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Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and today is your thirteenth birthday. A number of CAKES are scattered about your room in honor of the day, and your PESTERCHUM application is flashing with the promise of good wishes from friends. In a moment you will sneak downstairs in a no-doubt-futile attempt to claim the packages that have been left for you without being seen or accosted by your PARENTAL UNIT. You love your dad, but you really don't need more cakes.
You are not yet sure what these packages may contain, but you know what they don't: there will be no video game betas in your mail today, apocalyptic or otherwise. A life and a universe ago, you fought and bled and crawled your way to the console at the end of the world--your victory, or as close to one as Sburb offered. You turned back time. You revived a dying world, and Earth is at peace, exactly the way it was the morning of April 13, 2009.
Except there are no meteors, this time. You've been assured of that. Nothing left but for you to live out the life of a normal boy, empty of heroism or gale winds or blood. All the pieces have been put in their place--your dad is downstairs, baking up a storm--and you have a beautiful, pristine universe before your fingertips. This is your happy ending.
Your name is KARKAT VANTAS.
Today is your sixth wriggling day, and you are spending it in a fashion identical to the one in which you spent your previous five: you sit at the computer and solemnly contemplate your shortcomings.
Lucky for you, you have many. This game can keep you occupied for a long time.
You are short-sighted, cantankerous, often spiteful, and possessed of an awful temper. You alienate potential allies and push away those who would be friends. You have never been handed a good thing without shoving it back in the giver's face, and spitting on it to boot. You possess pride enough for an empire, even though you have never done anything in your life but FUCK SHIT UP and LET PEOPLE YOU LOVE DOWN. You are naive and routinely let yourself get suckered by buck-toothed assholes.
Lastly, you are a freak.
You are a freak and you are GOING TO DIE.
A life and a universe ago you fought and bled and crawled on the ground to prove yourself, only to discover you'd had it wrong all along: instead of saving everyone, you'd ruined it all for them. You'd ruined it all for people you didn't even know, damaged two universes almost beyond repair. Almost.
In the end, the lights of a foreign screen shining on your face, you held his hand and reflected: for once in your life, you'd done something right. You'd given him a future. You'd given them, all fifteen of them, a future: they'll live out their lives the way a normal kid should, not cut short by the whims of some sadistic fucking game. And you?
Well, you never had a future anyway.
relax, dude! jade says she can bring you guys over.
i mean, if you want to come! i know it's gonna be hard, you being an alien and all, but i think
EGBERT.
DON'T BE FUCKING STUPID.
well, i knew you'd come, geez.
oh man, there's so much i have to show you. we are going to watch all the movies.
all of them.
oops! sorry dude, i know you don't like that.
FORGET YOUR SHITTY QUASI-RELIGIOUS ADHERENCE TO THE TIRED MEMES OF THE DEAD.
YOU'RE SO SURE THIS IS GOING TO WORK, AREN'T YOU? YOU HAVE NOT SO MUCH AS BRIEFLY FLIRTED WITH THE POSSIBILITY THAT IT MIGHT NOT ALL GO 'ACCORDING TO PLAN.'
of course it'll work! we won and everything, why wouldn't it?
BECAUSE THE GAME ABHORS ANYTHING THAT MIGHT RESEMBLE ITS PLAYERS' HAPPINESS?
you worry too much, karkat. i think that's why you're so short.
worrying makes you shorter! my dad told me so, so i know it's true.
YOU ARE THE MOST ENORMOUS DIPSHIT I HAVE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF ATTEPTING TO COMMUNICATE WITH.
besides, if it doesn't work, we'll just rip the universe a new one the old-fashioned way and drag you out! you're not getting out of this movie marathon, hehe.
OH HA HA, VERY FUNNY. YOU ARE THE EPITOME OF GOOD HUMOR. MOUNTAINEERS PLUMBED YOUR DEPTHS AND DISCOVERED THEY HAD NOT KNOWN HOW TO LAUGH UNTIL THIS MOMENT.
i'm serious! i'm not going to abandon you.
IS THAT A PROMISE?
come on, what kind of guy do you think i am, karkat? of course
Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and you are almost--almost!--nineteen years old. Currently you are sitting in a dorm room in Seattle with a book on your lap, trying to plumb the mysteries of momentum. Try as you might, though, you can't concentrate on the task at hand. You have a midterm tomorrow and all you can think is: at this very moment, your three best friends in the world are infiltrating a top-secret laboratory clear across the country, risking life and limb and, in Rose's case, career to bring back secrets. They are risking EVERYTHING and you cannot be there with them. There would be no point.
You were always the most useless of your friends. You were always the one who watched other people leap into the fire for you.
Rose and Dave and Jade assure you that you do so much just by being there, that you have contributed a lot to Operation: Rescue Alien. They seem so distressed over the whole thing that you have begun pretending to believe them.
This does not usually bother you--you are good at distracting yourself! But sometimes things seep through. Like right now. You stare at the ceiling of your room for hours on end, waiting on the phone call that will let you know you can rest easy. Finally, at a quarter to four, it comes. "We didn't find anything," is the first thing out of Rose's mouth.
"It's fine!" you reassure her. "I'm just glad you're okay." But there are two kinds of sinking feeling worming their way into your chest.
For the next two weeks, you hear only the same words.
Your name is KARKAT VANTAS, and every day you look in the mirror you swear your irises are getting redder. Time is running out.
None of you wants to admit it, but after weeks of fruitless searching you have to admit: if there are answers in the labs of SkaiaNet, if remnants of the conksuckiest game of all time still lurk on its servers, they are beyond you and your friends' ability to find. Maybe beyond anyone's ability to find: if Rose's brain and Dave's street smarts and Jade's hacking can't come up with anything, you don't know who possibly could.
That's okay, though! You will just have to do this the long way.
You throw yourself into your studies, drowning yourself in physics and engineering books. Unfortunately, you are not exactly a huge brain. You muddled your way through high school and your intro classes (with a little help from your ecto-sister), but when you get to thermodynamics you have to face the truth: you've hit a wall. You're never going to be a rocket scientist--rocket science is actually quite straightforward, John, Rose says, but you both know that's not what you really mean.
EB: i think they did.
EB: i think all our titles probably meant something.
EB: like, i keep thinking
EB: a heir is someone who gets handed stuff, isn't he?
EB: things he's never done anything to deserve
EB: and jobs he can't do.
EB: there has to be a way, jade, but i just can't.
EB: i can't let him down but i
EB: just fucking can't.
GG: john!!
GG: you are kind of stupid sometimes, you know.
GG: no one ever said you had to do this alone!
EB: i know!
EB: but i wanted to do something.
EB: i didn't want to sit around and let you do all the work.
GG: oh, don't worry about that.
GG: i can put you to work if you want. :P
EB: haha, okay.
EB: thanks!
GG: seriously, though!
GG: we are all really grateful you are around.
GG: rose and dave and everyone
GG: they depend on you! during sburb, and now too.
GG: we all have an important job to do, okay?
GG: we'll do it together.
You travel light: two changes of clothes, your sickle, and the tablet computer that was Sollux's last gift to you. Somehow you don't think you'll have much need for it where you're going, but you can't stand to leave it behind. You're too goddamn sentimental; yet another reason you would have made a shitty troll even given half the chance.
(At six sweeps, you wanted to be a threshecutioner.)
The imperial drones will be here by sunrise. Lucky you found out about it ahead of time, but you still have to run while you can. For as long as you can. Sometimes you wonder why you even bother.
When you hear the turn of the knob you think: no need to bother. You're almost relived. It's over now.
As it turns out, you're right.
In the doorway is a figure with milky-pale skin, large hands, and too-blue eyes. His hair's shot through with gray. Your universe has never seen anything close to what he is, and yet you know him instantlly. "Hey, Karkat," he says. "It's time to come home."
it's a promise! you're my best friend.
i promise, no matter how long it takes,
i'll never leave you behind.