Chapter Text
The last thing he remembers is fire. Then blackout. Then... here.
He puts a hand out to push himself up off the ground, and collapses back down in shock when he notices it's grey. This hand isn't human!
Memories drift back to him. No, that's right, he was piloting this body as part of his mission. Simply controlling it, as if it was a machine. Except now it's not a machine, it's organic and fluid and living! That's bizarre. He flexes a limb that isn't his own... but is. It's natural and unnatural and entirely, totally alien.
Stumbling along the foreign soil, he tries getting used to the limbs just too long to be his own -- and nearly trips into a murky brown puddle. Is that blood? Could be. He's heard things about the natives here, and none of those things have sounded friendly.
The liquid, whatever it is, is almost blindingly blazing in the sunlight. In the shining reflection, he can make out some of his features: most are similar to his own, except grey-skinned and with glasses missing. He reaches up to feel what he sees reflected as orange blurs on his head, feeling the contorted curves in both of them.
It'll take some getting used to, he thinks. But he'll have the time. He'll just wander around this seemingly abandoned neighbourhood for a bit, acclimatising where no one's here to see him looking stupid--
His grey skin begins to prickle, as if it's being stabbed with needles. His eyes widen, staring at the tiny blisters beginning to form. That shouldn't be happening! Why is that happ--
... trolls are a nocturnal species, aren't they?
Of course. Of all the facts he could forget fron briefing, he forgets that the planet is orbiting a burning hot red giant sun.
"What the hell are you doing?" someone shouts, mimicking his own thoughts exactly. "Get the fuck in here before you go up in idiot smoke!"
He doesn't need to be told twice. He turns and races towards the voice, skin breathing a sigh of relief as he finally hits the cool, welcoming shade. He stands there a while in the doorway, recovering from his mistake.
Eventually, he realises he should probably thank the troll whose house he's in. Murderous monster species or not, it can't be that bad for saving him from frying out there.
Before he can, though: "What the fuck were you doing, going outside in the day?" The troll is just as loud at close range; he winces, covering his ears. "Do bluebloods' lusi just teach them how to be pompous and bigoted, rather than even supplying the tiniest grain of common fucking sense?"
He has no idea how to reply. Blueblood? He tries to remember the colour-based caste system they were taught about. Blue is near the top, wasn't it? So he should be pretty well off. But this troll... the symbol on its shirt is grey. Grey isn't anywhere in the caste system, as far as he can recall.
So what is this troll?
He's been staring, he realises. God, he hopes that isn't considered rude... if this guy kills his troll avatar, he won't even have lasted five minut--
"Shit, you really are a moron, aren't you? Do you even know how to talk?"
Does he? He hasn't tried yet. He tries now:
"I..."
The sound of his own voice cuts him short. It's like his own human voice but rougher, far rougher, like he's swallowed sandpaper and rust.
Not as rough as the troll's, though. "You've got sunstroke! How the fuck is anyone enough of an idiot to give themselves sunstroke? I'll play lusus here, as yours for whatever reason has not taught you even the absolute fucking basics of not dying: DON'T GO OUT IN THE SUN, YOU UTTER SHITHEAD! Seriously, I know people who've gone blind from looking at that thing--" Its face contorts a little with some kind of realisation. "Be right back."
Up the stairs it goes.
John Egbert's troll body slumps to the floor, the heat of the outdoors having left a deafening pounding in his head.
I'm going to make a terrible spy, he thinks in his weariness. At least he's good at playing dumb.
Time passes. He tests every muscle, just as he was instructed. Everything seems to work, but it'll take a while before it feels like his own body. This body is stronger than his own. Not a perfect replica physically, either: every measurement is off by just enough to be disconcerting. He moves his arms around him, trying to get a feel for them, getting into role--
An unearthly scream comes from the next room; he bolts upright. He's heard the trolls lived with monsters, but he never expected...
Pincers, at least a metre long each. The whole thing is easily seven feet tall, encased in white armoured shell. And it's charging straight for him!
John scurries back in horror, one hand behind thr other and dragging himself away. Yet, he realises as the heat hits his hand, the only place to abscond to is flooded with scorching sunlight.
Rock and a hard place, giant crab and burning sun. There's no way out of this!
"Dad! No!" The troll races down the stairs, a sickle appearing in his hand. A few warning swishes and the crab retreats back into the room from which it came.
Then the troll turns on him, eyes glaring into his: "Oh my fucking god, you are the most useless highblood I've ever met! What do you even do? Spend all day being snooty, jerking off to the mirror because you think you're the best thing the mother grub ever shat out? If they're all as pathetic as you, how the fuck are you still ruling the planet?" Almost as an afterthought, it brings a cup of water from its sylladex: "Here, drink this. Slowly. Don't want you dying in my hive."
He takes it and takes a tentative sip. The water's clean, at least. Much needed, too.
But the troll keeps on standing there, looking at him with an unfathomable expression on his face. Best to continue with the sun-dazed approach here, John thinks. It's not difficult: he just has to keep staring at the troll as if it's some kind of alien monster. Which is exactly what it is.
After John's finished his drink, the troll lets out an overdramatic sigh. "Fine, you can use my recuperacoon. It's not like I'll be using it, I'll be too busy shitting around on the computer all day. Get some sleep and then maybe you won't be as much of a pan-dead idiot." With an eye roll, it turns and goes back up from where it came.
Recuperacoon? That's what they use for a bed, right? He's hoping so, as he drags himself to his feet to follow the troll up the stairs.
***
In the troll's room is a thing full of green goop.
His training hasn't prepared him for this! What is he meant to do here? Cover himself in it? Use the stuff as a pillow? Clamber in and get all gooey?
Recupera... coon... Cocoon. Well, that explains what he has to do with the thing. He's not too keen on it, but he hauls himself up--
"I cannot fucking believe this! Take your clothes off first! Were you hatched yesterday?"
Well, at least that's better than 'five minutes ago'.
"Look, I'll take your clothes off for you if you're too much of an imbecile to..." The troll trails off and looks at him up and down, then tries to look anywhere but at him: "Well. You can't be that stupid, can you? Just... take them off..." It ducks out of his way and quickly sits down at its computer. He's almost disappointed... but he quickly dismisses the feeling and gets to getting undressed.
It's a little difficult taking off clothes with his new limbs, but he manages in the end. Then he clambers into the cocoon and splashes down... the slime is somehow instantly soothing and it's easier than it ever has been before to simply just close his eyes and go to...
***
GC: BUT SH3 W4S L1K3 "NOOOOOOOO, WHY WOULD 1 3V3R DO SOM3TH1NG N1C3 FOR SOM3ON3 W1THOUT 4N ULT3R1OR MOT1V3????????"
CG: OH MY FUCKING GOD WAS SHE FOR REAL?????
CG: CANNOT BELIEVE THAT GIRL--
CG: HANG ON.
CG: THERE'S A TROLL OUT THERE.
GC: OUTS1D3??
CG: NO, OUT THERE IN SPACE, BECAUSE I AM CURRENTLY STARGAZING.
CG: YES OUTSIDE!!!!!!
GC: WH4T 4R3 TH3Y DO1NG TH3R3
CG: STARING AT A PUDDLE AND BEING ABOUT TO BURN TO DEATH, IT LOOKS LIKE!
CG: I'VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS MORON
CG: WAIT HERE OK
GC: W3LL 1TS NOT L1K3 1M GO1NG 4NYWH3R3
GC: 3SP3C14LLY NOT OUTS1D3
GC: H4NG ON, YOUD B3TT3R NOT B3 GO1NG OUTS1D3 TO R3SCU3 TH3M
GC: K4RK4T 1 R34LLY HOP3 YOUR3 NOT DO1NG 4NYTH1NG DUMB
CG: WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR? SOMEONE AS MORONIC AS HIM????
CG: I YELLED AT HIM TO GET INTO HERE. NOW HE'S IN HERE.
GC: WH4T W4S H3 DO1NG OUT TH3R3
CG: YOU MEAN BESIDES BEING AN IDIOT?
CG: WHO THE FUCK KNOWS. I DON'T THINK EVEN HE KNOWS.
CG: HE'S A BLUEBLOOD, PROBABLY TOO PAMPERED ALL HIS LIFE TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN NIGHT AND DAY.
GC: H3Y!
CG: SHUT UP, YOU'RE A TEALBLOOD, IT'S DIFFERENT.
GC: H4RDLY >:[
CG: BUT HE WAS JUST STANDING THERE, EXAMINING A PUDDLE LIKE IT WAS THE FUCKING TROLLNA LISA.
CG: I THINK HE'D HAPPILY HAVE BURNT TO DEATH IF IT MEANT HIS ASHES COULD BE SCATTERED IN THE PUDDLE.
GC: H4H4H4H4
GC: 4ND NOW H3S JUST ST4ND1NG 1N YOUR HOUS3?
CG: YES, LIKELY WITH WISTFUL GAZE AT HIS BELOVED MUDDY PUDDLE.
GC: SO WH4T 4R3 YOU GO1NG TO DO W1TH H1M?
GC: L3T H1M ST4Y TH3 D4Y?
CG: WELL I'M NOT SHOVING HIM BACK OUTSIDE TO BURN, AM I?
GC: BUT WH4T 4BOUT H1S LOV3LY PUDDL3?
CG: I'D HAPPILY PUSH HIM INTO THE SHIT-FILLED THING FACE-FIRST.
CG: AT NIGHT TIME!!!!!
CG: WAIT
GC: WH4T NOW??
CG: I THINK MY LUSUS WANTS TO SAY HELLO.
CG: FUCK, BRB.
GC: H4H4H4H4H4H4
CG: ALRIGHT, I'M BACK.
GC: F1N4LLY!!!!!!
CG: HE'S AN ABSOLUTE IMBECILE, I'M TELLING YOU.
CG: DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE A RECUPERACOON!!
GC: >:O
GC: H3S 1N YOUR R3CUP3R4COON??????
GC: YOUR3 GO1NG TO SL33P 1N TH3R3 W1TH H1M 4R3NT YOU
CG: WHAT? NO! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?????
GC: H4H4H4444 1 KN3W TH3R3 W4S 4 R34SON YOU W4NT3D H1M 1N YOUR HOM3
GC: YOU N4UGHTY BOY K4RK4T >:O
CG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN TRYING TO SAY????
CG: I'M GOING TO PULL AN ALL-DAYER. IT'S NOT LIKE THAT'LL BE A PROBLEM, I'LL JUST SHIT AROUND ON THE INTERNET. MAYBE GET SOME PROGRAMMING DONE.
GC: K4RK4T
GC: 1 TH1NK YOU N33D SOM3 SL33P
CG: FUCK OFF.
GC: 4NYW4Y 1M GO1NG TO SL33P NOW
GC: B3C4US3 SOM3ON3S GOT TO B3 TH3 R34SON4BL3 ON3 H3R3
GC: 4ND 1LL L3T YOU DO WH4T3V3R YOU W4NT >;]
CG: SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.
GC: H3H3H3
GC: GOOD D4Y K4RK4T!
CG: GOOD DAY...