pawn. Faster than you could say "oh gog why does that troll have wings this is unfair", she grabs hold of Pawns shoulders and makes a mad fly to the upper floors.

With your loud ferocious distraction going on downstairs it is easy for Angel to slip by unnoticed. The three of you rush towards Cillya's room before Joe and co can become overwhelmed by the party. Your knowledge of the building serves you well and you break into the room without any issue. The idiot did not even think to install a lock on his room. Angel, nice cerulean that she is, opens the door so you can rush inside. The room is as vulgar as you would expect, but a more in depth examination of the room will have to wait until the owner is buried.

Just as you were told, a red door is present in the room, unlocked and unguarded. Only an amateur would ever leave the most precious of treasures unguarded! Within the red door is a dizzying case full of fine wine bottles, nearly a hundred of them, each aged for several decades. It is honestly a waste to use this liquid gold on something as crass as an explosive, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You: Guy can't buy a lock but he can afford a fortune's worth of wine? Ah, if only there was another way... Angel Face, think you can lift this?
She quickly begins grabbing up every bottle she possibly can, captcha'ing whatever she isn't able to hold! Thankfully, it takes a bit for her to not be able to carry anymore. Soon a bundle of bottles a quarter of the way above her face is lovingly carried in both of her arms as the violet settles on her lower front.

Tulips: WHAT IS THIS STUFF?

You: Liquid explosions.

Tulips: : 0 CAN I HAVE SOME???

Sarima: 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓉?

Tulips: IS THAT HOW YOU MAKE THE EXPLOSION?

Sarima: 𝒩𝑜! 𝒾 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃, 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓉! 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊!

You: Just as soon as I get the closet open I'll teach everything I know about making the biggest explosions ^w^

The violet child immediately jumps off of Angel's back, rushing right back at you and towards the closet. Her eyes hold all of the mischievousness in the entire world.

Angel quickly snatches up the child before they do anything to draw more attention, and kicks the door open herself.

Tulips: NOOOOOOOOOOOO >: 0

Tulips squirms and whines as she's forced away from her destiny! Once Angel kicks open the door a scream of terror louder than Tulips' angy complaints is heard.

Closeted Troll: $TOP $TOP DON'T CULL ME! I-I'LL DO YOUR TAXE$!

As Taco described, a small gold blood in a mauve shirt is cowering in the corner of the closet. His horns have been shaved down to his skull and he clearly has never been in a fight in his entire life.

Sarima: 𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜 :𝟥

Closeted Troll: ... uh... h-hi???

You: i aM sO sO sORRY fOR tHE tROUBLE sIR aND/oR mA'AM. i oNLY nEED a fEW iTEMS fROM tHE cLOSET iF yOU pLEASE. jUST sOME tOWELS iF yOU hAVE tHEM, pERHAPS sOME rAGS aND bLEACH, iF yOU hAVE tHEM. mAYBE sOME sTRONG tAPE, iF yOU hAVE tHEM?

Sarima: 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒 :𝟥

Closeted Troll: ...

You: oH! aND a tUB pLEASE, mETAL iF pOSSIBLE : 3

The nervous troll looks at you for a moment, trying to figure out what joke you are pulling. Soon, he does as you ask and places the materials you need inside of a steel tub. He is able to gather your towels, bleach containers, and your duct tape without even looking due to how familiar he is with this closet. After which he slides the tub over to you, staying as far away as he can from the strong Cerulean blood.

You: tHANK yOU uWU

Your new friends take your tub and your bottles to the top of the stairs. While you were gone the fighting has grown much more intense. Cillya and Joe are still locked in mortal combat, a beastly strength going against military experience with no clear victor in sight. Meanwhile, Taco and Bubbles are struggling to contain the assembly of mid bloods. Bubbles is surprisingly the MVP in this regard, spraying bullets everywhere with your Chicago Typewriter with Taco cutting up anyone who manages to get close. They are all doing surprisingly well with their ambush advantage, but it is clear Taco will not last much longer.

You: Okay! Have either of you set a man on fire before?

Tulips: YES! ...I MEAN NO!

You: Right, stupid question. Sadly I still need you two to help me so please, listen very very carefully! If you slip up at any point you will in fact catch on fire and die, okay?!

Sarima: 𝒜𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈𝓃𝓉 𝒯𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒

You: The point is to make sure that none of you die a painful death, but I guess I can respect that. Tulips! You're on rag ripping duty, I need you to decimate those towels into long strips, to make the explosives. Angel, your job is harder. I need you to take each wine bottle, and pour a fourth of it into the basin. Then, take the bleach container and pour it inside the bottle, do not spill it dear lolth. After that, you need to dip the rags our little raggamuffin is making into the alcohol you just poured, do not get any on your hands or you will die. Then, you will stuff the rag into the bottle until there is only about ten centi... Until the rag outside the bottle is about as fat as your thumb. Finally, you wrap it up with duct tape, make sure the seal is tight or the liquid will leak and you will die, painfully. Technically you should just use the rag to keep the liquids inside, but duct tape is just safer for a beginner. Then you can light it and throw. If you make a mistake at any part of this process everyone will die. Do you understand everything I just said?

Sarima gives a salute and immediately gets to work on pouring the liquids, a bit of it out into the basin, and the rest into the bottles. It's pretty slow work considering the amount of bottles she has to do, but it's definitely a head start.


You do your very best to not criticize the poor girl's work, she is being very kind to you given your recent disability. Things truly would not succeed without their involvement, but LOLTH DAMN THEY ARE SLOW. You watch her work as your friends fight for their life on the floor below, knowing you have the ability to help with the robotic warriors by your side, but also knowing you will likely get ripped apart if she does not hurry up with the FREAKING BOMBS LOLTH DAMN IT ANGEL FACE!

You: ...Y'know, you could pour a bottle out and then use it to make a bomb. No need to pour them all out at once.

She stares at you, in a more "shush" manner. YOURE ASKING HER TO MAKE FUCKING MOLOTOVS THAT COULD KILL HER IF SHE SPILLED, IF SHE WANTS IT TO HURRY UP WHY DOESNT SHE HELP.

You: I do not have hands. I'm mean, sorry, no pressure!

Joe: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

You: ...NO PRESSURE AT ALL!

Hush no hands.She continues working until all of the bottles finally have a piece of cloth in them and are incredibly deadly. A head pat is given to Tulips for her hard work after they're all finally finished.

Tulips: I ONLY ATE ONE OF THE TOWELS : D

Sarima: 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓏𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓃.

Bubbles: [!!!] OH GOG IS THAT MY BLOOD? I THINK THAT'S MY BLOOD!

You: AMAZING THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU KNOW HOW TO THROW THINGS RIGHT?! YOU CAN DO THAT JUST THROW IT HARD, IGNORE THAT BAN ON CHEMICAL WARFARE, JUST DONT HIT THE PEOPLE WE LIKE!

Tulips: HEH HEH HEH >: 3

You: OR TACO! DO NOT HIT THE CAT!

Tulips: aww...

Sarima begins to go on a spree, using a lighter to absolutely DEMOLISH nearly anyone and everyone who isn't her or her friends. She takes extra special attention to make sure Tulips doesn't dribble any of the stuff on herself and does not attempt to hurt the mean kitty.

You watch in glee as Angel beans an Olive blood who managed to slash poor Bubbles' chest bursts into flames, screams of bloodlust turned to screams of pain. You give Angel the biggest smooch you can manage before leaping onto the banister, ready to join the fray.

You: Light em up sweetheart ; 3

Sarima: 𝒪/////////𝒪

The bat has been smooched and the molotovs are still being absolutely fucking YEETED at almost all combatants. Sometimes more than once to make sure the big ones actually go down! The kiss seems to have only served to invigorate her throwing capabilities, a hint of cerulean blush on her cheeks that could easily be mistaken for an effect of the sudden heat.

With your cerulean sweetheart providing covering fire at rapid speed you take the opportunity to slide down the banister. With fire and brimstone raining down on the aggressive party goers, your eyes are on the target himself. You focus on gaining speed while sliding down, laser focused on Cillya until you leap for a full body kick.

You let out a soft whimper as you feel your right left snap like a twig being slammed against concrete. You drop to the ground with a pitiful thud, having left a little cut on Cillya's oversized muscle bound back. Neither he nor Joe seemed to have noticed your intrusion. Even more insultingly, your seven attack bots seem to have interpreted the action as him attacking you.

The sound of gunfire fills the room as they rattle off rounds into Cillya's back. Cillya tries to run when he feels the pain, but Joe forces him to keep still, leveraging the knife in his body to keep his strength at bay. You drag yourself with your useless stumps into a relatively safe corner as the hail of bullets puncture Cillya's flesh and a rain of fire keeps his friends at bay. Cillya screams as his back is pierced by hundreds of rounds, a typical man would be swiss cheese at this point, but Cillya is seemingly too angry to die.




Joe uses all his remaining strength to keep Cillya in place, but after fighting for so long he just can not keep up. His knee gives out and he stumbles, giving Cillya all the opportunity he needs to grab your best friend. Cillya takes Joe by the legs before he can react and throws him at the robots. Joe sails through the air at an impressive speed, crashing into two of your fighters before colliding with the staircase. Despite being thrown hard enough to create a hole of broken marble and twisted metal, Joe still tries to get back up, but he falls right back down.

With Joe relocated, Tulips decides it is time to give Cillya your cocktail special. She beans the Vivilord right between the eyes with a bottle, the glass exploding on impact. The flammable liquid covers the man head to toe, the remaining robots still firing with their seemingly endless magazines. This, ultimately, seems to have pissed Cillya off more than anything else. He roars and wipes the fire from his eyes, and the first thing he sees is little ole you laying in the corner. It seems he remembers you. Joy.

The fiery dictator rushes you with lighting speed. You can do little more than squirm as he grabs you by the throat and smashes through his own wall, abandoning his party to flaming death. The flame on his body sears your neck and the chlorine gas burns your lungs. You kick and squeal helplessly with your broken body as Cillya crashes through the walls of his own mansion, running outside while leaving a trail of fire and expended shells in his wake.

Thinking back, you probably should have prepared for this better. Asked more questions and not gotten shot, but these things just happen you suppose. Cillya runs and runs, entering a nearby forest consisting of twisted and purple alien vines. The mansion is no longer in sight, you… are probably going to die here if you're being honest.

He tosses you to the ground like garbage, finally letting you get a breath of fresh air. Without hesitation you start crawling to get away, moving at a snail's pace with your broken arms. You know for a certainty you will not get away, but hope without hope is just your thing.

You manage to crawl a few meters while Cillya rolls around on the ground, rubbing his burned flesh with soil to rub off the burning liquid. Any regular person would be dead ten times over, but Cillya resists death for long enough to finally extinguish himself.

Cillya: WHATTHEFUCK!

Enraged by the attempt on his life and the pain he has been put in, he decided to use excessive force to end your escape. He snaps off a long rigid thorn from a nearby vine and slams it directly into your last functioning leg. At this point it barely hurts to have your weak flesh and bones broken, but it still ruins any chance of mobility.

Cillya: YOUTHINKYOUCANJUSTLEAVEAFTERWHATYOUDIDTOME?YOURDEATHWILLBESLOW!

After he shoves the meter long thorn deep into you he walks to your front and once again grabs you by the neck. He forces you to look at him, with his charred black skin and visible bone, his chest has been deformed to the point you can see his alien organs working overtime through his rib cage, bleeding and oozing.

And yet, he is still entirely mobile.

Cillya: WHOSETYOUUPTOTHIS? WHO???

You: …b-buddy… it isn't j-just a who… it's a w-whole lot of whos…

Your limbs are broken and your chances of survival are practically none, but you still have one thing to fall back on. You lie like a dog.

Cillya: WHAT?WHATDOYOUMEAN?TELLME!

You: heh… m-my pal, y-you… aren't v-very popular are y-you? I-I've never… seen so many names on a contract…

Cillya: …FUCKOFFYOULIAR!THOSECLOWNSWOULDNEVERGIVEYOUTHEIRNAMES!NOONEWOULDHIREAWORTHLESSBATTERYTODOMEIN!

You: and yet… here I am : )

Cillya: COCKYPIECEOFSHIT!FUCKYOU!DONTYOUREALIZEHOWDEADYOUARE?

You: d-don't you?

Cillya: …

You: now… w-why don't you p-patch me up… t-then I'll s-spill everything about your c-clowns.

Cillya: HA!IHAVEABETTERIDEA!HOWABOUTIPUMPYOUFULLOFOILANDTURNYOUINTOAFUCKINGLAMP!IWILLFILLTHERESTOFYOURSHORTMISERABLELIFEWITHPAIN!YOULITTLESHIT!

You: y-your voice is worse torture than any fire… just keep t-talking… m-maybe you'll get the clowns to off themselves.

The unsubtle brute responds by pressing his foot into your back, putting an unbearable amount of pressure on your spine. You can tell he enjoys making you wince, treating your body like a stress doll. You feel him squeezing what little blood still left in your body right out as you squirm and suffer.

Taco: Get purr disgusting foot off my pet.

Fortunately for you, he does.

Cillya: hahahaaohthisisrichIreallyshouldhaveknownitwasyou!Ibetyouculledyourpacktoodidntyou?

Taco: The only thing that matters is that I'm going to cull you and that I am going to enjoy doing so, very very very much.

Cillya: LookyoulittlekittenIdontknowwhatgotintoyoubut-

Taco: Shut the fuck up and fight me you paranoid prick!

Cillya: Glady.

Without hesitation Cillya throws the first punch, barreling towards the Olive Blood with the strength of a meteor. It should have hit, but after his bullet shower he is noticeably slower. This lets Taco duck under his arm with ease and slash at his veins, tearing yet another hole in his softened flesh. Swiftly afterwards she lets his momentum carry him right into her sharp claws. She buries them deep into his gut with vicious glee, stabbing him again and again with ten fine claws.

She slides under his legs when he tries to counter attack, slashing at his bloody heels. She rips out a large chunk of his thigh before sprinting out of his reach. Cillya does not chase after the lioness, instead grasping at his two new wounds. He looks shocked more than angry, his mind unable to comprehend how his weakest guard managed to get one over on him. For her, the look of utter confusion on his face is almost as delicious as the flesh she is devouring.

Bestra quickly finishes her meal before heading in for more. Cillya blocks when she pounces on him, and instead of his chest she pierces his arms. To her credit, she takes this in stride and bites down his left hand. Before he has a chance to react, she has already leaped onto his back, taking two of his fingers with her. Cillya desperately tries to grab her as she moves up and down his back, ripping and tearing with teeth and claws.
She lays dozens of deep wounds on his back before he finally manages to grab her. He screams out in pain and rage as he rips her from his back and slams her against the ground, life pouring from his back like a waterfall. And yet he still clings to life. Cillya slams his foot into Bestra's chest before she can recover. With one hit he manages to disable her, crushing her ribs into her organs.

Cillya forces his wounded assailant up onto her feet just to force her down again, slamming her face with the side of his hand. To her credit, she wounded him deeply, but the mutated indigo blood pumping through his body just refuses to let him die. While she writhes in pain he picks her up again by the neck, looking right into her eyes. He must not have liked whatever he found, because soon after he takes her by her floofy kitty ears.

For just the thrill of it, he rips the cat ears right out of her head. After that, he tosses her onto the ground like trash, faintly smiling while he watches her clutch the hole in her head. The towering tyrant crouches before the pained prey, finally relaxing after his terrible night. He drinks up all the hate in her eyes as she looks up at him, it relaxes him more than anything else in the world. For him, everything is at it should be.

But Bestra Lasagi refuses to let the night end. Cillya's smug smile fills her entire body with a rage like she has never felt before. Pushing past her pain she suddenly pounces at him one last time. Cillya tries to grab her, but he is already too late. In a single sudden motion she moves her fangs right up to Cillya's neck and chomps down. She rips out his neck before he is able to pull her off. It takes him a moment to notice his certain demise, grasping his wound as he starts to asphyxiate.

Bestra's only response to his fear is to take her claws and jam them right in-between his open ribs as he shivers. She punctures the alien equivalent to his heart before pulling her hand out. She watches as the indigo's body shuts down over the course of a minute, struggling to swing at her as he quickly loses all control over himself. Then, the burned, blasted, and bleeding troll finally collapses, dead.

Taco: Who's the kitten now, bitch!

You: Wooooooo!

Taco: Hahaha!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!

Just as she promised when you first met her, she starts to devour Cillya's broken corpse. Which would be upsetting at the best of times, but right now you are about half an hour from meeting Cillya in the afterlife.

Taco: Hahahaha, you taste like shit! Hahahaahaaaaaa! This is the best night of my life ^w^

You: Uh-

Taco: ...Oh... Right. Them.

After a moment she seems to remember you exist, looking up from Cillya's dead body to glance at your soon to be dead body. She, incredibly reluctantly, surrenders her prey to the elements to save your life.

Taco: He really fucked you up. Do you survive, or do you just refuse to die, little troll?

You: Heh... W-Well, t-take me... take me to a h-hospital, please.

She looks confused for a moment when you speak and scratches her head. This, of course, makes her flinch in pain.

Taco: Oh, right! Hahahaha, I got a little fucked up too. Well, it was completely worth it!

You: Please... I am d-dying.

Taco: Right right, I guess I should thank you... Well... How about I just save purr little life and we call it even, hm?

She gives your head a tender pet before she yanks the thorn out of your leg. You have preferred she kept it in for blood loss reasons, but you can complain when you are not the one getting your ass kicked every mission. She scoops you up like a babe and starts the long walk back to the mansion. Your arms are broken, your legs are shattered, and you set your new mansion on fire, but you still won. Perhaps your body was not that high a price to pay for penance.

It was stupid, it was self defeating, it was an absolute disaster, but lolth damn if you didn't just kill yourself a dictator. This is, without a doubt, a MISSION COMPLETE!

And that thought carries you as you succumb to unconsciousness, hoping beyond hope you live to do this again and again.

You gain the trait LEGS LIKE THESE
Joe gains the trait TRAINER
Bubbles gains the trait IMPROVISATION SAVANT
Taco gains the trait TYRANNY EATER
Beecat gains the trait HOUSEKEEPER
Angel gains the trait COLLECTOR AUTHORITY
And of course
TULIPS KAKICK, THE CHARACTER TO OVERTHROW BEECAT IN POPULARITY, JOINS THE TEAM!




It's time for another post mission celebration! Sadly, I must spoil one thing for you, you live. I know, you're very sad to hear this, but let me make it up to you! With the money you've "acquired" in "your" new mansion, you'll now be able to get a few things without problem. It is a given that you will purchase a lifetime supply of duct tape and suits, but choices can still be made. Please note that anything with DR 0 means it is a guaranteed success.

This is the choice on what equipment to scavenge, please pick two.
1. Purchase some decent fucking armor. Being honest, you are still bound to get injured, but maybe it could help keep your limbs intact next time [DR 0]
2. Take the time to fix your new home! You will naturally hire some trolls for construction, but helping them would go a long way towards making your new hive livable [DR 0]
3. Use your newfound supplies to build an effective gun your baby hands can use (Scavenging bonuses applies) DR [9]
4. Create a social media presence to warm the public to your presence and help transition power to yourself (Charm bonuses apply) DR [10]
5. Better to acquire (write in required) this instead! [DR ?]

This is the relationship choice, please pick one or write one in yourself, I'm not picky : 3
1. Sarima parental: Tulips / Joe Taco Rank B / You! Bubbles Rank A
2. Sarima parental: Tulips / You! Taco Rank C / Joe pet: Beecat Rank C
3. Sarima parental: Tulips / You! Tulips Rank C / Joe Taco Rank B

And this is something of a meta choice. Since Cillya is out of the picture I figure it is only fair to let you vote on where the story will go next. No Difficulty Ratings or whatever I'm calling them, just a linear choice of which mission you want to take after the post mission phase is over
1. Address the neighboring highbloods (specifically the cerulans).
With a gold blood making a claim to the local throne, it is natural that the highbloods would be very keen to take it for themselves. In this town specifically, there are a few Ceruleans vying to kill you and everyone you love. If you don't deal with them right away, it is doubtless they will cause some injuries to your team and perhaps force them to injure eachother.

2. Address the neighboring lowbloods
With the local highblood dead, it is natural that the rebel factions of this town will wish to take over. The fact you are sitting on the throne is irrelevant, in their eyes you have no more claim than they do. If you don't deal with this right now, it is doubtless that some rebels will attempt to raid your mansion and perhaps start forming a movement against you.



((Wow it took me a year to finish chapter 1? I guess what they say is true, you can't rush genius. Though now that I'm more used to the process I hope to get a little faster than an update a month : 3 Regardless, I would like to thank you, all of you reading this right now. This story means a lot to me and knowing that I have a growing audience means the absolute world to me. I promise I'll making the "quality" content that you enjoy until the story is finally done.

When you wake up, you find yourself back in the woods, all alone and face down in the dirt. Your body is very numb, but it is functional, healthy even. You can feel the warm daylight on your skin, but it does not burn like it should on this planet. You are fairly certain this is a dream, but considering your last dream you are expecting a nightmare.

Cautiously, you pick yourself up and scan your surroundings. You see that you are in a small circular clearing of soft grass, blocked in by an impenetrable wall of overgrown oak trees. You cannot see anyone around you, but you know for a fact you are not alone. You can simply feel him in your bones, the unwelcome guest of your mind.

You: …Good morning.

Your intruder responds with a faint glimmer in the middle of the clearing. Curious, you approach it, leaning down to see that it is… your lucky coin. A golden coin that displays the face of the Patron Saint Jude, the Saint of lost causes. It was said that this coin is the very coin that Saint Jude used to cure an ailing king through the power of Christ. Of course, that is a bold lie. In actuality, it came from a con man you met in Israel. This is not the dimension that Saint Jude existed in, it is not even real gold, just painted copper. However, at the time you needed all the luck you could get. At least that is what she said when she gifted it to you.

You found the coin to be very fitting for you. Copper painted gold with delusions of grandeur. Yet, with how boldly it claimed to be a gift from the divine, maybe it was. Everything in this world is a dream, but somehow this coin is real, you know it in what little of your soul is left. You thought it was destroyed with everything else.

You: Is this your way of saying I'm hopeless? A lost cause? Ha, you aren't wrong… Me.

You roll the coin across your knuckles, thinking of a better time.

You: How about I call you Me? I am You, and you are Me. I might as well call you something if we're going to be fighting over the next few years. Say nothing if you like it.

Me: …

You: Great, I'm glad we could agree on something… Look, I know I must have done something truly terrible to you, but I can't remember a thing about you. I'm sorry. However, I still can't just give up like you want me to. I have people on this planet, people who have killed for me, who I am now responsible for. So, if you wanted to stop me you're a few nights too late. My rebellion stops for no one, not even me.

Me is fairly unimpressed with your determination. He does not dignify it with a response, he will just let you make your mistakes. He will let you make them again and again until you finally learn too not mess with what you do not understand. Sadly, your skull is thicker than titanium and twice as sturdy.

You: Well, thanks for my coin, at the very least. I missed my lucky charm.

Without warning your entire world returns to nonexistence. Perhaps he is just done with you, for now. When you next wake up, your body is surrounded with warm sopor and wrapped up with bandages. You have a bit of a headache, but otherwise you are absolutely fine. This pool is certainly a lot roomier than your last recooperacoon, but you have to leave it all the same.


You lift yourself out of the slime to see you are in Cillya's room. Well, it is your room now, since you lead to his painful elongated death. The only difference from when you last saw it is a surplus of medical waste and a lot of your blood. It is messy, but at the very least it indicates that your companions did their best to save your life. You hop out of bed as limber as ever.
You try to steal Cillya's clothes, but they are much too big for you. Before you can find a solution to this, someone enters your room. It is the cowardly gold blood that you momentarily met earlier. He has a nice mauve colored sweater vest and well maintained short hair that shows off his shaven horns. His eyes are gray and his body is small, not as short as you but still. He plinks away on a shiny tablet, not even noticing you.

You politely cough. He responds by nearly dropping his tablet in shock.

Sweater Vest: Y-YOU'RE ALIVE???

You: Sadly yes. I promise I'll do better next time.

A gasp of sheer joy emanates from the doorway as Joe pokes his head through. Before you know it you are wrapped up in an inescapable bear hug.

Joe: You're alive my lord! : D

You: You don't have to rub it in. But in all seriousness, did uh... did we win?

Joe: Of course we did. Once you uh... Well, those robots you brought in did a number on the crowd once they got worked up. They just kept shooting and flying all over the place while Angel rained fire from above. One of em even took a punch for poor Bubbles.

You: That is very relieving to know ~w~

Joe: Though they did kinda leave after the battle and left us to handle the raging fire, but we all lived.

You: They kept you lot alive and that is all I can ask for. How long was I out? I hope I haven't left you hanging for too many months.

Joe: Uh... Actually it's only been about two nights. The doctor said you wouldn't make it, but I knew he was a hack! Didn't even clean his syringe till I made em.

Sweater Vest: H-He came highly recommended among medical circle$! I am $o $orry he wa$ not up to expectation$, I promi$e I'll do better if you decide to let me live.

You: I'm sorry, but who are you?

Kirbil: K-Kirbil Poyont, at your beck and call! I wa$ Cillya'$ financial advi$or and per$onal a$$i$tant before you ah, did your work. I wa$ hoping that, $ince Cillya i$ dead now, you would be willing to accept my $ervice$ at a $imilar rate... O-Or le$$er rate!

Joe: I know he was working for the enemy, but look at him, he's harmless. He's been helping out a lot with all the math stuffs while you were napping, my lord.

You: Hm, loathe as I am to accept the burden of navigating this world's financial system on my own, I'm also a bit hesitant to trust a stranger with my money. What exactly can you do for me?

Kirbil: I can do your taxe$.

You: SOLD TO THE MAN IN THE PINK SHIRT! YOU'RE HIRED!

Kirbil: N-NO! I-It's mauve! Just mauve! A-As a gold, I would never assume to wear the colors of our great heiress and our Condesence goddess. I am but a simple gold blood, I would never ever insult them like that! I simply wish to show my support and adoration for our great leaders! Hahaha, it's not pink!

You: You are aware that we are a rebellion group, right? We want to cull the heiress and drag the Condie's corpse through the street...

Kirbil: Of cour$e! And I 100% $upport thi$ rebellion and will do everything in my power to help it $ucceed! And... In exchange, I would hope that you would write me a glowing reference like $ome of my previou$ rebellion employer$. I-It'$ $o hard to avoid becoming a battery the$e night$ you know, I ju$t need to prove my$elf before I get $hipped off.

You: ...Prove yourself with a rebellion, who murdered your highblood boss.

Kirbil: Oh who i$n't in a rebellion the$e night$, ha ha!

You: Right, at the very least, may I ask what you've been doing while I was out?

Kirbil: Of cour$e you can bo$$! If you would plea$e walk with me, I'll get you into $ome proper attire and we can go over your financial $ituation, if you wi$h.

Joe helpfully wraps your best traits in a towel so you can walk outside your room. Kirbil rapidly types on his electronic pad as you do. If he was typing any faster he would probably poke through the device. You take a peek over the railing to see what condition your new manor is in. It is not in good condition. The entire great hall is smashed and scorched, bodies are strewn about, and the front doors have fallen off their busted hinges.

Kirbil: Don't worry bo$$! I have already contacted $ome profe$$ional rebel carpenter$ to help fix your new hive. They will be here in a few week$. I tried to get $omeone $ooner, but there i$ a lot of con$truction to be done in this town, ha ha.

You: Thank you kindly. Perhaps setting my house on fire wasn't my best idea… How much money will I have left after repairs?

Kirbil; $ee for yourself, bo$$.

Your friendly accountant hands over his tablet. You are not well versed in Alternian mathematics or economics, but that is one BIG HONKING NUMBER on screen!

You: Oh wow! Ah… forgive my ignorance, but this is a lot of money, right?

Kirbil: To u$e layman'$ term$, by draining Cillya'$ variou$ bank account$ you have enough money to buy, demoli$h, and rebuild the entire town twice over.

You: Lovely. Please set aside half of the money for my personal account. Split the other half into six even amounts, do not touch any of that money unless specifically asked.

Kirbil: Ye$ bo$$. I know that I haven't been officially hired, but I would $till like to thank you not culling me yet. I have done my be$t to accompli$h what your knight a$ked me to do before you woke up. O-Of cour$e, your recovery wa$ much fa$ter than expected, $o I wa$ only able to get one made in time. I am $o $orry…

You: You're forgiven and did nothing wrong in the first place, I think. What did you get for me?

When you have made your way to the other side of the second floor, Joe giddily opens the fancy door for you. The room seems to be some kind of walk in closet, but honestly it does not matter. The only thing that matters is the golden outfit set out for you on a mannequin.

You: …You got this for me?

Kirbil: I$ it okay? Your knight $aid that it had to be very very $pecific. There wa$n't actually any tailor that wa$ familiar with the de$ign he $pecified, $o I had to find a tailor from another continent and $hip it overnight. I tried to get more like your knight a$ked, but the $hipping wa$ interrupted. I'm $o $orry.

You: What did Cillya pay you?

Kirbil: Oh uh, it wa$ about-

You: Increase it tenfold. You're hired in whatever position you want.

Kirbil: WH-

You: Oh right! I had almost forgotten, thank you for reminding me. For a signing bonus, I would like you to take 7% of the money in my personal account. And, of course, I'll be writing a glowing recommendation for you. Does that sound good?

Kirbil: …Wh…b-but…i uh…cag….c-can uh… c-can i g-get that in writing?!?!?!

You: Kirbil, get me a paper and pen, please.

Kirbil rushes off to grab whatever paper he can find. Within seconds he is back, pushing your asked for materials in your face with incredible excitement. He watches intently as you scribble down your contract. You are not versed with Alternia law, but you hope you do a good job writing down his new employment contract.

Kirbil: …A-Are you… n-nevermind! Thank you $-$o much bo$$! I-I'll work my harde$t for you, I $wear!

You: I know you will, getting one of my suits on such short notice is nothing short of a miracle. Thank you Kirbil.

Kirbil: Y-Y-You're welcome! I mean, uh, thank you, thank you, thank you for your incredible genero$ity bo$$!

You: Trust me, you'll earn your money, but for tonight please assemble my party in the remains of the entrance hall. I need to get dressed.

Kirbil: Ye$ bo$$! T-Thank you bo$$! Uh, $orry bo$$!

Your new personal assistant leaves you to enter your new walk in closet. Joe enters behind you, closes the door, and turns around. You get a good look at your new golden suit, a wonderful button up attire. The fabric is exactly suited for your figure, tight enough to feel like a second skin with enough heft to conceal body armor. It's made complete with a pair of black gloves, perfect for the cold and for casually not leaving behind fingerprints.

Putting on the clothes feels like the familiar touch of a lover. Next is your cape, golden and glittering. Some people say the cape is pointlessly gaudy, but you have two words for these people, break away. Need a bandage? BAM! Need to choke someone? BA BAM! Need to escape some jerk? They're left with a cape while you're halfway to Peru! It brings a tear to your eye.

You put on your cape and mask and finally, you top off your outfit with a top hat, tall and black with a golden trim near your head. Honestly, even you would agree that this is just overkill, but Lolth will rise again before you give it up. It is your brand, the thing that has been with you longer than anyone else. To leave a hat on the Condesence's ship after it is broken and smashed by your hand is your greatest wish right now.
You: Done.

You do a little twirl when Joe turns around, happy as can be to show off your new clothes.

Joe: You look amazing, my lord.

You: I know ; D

Joe: I'm glad it fits you. I figured I owed you one after uh... y'know.

You: Don't you dare think that, you owe me nothing. All you did was arrive just in time to save a kid.

Joe: ...I put you at risk.

You: That's what this is Joe, risk! We risk our lives to do the right thing. What happened is my fault, I didn't ask the right questions when I had the chance.

Joe: I could have done better though, I know I could have done better. At least I could have been a little more calm...

You: If you could stay calm while seeing a child in danger, then I don't know who the hell you are. You and me, we are the most cursed men alive. It would be a crime to not act like you did, for it proves the accursed deathless gods despise you so! To act like they should, but never will, it proves the immortals hate you so. It proves you are better than they ever were. I can only pray I share your standards when my time comes.

Joe: I thought we were Telemachus, not the stupid boat guy?

You: Eh, they were pretty much the same when you get right down to it.

Joe: I don't think you're the same.

You: ...Shhhh, I'm comforting you, not the other way around!

But your shushing falls on deaf ears as Joe huggles your stupid self.

You: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Joe: Yes.

You: FFfffffine.

After your medically required dose of hugging is acquired, you slip back out of the room with your loyal knight by your side. With an ungodly amount of swagger brought on by your new suit, you walk to the top of the staircase. Your accountant has dutifully gathered your growing party into the corpse littered hall. It may not look good right now, but you find no other room more symbolic for your future success. With arms outstretched, you address your friends from on high.

You: Good night and how do you do? As you can all clearly see, I am not dead. And with this undeadness, I would like to thank each and every one of you for what you have done. Whatever your reasons, you have brought down a tyrant and given this town a second chance at life. You helped me before you even had the chance to know me, and for that I will forever be grateful.

A moment of panic grips you as you remember the fact you are an idiot. Taco was rendered deaf by your efforts, how the hell is she going to understand a word you are saying? Luckily, when you look down, you see that your assistant Kirbil is already transcribing your words and letting Taco read them. He probably even said you told him to do that. You swear to Lolth you are giving that man a raise.

You: And while I am sure that gratitude of a thembo weeb is enough for all of you, I would still like to reward your efforts. Ofbeel, Beecat, Bestra, Sarima, Tulips, I have had a part of Cillya's fortune reserved for your use, courtesy of our new friend Kirbil. This money is yours and yours alone, payment for a job well done. It is honestly less than you deserve, but I hope it can tide you over until we take another fortune.

You: There is still much work to be done, that I won't deny, but you have all bought yourselves some rest! For right now, I beg you to eat, drink, and be merry. I'm sure there's at least one room in this hive of ours that can still serve that purpose! Let us commemorate our success, I swear it is the first of many to come. Stay with me, and this bounty will seem like the scraps it is.

You look down to see that your party isn't actually listening to you. Instead, they're listening to Kirbil and the influx of monetary freedom being siphoned into their personal accounts. Bubbles and Taco are especially enraptured, filled with disbelief. There is someone listening to you though, in the broken and burnt doorway is a professional troll wearing a nice cerulean suit and the fakest smile in all of Alternia. She gives you slow applause as she lets herself in, a short burgundy lugging an expensive camera close behind. You know her type anywhere... Lolth have mercy on your soul, wherever it is.

Paparazzi: Well you must feel like a real super hero, with your cute lil cape and fancy speeches~ I could just faint from the drama~ ~ To think that a cute little battery would attract this much attention, you had the entire town betting on whether you'd wake up or not y'know~ ~ ~

You: Well I-

Paparazzi: Oh don't be so coy cutie~ That's fatal in this town ; D I've already promised my followers that I'd be covering your funeral, but now I get to have an exclusive first, what a treat~ ~ Let's see, I think I'll take the olive first, no no the rustie, no no no the violet first, ah I'm spoiled for choice~ ~ ~ Just my luck that you'd gather an entire rainbow~ ~ ~ ~

You: If I may-

Without hesitation the cerulean takes her microphone and approaches your group of killers, setting her sights towards the poor violet babo clutching onto Angel's leg.

Sarima immediately picks up the small child and holds her close. Both the wings on her back immediately stretch out to make herself look larger, seemingly out of some sort of instinct. It is hard to find emotion in such eyes, but the balls of stars seem to be burning with extra heat as she stares down the gaudy media star.

Sarima: 𝓥𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓱. 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓮𝓯𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝔂𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓾𝓼! 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓘'𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓵𝓴.

Paparazzi: Oh. My. Gog. THE BUTTERBEAST TROLL! My fans have been dying for a follow up on our towns very own cryptid~ Tell me, how did a cutie like you get involved with a battery~ ~ You're pailing right, that's the only way a cerulean would go along with it~ ~ ~ YOU HEARD IT HERE FOLKS, YOUR NEW REVOLUTIONARY AND YOUR LOVABLE CRYPTID ARE SMOOCHING!

She seems to be utterly incapable of sensing danger in any capacity, but at the very least she has lost interest in the poor baby. She waggles a microphone in Sarima's face and yet leaves no time for her to speak. Tulips is only keeping quiet out of a sense of respect for Sarima, this is Sarima's fight. Also the lady kinda scares her a lil.

Sarima promptly takes the microphone, bites down into the middle of it effectively destroying the mechanisms inside of it, ruining the eardrums of almost anyone listening, and then just sorta…pockets it. Cuz shit that's a shiny microphone that's within her interests :3.

She immediately pulls out another one exactly like it, not flinching whatsoever.

Bap. There it goes.

Paparazzi: I can't believe you would suppress the free press like this…

Sarima: 𝓘𝓽 𝓲𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓷𝓮𝔀𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮'𝓼 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓮. 𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓮.
Sarima: 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓯𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓷𝓮𝔀𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓐𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓪 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭.

Paparazzi: If I had a coin for every time someone's said that to me I could retire before ever serving in the military~ But it's alright, I guess my exclusive will just need to help of a burgundy, you can go now sweetie~ ~

WHAP

With all the fuss nobody seemed to notice yourself walking up to the paparazzi and smacking her right across the face with all your strength. You didn't manage to hurt her thick cerulean skin, but her pride has been utterly shattered in a single blow.

You: My friend is unwilling to talk with you. Get the fuck out of my hive and never return.

Paparazzi: …

For a moment she glances towards her cameraman, filled with dread about how she'll be perceived for this little mistake. She looks towards the hulking bronze by your side and a bit of hope enters her eyes.

Paparazzi: Kill him.

You feel a chill run up your spine as you feel her intense psychic power channel through the air, an indestructible will trying its hardest to kill your friend's very soul. With the power of an awe inspiring psychic coursing through his body, Joe is forced into action.

Joe: Their pronouns are they/them

Paparazzi: …W-What?

Joe: My lord's pronouns are they/them. You said "he." Don't worry, it happens all the time.

Paparazzi: …Well than kill "them!" Shoot them, crush them, I don't care just kill them!

Joe: …No?

Sarima: 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻, 𝓥𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓱? 𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓵𝓰𝓫𝓽𝓺 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼~?
Sarima has no idea what the words she just said mean, but she has the SMUGGEST grin on her face~

Paparazzi: S-Shut up! Kill them you trollbeast, I COMMAND you kill her and them and everyone!

Sarima gently places Tulips behind her, grabs the evil paparazzi and CLENCHES down on her neck with her shark teeth. The vile media girl can feel her blood pouring out of her veins as she begins drinking her blood.

The poor streamer futilely struggles against the superior cerulean, beating against her sides while she's drained of her very life. Without her powers she's utterly powerless, yet still she tries to use them, directing all of her attention towards Joe due to her inability to accept failure.

Joe awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. He feels a lil itchy.

Joe: Uh… is this my fault?

You: No Joe, you're fine.

Sarima: 𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓙𝓸𝓮, 𝓷𝓸 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 :3

OMNOMNOMNOM

It doesn't take long for the cerulean to pass out from blood loss, Sarima's teeth stained by the sweet blue. Her burgundy cameraman streams the entire thing, faintly smiling as he gets every last detail of his boss' final moments.

Joe: Okie.

Sarima….DOESNT really understand why Joe was unaffected. From what she's seen, the only way that a person wouldn't do as a Ceruleans mind-control commanded was either that they were to high-blooded for it, or…the request was simply impossible for the person to perform.
…
She goes right up to Joe and just…hugs him. A huge hug. One of the biggest.

Joe: Oh! Hello Angel : )

Sarima: ;w;;;;;

Joe doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but he is more than happy to return the hug live on camera.

Joe: Do uh… you know what was going on with that weird troll? She gave me a headache.

Sarima: 𝓝𝓸 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓿𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓵 :3

Joe: She tried to control my mind to make me kill you and my lord?! That's… that's depraved!

You: Would you like to shoot her? We can't safely keep her captured nor can we let this killer walk.

Sarima: 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓹𝓾𝓽 𝓹𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓣𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓮𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷.

Tulips: BUT I WANNA KAPUNCH HER >: 0

You: Go right ahead Angel, all of you are excused. Except you, mauve shirt, you're needed for a bit.

Sarima: 𝓓𝓲𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓻?

Tulips: …

She silently raises her little arms for some uppies.

Sarima: 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓾𝔀𝓾

She walks over to the grubling and lifts her into her arms, carrying Tulips like the baby she is and leaving the room for the job to be done

The rest of your party follow suit, deciding that some relaxation would be better than yet more bloodshed in this poor abused entry way. The sole exception is Taco, who gives Joe a big hug and the cerulean a bigger wad of spit before scampering off.

You: Alright then.

Joe uses his Sidney Sweeper to execute as the burgundy cameraman records everything, unwilling to let even a moment pass without being broadcast to the world.

You: So… who exactly was that?

Kirbil: I believe her name wa$ Villah Excard, a rather famous blogger in town. $ince $he'$ currently unable to kill me, I'll $ay that $he wa$, to put it bluntly, a bitch. When I wa$ fir$t abducted to work with Cillya $he ran a ma$$ive $mear campaign about Cillya'$ $uppo$ed gutter blood fetish. I can't $ay I mourn her.

You: And how is this going to come back to haunt me?

Kirbil: $he wa$ apart of the cerulean club, a little group of influencer$ that have an appreciation for the more violent thing$ in life… They're doubtle$$ly going to cull us all…

You gently guide the camera towards yourself, the burgundy more than happy to comply.

You: gOOD mORNING aND hOW dO yOU dO? i hOPE yOU'RE aLL dOING wELL! aS tHE nEW pOWER iN tHIS lITTLE tOWN oF mINE, i wANT tO sAY tHANK yOU fOR tHIS gIFT. tO hAVE mY eNEMY dELIVERED tO mY dOORSTEP pRACTICALLY dEFENSELESS iS aMAZING. tHINGS aRE sOON gOING tO cHANGE qUITE a lOT, i pROMISE, bUT dONT tAKE mY wORD fOR iT. tAKE vILLAH'S~

You: sADLY tHIS pARASITE sOMEHOW hAD fRIENDS, sO mY pOOR pUBLIC, yOULL hAVE tO wAIT fOR mY pUBLIC aDDRESS. i sWEAR, iN jUST a fEW nIGHTS yOULL hEAR fROM mE aGAIN, aFTER tHE sTREETS tURN cERULEAN wITH bLOOD oF tHE eLITE!

You blow the camera a kiss before smashing the front lens with a grandiose roundhouse kick. You technically could have just asked the cameraman to turn it off, but no one respects the technically illiterate.

You: …I'll buy you a new one, I promise.

The cameraman does not care whatsoever, he just silently celebrates the streamed victory over his previous employer. He dances over her corpse with glee.

You: Can you speak?

He shakes his head no.

You: Fair enough. Would you like a job then? I'm in need of a good camera specialist and I'm sure we could work out a good pay.

He thinks for a moment and then nods. You direct him into the back rooms of the mansion to relax until you require him, you'll have Kirbil make a contract soon. But for right now, you have to make good on your promise.

You: So, Kirbil, how many ceruleans did I just promise to kill? Assuming I wanted to make any highblood competitor go extinct.

Kirbil: Ah... I'm $o $orry bo$$, but there'$ about $even cerulean$ for you to worry about, well, $ix now. I would have to do more re$earch to get $pecific$, but I know that their group ha$ been here longer than Cillya. It'$ not uncommon to have torture arti$t$ living in the $lum$ for ea$y lowblood acce$$, but their group ha$ ama$$ed a fortune doing it... they won't decide to leave ea$ily.

You: Good, saves me the trouble of having to hunt anyone down. Would you kindly look into them? I'd like to know everything I can about them.

Kirbil: Ye$ bo$$!

You: Hold on, is there anything you need to do it quickly? I'm not Cillya, you can have anything you want for a job well done.

Kirbil: Don't fret bo$$, I've managed to create $even hundred ninety three profile$ for rebellion $ect$. Re$earching a group of local celebritie$ i$ practically a vacation. N-Not that I'm a$king for a vacation bo$$! I'm $orry, I'll $tart right away.

Your nervous wreck of an assistant rushes off to do research. You on the other hand are going to gear up for war. You may not be able to protect your mind, but you can certainly work to protect your body.

You: Hey Joe, did you happen to find anything useful in this place while I was out?

Joe: Not much if I'm being honest. I think the old owner must have had something against guns because I could only find one in the whole place! I put it in the garage, but I'll warn you, it's not in good shape.

You: Thank you very much, guard and yada yada you know what to do.

Joe: Yes my lord!

You make your way into the garage by your lonesome. Inside you find a rather expensive looking car/insect hybrid. Long spindly legs stand idle, jutting out of a metal large metal chassis designed to carry individuals of great size. Thankfully, the insides resemble a normal car, with gas pedals and a wheel. Out of curiosity, you check if you are tall enough to reach the pedals. You are not.

The rest of the garage is dedicated to a workshop, giving the tools within you would guess that Cillya liked to tinker with his car. On a workbench you find it, the poor poor weapon Joe found for you. Based on the shape and size of the gun, you would guess it is a nine millimeter semi automatic pistol, but a surplus of rust and mistreatment makes that difficult to gauge. The barrel is covered in mysterious black gunk and rust, the grip is falling apart, and the trigger is stuck. Purchasing a new pistol would likely be the smart option, but seeing such a sorry sight makes your blood boil.

You take off your mask for a more personal experience before you set about dismantling the weapon, carefully laying out every spring, pin, and lever for close examination. There are a few components you do not immediately recognize, but a gun is a gun, no matter how alien. You know that much of this weapon will need to be replaced and the rest require a deep cleaning, but it can be saved. It will be saved.

While your concentration is focused on the weapon, you fail to notice the creature stalking you from the shadows. The terrible beast sneaks right up to you and makes itself known, smugly. While staring you right in the eyes, they take the barrel of the gun and just slide it off the table, like the remorseless hell spawn they are.

You: ...Taco please, this is very important.

Taco: I save purr life and this is the thanks I get? Ignored for a purriece of metal and furced to share a room with a cerulean? Fur shame, pet, fur shame.

You: You're a millionaire now, it can't be that bad.

Taco: Oh? Are you trying to say something? I can't exactly hear because my poor ears were ripped off defending you. Only fur you to abandon me furever and ever, alone to starve to death.

Despite being ripped off a couple of nights ago, Taco's ears are making a good recovery. Already new ears are sprouting out of her skull, like a fleshy plant bud covered in fur. She gets annoyed once she notices you staring at them. They respond by dramatically flopping on your helpless body, forcing you to the ground under the sheer weight of cat.

Taco: Can't even say hello after getting out of purr coma, after everyone thought you wouldn't make it. Fur shame fur shame.

Her tone is playful as she stretches on top of you, trapping you. Though she still manages to keep you comfortable and breathing even under her comparatively greater weight. She keeps you trapped, though it is not like how a cat traps prey. It is more like a cat trying to keep their kitten safe and warm. You ask her to get off you, but she purposefully does not look at your face, avoiding the request you would obviously make.

Taco: I should have just left you to die, all the money in the world can't help if the highbloods have it out for me. Even if it is an impurressive sum~ I should just go and disappurr, you ungrateful little pet. Just look at you, all smol and soft, it's a disgrace to the troll race.

She holds you very close to her, close enough that you can feel abnormal bumps covering her chest and stomach. It seems to cause her a bit of pain to have something touching them, yet she can not bring herself to loosen up. She desperately tries and fails to communicate the fact that she is on your chest means absolutely nothing.

Taco: Purr just going to die in this rebellion, you know? Little soft things don't last on Alternia... Just... stop being small, stop it, stop itttttt!

Sadly, you do not stop being small.

Taco: Wrrraaaoo...

She keeps you close for quite awhile, deep in thought. Instinctively she nuzzles against you, her floofy tail swishing against your leg. You can feel the unsteadiness in her breathing as she tries in vain to convince herself this is normal. You are not able to do anything to help, yet you do not do anything to hurt her either. Time is short, but this is important to her and you do not struggle while she works herself out.

Eventually, she partially releases you to look you in the eyes. You make no attempt to leave, you are with her for as long as she wants, as she is with you. She cannot hear your voice, but your calm expression speaks volumes.

Taco: ...Aren't you worried at all about dying?

You are not worried, you are not going to die.

Taco: ...I can't tell if purr cocky or just insane, but somehow you aren't dead. I just... I don't want you to die, so don't. please?

You nod your head and gently hold her hand. Even without hearing you, she knows exactly what you say.

You: I promise.

Satisfied by your answer, she decides that the only course she can take is to trust you. She cups your cheeks in her hands, the fuzzy warmth giving you comfort. She presses her forehead against your for a full minute, waiting out the time with you, before she leaves without another word. Alone, you are left on the floor, burdened by yet another promise you need to keep.

You pick yourself up and you get back to work, retrieving the barrel from the floor. With a brush and some cleaning acid you meticulously cure the barrel of its rust and impurities. You do the long task of cleaning and repairing with a smile. With Cillya, you got lucky, but this is what a revolution should be. Careful hours of planning for a moment of fantastic success.

While you are doing that, your party has commandeered the living room. Cillya refused to let anyone enter into his expansive gaming den, so Taco has found it especially gratify to be as messy as she can. Beecat has been desperately trying to clean the snack crumbs and spills Taco has left on the rug, but in Taco's absence the little Kakick has gotten involved in the merry mess making. Nothing in this room is safe.

Tulips: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Sarima: 𝓣𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼, 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽!

Sarima scoops up Tulips in her loving arms, moving to help Beecat clean up all of the mess that the little girl is making. She gives Beecat some pettins for her help as she attempts to find some sort of a vacuum cleaner.

Sarima: 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽!

Tulips: I HAVE A MILLION BILLION DOLLARS I CAN JUST BUY MORE STUFF!

Beecat swears to all that is good and holy she is going to shred Kirbil for teaching Tulips what money is.

Sarima: 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴, 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂. 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝓭.

Tulips: ...WAIT MONEY RUNS OUT?? WHY WOULD THAT HAPPEN, I THOUGHT I HAD ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD?

Sarima: 𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂. 𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓾𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓵𝓼𝓮. 𝓝𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂. 𝓢𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓲𝓽! 𝓞𝓴𝓪𝔂, 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻?

Tulips: >: P

Tulips reluctantly stops her rampage of the comfort room, letting the couches and the carpet live on for another night. She doesn't want to, but if she has too, she will.

Sarima: 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓮.

She gives Tulips a loving nuzzle on their floof as a good bat parent should, before moving back to Beecat. They are given plenty of scritches to help calm themself down.

Beecat gently purrs in Sarima's lap right next to Tulips, the two dumbo babos enjoying quality bat time. Beecat says that she is a little surprised that a troll could make such a good lusus. Angel will put lusi out of a job if she keeps it up, ha ha.

Tulips: SHE ISNT MY LUSUS, SHES MY SIDEKICK! I DONT THINK I EVER GOT A LUSUS, PROBABLY.

Sarima: 𝓘 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓯𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓰𝓻𝓾𝓫𝓼 𝓛𝓾𝓼𝓾𝓼. 𝓐𝓵𝓼𝓸 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 90% 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓵.


So is busting into an Indigo's hive and leaving his carcass for the beeasts, but either way she is glad that Tulips has Angel in her life. Beecat did not want to get back into grub raising.

Tulips: YOU ARE SO FIT FOR THAT! THE LAW IS JUST STUPID, IT TRIED TO TELL ME IM SOMEONE IM NOT AND I KAPUNCHED! THEN IT TRIED TO KILL ME AND YOU KAPOWED IT BEFORE I COULD!

Sarima: 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓾𝓼.

Tulips: IM JUST SAYING, YOURE PERFECT FOR IT AND YOU SHOULDNT LET THE LAW EVER TELL YOU WHAT TO DO! IF YOU EVER DO ILL KAKICK YOUR KNEECAPS AWAY!

pat pat

Sarima: 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓵𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 :3

Tulips: OF COURSE I DO, IM A HERO! IM GONNA BE THE NEXT COND... CONDA... CONDESS... THE BIG FISH LADY! IM GONNA REVOLT HER BUTT!

Sarima: 𝓞𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮, 𝓣𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼. 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪 𝓹𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮, 𝓸𝓴𝓪𝔂?

The small babo pumps her fists in the air, your new Condesence in all of her mighty glory. Truly she shall reign for a thousand lifetimes and usher the troll race into a new era of peace.

Tulips: YOU MEAN IT? YOURE GONNA HELP ME KAKICK THE FISH?

She'll punch gender norms right in their stupid face!

Sarima: 𝓐𝓫𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓾𝓽𝓮𝓵𝔂! 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓸

Tulips: WHY THO?

Sarima: 𝓑𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾. 𝓥𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱.

Tulips: …WHY THOUGH?

Sarima: 𝓑𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓘 𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓷.
Angel's answer satisfied Tulips and she returns to relaxing, using the butterfly mama as a pillow. Today was quite the exciting day for her, confronting a dangerous egirl and destroying an entire living room. For a smol child like herself, that's practically exhausting.

Tulips: IM GLAD SOMEONE SEES THAT! YOU MUST BE A REALLY GREAT TREASURE HUNTER… ARE YOU A PIRATE?

Sarima: 𝓘'𝓶 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻

Tulips: WHAT? WHATS A COLLE… COLLLL… WHATS A FANCY RICH TROLL DOING FIGHTING EVIL AND SAVING HEROES?

Sarima: 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓱! 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽…𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮. 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼. 𝓘𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓲𝓽?

Tulips: DAS GOOD. I THOUGHT IT WAS CAUSE YOU GOT SEDUCED BY THE THEMBO.

Sarima: 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓪𝓪𝓪𝓽? 𝓝𝓸𝓸𝓸𝓸𝓸𝓸… >_>

Tulips: I DEMAND TO KNOW WHATS GOING ON BETWEEN YOU AND THEMBO! HAVE THEY SEDUCED EVERYBODY IN THE WHOLE CAUSE?? HAVE I BEEN SEDUCED???????????

Sarima: 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓮…𝓶𝓪𝔂𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓽? 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾. 𝓐𝓵𝓼𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰.

Tulips: IF IM OLD ENOUGH TO FIGHT IM OLD TO SAY ANYTHING I WANNA SAY! ALL I WANNA KNOW IS LIKE… WHY ARE YOU SO DIFFERENT, HUH?

Tulips: IF… LOW BLOODS ARE OPP… DAMSELS AND HIGH BLOODS ARE BAD GUYS THEN WHY ARE YOU AND YOUR GROUP HEROES? ARENT YOU BLUE?

Sarima: 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪 𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓽. 𝓐𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝔂𝓪𝓵𝓽𝔂 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝓰𝓾𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽?

Tulips: WELL… I DONT KNOW, WHY AM I A HERO??

Sarima: 𝓑𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝔀𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 :3

Tulips: WHY

Sarima: 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷. 𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓼. 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮, 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓵𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓮𝓷𝓿𝓲𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝔂. 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮, 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻. 𝓦𝓮'𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝔂𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓶𝓮.

Tulips: …WELL LIFE IS WEIRD AND CONFUSING BUT HURTING PEOPLE IS STILL WRONG. IM GONNA KAPUNCH EM UNTIL THE BADNESS IS BEATEN OUT OF THE WHOLE WORLD! >: D

Tulips: ALSO WHATS A HONEY?

Sarima: 𝓢𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮 :33

Sarima: 𝓓𝓸𝓷𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓽.

Tulips: O! I GOT AN IDEA! SINCE YOURE LIKE A SUPER GENIUS ON BAD PEOPLE, WHY DONT YOU TELL ME WHOS NOT BAD? THEN I CAN NOT KAPUNCH EM AND YOU CAN DO STUFF AS MY SIDEKICK!

Sarima: 𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓵…𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮…𝓼𝓲𝓽 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

Tulips happily sits next to Angel, looking up at her with wide eyes. At just the promise of a direction Tulips is already shaking with excitement. Her resolve to be a hero is absolute, her smol child body full to bursting with justice!

SARIMA HAS BECOME A PARENT!

HER SPECIAL CERULEAN GRACE HAS ADVANCED TO VIOLET GRACE!

Beecat decides that this conversation should be private, and that she has already done her fair share of dealing with screaming wigglers. She gives Angel a smol cat lick before leaping off of the couch and out of the room. She decides to go on a walk before the sun comes up.

She returns to the main hall to find Joe staring down the demolished entrance, gun in hand. He has not moved from the cerulean corpse in all the time he has been alone. His dedication is admirable, but it can not be good the giant wound on his back.

Beecat snuggles up to Joe's leg, he looks down with a smile at the lil kitty.

Joe: Hello there little furry creature. What can I do for you?

Beecat says that Joe can sit down for her, he has been doing this every night and he needs some time to rest beefore his back gives out.

Joe: I'm fine.

Beecat disagrees, but she is just a cat; she can not make Joe do anything. So she just flies up and plops down right on his head, inbetween his horns. Beecat finds squeezing between the horns quite uncomfortable. Joe finds the kitty paws swinging down and covering his eyes equally uncomfortable.

Joe gently places the kitty on the ground, but she just climbs right back up. The two are at an incredible impasse.
Joe: …Please, I gotta keep watch for more trolls.

Mrrrrroww ^w^

Joe: Ma'am, please.

PurrrrrrRRRRrrrRRRRRrrrrrrRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Joe: Are you just hungry or something?

Murrup!

Joe: Why don't you ask Bubbles for some nectar?

Tchhh!

Joe: I'd love too, but I can't stop guarding.

Beecat says that she could watch the door, just for a little. Joe is apprehensive to leave his post for even a moment, however he is eventually defeated by the constant mewling and nibbling of his ear.

Joe: Argh, fine fine. But if anything happens don't do nothing I would do, just yell.

That's what Beecat says she is beest at!

She plops herself down on the floor and loafs right in front of the door. Her stinger tail gently wags as she watches the star filled night sky. The cool night air does a lot to make the corpse filled room feel comfortable. She has not had the chance to really think until this point, everything has been going far too quickly. She wonders about her ward, sweet little Ofbeel.

The stranger has been putting her child in danger, yet… if they were not there Ofbeel might have been culled. So would Beecat. To admit to fearing death in this world is practically taboo, but in her thoughts she is able to admit it all she wants.

…If Joe fails to recover, who can protect her?

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of shattering glass and a grunt of pain. She leaps several meters into the air and yelps, but the noise came from Joe. The bruiser's back has once again failed and he accidentally dropped the nectar jar meant for Beecat.

Joe: Sorry! Sorry, I'll get you another, promise.

Beecat absolutely will not accept another jar, she will only accept Joe marching straight into a recooperacoon and not leaving until he is better!

Joe: I'm fine, I promise I promise.

Beecat trots up to Joe and gently paps him on the back, his body's response does not inspire confidence.

Joe: Tch, j-just let me alone, okay? I gotta make sure you're safe.

She says that she is incredibly grateful for what you did back at her hive. She would be dead if Joe was not there to save her and her grub.

Joe: Uh… thank you for thanking me. But I still need to guard.

So please, do not try and bee a hero all the time. Joe needs his rest too. How can he save everyone if he gets himself killed? She likes him.

Joe: …Y'know uh… it was uh… it was a good several decades since last I swore. I remember it pretty clear too. See there was this uh… never mind. I just mean to say that I… I messed up, can't do it again.

People make mistakes, she says. Gog knows that she has, but he can't just blame himself for everything.

Joe: You're a good kitty, real good. But I can blame myself for something that's my fault. I… put your kid at risk.

Then it is even, isn't it? He saved her baby once and then accidentally got them hurt. That just means Joe is even with her, doesn't it? She is still only alive beecause of him.

Joe: I ain't thought of it like that… Do you mean that?

Of course she does, she has faith in Joe she says. She promises.

Joe: …Thanks.

DIAMOND RELATIONSHIP RANK C! Joe X Beecat!

Joe: Though uh… I still probably shouldn't go against what my lord says for me to do.

You: In that case, I order you to take a rest in my personal bedroom.

Joe: Ah! How long have you been listening, my lord?

You: Not very, just enough to say that you need rest. C'mon, do me a favor~

Joe is about to comply with your request, but then he sees a glint of light on the horizon, headlights. He quickly takes aim at the encroaching car with the Sidney Sweeper. You take hold of the tip of the gun and gently lower it. If it were anyone else this would be an awful idea, but Joe's sense of gun safety is absolute. You gently take the gun from your friend and lay it on the ground.

You: Don't worry, this is just the pizzas I ordered.

Joe: Pizza? : D

You: Don't get excited, they'll have meat on them. You just get some rest in my room, understand?

Joe: Yes my lord.

The curious kitty leaps onto your shoulder as you await for the burgundy pizza delivery girl with a short stature, a flat chest, and a great set of legs. You find it incredibly concerning that one can pay extra to get a specific delivery driver, but it suits your purposes for now. A girl exactly as you specified gets out of the large delivery van and runs with all her might to you. When she arrives the poor thing nearly collapses from exhaustion.

You: tWENTY nINE mINUTES aND fORTY tHREE sECONDS, yOU pUT iT tO tHE wIRE mISS.

Somehow, she musters up the strength to talk in-between panting sprees.

Pizza: Y-You really like flavordiscs Mister Meyers! T-Two hundred... In t-thirty minutes... wwoooooo...

You: aRE tHEY cHEESE?

Pizza: T-They have cheese, y-yeah!

You: nO, eXCLUSIVELY cHEESE, i wANTED nO mEAT.

Pizza: ...

You: hAHAHAHAHA! i cAN hIRE a cUSTOM tROLL tO cULL wITH mY fOOD, dOWN tO tHE sIZE oF yOUR hORNS, yET tHEY sTILL cANT hANDLE a vEGETARIAN! aAAAAHH, sOME tHINGS nEVER cHANGE nO mATTER tHE pLANET.

Pizza: ...I-I... I'm not s-supposed to ask this, b-but please d-don't cull me... p-please, I-I have a lusus who r-relies on me!

You: wOULDN'T dREAM oF iT! iN fACT, i wOULD lIKE tO oFFER yOU a jOB.

You pull out a large quantity of plastic alternian currency to show you are serious. They look at the cash like a starving dog looks at food.

Pizza: D-Don't make fun of me S-Sir, I'm j-just trying to make ends meet.

You: i aSSURE yOU mY oFFER iS eNTIRELY sERIOUS. lOOK aROUND yOU, mY hOME iS iN oBVIOUS nEED oF sOME tROLLS tO cLEAN uP! i cAN gUARANTEE sAFETY, sHELTER, aND a pAY wELL aBOVE tHE cOMPETITIVE rATE.

Pizza: What's the catch?

You: i wANT tO bUY yOUR pIZZA vAN aND oUTFIT fOR tHIRTY tHOUSAND.

Pizza: W-Well... it's actually my bosses personal van, your order was too big for our bikes. I don't know if it's mine to sell really.

You: fORTY tHOUSAND aND i wILL pERSONALLY eSCORT yOUR lUSUS tO tHIS hIVE fOR sAFEKEEPING.

The grease covered burgundy is frozen in place by your offer. You have not even shown your face to her and already you have offered them a significantly better life. Their terrified expression shows her mistrust, but with an offer like yours is one she simply cannot refuse. She agrees and changes into a bathrobe you provide. You in turn put on her clothes without a care for modesty. You find them to be a decent fit, though the pants are incredibly snug. At the very least you look and smell like pizza.

After you are done swapping clothes with the pizza girl, Beecat asks you what happened to make you lose your gog damn mind? What are you doing?

In response you hand over your fancy suit and mask, placed inside a velvet box meant for this exact purpose.

You: Would you ever so kindly tell my noninjuried friends that I am forcing poor people to strip for my personal amusement in the entrance hall? I need them here. And you, my new employee, do you have a way to tell your Lusus to expect a pick up?

Pizza o_o uh... S-Sure, I'll just uh, text them. Anything else?

You: Kindly go up the stairs and to the right, into the door at the end of the hallway. Tell the troll inside that you're here to work.

You give the Troll an ungodly amount of money and pat them on the head. Their legs eventually manage to work in this surreal situation, eventually. You walk right past them and use the keys in the pocket of your new uniform to open up your new pizza van. Just as you hoped, the van looks big enough to house your entire party. Out of curiosity you open one of the pizza boxes and as you predicted there are, in fact, dead baby bits scattered on top. You swiftly toss the pizza boxes straight into the garbage, keeping only a few boxes for your plan.

It took you a while to think of it, but you find gunsmithing to be an incredibly calming activity. You take a good look at your new repaired friend. Although the repairs necessitated some heavy modification, your gun can be best described as a 9mm 1A pistol. The model is not particularly popular, but it can kill all the same and the recoil will not break your fragile hands. You only have a single 13 round clip in your possession, but it will be enough. You only need twelve, two per target.

You look up into the sky to see yet another guest, a delivery drone. Good to his word, Kirbil has ordered some armor for you with express express delivery. The sleek drone resembles a jet engine with a glowing red strip for a cockpit. It scans your house, drops off a large metal box, and speeds off into the night at incredible speeds. You make a mental note to steal a few of those things in the future.

For now, you do not have the time. You have, not counting expected travel time, three hours to attract and kill six powerful ceruleans and their deadly lusi with nothing but a pizza van and two guns. But you are not worried, for you know exactly how you are going to do it. Firstly, you will go to the hive of Wizzaz Killta, she is holding a crossover stream with another one of your targets. Secondly, you will draw her out with your pizza delivery girl disguise. Thirdly, you shoot Killta dead. Then things will get complicated...






1. Preform a successful Pizza Assassination. (Combat, Party) [11]
People like pizza, such is a universal truth. By luring your target outside with pizza you can guarantee their death. With the element of surprise on your side it will be possible to subdue the other combatants before they can kill you. However, the stream will reveal your actions to the four remaining ceruleans and make it much more difficult to draw out. This option is the safest, but it will make killing the others before they escape much more difficult.

2. Preform a botched Pizza Assassination (Charisma, You) [11]
People like pizza, such is a universal truth. By luring your target outside with pizza you can guarantee their death. However, by doing this your targets will be alerted. If you kill one and then "fail" to kill the other, they will be able to capture you. With how much you have insulted the ceruleans, she will probably want to torture you to death. With reverse psychology you could probably convince her to do it on stream with all of her friends. This option would get all of your targets in one spot, but you'll be injured and have to rely solely on your teammates.

In both scenarios, you will leave Taco, Joe, and Kirbil behind to defend the base. Every other party member will come with.



((Dear Lolth I really need to learn to contain myself when it comes to this kind of character writing. Either way I hope you enjoy : 3 Also, I decided to put a little indicator of what abilities a roll will be based on and who will be making the roll. I figured it might be nice, but I am looking for feedback on if you want me to continue doing it. Oh and don't worry about Taco, your relationship will rank up in the next update without any cost. There is a little scene I wanted to have occur, but I figured this update was long enough already : 3. Anyways, thanks for reading my chaos gremlins in training.

Sarima: 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹?

You: Eh? Oh, I'm sorry, I guess you caught me thinking aloud. How do I look?~

You strike a pose once Sarima arrives, followed soon by Beecat, Bubbles, and a tiny Violet baby who is using the distraction to climb up Bubbles and ride upon their head.

Bubbles: [/||] um-

Tulips: I GOTTA SEE TOO!

Sarima: 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓅𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁 :𝟥

You: Thank you ^w^ just what I was going for. The pants are pretty snug, but I can suffer to make others suffer.

Sarima: …𝒴𝑒𝓈. 𝒪𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁! 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜 𝒾𝓈 𝒯𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈. ^///^

Sarima decides not to comment on that last part, focusing most of her attention on giving the sweet lil Violet two headpats. She sure does love that lil baby.

Bubbles: [/||] um… you're actually really heavy Tulips…

Tulips: ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT >: 0

Sarima: 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒.

Bubbles: [|||] N-Nevermind! P-Please… it's fine, my neck was already sore.

Tulips clings to Bubbles' head like an angry birb, which is equally painful as a birb would be due to her sharp violet claws.

Sarima: 𝒯𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈, 𝒷𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹!

Tulips lessens the grip of her claws, ever so slightly.

Tulips: SORRY.

Sarima: 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇.

You: Not to interrupt, but we're on the clock here. Now, I'm assuming that one of you can drive, right?

Sarima: …:3

Bubbles: [/||] Sorry, but uh… I was never rich enough to get a vehicle.

Beecat says that she is, in fact, a cat.

Tulips: OOH! OOH! I CAN DRIVE! IVE DRIVEN LOTS OF THINGS BACK IN MY WIGGLIN DAYS!

You: …Anyone else?

shake shake shake.

You: Okay… No offense Tulips, but I don't think you'll be able to reach the pedals.

Tulips: PEDALS ARE FOR AMATEURS!

Sarima: 𝒲𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓉𝓈! 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝑒𝓌 𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓈.

You: Sarima, we're going on a trip to kill, at minimum, six people. I'm not sure it's the best idea to bring Tulips.

Tulips: AND WHY NOT?!

Sarima: 𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝒶𝓎! 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝓈𝑜𝓁𝓊𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒; 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓌𝑒 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝒶𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒.

Tulips: ALSO IF YOU DONT LET ME DRIVE ILL KAKICK YOU INTO NEXT SWEEP!

Sarima: 𝒯𝓊𝓁𝒾𝒾𝒾𝓅𝓈. =_=

With this new compelling evidence you decide to let Tulips drive. With Sarima's help, you set up a couple of sturdy sticks under her feet. While she gets used to her new high heels, you input the coordinates of the Cerulean's home into the van's built in pizza tracker. Fortunately, it isn't too far away, possibly because you live in the highblood district.

When Tulips is ready, you lead your healthy party members into the back of the van. It's uncomfortable, covered in smelly grease, and lacks seats, but it's spacious at least.

Sarima: ……𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓈𝓊𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓅𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶?

You: I'd offer you some, but I threw it all out. Grub covered.

Sarima: …𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝓊𝓃𝑔𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 ;-;

As Sarima says this, Beecat has already begun the slow process of licking the entire van clean of tasty tasty grease. She says she won't share. Sarima pets the kitty a lil bit before relaxing on the floor.

Bubbles: [//|] It actually reminds me of home a bit! What are we doing with a pizza van anyways?

You: I'm going to use it to get close to Killta, before I shoot her.

Bubbles: [///] Oh! That's pretty smart, Killta has always been such a slob she has pizza for like, every meal. And she's doing a crossover to celebrate her one hundredth stream. Very smart : )

Sarima: 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉?

Bubbles: …

Bubbles: I… don't

Sarima: =_=

Bubbles: sweats

Sarima: =_=

Bubbles: My Lusus is here pls ;-;

Sarima: 𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂???

Bubbles: [|||] …a little

Sarima: =___=

Bubbles: [!!!] CAN WE PLEASE MOVE ON FOR THE LOVE OF GOG

Sarima: :3

You: Sorry, but your kinks could prove valuable. Tell me everything I need to know about her, please.

Bubbles: [|||] S-She's not, s-she's very um… j-just watch her stream!

In a desperate bid to talk about anything else, Bubbles hurls her phone at your chest before stuffing her face into her shirt. You decide that taking Bubbles up on her offer can't hurt. You pick up the unlocked phone and find Killta's Onlysimps site in Bubbles' bookmarks. Due to Bubbles' generous donations, you're able to skip past the typical advertisements and get to the stream.

What you see on Bubbles' little cracked screen disturbs you to your very core. Your target sits on a torn couch in nothing but a stained T-shirt, playing a racing game against a slightly cleaner cerulean. Behind each Cerulean is a burgundy troll strapped to a pole, a large beastly mosquito hangs over them both, constantly feeling up the two squirming victims with thin fuzzy limbs.

The slob cerulean soon loses and, as she bemoans her defeat, the troll behind her is drained of all blood by the Lusus. You don't care to describe it any further, but… you also can't look away. This kind of deadly game isn't uncommon in your line of work and you've subsequently grown desensitized. What disturbs you is how fascinated you are in the macabre scene before you. You want to look away, you truly do, but you simply find yourself looking back at the suffering burgundy. You feel your body tingling as you struggle to maintain composure.

Your mind races as you try to rationalize your thoughts. Perhaps you've just been under too much stress? You know you wouldn't have reacted like this before you got to this damned planet.

Sarima: 𝒰𝓂…𝒫𝒶𝓌𝓃?

You: Uh... Y-Yeah?

Sarima: 𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓎𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌.

You: What?!

You: I-I'm just too hot, this van doesn't get any ventilation.

Sarima: …

She just scoots back against the wall and put on her mask once more. She doesn't have nearly the nerve to press anymore on this.
...For the betterment of everyone, you decide to put down the phone.

You spend the rest of the trip in quiet contemplation, wondering what could have changed to make you have such a reaction to such a vile piece of content. At the very least you'll be able to soothe your nerves by heroically saving the poor unfortunate trolls that are being killed so coldly.

The entire van roughly jolts as Tulips slams on the breaks. You fall flat on your face and slide down the greasy floor of the van, only stopped when your noggin slams against hard metal. Bubbles quickly scoops up Beecat before they get hurt, using their body as a shield. Sarima is too graceful to slip on grease.

Tulips: QUIT YOUR YAPPIN AND START YOUR ACTIN, WE'RE HERE!

You: Easy on the breaks next time sweetie x-x

Tulips: MY BAD! I KEEP POKIN HOLES IN THESE CHEAP LIL PEDALS!

After you assess yourself and confirm that you have a concussion, you pick up a pile of empty pizza boxes and stack them under a single full pizza. Even with your noodle arms, you are able to rip open a small hole in the back of the cardboard to hide your pistol, whispering a silent apology to it for stuffing it in such a gross place.

You: If you four don't mind, please wait here while I make the first move. After you hear gunshots, drive up to the house and start blasting anything that's still alive, got it?

Bubbles: [//|] Okie dokie!

Tulips: YOU CAN COUNT ON TULIPS KAKICK TO HELP!

You give your friends a thumbs up before you jump out of the van, pizza boxes in hand. For as slovenly as Killta's house is, her front lawn is surprisingly clean. Far too clean, in fact. It allows you to see the bear traps scattered about easily, each one prepared with a single skittle to lure prey in. You hope to Lolth that it is just a weird joke and that trolls or lusi do not actually fall for such obvious traps. It would be a very embarrassing way for your party to get killed.

You follow the stone path to the front door and a deep breath. You have found that the best way to get any job done is to pretend that nothing else exists.There is no world beyond you. There is nowhere to run to if things go wrong, there is no one to judge you if things go wrong, there is no one in the entire world but you. Your worries melt and distractions fade, you knock on the door and then slip your hand into the hidden compartment.

After a few minutes of nothing, another lifeform enters your tiny world. Your target, Miss Wizzaz Killta in the flesh. Now that she does not have the courtesy of the screen, you can smell the overwhelming scent of blood coming off her and her home. She gives you a cursory glance before turning her back to you.

Killta: Just like, uh… put the food on the table, and, and get undressed. I'm losin and need another token. Thaaaanks.

With ease, your mind fights off her halfhearted attempt to control you. Yet, you follow her regardless. She leads you into her living room, an elaborate festival to mutilation and suffering. The bone dry husks of lowblood trolls line the floor, judging by the smell some must be months old at the very least. Eighteen living trolls are locked up in small metal cages, the frame of the cages cutting into the flesh of the larger trolls. Behind the couch, her Lusi is still draining the poor victim, unwittingly prolonging their life until they could be saved by you. Only a few of the victims have the mental capacity to acknowledge your existence with the glance, the rest just staring blankly at the torture porn. Until you pull the trigger.

Your first bullet breaks through the box and pierces the cerulean's back. Your gun performs well beyond your expectations as it tears completely through her midsection. She lets out a short shriek as she collapses on the floor. No one has time to react as you discard the pizza boxes and yank out your piece. The monstrous mosquito screeches as you as it yanks itself out of its victim, leaving a line of burgundy blood connected to its proboscis. The thin mosquito more than double your height charges as you in a blind rage.

You charge right back at the mosquito as it raises its long sharp mouth like a spear. After just a few steps the glistening proboscis is nearly upon you, yet you keep running at it. The mosquito's blade is inches away from your face as it rips through the air in a plunge attack. At that moment, you duck and roll. You feel the proboscis slashing through your hair as it narrowly misses breaking through your skull like paper. Your momentum carries you under its long hairy legs, too far apart to stop you from moving past its abdomen.

You end your roll with one foot on the ground and both hands firmly planted on your pistol. You scan the couch to find your victim scrambling over it for cover. Your victim is too scared to look back at you as you watch them hide behind their furniture. You aim directly for their unprotected throat as she ducks her head beneath cover. You hold your aim as she drops beneath the leather couch. Before she has the chance to use her powers against, you exhale and pull the trigger. The affirming sound of metal slamming against bone rings throughout the living room after it easily tears through the cover.

After disabling your foe you get back on your feet, turning towards the mosquito. Instead of your head, the mosquito has sliced a half meter wide line in the stone wall, uninjured and shaking with hate. You do not make it feel any better when you aim at its dying daughter, ending their squirming with a single bullet to the throat. Their death comes swiftly, which is more that can be said about every other corpse in the room. Only partially learning from its mistakes, it aims its proboscis lower. With all of its considerable strength it flings itself at you like an arrow. With your steady position, you take aim at the airborne missile.

You stare the mosquito right into its compound eye before you put a bullet into that eye. The many lenses that make up its eye split apart as the bullet punctures it, popping like a balloon. You casually take a step to the slide and allow the mosquito to plunge into the couch, leaving behind a trail of cerulean blood and thin ocular lenses. The mosquito pierces straight through the couch before it finally comes to a stop. Its legs start to slowly seize together as blood flow ceases, its joints performing their final task.

Before you consider your task done, you walk to where the cerulean was poorly hiding and find her still alive. Given the hole in her forehead, you take it her cerulean skull managed to deflect your bullet. Her eyelids are slowly beginning to open after their brush with death. You crouch down besides her as she returns to consciousness. You pick her up by her hair and drag her as best you can to the deceased lusus. Before she can get her bearings, you lift her up and, as not to waste a bullet, push her throat against the deceased mosquito's sharp proboscis. She wakes up in time to feel her throat get fully punctured by the insect. With her throat and spine severed she has only a few moments to process her demise as her limp body slides off the spear and falls to the ground.

Four bullets were expended to take down two targets, leaving nine for the remaining four.

With the mosquito's proboscis, you slice off a small piece of the cerulean's clothes. You soak the cloth with blood to make it extra opaque and heavy before tossing it on top of the still streaming camera. You repeat this process twice more. One can never be too careful with protecting their identity. You only hope your pizza hat and accompanying grease are enough to keep you anonymous for the few seconds you were onscreen.

Just then, you hear the lovely sound of heel against door as your friends break in to help you. As they trample through the hive you lounge on the couch. It is important to look cool once in a while, it makes you look dependable. Also smug. Both are good.

Bubbles is the first to come into the living room scanning the corpses and thankfully not corpses down the barrel of their gun. They steady their shaking as they see you on the couch, resting against the less bloody cushions.

You: sUP?

Bubbles: [???] Um… are you okay?

You: yE, sORRY tO wORRY yOU, iT wAS jUST a fEW bLUES. dO yOU tHINK tHEY hAVE wINE iN tHEIR iCEBOX?

Sarima waddles in holding a Tulips on their shoulders. She gently sits her down next to you before fluttering off into the kitchen. About four minutes pass before she brings back a…well, the bottle looks fancy at least, but the liquid held within is a viscous deep purple substance that seems to absorb all light that shines on it.

Sarima: 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀?

You: oH aBSOLUTELY~

You take the (possible) alcohol from Angel and uncork it. You take a small inquisitive sip and taste… nothing. Not simply a tasteless liquid, but a sheer absence in your body. Most people's perception of nothing is simply blandness. People do not think about how they constantly taste their own mouths and how the air always has a scent. What you taste is the absence of everything you take for-granted.

It is as if your six senses momentarily leave your body, leaving you without sight, smell, touch, taste, sound, and thought. If I was not used to the experience, I would likely go into a coma.
As soon as my body returns to me, I take another little sip. I have missed this absence.

Sarima: 𝓒𝓪𝓷 𝓘 𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮? :3

You: tHIS iS cLEANING sUPPLIES.

Sarima: …𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒷𝑜𝓍 𝒾𝓈.

You: wHATEVER tHING tROLLS pUT fOOD iNTO. iT dOESNT mATTER, i kINDA lIKE tHE tASTE oF pOISON~

Sarima 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒹 "𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝑜𝑔, 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝒻 𝓃𝑒𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓎", 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝒸𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓎

You: hUH… mE hAS gOOD tASTE. rEMIND mE tO gET a fRUITBASKET aNGEL.

Sarima: …𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉?

You: tHANK yOU, mY cERULEAN sWEETHEART~ mIND iF i gIVE yOU a rEWARD?~

Sarima: 𝒮𝓊𝓇𝑒!

She holds out her hands expectantly.

You place your hand in hers, and use them to pull her in close for a kiss. You gently hold the back of her head as you taste her lips~

You: tHANK yOU~

You: nOW, pLEASE, gO bACK tO tHE vAN aND pUT oN sOME bODY aRMOR, iT'S tHE uNMARKED cRATE. aLSO bRING mE mY oUTFIT, pLEASE.

You: i pROMISE yOU'LL gET sOMETHING bETTER oNCE wE'RE dONE ; 3

Sarima…is even easier to see as a cerulean than ever before, as her face now matches most of the bloodstains on the dead streamers bodies. Without a word she flies out of the door, leaving an after-gust of air in her wake. She comes back in a beautiful suit of body armor and Pawns outfit, causing yet another wave of wind from the opposite direction.

Holding back your desire to wooooosh you take your suit with a smile. You also take some body armor for yourself, sliding it under your suit. The armor itself is surprisingly lightweight and customizable despite originally looking larger than you. In its full glory, the armor makes the user appear like a living tank, larger and stronger. It also has built in "veins" that can be made to glow any color within the hemospectrum, expect for violet and fuschia. It even has a head covering helmet and allows for full mobility.

You would call this a wonder of engineering if you did not recognize the armor and the material it consists of. The armor itself is mostly just pretentious plastic meant to look intimidating. The reason it can be compacted so thoroughly as to fit under your shirt is that the actual protective part of the armor is a simple half inch of Cydonium, a synthetic super metal five times stronger than steel and infinitely more flexible. You could achieve similar results with a sheet of cydonium and some duct tape. The armor is likely better than anything worn by any other "civilian" individual, but there is vast room for improvement.

Still, beggars can't be choosers. You get the feeling that you are going to be fighting a lot tonight. Not only do you have several targets to take care of, but your conscience (Yes, despite what some say you do in fact have one) reminds you that you also have a group of suffering lowbloods to save.









So my friends, here's a choice for the broken hearted. You've revealed your position, your goals, and your position to the four remaining Ceruleans. How exactly are you going to get them?
Will you

1. Mock the Ceruleans on their own stream, relentlessly (Social, Party) [12]
Your opponents are smart and they are well aware that any insults would simply exist to draw them into a trap. However, their livilehood depends on the perception that they are better than other trolls. They would need to respond if you threatened that perception. Their response would be swift, aggressive, and prepared, but it would bring them to your doorstep. Besides, you can prepare for them too.

2. Convert the streaming crowd into your adoring simps (FLIRT, You) [15]
Considering you just murdered their favorite streamer right in front of them, you know that the crowd is available. They may be racist, disgusting, blood hungry simps, but they can be your simps. The simps doubtlessly know he location of every cerulean streamer and would share it in a heartbeat to their new favorite murderer. It would then be a race against the clock to assassinate the remaining Ceruleans, but you would remain on the offensive where your small frame preforms best. It would also be a lovely boost to your EGO!

3. Have Beecat shame the streaming crowd into giving up the remaining ceruleans (Cute, Beecat) [11]
As we all know, internet people have no shame, but if anyone could give them shame, it would be Beecat. With her mighty stare and motherly energy she can enforce the cooperation of the horny masses. Doing this would be... effectively the same as the second option, giving you a shameful gaggle of simps instead of a horny gaggle of simps. The only downside is that you would have to play second fiddle to a cat. You are the cutie around here, you can't just let this buzzy bee show you up! Don't pick this, don't.




((Did you know that if you turn off all the lights on 4:13 AM on the month of June and chant "Vriska did nothing wrong" eight times in front of a laptop you'll get a message from Andrew Hussie asking you to be a moderator

If you do it at 4:13 PM you become gay, and if you're already gay you become trans. If you're already trans, well... Let's just say Trolls won't be called Trolls anymore.
Happy reading ^w^

You start by getting your bleeding friends down from their respective poles. The troll on the left falls flat on the ground, their only proof of life being their breathing, while the drained low blood at least falls to their hands and knees. You offer them a hand up, but they refuse it. With strength that should have been drained away they force themselves up seemingly out of spite.

Spiteful Troll: What color?

Because the camera is still likely recording audio, you answer his question by lifting your shirt and giving yourself a shallow cut with a throwing knife. Your golden blood is your answer.

Spiteful Troll: Thank Gog…

They relax a little bit, but they still keep a good distance from you even as they struggle to stand.

Spiteful Troll: So' what,s going to happen now?

You: yOUR sAVIOR hAS aRRIVED mY FRIEND! i hAVE lITTLE tIME, bUT rEST aSSURED I aM gOING tO sAVE yOU aLL. sPEAKING oF, i hAVE sOME mEDICAL sUPPLIES aND-

Spiteful Troll: no no' I,m fine. I,m not going into further debt with you. I have some pride left.

You: …sIR, yOU aRE bLEEDING.

Spiteful Troll: I,ve been through worse. If we live' i,ll tell you about the time I got my head half cut off by an olive bitch.

You do not believe him, but you also know better than to argue with someone when time is of the essence. You can give him medical attention when he passes out from blood loss if necessary. You walk by him to approach the next troll and shake their catatonic body.

You: hEY, aRE yOU aBLE tO sPEAK?

Spiteful Troll: Don,t bother with them' they don,t have minds anymore. Cerulean bullshit broke em.


You ignore your new friend to try and get a reaction out of the victim, but nothing you can try at the moment seems to work. You try every other troll in the room, but the best you get is a few sleepy glances. Worse yet, you can not find a key on either of the corpses.

Spiteful Troll: Dude! Stop messing around' they,re basically dead. Those ceruleans' they control your every action for long enough and nothing gets left.

You: aND wHAT mAKES yOU dIFFERENT?

Spiteful Troll: I'm a rebel' i,m trained to withstand this shit. Look' if you,re such a bleeding heart' let me cull em. Trust me' it,s a mercy.

Tulips: NO!

Any kind of hesitation that Tulips had after Sarima brought them into such a terrible corpse filled room completely vanished. All that is in her head now is red hot fury and a desire for justice. The troll who avoided death with pure spite flinches at the scream.

Spiteful Troll: What the- is that a fuckin violet?! What the hell is a guy like that doin with you! Are you some kinda Fuschia humping pet?

Tulips: …a guy like that?

Spiteful Troll: Shut up' boy. I'm not talking to you.

Sarima flies over with the speed of a thousand falcons falling at maximum velocity over to this nay-sayer. It quite literally hurts most of those I'm the houses eardrums from how swiftly the bat lady moved from here to there. After she's done she immediately, without caring if they were captured or not, SLAPS the troll in the face as hard as she can.

Sarima: 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓢𝓟𝓔𝓐𝓚 𝓣𝓞 𝓜𝓘𝓢𝓢 𝓚𝓐𝓚𝓘𝓒𝓚 𝓦𝓘𝓣𝓗 𝓡𝓔𝓢𝓟𝓔𝓒𝓣!

After being drained of all their blood the spiteful troll is very easy to take down. They fall to the floor in an instant, nearly knocked out in a single open hand blow. They shake as they start to drag themselves away from Sarima, still too prideful to actually apologize even as they recognize the threat.


Spiteful Troll: F-Fuck! I-I should have known they were some… high blood lap dog. You think I,m scared of dying? You can tell that rotten sushi that he can do anything he wants to me! There,s no key to those cages and no matter what he does they won,t be useful to his crap! Shove off.

Tulips: …I…

Tulips: AM…

Tulips: A GIRL!!

In a deep fury, the violet girl brandishes her shark-like teeth and lets out a roar that shakes the entire hive. She pushes past you, Sarima, and even her insulter to rip apart each and every cage with nothing but her teeth. She chews up the metal bars into an unrecognizable heap, dragging out the comatose trolls to freedom.

Tulips: NO ONE GETS LEFT BEHIND! NO ONE NO ONE NO ONE!!

Spiteful Troll: uh-

She leaps onto the spiteful troll's chest and forces their head up so she can stare them in the eyes. In response, the poor troll finally breaks out in tears of sheer terror.

Tulips: CAN YOU DRIVE?

She shakes his head back and forth, slamming it against the couch.

Tulips: CAN YOU CAN YOU CAN YOU!!!!!!!

Crying Troll: OH GOG FUCK YES YES I CAN DRIVE PLEASE STOP!

Tulips: YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE THESE DAMSELS IN DISTRESS, YOU ARE GONNA PUT THEM IN THE WEIRD FLIRTY TROLL'S VAN, AND YOU ARE GONNA DRIVE EM TO MY HOUSE OR SO HELP ME GOG I WILL KAKICK YOU SO HARD THEYLL HAVE TO SCRAPE YOU OFF A MOON!

The sobbing troll gives a thumbs up to the plan and Tulips proceeds to let go of his head.

Tulips: THANKS!

She and her new "friend" then start to take the comatose trolls into your van. He carries one at a time, she carries ten. In no time at all, he is driving off into the night on a direct route to your hive. After she waddles back in with a smile on her face, you hand her a lollipop you were keeping in your suit. Partially as a reward, partially because you acknowledge this small child could kill you at any time and every moment of life you have is a blessing.

Sarima: 𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒯𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒶 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃𝓈.

Tulips: THANKS MOM ^w^

Sarima: 𝑀𝑜𝓂?

Tulips: CAUSE YOURE LIKE MY LUSUS, BUT COOLER!

…Sarima can't find it in herself to respond in any other way than picking the small girl up and smothering her smol, pretty, and violent head with kisses and hugs.

Tulips: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM, STAAAAPPP, SUPERHEROES DONT GET SMOOCHIES UNTIL AFTER THE BIG ADVENTURE!

Sarima: 𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝒾𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓂 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝒹𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 ;𝓌;

She squirms like a lil Angy grub, but she can never break free from the intense love of the beautiful butterfly. Nothing and no one could ever resist the cerulean babe.

Which is why you have to sadly break up the loving embrace. Your clock says you only have one hour and fifty minutes left before everything goes up in smoke.

You tactfully tap Sarima on the shoulder.

Sarima: 𝒪𝒽…𝓈-𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 >////>

She places the lil tyke down and turns around to face Pawn, prepared for the next step.

You; tHANK yOU vERY mUCH. bUBBLES, yOU oKAY?

Bubbles: [|||] …yea…

You: cAN yOU pLEASE sTOP hIDING bEHIND tHE dOOR? i nEED yOU tO gET aNOTHER cAR, wITH tHE vIOLET.

Bubbles: [|||] …yea thats fine ;-;

Tulips: WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?

You: pLAY mY rOLE aS tHE fLIRTY wEIRDO oF cOURSE.

Tulips: MMKAY!

Tulips happily drags Bubbles off as the poor burgundy does her best to stay as far away as reasonably possible from the tiny goddess of screaming.

You wrap Sarima up in a hug from behind, snuggling in close once the child has left the hive. You whisper into her ear so the camera can not hear you.

You: I just want you to know I'm deeply sorry for what is about to happen, please play along.

Sarima: 𝒮𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓀? :𝟥

You take your wine glass of liquid nothing and plop onto the couch, patting the cushion next to you for Sarima to follow. You spread your legs just enough so Sarima has enough space to sit while being just a little uncomfortable if she chooses to spread out.

You: gET yOUR mASK oN aNGELFACE, oNLY i gET tO sEE tHAT pRETTY sMILE~

She puts on her mask and sits down, scrunching up a little bit to keep her wings from bapping you in the face.

You take a throwing knife from your sleeve and deftly throw it above the camera. It knocks the bloody rag away to reveal you, in your perfectly maintained suit and wonderful thighs. Streaming is more difficult than people think. It is not just talking, it is filmography. Are you center to the camera? Are you distinctive enough to make a splash in an over saturated market? Are you positioned in a way that highlights your best features? A streamer is made before they ever start.

Usually committing mass murder is enough to get you notices, but your mask never hurts. As you hoped, the chat is still going wild. Some demand your swift and brutal death, and some believe it is all just a big prank.

You: gOOD mORNING sIMPS~ sORRY tO bUTT iN~

The chat is flooded with poor unfortunate donators who demand their girl back, some have already turned to threats of self immolation.

You: sORRY, bUT yOUR sWEETHEARTS hAVE dECIDED tO tAKE a… vACATION fROM sTREAMING~ dONT yOU wORRY yOUR eMPTY lITTLE hEADS yOU hOPELESS jERKOFFS, i wONT lEAVE yOU hANGING~

The chat becomes slightly less negative as you let a throwing knife fall out of your sleeve and into your hand. You bring it towards your armored friend, sliding it right into the small break in her armor and pressing into her throat.

You: yOU wANT cERULEANS, rIGHT? i cAN dELIVER tHAT~

You jab the knife into Sarima's throat, just enough to get a bit of blue blood on your knife before you show it off to the camera. You twirl the knife before the camera, letting the blood glisten in the moonlight… hoping to Gog that Sarima doesn't murder you for this.

You: pOOR pOOR tHINGS, yOUVE bEEN sO oBSESSED wITH sUBPAR cULLBAIT yOU hAVENT nOTICED tHE pOSSIBILITIES~

Oh Gog please Sarima you are so sorry please don't use your strength to rip out your throat.

You: i oWN tHIS cERULEAN. i oWN eVERY cERULEAN iN tHIS tOWN. aND, fOR yOUR eNJOYMENT, iLL lET yOU wATCH eVERY oNE dIE~ sLOWLY, pAINFULLY, aND aLL fOR yOU.

With a little tap you let your mask know to hack into the stream. It takes but a moment for it to switch the recording from the computer to your mask, giving the viewers your perspective and letting you privately watch the chat.

The chat is a tad bit more intrigued now. The general consciences is that you need to die a painful death, but they want to watch you try to kill first. You lay down in Sarima's lap and look up at her covered face, her wound trickling down blood on your mask for all to see.

You: aND iF yOU dONT bELIEVE mE, bELIEVE hER. tELL mE aNGELFACE, wHAT aM i gOING tO dO?

Sarima: …squeak

You: gO oN, tELL tHE sIMPS wHOSE iN cHARGE~

Sarima: …u…

You: gOOD gIRL~

You: iF oNLY eVERYONE cOULD bE aS sMART. tELL yOU wHAT yOU bLOODTHIRSTY bASTARDS, i wONT lEAVE yOU aLL hANGING. iLL lET yOU dIRECT mE. i kNOW fOR a fACT fREAKS lIKE yOU sTALK tHOSE cERULEANS, sO tELL mE aBOUT tHEM, tHEIR aDDRESS, tHEIR pOWERS, hOW yOU wANT tHEM tO dIE~ fOR eVERY cERULEAN i gET, iLL gIVE yOU aLL a sHOW lIKE nO oTHER wITH mY sWEET aNGEL~ sEE yOU sOON ^w^

You pause the stream to give yourself some privacy as the chat goes wild, your new biggest fans regale you with more information than you can possibly keep track of. Most of it is probably completely false, but it will not be difficult for your handy dandy supercomputer to sort out the truth.

You: Yeaahhh, I'm not gonna give them that show... I am... so so so sorry about that.

You: ...Please don't kill me.

Sarima: zzzzzz…

It seems that while she was waiting for you to finish talking to your fans, the blood stopped. And although probably unadvisable, she seems to have fallen asleep drowsy from blood loss while you were finishing up. But, she's a cerulean, hardy folk, she'll most likely be fine.

You: ...Y'know what, you've earned it.

You take your spare medical supplies and use them to bandage up the wound. Although you are on a clock, you can not move forward until your ride is here and that all depends on Tulips. So, you allow Sarima to nap.

You have to admit that you really did not like how... forceful you ended up, but there was no other way to appeal to a group of snuff fetishes. You scoot over to give the sleeping cerulean some space and she peacefully falls into your lap. You do not dare move her an inch, she has earned this. Instead, you reach to her wings so you can pet them softly. Although you are full of faults, no one can argue the softness of your lap.

As her head flops onto your lap, a little bit of of her hair slaps your mask, but it's pretty peaceful from there. Even behind the mask, you can already imagine how peacefully she sleeps, barely making a sound until her wings are pet. During which, she lets out quiet, happy high-pitched squeaks while she naps, sounding almost like a clicking noise.

You: I wonder what you think of me. Do you think what I'm doing is right, my sweet Angel? Perhaps you're going to leave as soon as you wake up or take my head. I wonder if you'll like a gift or two.

You: How about it Angel, would you like it if we went shopping for gifts once this town is mine? No more stealing in the shadows, anything you want will be yours.

Sarima: 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅𝓎 𝓈𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓋𝒶𝓁

You: I know I'm going too, when I get home I'm going to order an ungodly amount of bath salts, not the drug kind, and just drown myself in a hot tub. I'll get a cigar too.
You: Mmmm~ Smoking has always been my vice of choice. It doesn't make you lose control like other drugs and the cancer takes affect years in the future. I'll be dead or immortal by then.

Her face gently nuzzles into your thighs, unintentionally, as her resting mind listens to your talk of respite and comfort.

You: …I hope Tulips thinks of me as a parent someday. I know it's wrong, but I'm quite jealous of you. She's such a good kid, and… I don't know, maybe a connection like that would just feel nice.

You: …Oh Lolth what have I done to you Angel? I… I let myself get away from me. Maybe it was the right play, but it was also my instinctive play… What could have changed about me?

Your unheard monologue is interrupted when a car crashes through the wall.

You: SWEET JUMPING GRUUMSH!

Once again, you have fallen in love with the sound of your own voice so much you forgot that you sent a literal child out to steal a car on your behalf. Tulips has gone all out in her choice, a large truck built sturdy enough to break through a brick wall with minimal damage, as just proven. She honks the horn nonstop.

Tulips: I GOT DA CAR LEGGO!

Sarima: 0w0
Sarima gets up and immediately picks you up on a soft embrace, placing you in shotgun of the car before getting herself in the back. Once there, she immediately conks out again.

Tulips: I BROKE THE STICKS SO I HAD TO USE THE TURBO BOOST!

You: THE WHAT?!

Tulips: YKNOW, THE TURBO, MAKES THE CAR GO SUUUUUPER FAST INSTANTLY. MUCH BETTER THAN PEDALS. DONT KNOW HOW TO STOP IT THO, BUT THATS LIFE.

You look in the back of the truck. Bubbles has, in this time of stress, assumed the fetal position while cuddling their lusus and using two buckles. At the very least they seem to be... alive. They also have the gun still with them, so you are unable to complain since your driver is one. Results are results.

You: Where'd you learn all of this?

Tulips: SOME BIG COMPUTER JERK IN A CAVE TOLD ME I WAS GONNA BE A "SUBJUGATLING VEHICLE SPECILST" OR WHATEVER. TAUGHT ME A LOOOOOT ABOUT CARS. IT WAS BORING AND MEAN. STOP TALKING ABOUT THAT, WHERE WE GOIN?





It's a good question, where will you go? You have four targets left and the advantage of surprise is slipping through your fingers. Due to the fact that you are killing ceruleans, it will not be long until the long arm of the law arrives. So, I'm going to offer a more unique choice to vote on. I will list the remaining four targets and you will choose the order in which You goes after them. Steve will then decide how well your ambushing goes. (2 or above means the first target dead, 6 or above means the first and second target are dead, 9 or above means the first second and third target are dead, and if you roll a twelve I'll personally You a grenade launcher).
For example, if one chooses 4, 2, 1, 3, then 4 is almost guaranteed to go down while 1 would only go down on a 9 or above.

1. The Necromancer - A depraved cerulean with great psychic abilities. Although they can't affect the living, their powers allow them to fully control the recently deceased. They keep a few powerful lowblood corpses on hand at all times for self defense and their skill with a scalpel is perilous.

2. The UwU Bean - A charming cerulean who is fairly helpless on their own, having zero powers. On their own, they are a nonissue, but they are always accompanied by their lusus. A large writhing mass of sharp tentacles capable of sucking out brains and crushing vehicles with ease.

3. The Muscle - An egotistical cerulean who believes their body is a temple. They outright refuse all donations and their ability to control others, preferring to handle their foes by throttling them to death. Deadly in personal combat, they have the ability to mentally paralyze anyone they touch.

4. The Trickster - An intelligent cerulean who likes to stay away from conflict at all costs. They are without a doubt the smartest in the group and the only one who sees the threat lowbloods pose. Their body is weak, but their powers are impressive. They are able to control mentally weak lowbloods from up to 1,000 kilometers away if they know where the lowblood is.

If you have any questions about this, please ask me. I know it's a bit complicated but I think it can work : 3






(( Update in less than a week I am HYPED for myself! I hope you enjoy it, I'm quite proud of me.

You: Does this ride have GPS?

Tulips: DUH! ONLY THE BEST IS GOOD FOR A HERO!

You input the address of your next target into the vehicle and then strap in for dear life. The car goes from zero to seventy in a matter of seconds with the push of a button by the steering wheel. The seat is cushioned to fight against whiplash, so it only feels like your spine is breaking in two.

She drives through yards and fences leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. Lawn decorations are smashed, fences are obliterated, olives squeal in fear as they flee from the tiny babo monster out to devour their very souls.

The GPS says that you will arrive in twenty minutes. You arrive in five. You rapidly drive up on the hive. Your target is apparently a smart one, they are already trying to flee the neighborhood. With nothing but a duffel bag they peel out of their garage on a chitin-covered motorcycle. You have always had a complicated relationship with motorcycles. Typically a cycle can accelerate faster than a car and its size allows for greater mobility. This makes a motorcycle an absolute nightmare to catch.

On the other hand, a motorcycle is vulnerable and crashes tend to be more fatal, making it too dangerous to use while escaping. Tulips proves this when she slams the speeding truck into the side of the cerulean's motorcycle. Your vehicle barely slows as Tulips tramples over her, spurts of blue blood covering your windshield. The vehicle continues into the front door of the hive, smashing through brick as it comes to a sudden stop.

GPS: You have arrived at your destination.

Tulips: …THAT WAS THE BAD GUY, RIGHT?

You hop out of the truck and, after a quick puke, you check on your roadkill. You confirm that she is the woman you're after, as much as you can anyways. Her blood is cerulean and her horns match the general description you were given.

Her brain is cooling on the pavement, so a more thorough check is impossible.

You: Yeah, this is the bad guy! Don't worry!
Tulips: OH THANK GOG!

You: I know the feeling. You're good, everything is fine. I need to go check out the house for kidnap victims. Would you please keep your eye on Bubbles and the car? I think we'll need to wash the red out of it if you leave her alone.

Bubbles: [|||] true ;-;

Tulips: GO GET THOSE DAMSELS!

At the Hero's behest you delve into the recently abandoned hive. The entire home is a mess, and not just because there's a big fuck off truck bisecting the kitchen. The furniture has been toppled, papers are strewn about the floor, and there's a growing fire in the dining room fed with presumably incriminating documents. You have to admit, you admire her fear of you. Taking the most drastic option possible the moment your presence is implied is about the only way to deal with you safely. She would have lived if Tulips didn't happen to be the troll equivalent of a professional stunt driver.

Ignoring the fire, you continue your search of the large hive. To your appreciation it doesn't take you very long to find the damsels. In the basement, you find an elaborate torture room with a sleek and modern design. For lack of psychic ability the troll decided to appeal with novelty, outdoing her streaming rivals with elaborate devices that defy even your knowledge of the subject. What doesn't defy you is the two trolls tied to the same surgical table, stripped naked with their bulges uncomfortably close to an advanced sewing machine that, thank Lolth, has not yet been used. They stare at you with a mixture of terror and desperate hope as you approach them, not daring to make a sound.

Their hope gets a little less desperate as you slice the tight lusi leather straps binding them to the table with one of your throwing knives. You then throw said knife into the nearby camera, still streaming even after the streamer bolted. As good as this would look on your rebellion portfolio, these people deserve their dignity.

You: Do you have anywhere you can go? I can take you somewhere safe.

Traumatized Troll: Is she… did you?

You: She's dead. I promise you there's no doubt about that.

A terrible weight is lifted from their shoulders as they give off a sigh of relief. They roll off of the torture table and, with a quick word of thanks, they both immediately run right up the stairs like a bat out of hell. You would have preferred to help, but you don't blame them for not trusting your good intentions. In their position, you would probably do the same.
With lesser speed you run out of the basement yourself. You still have a job to do after all. In your momentary absence the fire has grown significantly. Soon the sins of this place will burn as it deserves. You also notice that one of the window curtains has been torn off, presumably by your damsels. At least they'll have something to wear as they run home, though you wish you could have given them your old pizza disguise.

You return to the hive's kitchen to find Tulips leaning so far out of the truck's window she might fall out, trying to stare through the massive hole she made.

You: Boo.

Tulips: WHAT? OH YOUR BACK! WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?

You: You seemed distracted and I didn't want to spook you.

Tulips: SO YOU SAID BOO? THE SCARIEST WORD???

You: Have you ever known a real life bad guy to say boo?

Tulips: YES. TWO TROLLS JUST RAN OUTTA THE DOOR WEARIN SOME KINDA WEIRD CLOAK. ARE THEY OKAY? I TRIED TO HELP BUT THEY JUST SCREAMED.

You: Well… no, but they're safe at least. They declined my offer of a ride and decided to just run. I think it's best to leave them too it, we'll be causing far too much chaos for anyone to care about them.

Tulips: DONT THEY WANNA BE SAVED THO?

You: Of course! Everyone wants to be saved, but after… what they went through, it's difficult for them to trust someone, especially a stranger.

Tulips: I TRUSTED YOU! …DAMSELS ARE WEIRD! GET IN.

Obeying the tiny terror you hop back into the car to get to your next target. Before you can even fully close the door Tulips slams her fist into the boost button. You struggle to get your seatbelt on before you're flung out of the car like a crash test dummy as Tulips forgoes any reversal to just continue crashing through walls, furniture, and anything else daft enough to exist within her presence. A thought strikes you. You really need a new driver! Preferably one that doesn't cackle whenever something bounces off the windshield. Then, another thought strikes you.



You didn't actually encounter your victim's lusus despite breaking into her hive and cracking her skull open like an egg. You try to turn your head to ask Bubbles about this discrepancy, but then you hear her let out a choked shriek as Tulips crushes a sidewalk bench. You'll… ask later. Probably. It's fine.

As expected it does not take you long to arrive at your next destination, so helpfully provided by your new adoring fanbase. They'll be upset you aren't actually streaming the kills, but, eh. It's not like you'll have any competition in the streaming market after tonight, and torturing them would just waste time. Not to mention you don't actually want to be a famous torture streamer.

Tulips gets a bit apprehensive once you arrive at your destination, getting uncomfortable with her own path of destruction. The hive itself is small and simple, but the area around it is anything but. There's no euphemism possible, the place is an unkempt graveyard plain and simple. Countless desiccated corpses are strewn about with little order, ripped apart and stitched back together with pieces stolen from other corpses. Every inch of the is covered in macabre decorations, most made from the owner's unfortunate victims. All of it overseen by a massive mismatched skeletal abomination that casts a permanent shadow over the land.

Tulips doesn't want to crash into any of that stuff, but sadly even she can't stop a truck that's approaching the speed of sound. The worst possible sound echoes through the Truck's interior as countless decrepit corpses are crushed by the sturdy wheels until the rampaging vehicle is stopped by a sturdy old tree putting yet another dent in the Truck's hood. For many seconds after, the truck is filled with dead silence. Instead, you just sit there and watch as Tulips' innocence dies in real time.

Maybe you shouldn't have brought her.

…Fuck.

Well, no time for regrets now. Summoned by your act of disrespectful desecration of the dead, your target emerges from the nondescript hive. Your target is certainly "of" this place with an aura of death that follows in her every step. Whether by make-up or body modification your target has obtained the look of a dried corpse. She shuffles towards you on tattered feet, her ancient skin peeling off with each crooked movement. She smiles at you with a toothless grin, dried tongue licking her lips to ensure they don't fall off. With a wave of her skeletal hand the ground begins to softly quake, the dirt shifting right underneath your van. You peer below to see the victims of your entrance begin to squirm in tortured undeath, each part of their splattered bodies slowly rising. This wave of psychic power reverberates from your truck as more and more of her victims answer their killer's call. A single eye of pure, lifeless yellow peers into your soul as she begins to twitch and writhe in anticipation.

Necromancer Troll: Who d * r e s to step within my-

You lean outta the truck window and shoot her right in the eye.

You: I do.

She immediately drops dead, and so do her victims.

You: Take heed of this little hero. Don't act cocky when the guns are cocked. Let's roll.

Only one bullet for two targets, leaving eight for the last. You input the next address as quickly as you can, hoping the soft chime of direction will distract Tulips from her mental crisis. Right now the best thing you can do is get Tulips away from her macabre surroundings. With a bit less confidence than before she puts the truck into reverse, navigating the graveyard with care. It doesn't stop her from turning the deceased into mulch, but at the very least she tries to do it less. As soon as she's a safe distance away from the graveyard she flips the truck around and drives off with less than extreme speeds. You try your best to think of something meaningful to say, but all you manage is,

You: You're doing very well ma'am. You know that, yeah? You're a real hero.

She doesn't respond. Fuck. Okay okay, you can fix this just… say something… nice? Supportive? Can you absolve her of the war crimes? …Is this war yet or are these just regular crimes? Can you commit war crimes as a regular citizen? WHATEVER! DOES NOT MATTER! THINK YOU IDIOT, WHAT WOULD SARIMA SAY? Uh… fucking um…

Tulips: Why are… Why did… Why?

You: Because… Villains can't exist without heroes. Because we have to make things better.

You dare a glance at Tulips to see her expression unchanged. Minutes pass without any proof she even registered your response. Shit, you must have said the wrong thing. You probably answered the wrong question, or maybe you're just bad at children right now. You try to think of anything else to say but… no, not a thing comes to mind. Fortunately, you are not the only one in the car. Sarima is still sleeping and Bubbles is… Bubbles, but Beecat seems to have been listening. With a graceful effort she wiggles her fuzzy self out of Bubbles' protective grasp. With the car going at a more reasonable speed, the fuzzy lusus can travel to the front of the car without signing her death warrant. Seemingly without worry she trots along the lid of the console box and streeetches over to the driver's seat.



She makes no attempt at communication, not even by Lusus standards. Without noise or interruption she simply nuzzles into the small troll's lap, covering her like a purring blanket. Though subtle, Tulips' relaxes her posture, just a little. There the two remain in silent understanding. It's probably wrong that you feel jealous of a cat, but as hard as it is for you to accept, there are some things that simply are not about you. You lean back in your seat and watch the hives go by. The time for you to speak has passed, your job is what matters at the moment.

Bubbles: [/||] damn this is really gonna mess with my shipping fanfic.

Tulips: WHAT?

Bubbles: [|||] Ah! Sorry! Didn't mean to say that outloud! Please continue ignoring me at your earliest convenience like I deserve ._.

Tulips: NO. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

You: I don't mean to make you uncomfortable but yeah you're gonna need to explain that one mate.

Bubbles: [|||] w-well uh- um-

You: Remember there's a child in the car.

Bubbles: [|||] I couldn't forget if I tried…

Tulips: THANKS : D NOW SPEAK WORM

Bubbles: [|||] w-well uh, again sorry to bother, but I just thought that uh, well I've always been a big believer in pestilence endgame, uh, the mosquito girl and the necromancer, like, I thought they'd pair well together and like, well now they're dead, so that ship is just, bust.

Tulips whips her little head around faster than the speed of sound to stare directly into Bubbles' soul.

Tulips: ARE YOU THEIR FRICKING FANS???

Bubbles: [!!!] EYES ON THE ROAD EYES ON THE ROAD!!!

Tulips: ANSWER THE QUESTION ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!


You swiftly grab the fucking wheel as Tulips releases it so you don't spin out and fucking die. Beecat, wisely, chooses to remove herself from Tulips' lap and leap into yours for relatively safety. Bubbles starts to sweat buckets, which is impressive as Trolls don't have sweat glands.

Bubbles: [!!!] I- I MEAN- LIKE- UH- SORRY??? I'M SORRY I PROMISE

Tulips: I WILL KILL US ALL I SWEAR TO GOG

You: Okay okay! Maybe it's time to take a break! I think I saw this lovely looking ice cream shoppe we just passed-

Tulips: BUBBLES! THEY KILL PEOPLE! THEY ARE THE BAD GUYS! WHY ARE YOU MAKING FANFICTION ABOUT THE BAD GUYS?

Bubbles: [!!!] Why do you even know what fanfiction is???

Tulips: ANSWER THE QUESTION

Bubbles: [!!!] I-I-I- Y-YES OKAY! I AM A FAN! I'M-I'M NOT AGAINST CULLING THEM I PROMISE! I'M IN THIS, ALL THE WAY, I PROMISE! I JUST- IT- IT'S A- LIKE- THEY ARE- THEY WERE, WHICH IS KEY, THEY WERE UH- …H-HOT? IS THAT PG I'M SORRY.

Tulips: …

Tulips turns back to the road, firmly replants her gloved hands to the steering wheel, and slams her face directly into the wheel creating a face shaped dent in the metallic course corrector. You try to adjust the wheel, but her strength vastly outperforms yours as she keeps the car straight. You barrel through the highway like a charging bull, your constant screeching honk a vicious threat to any and all trolls who might dare think you show mercy. And yet, there is one troll who doesn't bow to your threat.

A well-toned monster of a troll walks right into the path of your moving car. An eight feet tall pillar of muscle with two sharp jagged horns on each side of her head and bright cerulean eyes that overperform the brightest nebula. Instead of sensical armor she wore a muscle shirt and short cut joggers to display the utter perfection of her mortal form. She looks like she could snap a battleship in half without breaking a sweat. You know that should be an exaggeration, but you can't shake the feeling she might actually be capable of such a feat. It doesn't help that she exudes an aura of sheer confidence as she walks towards your speeding vehicle, arms outstretched in mocking welcome.

You: TULIPS, TROLL IN THE ROAD, TURN!

Your voice finally reaches the little troll and she looks up from her utter disappointment in her own species. She locks eyes with the massive cerulean, instinctively understanding her as a threat, an opponent. You are personally extremely certain that the troll is one of your targets, but you are also extremely certain that this is a trap. You beg Tulips to stop, Bubbles begs Tulips to stop, Beecat begs Tulips to stop, but something in her little fishy mind has snapped. Without hesitation she slams her fist on the boost button and the car rockets forward at maximum speed. Every troll in the car, save the hyper strength highblood, is forced back in their seat from the sheer speed. Bubbles returns to their choked sobs, as you wrap yourself around Beecat due to her lack of seatbelt. Nothing could stop Tulips from her violent destiny.

She leans forward, staring down her target as she unleashes a violent warcry. Her opponent stands firm, unflinching and unafraid as three tons of hellish fury bears down upon her at speeds that surpass the vibrations of your own screams. You brace yourself for the inevitable impact when

CRUNCH

Her target did not move. The truck crashed directly into the cerulean's chest and she did not move. Instead, the truck deformed upon impact, the hood shattering into countless pieces that harmlessly bounce off the cerulean's godly features. Fuel leaks onto the road as the truck's engine simply crumples into a worthless heap of steel. The cerulean looks down at the tiny violet and smiles.

Tulips: … YOU SMELL!

The cerulean punches directly through the hood of the car to rip out the remains of your engine. She holds it above her head with ease, intending to use it to splatter your comparatively weak forms across the lusi leather of your seats.

Thinking fast, you perform your one and only trick. Shooting fuckers in the eye. On the positive side, the godly troll does recoil in pain! On the negative side, your bullet bounces off her cornea and clatters on the road like a nerf dart… This calls for your most advanced stratagem.

You: RUN AWAY!!!!!!!!!

You pick up a piece of what once was your truck and hurl it directly at Sarima's unconscious face before you kick open the truck door. She's slept through everything else life has thrown at her so maybe something more literal will work!

• Sarima: 𝒪𝓌!
• 
  
• 
  You: PAIN IS TEMPORARY YOUR LIFE ETERNAL MAKE LIKE A BAT AND FUCKIN SCADADDLE!
• 
  Sarima: …𝒶𝒽. 𝐼 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈𝓈𝓊𝑒. She examines the situation in a few moments, realizing that she has been out far longer than she probably should have. There are times for regret later; she hoists up Pawn, grabs her baby, and flaps her mighty wings, shooting out the back of the truck with great speed.
• 
  Bubbles, to her credit, is already gone! Completely out of your sight and probably in the process of fleeing the country.
• 
  
• The Cerulean, to her credit, is not one to be outdone. She picks herself up, filled with a new kind of rage. She discards the engine to instead lift the entire truck with tender ease. She spins the shattered vehicle like she's in the Olympic long toss and before releasing it into the air to fucking kill you.
• 
  
• You: DODGE DOGE DOGEGDGEEGE
• 
  Sarima: 𝒫𝒶𝓌𝓃, 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒻𝓁𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝓊𝓈. With great effort, she hauls both the trolls out of the flying debris path, managing to weave past it before flying away, searching the ground for anywhere to hide.
• 
  
• Sarima: 𝓗𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷 𝓼𝓸 𝓯𝓪𝓻?
• 
  You: Two of four, the Necromancer and the Trickster, confirmed dead. I may be bold to assume, but I think that's the Muscle, but I haven't confirme- DODDGE DODGE!!
• 
  
• With the truck now lodged in some poor troll's roof the cerulean, probably The Muscle, decides to throw anything and everything she can. Lampposts, benches, other parked cars! Not a thing in this world is heavy enough to stop her from hurling it towards your poor dangling limbs.
• 
  Sarima continues to move left and right, maneuvering unpredictably to keep her compatriots from being killed. While dodging, she dives low behind some hives, zig-zagging behind them to further throw The Muscle off her trail.
• 
  
• Sarima: 𝓢𝓸 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓸𝓸. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓯 𝔀𝓮 𝓭𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓸𝓻 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝔀.
• 
  Tulips: JUST LET ME AT EM! I'LL SHOW EM THEIR PLACE!
• 
  Sarima: 𝓣𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝔂. 𝓘 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓮'𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱.
• 
  
• She looks to Tonight, obviously a master in all things not brute strength.
• 
  You: UH-
• 
  
• You: THERE THERE! BEHIND THAT HIVE! PURPLE WINDOWS, BUBBLE ROOF!
• 
  Without hesitation she moves towards it, hiding away from plain sight. She readjusts her hold on Tulips while waiting to hear what the planning expert has to say.
• 
  You: …
• 
  
• Well
• 
  
• Okay
• 
  
• You would totally come up with an amazing plan, absolutely no doubt no hesitation.
• 
  
• But at this moment
• 
  
• When your feet touch the ground
• 
  
• You notice a lil something you didn't notice before
• 
  
• A towering drone of solid steel and inbuilt guns.
• 
  
• Just, standing in the same alleyway as you. Right there, vibing like a motherfucker.
• 
  
• Its whole head turns to face your ragtag team of dumbasses, glassy eyes glowing a rather threatening shade of fuschia.
• 
  
• You: ...nobody move
• 
  Sarima: •_•
• 
  The drone waves at you before blasting off into the air without so much as a slap on the wrist. All around you in the sky, you can see dozens of identical drones doing the exact same thing, flying up up and away from you and yours.
• 
  
• You: uh
• 
  Sarima: 𝓝𝓸 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽. 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝓷. 𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮
• 
  You: Right right um-
• 
  
• Well frankly speaking, you chose this location specifically because it had two entrances. You figured you could run in one direction and have some fifty fifty odds of shaking your pursuer, but now Sarima expects you to have this amazing plan to kill a walking tank that's stronger than Hercules with all of... a singular handgun, a butterfly net, and... a beecat. You clap your hands together like you have any ideas rattling in your tiny skull, false determination in your eyes.
• 
  
• Thankfully Gog gives you a break before you embarrass yourself any further.
• 
  
• Bubbles: [///] psst, guys, in here.
• 
  
• Wearing a manhole cover like a hat, Bubbles emerges from the sewers like the plot relevant character that she is. Immediently you jump into Sarima's arms. You swore to yourself many years ago that you would never set foot inside of a sewer again and you intend to fulfill that promise at all costs.
• 
  Sarima quietly slinks into the manhole, dumbasses in tow. It is pretty difficult with You clinging to her like a little koala but she manages to slink down, covering it up once more. Sarima: 𝓞𝓱, 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭! 𝓑𝓾𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼! 𝓘'𝓶 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽.
• 
  Bubbles: [///] Ha! Uh, thanks! You too. I figured that you guys might not know about this place so I was watching your flight. Nice flying by the way! As mutations go, yours is pretty good!
• 
  
• Bubbles leads your group in the sewers which, expectantly, smells pretty bad for your sensitive self. Unexpectedly, the place is kept relatively clean. The stone floor looks recently swept and the tunnels themselves are well illuminated and well maintained. Speaking of the tunnels, they are almost entirely covered in a collage of beautiful and chaotic graffiti that makes the original color of the walls entirely obsolete. A few other trolls simply walk right past your group with little care or notice.
• 
  You: This place? This is the sewers, correct?
• 
  
• Bubbles: [///] Wow, you really don't know much, do you? Er, sorry! Didn't mean it like that. Uh... Well yes, it's the sewers, but it's not all that bad. The manholes are too big for the drones to get in, the highbloods are too prissy to ever set foot in the dirty sewers, and the government doesn't wanna destroy the municipal services because then they'll have to fix it. Much safer than the surface in any case. And eventually, I guess someone figured that if we're gonna spend so much time here, it might as well be nice!
• 
  You: I have to say I'm fairly impressed, I'd almost be tempted to set foot here. Almost, don't drop me Angel.
• 
  Bubbles, who does not share your extremely specific brand of OCD, sits down on the sewer floor and rests against the wall of art.
• 
  
• Bubbles: [///] I know you wanted to get them all, but... you got most of them! That's pretty good, especially for us! I say we just sit here until the drones back off, then we can walk back home.
• 
  
• Tulips: OH THEY LEFT.
• 
  
• Bubbles: [|||] ...what
• 
  
• You: A drone saw us when we were making our escape. I'm not sure why, but it simply waved and left us be. It seemed they were all leaving the area.
• 
  Bubbles does not move for a few seconds. She doesn't blink, she doesn't breathe, you're almost convinced she managed to somehow stop her heart on command.
• You: Y-Y'kay there Bubbles? Did- are you alive? ...Do you need a hug?
• 
  
• Bubbles: [|||] stupid little kid. You... [!!!] stupid little kid!
• 
  
• Tulips: HEY >: (
• 
  
• Bubbles: [!!!] DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE YOU... FUCKING IDIOT!
• 
  Sarima: 𝓓𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻! 𝓢𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻!
• 
  Bubbles: [!!!] OH LIKE YOU'RE ANY BETTER!
• 
  
• Bubbles: [!!!] IF YOU HAD REAL POWERS INSTEAD OF UGLY WINGS MAYBE WE COULD TALK OUR WAY OUT OF THIS!
• 
  Sarima: …;-;
• 
  You: Angel, your wings are beautiful, an incredible asset, and frankly speaking far more moral and appreciated than creepy mind control.
• 
  
• You: Bubbles.
• 
  
• Bubbles: [!!!] Oh save it, it's not gonna-
• 
  
• You take one of your many throwing knives and carefully hurl it directly at Bubbles' face with all of your might. The metal handle slams into the lowblood's comparatively fragile nose, causing the panicking troll to recoil in pain.
• 
  
• Bubbles: [|||] ow- fuck-
• 
  
• You: Please, calm down, stop being a dink, and explain exactly what we did wrong, okay?
• 
  
• Tulips: ALSO, IF YOU MAKE MY MOM SAD AGAIN, I will fucking rip every bone out your sad little body and shove them so far up your-
• 
  Sarina's eyes are cartoonishly welled up with tears as Bubbles completely decimated the thing she is the most sensitive about. The only thing holding them back is the fact that her baby is here and she does not wish to let her know she's sad.
• 
  
• Which is
• 
  
• Obviously not working
• 
  Tulips: ...NEVERMIND YOU DIE RIGHT HERE!
• 
  NO NO KEEP THE BABY FROM MAULING ITS OK!
• 
  Tulips: LEMME AT HER LEMME AT HER!!!
• 
  
• It takes the combined effort of you and Sarima to barely keep this little toddler restrained as she waves her little gloved fists in the air and gnashes her sharp piranha teeth. You can feel your bones beginning to fracture as she pushes against you with all of her might. Bubbles, to her credit, stares down the tiny terror with none of her trademark fear.
• 
  
• Bubbles: [|||] You wanna know what's wrong? Fine! [!!!] Every single troll in this city is going to die because of you!
• 
  
• Tulips: NO THEY'RE NOT, YOU'RE STUPID AND MEAN!
• 
  

• 
  Sarima: ₙₒ ₜᵤₗᵢₚₛ ᵢₜₛ ₒₖ ₛₕₕₛₕₕₛₕₕ She says, in the shakiest on the verge of crying voice possible.

• 
  Bubbles: The teals are coming!
• 
  
• Before, the other trolls sharing the sewers were largely ignoring this... whole thing, the only acknowledgement the occasional annoyed glance. But with those four words every single troll in ear shot stops dead in their tracks. They stare at your group, mouths agape as their original destination suddenly has no meaning.
• 
  
• Tulips: SO? I CAN FIGHT A TEAL NO PROBLEM!
• 
  
• Bubbles: [!!!] You... you don't know anything, none of you know anything. I assumed, I assumed you would know! But... obviously you wouldn't! None of you know anything about the world you're trying to change!
• 
  
• You: I would like to know, if you would explain please.
• 
  Bubbles: [|||] Like it'll even matter. They're not just teals, they're the teals. Drones are stupid. If there's a problem, they just shoot any lowbloods they find until the problem stops. They can't solve complex problems. So whenever they see something strange, like a child violetblood in the hands of some mutant cerulean and filthy lowblood, they can't solve it.
• 
  
• Bubbles: [|||] So they leave, and they send for the teals. These specific teals are trained from hatching to uphold the law, no matter what. They have equipment that can take down violets and do so without hesitation. And when they see a violet being... "raised" by a cerulean and a gold, they'll see one of the biggest insults against the hemospectrum in the city's history.
• 
  
• Bubbles: [|||] As soon as they see Tulips, they'll... burn. They'll call in ships to burn the entire city to the ground and everyone alongside it, to make sure your degeneracy doesn't spread.
• 
  
• Bubbles: [|||] And I... let it happen. I just let it happen, because I... somehow thought you could make things a little better.
• 
  Bubbles: [|||] ...no, that's a lie. I knew how this would end, I just wasn't strong enough to resist. So I just tricked myself into believing you knew what you were doing, that you had a chance. And now everyone is going to die.
• June 2, 2024
• 
  With her strength and anger utterly exhausted she simply drops to her knees, and then her hands, until she finally just drops to the floor completely. The crowd you had managed to assemble had apparently heard enough as they started to bolt, hurriedly calling their loved ones to give what little warning they could. Even through the audio clutter of their feet you can hear echoing dings further into the sewers as the message of impending doom spreads.
• 
  But you didn't come to this planet to die. You didn't come here to let anyone die. Bubbles may not be in the mental position necessary to answer your questions, but... thinking about it, it's not as if Bubbles is your sole source of information now, are they? Cheap words aren't going to bring her back to her senses. You need a solution, and you might just know someone who can help you with that. You call them up on your mask. They pick up on the first ring.
• 
  
• Kirbil: Hello bo$$! What can I do for you?
• 
  
• You: Teals are coming, they'll burn the city when they find our child. I am unwilling to sacrifice the city or anyone in it, and I am still intent on killing the ceruleans. What do?
• 
  
• Kirbil: ...Okay! Um... That'$... that'$... wow.
• 
  Kirbil: Well! Um... That'$ certainly an... ambitiou$ goal to have! I'm happy to have a bo$$ with $uch big idea$!
• 
  
• You: Mauve shirt, what do.
• 
  
• Kirbil: You... could...
• 
  
• Kirbil: Remind me plea$e, um, what re$ource$ do you have on hand?
• 
  
• You: A 9mm pistol with 8 rounds, a Thompson Submachine Gun with two drums, some knives, a butterfly net, a fluffy cat, and... a spear, I think?
• 
  
• Kirbil: Okay : D
• 
  
• Kirbil: May I be excu$ed for one moment?
• 
  
• You: Of course.
• 
  
• Kirbil: Thank you kindly bo$$!
• 
  
• Kirbil:

• 
  Kirbil: $o $orry to keep you waiting bo$$! But, I believe I may have a few $olution$ in mind! Ah, fir$t, how connected would you $ay your violet... coworker i$ to her current gender identity?
• 
  
• You: Extremely, why?
• 
  
• Kirbil: Oh! Well, a$ you know, violet$ are an all male ca$te. They exi$t to $erve a$ potential $uitor$ for the heire$$ and Her Imperious Condescension, long may $he reign ble$$ed be her army, $o any gender fluidity i$ $een a$ a rejection of Her Imperious Condescension's grand design, hallowed be her name, which i$ grounds$ for immediate orbital bombardment.
• 
  
• Kirbil: ...But it'$ fine! Ab$olutely fine! We... have... option$...
• 
  
• You: Which are?
• 
  Kirbil: Ah... if given enough time, I am $ure I could make create the proper documentation to $how that you are not going again$t the holy hemo$pectrum and in$tead your cerulean coworker i$ the head of thi$ little organization. Cerulean$ fight other Cerulean$ all the time! Of cour$e, you would ab$olutely be in charge bo$$, I would never $ugge$t otherwi$e! You are-
• 
  
• You: Skip flattery, this is acceptable. Will the child be okay?
• 
  
• Kirbil: Ab$olutely! $he wa$ already legally cla$$ified a$ food, $o a$ we do not correct their inevitable a$$umption that $he i$ $imply takeout for your highblood friend, there'$ no problem! ...Or, well, actually their might be one little problem, but I a$$ure you that it can be-
• 
  
• You: What is the problem?
• 
  
• Kirbil: Well bo$$, I am... $imply one troll, there'$ only $o much I can do in $uch a short timeframe. If you were willing to hide, I could ea$ily create the documentation in time, but, a$ i$ their legal right, the teal$ would inve$tigate the di$turbance.
• 
  
• You: Which would result in local casualties.
• 
  Kirbil: Correct again bo$$! Your awarene$$ of our wonderful government i$ truly a $ight to behold and I am grateful to be by your $ide! Of cour$e, it i$ worth mentioning that any death$ would not be your fault! It i$ $imply the way of Alternia for-
• 
  
• You: Is there any way to stop the teals?
• 
  
• Kirbil: $hort of culling them, er... hm...
• 
  
• You: I can just kill them?
• 
  
• Kirbil: AH- WELL, $-$IR- ER, I MEAN, BO$$, y-your battle prowe$$ i$ certainly legendary, and I'm $ure that with the proper re$ource$ tho$e teal$ would be like in$ect$ to your $kill! But, and plea$e forgive me for doubting you, I am... un$ure if you are currently in the po$ition to fight again$t multiple $quadren$ of the mo$t powerful legal executioner$ that the teal caste ha$ to offer...
• 
  
• You: But if I did kill them?
• 
  Kirbil: Given that you would, legally $peaking, be working under the direction of a highblood, it would be con$idered legal $elf defen$e again$t wrongful government interference. However, I mu$t $tre$$ that the$e individual$ are very dangerou$.
• 
  
• You: Then I shall surely require all the information that you can give me.
• 
  Socially cornered, Kirbil finds no alternative to acquiescing to your demands. To give a summary free of warnings and flattery, you are outgunned. Although the teals will only send a scouting detachment, they have equipment that most highbloods would find difficult to obtain. The first sticking point is their armor. As with most armor, it has minor gaps around the neck and joints, but that is where the weaknesses end. Using a matter weaving technology only available to the Condesence and her government cucks, the teal scouts have access to a material that is nigh invincible. Built to resist the impossible strength of highbloods, the armor can naturally shrug off nearly any conventional attack with nary a dent. Although a weakness may exist, knowledge of it is certainly beyond your gold blood secretary.
• 
  However, their real strength lies in their weaponry. Created with equally restricted technology, the teals have effectively created plasma rifles. Technical information is limited, but you know they launch some type of superheated material that can swiftly burn a hole through a renegade violet. Sustained fire from a single rifle could easily demolish an entire hive within seconds. And in case there's anything left, each soldier also carries two grenades, each one capable of demolishing a city block.
• 
  If previous behavior is to be believed, the teals will come in three groups of eight via attack helicopter. Two groups will escort and guard any highbloods while the third group investigates the disturbance. It probably goes without saying, but their investigation style will inevitably result in mass death in the streets. Low bloods are tortured for any potential information and the lucky innocent get a swift execution. It also goes without saying that you would not be so lucky.
• 
  
• They will tear this city apart until they find you, at which point they will bathe you and yours in an endless ocean of fire.
• 
  
• And all you have to resist them is an ableist jerk, a beautiful yet untrained sweetheart, an actual child, a cat, and eight bullets.
• 
  May God have mercy on their souls.

1. Lie like you've never lied before. (Social, Sarima) [14]
The Teals are a vastly superior force trained from birth to avoid the type of bullshit you specialize in. They cannot be convinced, they cannot be flirted with, but they might just be trickable. They aren't going to listen to your low-blood self, but they may be willing to converse with Sarima long enough for your gold-blood friend to save you. It's also worth mentioning that, because Sarima has a mask like yours, Kirbil will be able to secretly advise both her and you. Of course, it's also worth mentioning that You and Sarima know Jack Shit about the law and no last minute advice will change that. Still, this is the only option that could potentially succeed without injury.

2. Violently harass your opponents. (Combat, Party) [15]
The Teals are a highly trained force that have an indepth knowledge of modern military tactics and group cohesion. However, you are an experienced terrorist with an indepth knowledge of being an ass. It won't be pretty, but with enough luck you might be able to distract them long enough to gain access to your actual target. You'll certainly be able to kill a few of them. People are guaranteed to take injuries with this route even if you do succeed, but it will also bring you closer to your goal while giving your new subjects a demonstration of your party's dedication and strength.

3. Kill them. (You) [18]
Let's be honest with ourselves, you've been something a burden since you've arrived. You've relied solely on the strength of others, you've been beaten and bruised, you've gotten yourself and your party hurt through your incompetence. Yet somehow, through some miracle, Sarima genuinely believes in you. Even with all your failures, she believes in you. You need to show them that belief in you isn't a wasted hope. You need to show them that you have the strength and skill to fight your own battles. You can do this. I can do this. Please, let me show them what I can do. Please.







((Not a day has gone by in the some two years I've been gone that I haven't thought about what I'd say here. Should I joke? should I be sincere about what this writing means to be? Should I ignore the gap completely? Honestly, I'm still not sure, but my anxiety over this message has been part of why I haven't posted a thing. I still don't have the answer, but I don't want to avoid things any longer. I will do my best, and I hope that you enjoy the things I have in store. I promised before and I will promise now, I will finish this writing and I will do so to the best of my abilities. Thank you for reading.

also I don't know why there's weird little ball point indentations in some part of it. I am sorry, I don't know how to fix it, it is very hot and I'm thirsty. Also, for the purposes of this choice, you have 6 EGO, not 5. Keep that in mind if you wish.