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Re: Champion

Chapter Text

Millennia ago, before the First Conquest of Alternia shackled them to their fates as caretakers of the next generation, even before the Grand Unification that saw the warring nation-states of trollkind unite under one government, the lusus naturae had their own ways of life. Simple, yes; tribal, yes; shamanistic, yes. But before the myriad species of lusii were subjugated and forced into symbiosis with their conquerors, they told their own tales.

Perhaps none were quite so relevant to this story as the legends passed down by the lusus carcinus.

“Behold! For he descends from the heavens even now; the Great Unifier, Cancer’s Right Hand. A youngling shall emerge from the caverns and his appearance shall challenge the blistering heat of the sun itself. Remain ever-vigilant, my children, for he is our last and greatest hope.”

-roughly translated excerpt of Biblios Carcinus, “Canto of the Champion,” verse 10:25

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The rock fell from the sky in the early morning, awakening the creature as it screamed through the atmosphere. It’s the only one of its kind who makes its living in this relatively remote location, so it makes ready (somewhat begrudgingly, having been awoken so rudely) to arrive at the site of the impact.

It is not prepared to discover what awaits it, because this defies all logic.

In the exact center of the crater, lying atop the broken stone fragments but clearly very much alive, lays a troll youngling (wriggler, the creature’s mind corrects). Was it here before the impact and somehow miraculously survived? But it’s so far away from the brooding caverns. No, that can’t be it, but the alternative (that it somehow arrived via the meteor) is insane.

In any case, the creature now has a duty to attend to. It approaches the little one, scoops it up in shelled claws and takes it back to the nesting grounds.

(A lusus will do what is best for its charge.)

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"SO LONG, YOU LITTLE SHIT. I HOPE YOU DON’T FUCK UP AS HARD AS I DID."

The wriggler has no idea what the tall one meant by these words, or even that he’s talking to him. All he is certain of is that soon after, his surroundings have drastically changed. Gone are the others he played with briefly (he hopes he will see them again soon); all that remains is the sound of surf crashing against the beach behind him and the echo of the meteorite’s crash ringing in his auditory channels.

Before he drifts off to sleep (because, between crawling around the ectobiology lab and his latest adventure, he is rather tired), he notices a large, clawed figure approaching. The wriggler gives only the quietest of protests as it lifts him off the cooling stone. Its hard, smooth, slightly damp carapace is comforting, and he is asleep before too much time passes.

----------

He is four sweeps old, and he thinks he knows why he and his lusus live so far away from other trolls now.

The lessons have taught him that his race’s society is founded on a hierarchy, determined by the color of one’s blood. Purplebloods sit at the top, the ruling class, and the Empress bleeds brightest purple of all. Below them lies the blue aristocracy, and below them the green middle class. Lower than that are the yellow, rust and maroon.

But, he does not meet any of these distinctions. He’s not royalty; his blood is too red. He’s not a commoner; his blood is too bright. He’s an aberration, an affront to the hemospectrum, a fluke in the genetic code. He must have been sent to live away from troll society, so as not to taint it.

(In the back of his mind, he knows this is a capital offense, and tries not to think about meeting his end at the hands of the cull squads.)

----------

He is seven sweeps old, and he knows he must take action if he is to survive long enough to be eight.

Staying on Alternia is not an option; when the recruitment ships come, they are very thorough. No troll escapes their sight, and refusal to enlist is as worthy of culling as treason in the Empire’s eyes. But, going willingly will simply reveal his secret (the color of this slop that runs through my veins) and end with the same result.

His research on the Alternet turns up an experimental chemical cocktail, mostly peddled by the shadiest of dealers with the illest of repute. It goes by many names; Hemoshift, Chromomine, Sanguitussin, Chameleodose; mostly used by lowbloods aiming for higher stations in life than they were ever meant to achieve. A months’ supply of the raw materials needed to synthesize it costs half his month’s scarab allowance.

But it’s either this, or death before his time.

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He is eight sweeps old, and the recruitment ships have come planetside for their annual rounds. Sooner than he had hoped, in fact, because he is unsure the drug has had time to affect him.

He approaches them willingly. He has not met many trolls in person, and never has he seen so many in one place. A few of them he recognizes (his best friend, Casparr, among them).

One, he does not recognize, but wishes he did as he finds himself staring at her. Slender frame, shoulder-length hair, her pearl-white smile and striking red glasses…

“She’s beautiful,” he whispers to himself.

“Eh, what’s that? Speak up son, I can’t hear you over all this commotion.”

He snaps to attention and realizes he’s finally at the front of the sign-in line. The recruiter asks him again. “Your name, son. What’s your name?”

“Oh, sorry. Karkinos Histrellin.”

The recruiter taps the name into the husktop. “That’s strange, we don’t have you on file.” Oh, right, the whole raised-apart-from-society-because-you’re-a-blight-on-it thing, of course he wouldn’t be on file.

“Any chance my information was lost?”

“Ha! Wouldn’t be the first time. Fucking bureaucracy, how does it even work? Alright, let me get you set up. How old are you, Histrellin?”

“Eight sweeps, as of three days ago.”

“Alright, you’re in. What are you training for?”

“Threshecutioners, sir.”

“Blueblood, then?”

“…Green, sir.”

“Ha! You’re the first greenblood in ages to sign up for the Threshecutioners. Usually it’s the bluebloods who get into that, but you wouldn’t be the first green. They’ll give you hell for it but eh, I figure you kick everyone’s ass hard enough and they’ll stop giving you shit about it. Okay, just need you to take this pen and sign here, then take this pin and print here.”

He signs his name on the line, and can barely stand to look as he jabs the needle into his finger and presses it against the paper.

He mentally sighs in relief when he pulls his finger away to reveal a partial lime green fingerprint.

“Heh, that’s an interesting shade. You don’t see a lot of limebloods anymore these days. But you’re all signed up now, take your stuff and go here.” The recruiter hands him a keycard and directions on how to get to his bunk, then extends his hand. “Welcome to the Threshecutioners. Glory to Alternia.”

Karkinos shakes the recruiter’s hand. “Glory to Alternia.”

He looks around. The girl from before is nowhere to be seen.

(Well, shit.)

Chapter Text

"Get up," the sergeant barks at Karkinos as he picks himself up off the floor, takes up his sickle and starts the training exercise over again.

It had only been three weeks since he had enlisted and left Alternia on a military cruiser with the rest of the new recruits. Karkinos had signed up with the Threshecutioners because these guys are the best of the best. He'd heard all the latest stories about them; supposedly a group of three of them managed to rout an entire formation of enemy troops and save one of the border colonies. The Threshecutioners are the baddest of the bad, with the hardest of cores.

And now he knows why: not everyone is cut out for the job.

The Alternian army allows its new recruits to select their positions, for the most part. Yes, the blood heirarchy plays a role in it, and what jobs you can do are restricted by the color flowing through your veins, but there is some flexibility, as it's considered generally acceptable for one to sign up for a position one color lower or higher than your own. But once you've decided, you'd better learn to like it and excel at it, because there are no transferrals, and not doing your job, either through incompetence or desertion, is punishable by culling.

The Threshecutioners are the exception. If the empire had to cull every eight sweep-old who in their dreams is the bad-ass, signed up to become one and couldn't make the cut, they'd end up slaughtering half the blue aristocracy of every generation! Not that the trial caverns didn't end up doing the same thing, but most of these kids who try and fail would be perfectly suited to other positions in the Alternian army. No sense in letting that talent go to waste, after all, so new Threshecutioner recruits are given three weeks before they're locked in.

(He never considers transferring. He doesn't have it in him to quit.)

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"Get up," the blueblood spits at Karkinos. He's bruised and leaking chemically-altered lime green blood from several places. The post-training beatings are getting worse. This is the Alternian army, son, not one of your stupid games for girls, the officer had said when Karkinos finally worked up the courage to go to the higher-ups about this. If you can't handle getting roughed up like that, you can't handle being a Threshecutioner.

Karkinos's training scores have gotten better in the last perigree. Better than most of his squad. And a lowly greenblood showing up his superiors has not gone unnoticed by those who bleed blue.

So they make him pay, away from the eyes of their commanding officer (not that he'd stop them). They exact their revenge on the swill-blooded cretin who dares to make them look foolish in front of their leaders. Every punch, every kick, every hit scores his battered body in a new way.

And he takes it. Because being a Threshecutioner means being tough. And tough guys don't have it in them to quit.

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"Get up," the nurserrator asks Karkinos as she looks over his injuries. No other soldier she's ever seen beaten this badly has gone back to training with such a single-minded determination as him. Anyone else would be asking for some recovery time to heal those bruised ribs, the left eye swollen shut, the missing teeth, and Jegus knows she's tried to reason with him about this more than once.

"Karkinos, please, you're killing me, coming in here with those injuries, and you're going to end up killing yourself if you keep this up. No one's going to think less of you if you take time off for this, the empire can't use a broken soldier!"

But she knows that's bullshit. If he stops now, those grubfucking asshole bluebloods win, and he won't abide that.

"Sorry, Avir. You know I can't do that."

She nods grimly at him and begins mentally preparing for his next visit to the medical bay. Each one seems to leave him a little worse off, but he'll keep going, because he doesn't have it in him to quit.

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-- totalAnnihilation [TA] began trolling crimsonGeneral [CG] --

TA: get up
TA: kark ii know you're there, a2leep
TA: fuck, of cour2e you aren't
TA: do thre2hecutiioner2 even get tiime off two do anythiing but 2leep
TA: anyway
TA: what2 thii2 ii'm hearing about you gettiing your a22 handed two you on a regular ba2ii2
TA: aviir'2 2aying 2he 2ee2 you iin 2iick bay almo2t every day and iit keep2 gettiing wor2e
TA: ii know you've got your priide two thiink about but
TA: you can't keep doiing thii2
TA: you're goiing two get your2elf culled iif you keep thii2 up
TA: ii mean jegu2 fuck kark, 2tand up for your2elf!
TA: there'2 a diiference between giiviing up and fiightiing back
TA: and you need two fiight the2e blue 2hiit2 a2 hard a2 you fuckiing can
TA: well
TA: ii've 2aiid my piiece
TA: ii ju2t fuckiing hope you lii2ten for once

-- totalAnnihilation [TA] ceased trolling crimsonGeneral [CG] --

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Another day of training ends and the bluebloods have circled around him again in the locker room. Karkinos knows what's coming next, and he braces himself for it. One of them steps forward (it's always the same guy who attacks first) and snarls, "you ready to taste the floor again today, fruitblood?"

His fist crashes into Karkinos's jaw, but he remains standing, defiantly.

...the empire can't use a broken soldier!

"Looks like fruitblood's got a little spirit in him today!" He plants his foot in Karkinos's shin, but he does not trip.

...eh, I figure you kick everyone’s ass hard enough and they’ll stop giving you shit about it.

"Hey. Fucknut. What part of 'drop' don't you fucking understand?" He throws a haymaker at Karkinos's head.

He catches it effortlessly. The blueblood is dumbstruck.

...jegu2 fuck kark, 2tand up for your2elf!

Karkinos jerks his opponent's arm toward himself and plants his knee firmly in his gut, flipping him over and knocking him to the ground. He struggles to breathe, half because of the severity of the blow and half because what the hell just happened?

"Who else wants some of this?!" he taunts. The other three bluebloods take a few steps back instinctively. His attention returns to the one crumpled on the floor. He cocks his leg back and delivers a kick to the ribs that can be heard from outside the room.

("Get up," Karkinos spits at the fallen blueblood.)

Chapter Text

When he snaps back to consciousness, he stares at the ceiling for a bit, then wonders, where the hell am I? He's not sure whether he spoke it or simply thought it.

"Oh good, Karkinos, you're awake. You really had me scared this time!" At first, he isn't sure if he hears this in his auditory channels or in his mind, either.

He glances around the room (or tries to) and notices he doesn't have much range of motion. Wearing a neck brace will do that to you, he thinks to himself.

"Honestly, did you really think you could take on four men at once and emerge unscathed? It's rather fortunate this young man happened upon you when he did, otherwise I'm certain they would have killed you." Avir gestures to someone he had somehow failed to notice until just now.

Karkinos turns to look at him. Another blueblooded chucklefuck, he thinks to himself, but he supposes this guy can't be all bad if he's really the one who dragged him here.

"And who might you be?" he asks.

"A fellow Threshecutioner recruit, sir!"

"Bullshit. If you're a Threshecutioner, why haven't I seen you around?"

"You are a member of Pestilence Squad, if I am not absolutely mistaken? I am from Famine Squad."

"Oh, right, the jerks down the hall. So, why are you even here?"

"I was passing by when I heard signs of a scuffle coming from the Pestilence locker room. I proceeded to investigate and happened upon you, surrounded by three attackers. I subdued the three of them and carried you here, where Miss Astraea tended to your wounds. I am glad to see you were not too seriously wounded, Private Histrellin."

"Wait, you stopped them? I figured you'd be beating my ass alongside them."

He grimaces at the implication. "I may be a blueblood, but I am an Alternian patriot first, sir, and I've seen your training scores on the memo on AltARPAnet. The Empire needs people like you who are clearly more interested in serving Her Glorious Majesty than in this, this lewd bulge-waving contest!"

A bead of sweat forms at his forehead. "Please excuse my crass language, sir. It won't happen again."

"Quit calling me sir, fuck, I'm the same rank you are."

"Y-yes, sir! Sorry, sir!" He starts sweating harder.

Karkinos groans at him. "Ugh. You got a name, buddy?"

"Private Alcaeus Chiron of the Famine Squad Threshecutioners, sir!"

"Agh, fine, whatever, dismissed, see you around I guess." Karkinos waves him off. Alcaeus gives him a salute, and makes his exit.

----------

And so he waits. Most of a perigree passes before Karkinos is in any shape to resume training. Negotiating with the medical team to let him walk around is a challenge, but they relent when he tells her he needs to keep up his strength.

(Of course, they have no idea he's using that time to synthesize more Hemoshift. Already his blood is starting to take on an almost imperceptible orange tint.)

Every hour he remains stuck in the infirmary weighs heavily on his mind. But he'll be in shape soon enough. Every second is another second closer to showing those snobby fuckheads who's boss.

(At least it's not all bad, he reminds himself. Avir's good company.)

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Avir hands Karkinos a medical release form, which he signs and returns to her.

"Okay, you're cleared to resume training now. I suspect this isn't the last I'll be seeing of you though, Karkinos."

He frowns at her. "Don't think I can still hack it?"

She meets him with a frown of her own. "No, I just know you can't stay out of trouble. Why the Threshecutioners? You could have been an Infilterrorizer or a Scouterminator or even a Nurserrator, all respectable positions for greenbloods. But you chose the one thing that could very likely put you in the morgue before you even see the field. Look, just promise me you'll stay out of trouble, okay?"

He laughs. "Ha, not fuckin' likely! Seems like everywhere I go, I'm surrounded by jealous grubfucking shitheads."

"Present company excluded," he quickly adds.

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When he returns to his squad, he shows a renewed ferocity that the sergeant can't seem to get enough of. He is ruthless in his assaults, a single-minded bloodlust-fueled fury. The sergeant turns to address the rest of the squad. Look at this kid, he bleeds fuckin' citrus, he's been out of action for a perigree, and he's still better than the rest of you sorry wrigglers put together! Histrellin, you've earned the rest of the week off from gaper duty, the rest of you better make those fuckers shine!

He allows himself a smirk at that, when the sergeant isn't looking. Maybe he can't take the entire squad in a fight at once, but he's beating them where it counts, and they can't fucking stand it.

----------

After one training session, before Karkinos can go to the locker room, an officer takes him aside.

"Listen kid, day one was a quarter of a sweep ago, and you know what that means."

"Active duty, sir?"

"Active duty. But there's a problem. You're the Threshecutioners' star recruit right now, hemospectrum be damned, but that's no real accomplishment because the rest of Famine Squad is a bunch of fucking wrigglers. We're getting our asses kicked on the front against the Oni, they won't last a fuckin' day on the front lines if someone doesn't whip them into shape."

The officer sighs. "A lot of the old timers can't stand that you're here. They say a greenblood doesn't deserve to even be a Threshecutioner, and they definitely won't like what I'm gonna do. But goddamn son, you've kicked the asses of everyone here and nobody deserves it more than you."

"Sir?"

"Tradition dictates that the top-scoring recruit of each squad, when they get out of training and into the field, is promoted to squad leader. And the old timers can't stand it, because now, that means a greenblood is leading what most of them consider the finest fighting force in the galaxy. Hell, half of them wanted you culled on the spot for what you did to those punks in the locker room, but fuck 'em, I say. I'm promoting you, effective immediately, and if anyone gives you shit about it, it's officially insubordination now. Paperwork's already gone through so there's nothing any of them can do about it, anyway."

He hands a badge to Karkinos. "You're out of training now, kid. You're official. Welcome to the Threshecutioners, Squad Leader Histrellin."

Chapter Text

Perigrees in the future, but not many...

"Pain Squad!"

"Squad Leader Ginbu reporting in!"

"Pestilence Squad!"

"Squad Leader Histrellin reporting, sir!"

"Famine Squad!"

"Squad Leader Chiron ready, sir!"

"Death Squad!"

"Squad Leader Kirine reporting!"

Commander Suzach, leader of War Squad, confirms all four groups under his command are ready, and begins relaying the mission to his underlings.

"Pain and Death Squads, you're to meet up with War Squad and the Swordsmanglers at the coordinates I'm sending you and flush out the Oni fighters holed up there. Famine Squad, you will provide backup for the Cavalreapers at these ruins approximately ten miles east of your current location. Pestilence Squad, you'll be holding the bridge at this position so they can't send reinforcements to either site." A section of the map glows on the HUD in Karkinos's helmet, indicating the position Pestilence Squad is to defend.

"Are all SLs clear on their objectives?"

"Yes sir!" The four of them answered simultaneously on the comlink.

"Alright, Pestilence Squad, we're approaching your drop zone. Prepare to deploy."

----------

Karkinos enters the left-most box in the drop bay as his squad fills the rest of them, one by one. He straps himself in carefully and awaits the signal to release.

The green light blinks on to his right. He pulls the lever and he can hear the air shooshing around him as the dropbox begins its descent.

Wait for it... the green light flashes red and he pushes the lever back up, activating the crash response system designed to keep the occupant alive upon impact. Seconds later, the box comes to a sudden stop. Karkinos's vision blurs and his stomach lurches inside his armor for a moment but otherwise he's fine.

He kicks the front panel of the dropbox loose to make his exit and check his surroundings. They're near the bridge, the choke point for today's mission, and Pestilence Squad's objective is to defend it and ensure enemy reinforcements can't come through.

All twelve members of Pestilence are accounted for. Now they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

----------

Two hours have passed since mission start. They've been holding this position since then. There's some radio chatter sometimes when inter-squad communication is necessary, but nothing else is happening. Pestilence Squad has yet to encounter so much as a lone enemy soldier, and they're growing restless, including their Squad Leader.

"Get me a satellite feed of the surrounding area," Karkinos orders his comms tech. Aside from themselves and site of Famine's battle, there's nothing moving on his HUD.

"Heat sensor on." Nothing but cold ground surrounding the two units for miles. "Infrared on." Nothing that could even be almost mistaken for enemy soldiers, anywhere.

This is not the first time this has happened. It's the fifth deployment for Karkinos's Pestilence Squad Threshecutioners, but their combat record so far is zero engagements, zero kills. Every time they're in the field, their objective is to guard some remote area, away from any real action, that command swears is "strategically important", yet they never encounter resistance of any sort. It keeps happening.

And then it hits him: this was a setup. They couldn't stop Karkinos from becoming Pestilence's SL, so some purpleblooded grubfucker in command made sure he'd never do anything more important than scrub load gapers. Can't let a lowly greenblood prove himself on the fucking battlefield, after all, he might kick a little more ass than everyone else! If they knew what color his blood really is, they'd shit themselves with rage.

(Well. Fuck that, I said.)

He whistles for the attention of his soldiers before he addresses them. "Guys, we've been duped. This assignment is a fucking joke and I think we all know it."

Murmurs of agreement pass among his team before he continues. "Some ancient fucking geezer in High Command must think we can't hack it. They're probably saying 'oh, that asshole's blood is green, he's no good, he can't lead the Threshe-fucking-cutioners!'

But that's bullshit, because we're all still fucking here! If any of us didn't have what it takes, we would have dropped out in basic or gotten ourselves culled. But the fact that we're still standing here, part of the toughest fighting force in this entire goddamn galaxy--" The team begins to cheer at this, and he has to wave them down to continue. "--the fact that you're all still here proves we're better than this guard houndbeast shit they're making us do."

The comlink crackles to life. It's a distress signal, one from a voice he recognizes. "This is Squad Leader Chiron of Famine Squad Threshecutioners, requesting backup! They're everywhere, they've got us surrounded and we've taken casualties!"

Another voice responds. "Commander Suzach of War Squad here, backup will arrive in forty-five minutes."

"We can't wait that long, there's more of them here than we thought, sir!"

"Forty-five minutes, SL, that's the quickest we can get there."

Karkinos has heard enough. Forty-five minutes? Fuck that, we're maybe fifteen minutes away and bored out of our goddamned think pans. He turns to his squad.

("We've got ourselves a rescue operation.")

----------

As he nears the battle site, once he begins hearing the sounds of battle, immediately he knows something is wrong. From the sound of things, there should be dozens of Oni fighters here, if not hundreds. The report of gunfire in the area is repeating too often for the Oni prescence to be anything less.

Which is why it's such a surprise to Karkinos to find, after his unit has approached the battlefield closely enough to examine the situation, that as far as he can ascertain, four enemy soldiers are pinning down at least two dozen Cavalreapers and Threshecutioners.

He splits his team into four groups of three (smaller units are stealthier, he recalls from training) as they make their approach. If they're to have any hope of success in getting their comrades out of this mess, they'll need to be quick, quiet, and above all, efficient.

Karkinos's team approaches an automatic firearms nest, as does the other three-man teams of Pestilence Squad, using the terrain, ruins and overgrowth as cover. Synchronization is key now, one false move could alert the opposition and get the entire group killed.

He brings a hand to his helmet and presses a sequence of buttons.

-- pestilenceLeader [PL] is requesting response from: all members of Pestilence Squad Threshecutioners. Reason: confirm when ready to attack, then await my signal. --

pestilenceLeader [PL] has responded.
pestilenceSeven [P7] has responded.
pestilenceNine [P9] has responded.
pestilenceTwo [P2] has responded.
pestilenceEleven [P11] has responded.
pestilenceFour [P4] has responded.
pestilenceOne [P1] has responded.
pestilenceThree [P3] has responded.
pestilenceSix [P6] has responded.
pestilenceTen [P10] has responded.
pestilenceFive [P5] has responded.
pestilenceEight [P8] has responded.

-- All members confirmed. Closing response request. --

Karkinos moves into position and waves his squadmates on. They take support positions to provide suppressive fire in case something goes wrong, just as practiced countless times. He takes a deep breath as he readies his rifle, then keys in another sequence.

The timer on the soldiers' HUDs begins counting down from five. At three, Karkinos begins rounding the corner. At two, his squadmates step out of cover long enough to place the Oni gunner in their sights. At one, four very surprised enemy soldiers barely have time to register what is happening.

(At zero, four shots simultaneously crack before all is silent.)

----------

Two days later...

"So let me get this straight," the captain asks, in a tone that Karkinos can't really place but has to be somewhere between unnaturally calm and disturbingly stoic, "so I know what to put in the official record of this incident."

He paces in a circle around Karkinos as he continues, puffing on his cigar all the while. "You and your Threshecutioners, Pestilence Squad Leader Histrellin, were assigned to guard the bridge near where Famine Squad and a detachment of Cavalreapers were engaging the enemy."

"Yes, sir."

"Then, when no enemy reinforcements came, you left your post to respond to a distress call, one already addressed by Commander Suzach here, without so much as notifying anyone."

"Yes, sir."

"You then proceeded to break up your soldiers into smaller teams, seperating them from the unit and putting their own lives in danger, in order to surround the enemy and eliminate them. Am I correct?"

"...yes, sir."

"In short, you ignored the orders of your commander and began an unauthorized rescue mission that put the lives of your entire squad in jeopardy. You realize this is insubordination, Squad Leader Histrellin?"

He only catches a short glance of Commander Suzach's shit-eating grin before addressing the captain. "I understand, sir."

"Ordinarily, this is the sort of thing people get culled for. But in this case, I believe I can make an exception."

Suzach's expression instantly drops into a scowl. "Sir, what are you saying?"

The captain continued. "Histrellin's actions may have been reckless, but because of his quick response, the battle ended with only three casualties and one injured on our side, and it's likely Sergeant Torroa will make a full recovery."

Suzach stands up. "But sir---"

"Commander. You are dismissed." The captain waits for him to exit the room before continuing.

"...Histrellin. I'll see to it that the charges of insubordination against you are dropped. As far as I'm concerned, you're a damned hero for saving your fellow soldiers' asses, and that's how brass is gonna hear about it. But I gotta tell you now, there's a rift in this level of command, and you're pretty much the reason for it."

"Sir?"

"Some officers can't stand that someone with your blood is actually making it as a Threshecutioner. They're looking for every chance they can get to keep you down or get you culled. But there's a group of us, and it's getting bigger every day, and we're thinking 'to hell with the hemospectrum.'

We're doing okay here, in the inner worlds. We can swarm the Oni before they can really set up shop, so I doubt they could ever hit Alternia. But out there, beyond the Inner Ring, it's a different story. We're outmatched, outgunned, and outmanuevered at every turn. We've got numbers but their stratagies and tech are destroying us, and we need asskickers of every shade, son. If we're only going to let blues lead the front lines, well, the future doesn't look so good."

The captain extends his hand. "Eh, I'm rambling. Point is, don't worry about what happened, I'll take care of it. Dismissed, soldier."

Karkinos shakes his hand before snapping into a salute. "Yes, sir!"

Chapter Text

To say the captain was not able to take care of it would be a gross understatement.

For a solid perigree after the hearings committee clears him of any wrongdoing in the incident, Karkinos resumes a rather routine military life. He spends most of his time training, in his respiteblock (keeping his head down and avoiding further unnecessary attention) or bored out of his think pan.

Pestilence Squad is only deployed once this perigree, to a skirmish and subsequent mop-up of Oni troops on one of the border mining worlds. The fighting begans before the team arrives and is over quickly once they are dropped in; even among the Oni, Alternian Threshecutioner drop troops are known for being particularly ruthless, and Pestilence Squad is no exception. The battle ends, evac arrives, and it's back to the ship.

It would have been completely routine, had the captain not gone missing during deployment. The sudden power vacuum is filled almost immediately.

(Captain Suzach's first official act is the arrest of one Squad Leader Karkinos Histrellin, on charges of gross insubordination.)

----------

It's all a big fat fucking farce, he thinks to himself as he stares at the walls of his cell in the ship's brig. It's obvious to anyone with a functioning brain stem; Suzach murdered his way to the top of the chain of command and now seeks to purge his Threshecutioners of this green filth.

(Green, he thinks to himself, wondering if that's even the case anymore.)

The worst part is that it's all sanctioned. Promotion via assassination isn't exactly uncommon; a captain who cannot inspire enough loyalty in his soldiers to prevent them from killing him is no captain at all. On top of that, Suzach is entirely legally right to hold Karkinos for insubordination. There's no way out, it's only a matter of waiting to be culled.

A door down the hall opens and footsteps approach his cell. Captain Suzach and two guards stand before him.

"Your trial is about to begin, scumblood. Let's go."

For a brief moment, Karkinos wonders to himself, if he could manage to fight off both guards and kill Suzach himself, if that would somehow exonerate him, but he puts the thought out of his mind. That would surely earn him a publicly humilating execution.

----------

"Karkinos Histrellin, you have been found guilty of the crime of insubordination. You will return here for your sentencing in one week. Adjourned."

The whole thing is over in less than fifteen minutes. Not once is his record brought up, nor is the fact that all of his squad's assignments have been busywork designed to keep him from advancement. His Honorable Tyranny doesn't seem to care that his actions saved the lives of over twenty-four soldiers. All that matters is that a soldier relatively new to leadership cannot follow orders himself.

The walk back to his cell is a long one. The courtblock's decision has him second-guessing himself the entire way. Did he really take action to rescue his fellow soldiers? Or was he just looking for glory for himself?

And if the latter is true, how could he possibly be truly fit to lead anyone into battle?

----------

A week passes and he is brought before the courtblock to await his sentencing. To look at Karkinos's face, one might not guess it to be the expression of a man certain of his own imminent demise, but Karkinos has always been good at keeping a stiff upper lip.

"Histrellin. Step forth." He does so at His Honorable Tyranny's command.

"Karkinos Histrellin, one week ago, you were found guilty of insubordination. The usual punishment for such is death." Karkinos can practically feel Captain Suzach staring a hole into the back of his head.

"However," and Karkinos's vascular pump skips a beat at this. "However?" How did I manage to get out of this? "You are the best soldier the Threshecutioners have produced in some time, and I believe the captain here said as much in the appeal he filed on your behalf."

A tiny voice in the back of Karkinos's mind starts whispering oh, shit.

"If Captain Suzach himself sees promise in you during these trying times, soldier, then it is the duty of his ship's courtblock to aid his efforts in any way we can. Therefore, Karkinos Histrellin, in lieu of execution, you are hereby stripped of your rank as leader of the Pestilence Squad Threshecutioners, and we place you in the service of the War Squad Threshecutioners, led by Captain Suzach himself. Failure to comply will result in immediate culling. You are free to go. Dismissed."

The sound of His Honorable Tyranny's gavel has barely cleared the air when Captain Suzach addresses Karkinos personally. "Get to your respiteblock and rest up, scumblood. Training starts tomorrow," he informs him with that same maniacal grin he's had on his face the entire time.

That tiny voice grows larger and starts screaming oh, FUCK.

----------

So he intends to make an example of me, Karkinos thinks to himself during the walk back to his respiteblock. At least an execution would have been quicker.

He opens the door to his respiteblock and finds it has been ransacked, no doubt by one of Suzach's goons, if not Suzach himself. Most of his belongings are scattered, damaged or missing (including, he notes with not a little disdain, his store of Hemoshift ingredients). He wonders if they discovered the last of his contraband as he eyes a ceiling tile in the corner and begins counting off; four to the left, thirteen toward the door. He pulls a chair to that location and climbs on it to push the loose tile back. He feels around in the darkness and almost immediately finds what he's looking for.

He pulls the tile back into place and uses his training sickle to check... his blood has degraded to a sickly red-orange. Then he was right to keep his mouth shut during his time in holding. He removes the cap from the syringe and plunges the needle into his arm. He will need to administer the entirety of his emergency dose of Hemoshift to restore his lime-green color, and not a moment too soon; it will take all night for his blood to change.

He turns on his computer, thankfully one of the few objects in his room that has taken relatively little damage. Almost immediately the familiar bleep of a Trollian message plays through the speakers.

-- totalAnnihilation [TA] began trolling crimsonGeneral [CG] --

TA: oh thank fuck kark
TA: ii thought you'd be kiilled for 2ure
TA: how on alterniia diid you make iit out aliive
CG: THEY'RE PUTTING ME IN FUCKING WAR SQUAD WITH CAPTAIN BACKSTAB.
CG: SUZACH FILED AN APPEAL HIMSELF, I GUESS HE WANTS EVERYONE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU CROSS NOBILITY.
TA: oh god that'2 even wor2e!
TA: ii2n't war 2quad liike
TA: the one wiith the hiighe2t ca2ualty rate or 2ome 2hiit
CG: YEAH, THEY'RE BASICALLY SUICIDE PATROL.
CG: IF A MISSION'S TOO DANGEROUS TO WASTE REAL SOLDIERS ON, WAR SQUAD GETS SENT IN FIRST.
CG: AND NOW I GUESS I'M ONE OF THEM.
CG: WELL, IF SUZACH WANTS TO SEE ME BEG FOR MY LIFE, HE WON'T GET THE SATISFACTION.
CG: HE WANTS TO MAKE ME AN EXAMPLE? I'LL BE AN EXAMPLE OF SOMEONE TOO BADASS TO GO OUT LIKE A BITCH.
TA: well good luck wiith the whole "not dyiing" thiing buddy
TA: ii've gotta get back two work on crackiing thii2 onii tran2mii22iion
CG: HEY MAN, I'VE GOT NO INTENTION OF DYING.
CG: THERE'S A REASON THEY MADE ME SQUAD LEADER OF PESTILENCE IN THE FIRST PLACE.
CG: I FIGURE IF I KICK ALL ASSES AND TAKE ALL NAMES THEN I'M GOOD TO GO, RIGHT?
CG: NO PROBLEM. HELL, MAYBE THEY'LL MAKE ME SQUAD LEADER AGAIN. I DESTROY ENOUGH DUDES AND THEY'VE GOT TO, NO MATTER WHAT CAPTAIN DOUCHESHITS SAYS.
CG: YEAH, I'VE GOT THIS. NO FUCKING PROBLEM.
CG: ...ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME? I'M KIND OF FREAKING OUT HERE.

-- totalAnnihilation [TA] is an idle troll! --

CG: OH FUCK YOU, CASPARR.
CG: FUCK YOU RIGHT IN YOUR AUDITORY CHANNELS.

-- crimsonGeneral [CG] ceased trolling totalAnnihilation [TA] --

Chapter Text

As he predicted, Karkinos's time in War Squad makes his stint with Pestilence look like a low-level FLARP module.

There are no post-session beatings this time; they aren't necessary, as the attempts to break him down come during the training itself. War Squad is mostly made up of the condemned, the crazy, and those deemed too bloodthirsty for the other squads, which is actually sort of impressive given the kind of work Threshecutioners do. "Sparring", he quickly learns, is actually a sanctioned bloodmatch. Two of his squadmates are killed during his first round of sparring with War Squad, one by his own hand. Captain Suzach barely seems to care. They are replaced the next day with convicts, sentenced to death by proxy via service of this company of lunatics.

Karkinos keeps his head down and his olfactory chambers clean. He will not give anyone reason to doubt he is less than an exemplary soldier. He does not complain, even after feeling his ribcage pop and nearly blacking out. He does not provoke or respond to the threats of his squadmates.

(Most of all, he does not give up.)

----------

The first hint Captain Suzach gets that Karkinos Histrellin will not be broken comes after War Squad's first deployment, when only three soldiers in the unit are left alive, and he is one of them.

The team is dropped directly into the middle of an urban warzone, host to a fierce firefight between enemy forces and a detachment of Archeradicators on an Oni agricultural colony. Four of the dozen soldiers barely have time to exit their dropboxes before being mercilessly gunned down; Karkinos himself takes a grazing shot to his left side that his armor deflects but still stings like hell before he can use the dropbox itself as cover. There are twelve Oni fighters that he can detect, eight of his own fighters left alive after they take cover, and two dozen or more Archeradicators, but the Threshecutioners are using single-shot bolt-action rifles and the Archeradicators are using fucking bows while the Oni have weapons that can spit out a couple dozen bullets per second. Even with the occasional grenade arrow barrage, Alternian forces are severely outgunned here.

(How the hell are we staving off being conquered ourselves, he thinks to himself briefly, before a bullet flies too close to his own head for comfort and his thoughts return to the current situation.)

He carefully peeks around the left corner of the dropbox and spies a nested gunner, distracted with another Threshecutioner target on the far side of the battlefield. Rookie mistake, jackass, Karkinos thinks before pulling his rifle up and squeezing the trigger. A spray of black leaves the exit wound and the Oni slumps to the ground as the constant sound of gunfire falls just slightly quieter.

He moves back into cover just in time to avoid a hail of fire meant to avenge the fallen warrior. He looks to his right and sees another Threshecutioner attempt the same maneuver he just made, and fail spectacularly as his head disintegrates into a cloud of azure gore. Shit.

He taps a sequence into the HUD keypad and gets a satellite feed of the area. Four of the enemy machine gun nests are empty (including the one manned by the lone Oni he gunned down), but four-- no, three remain, as a hail of explosive arrows miraculously finds its mark and takes out another one. Karkinos is trying to plan out a route that will allow him a clear shot at the nearest one and is beginning to work out the particulars when the minimap of the satellite feed is almost entirely eclipsed by... something.

When the shadow passes over the area, Karkinos's first thought is that an Alternian dropship has sent reinforcements and that the tide of battle is about to turn in his favor. Safe for now behind the dropbox he's using for cover, he glances upward and curses his luck.

That's not an Alternian dropship. Whatever it's deploying, they're not dropboxes used by any unit he knows of. And those are most definitely not trolls stepping out of them.

He is forced from his position of relative safety and dives behind a concrete wall to put an obstacle between him and the nearest enemy. He wonders if the Oni soldier will try rounding the corner to get to him when he hears a crackling noise above him. He looks up to find a section of concrete warping before turning red hot and melting away.

(Energy weapons? Jegus fuck, did intel ever drop the ball on this one.)

A voice cries out on the other side of the wall. "Surprise, you ugly motherfagggghhhh!!" it screams as the Oni's laser rifle boils away the troll's body armor before cooking his internal organs inside him, killing him quickly. It's all the time Karkinos needs to round the corner and put a round in his opponent. He misses, striking the weapon instead. The Oni soldier is unhurt, but it throws aside its now useless weapon and charges Karkinos. He lines up the sights on his rifle, pulls the trigger,

click.

FUCK. He drops his empty rifle and tries to pull his sickle out of his strife specibus but nothing materializes in his hand except a cloud of sparks. Doesn't R&D ever test this shit before sending it to the field?! This is not the first time his specibus has jammed, but before he's able to clear it, a very swiftly charging and very pissed-off Oni soldier tackles him to the ground.

Karkinos rolls right, fighting for dominance. He winds up on top for a moment, and a sledgehammer blow to the cranium stuns the enemy enough for him to draw the sheathed sickle strapped to his back (always keep a spare), but not long enough to keep his opponent from fighting back before a fatal blow can be struck. Another roll and the Oni is atop him, chitinous fists slamming into the side of his face. He instinctively puts his hands up to guard and the sickle is knocked from his hand. Karkinos grapples with his opponent and manages to push it off him. He crawls toward the sickle and just barely reaches it before the enemy soldier mounts his back and begins throwing punches aimed directly at Karkinos's think pan. He twists hard to throw the Oni off him and right himself, brings the sickle round, and buries it into the side of the thing's head.

It dies, mandibles clicking irregularly as black ichor seeps from its head wound. Karkinos gives the corpse a good punt to the midsection for good measure before retrieving his weapons and reloading his rifle.

("War Squad, grubfucker! Tell your friends!")

A voice sounds over the comms channel. New orders: the Archeradicators are to evacuate to the field hospital, and what's left of War Squad is to cover their escape, then evacuate themselves.

One problem: War Squad is two guys right now. Everyone else was killed in the firefight-- wait. One of the life sensors in the squad roster blinks on and off irregularly. Someone else is still alive, but might not be for long.

-- warSix [W6] began hailing warNine [W9] --

W6: HEY, YOU STILL ALIVE, MAN?
W6: WE GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.
W6: WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?
W9: fffuck that, man
W9: llleave me behind
W9: iii'm not gonna make it, i'll just slow you down
W6: THE ONLY ONES LEFT ALIVE ARE ME, YOU AND W11.
W6: THAT SENIORITY MAKES ME ACTING SQUAD LEADER IN THE EVENT OF THE SL'S DEATH, AND I'M ORDERING YOU TO SEND ME YOUR COORDINATES SO I CAN GET YOU.
W9: gggod fine here but don't do it
W9: yyyou gotta get out of here

warNine's [W9] current location (relative): 15.934 N, 25.483 E, elevation -3.402.

W6: OKAY, THAT'S NOT FAR. HOLD ON, I'M GETTING YOU OUT OF THERE.

-- warSix [W6] closed communications with warNine [W9] --

Karkinos finds him in the cellar of a shack not too far from where he wrestled with an Oni soldier, miraculously away from the main battle, though if any enemies were to come through here he'd be a sitting waterfowl because of the cerulean trail he's left behind. The wounded soldier is bleeding heavily from wounds in his chest, stomach, both arms and his left leg. Without immediate medical attention, he'll bleed out soon. Karkinos takes a roll of gauze from a pouch on his belt (after his strife specibus has jammed so many times, he doesn't trust a newfangled sylladex to hold something as important as first-aid supplies) and dresses the wounded man's injuries as best he can, but it's only a stopgap measure, and he's still doomed without more professional care.

Karkinos props him up on his shoulder, punches a sequence into his helmet and overlays a map onto his HUD. There's a route they can take that shouldn't cross any more enemy encampments, but it's longer and they'll have to leave immediately if his squadmate is to survive the trip.

"Can you walk?"

"M-m-my head's spinning a bit and my other leg's no good but I think I can do it like this."

"Alright, let's get the hell out of here. Come on."

----------

Shortly before rejoining the Archeradicators and the third surviving member of War Squad, the injured soldier starts slowing down, then nearly collapses. Karkinos strikes up a conversation with him to keep him lucid.

"Come on buddy, we gotta get you to the field hospital. Stay up."

"I'm not gonna make it man, fucking leave me here and go!"

"Fuck that, I said. You got a name, kid?"

"P-p-private Grubson, sir."

"What's a kid like you doing with a bunch of bloodthirsty rejects like War Squad?"

"I don't... I don't--"

"Stay with me! What are you doing in War Squad?"

"Th-th-they said I was no good followin' directions, so they put me here. Guess they were right, I charged a goddamn gun nest and look where that got me." He tries to force a half-chuckle but only manages to cough up more blood.

"Come on man, keep it together, it's not far now. We're gonna make it, stay with me. Tell me, you got anyone special back home?"

"W-what?"

"Got a quadrant filled, rookie? You got someone waiting for you back on Alternia after your mandatories are done?"

"...y-yeah."

"Tell me about 'em."

"I-I-I got a kismesis, back home. Tall, scrawny bastard."

"Yeah? What's he like?"

"I-I remember the day we went obsidian. It was fucking magic, man, and he was such a bulge about it. The way his knuckles felt against my jaw, that snarl he spoke in that he thought sounded menacing but just makes him sound like a huge tool... Christ, what an asshole."

"Sounds like you got a nice little blackrom, then. Fuck, come on, we're almost there."

"I'm not gonna m-make it, sir. Tell him... tell him I hate him for me, will you?" He goes silent as he falls unconscious.

"Fuck that, you can tell him yourself when you get home! You die here, you're gonna make that douchebag of yours happy, you don't want that, do you?! Fucking wake up!" No response. "Goddamnit!" Karkinos slings his unconscious form over his shoulder and peers into the horizon; he can just barely make out the tents of the field hospital.

After a walk in double-time, Karkinos stumbles into the nearest tent. "Need a doctor here!" he shouts. He turns to the only other occupant of the tent and is a little surprised when he recognizes her.

"No fuckin' way. Small galaxy, huh?"

"I cannot say I was expecting to see you alive again, Karkinos."

----------

As it turns out, Avir graduated from medical training around the time of Karkinos's incarceration and became a field medicrusher, currently serving on this front in the campaign against the Oni. She didn't know of his... reassignment to War Squad, just that he had stopped contacting her, and she had assumed the worst when she had learned of the charges against him.

He asks her as she tends to the wounded soldier's injuries, "Is he gonna be okay? The guy's got more damn bullets in him than my rifle holds."

"He lost a lot of blood but we have plenty of artificial cerulean for transfusions. He'll need rest and I'll have to get a surgeonihillator to remove the bullets, but for now, I think he's stable." Karkinos breathes a sigh of relief, the kid's gonna make it after all.

He's about to ask her how she's been, as he's got that sort-of-friends, sort-of-pale affection for her that can really only develop between someone who gets beat up daily and the person who keeps bandaging him up, when a familiar rumbling is heard overhead. He thinks he knows what it is and readies his rifle.

"Fuck, not again, not here!"

Karkinos steps outside the tent, looks to the sky and confirms his suspicions; somehow, another Oni dropship managed to get past the anti-air guns and is approaching at high speeds. It drops its payload without even slowing down, black metal dropboxes slamming into the ground at various points outside and within the hospital camp.

"What's happening, Karkinos?"

"Oni drop troopers, at least a dozen. Fuck, I'll be right back, command's telling all fighters to meet up for the defense."

"Before you go, toss me that key." Avir gestures to the table by the tent's entrance.

"The fuck you need that for?"

"Just grab the second one from the left and throw it here." He does so and is kind of dumbfounded when she takes it in her right hand, flicks her wrist, and it transforms into a pistol.

"...how the hell did you do that?"

"Hidden strife specibus, all the medical staff gets one as a surprise measure in case something like this happens. Nothing happens to one of my patients without a fight."

"Bullshit, you're supposed to be saving lives, not ending them. Didn't they make you take an oath or something?"

"Of course. 'Above all else, do no harm, unless they're really asking for it.' Why?"

"...Nothing. I'm out, see you later, Avir."

"Until then, Karkinos."

----------

It's over so quickly that Karkinos wonders why the Oni even bothered wasting soldiers on it.

Initially, the idea that they could drop troops in the middle of the field hospital with apparent impunity is disconcerting. The Oni, he has learned, is one of the very few races trollkind has encountered that have no qualms with attacking medical recovery areas. What they weren't counting on, however, is that the Trolls are one of the very few races in the galaxy that have no problem with making their medics into capable fighters. When even the anesthesiattacker has a pistol and can put a bullet between a target's eyes from 50 yards, and the field hospital is swarming with medical staff, well, any enemy intruders don't last long.

He returns to Avir's tent after the attackers are dealt with. Black splotches her forest-green medicrusher uniform; apparently she had a run-in with an enemy combatant but made short work of it. The private is still out of it but unharmed in the assault. All there is to do now is wait for evac, which won't come for another ten hours, according to the AltARPAnet memo displayed on his HUD.

Avir rolls out a cot for him, the only other one not occupied by an injured squadmate, but he refuses. "Hell no, Avir, I won't have you sleeping on the fucking ground. You take the cot, I'll be fine on the ground." She insists, he's the one who fought hard today and survived not one but two battles, not to mention the wounded man he dragged over here, but he won't have any of it.

("Maybe I should have taken the fucking cot," he thinks, before he finally falls asleep an hour later.)

----------

TA: hahaha, ii bet the captaiin wa2 furiiou2!!
CG: SHIT YES, HE WAS. THE BEST PART IS THAT THERE'S NOTHING HE CAN DO ABOUT IT.
CG: ANYONE WHO SURVIVES A BATTLE THAT KILLS MORE THAN HALF THEIR SQUAD AUTOMATICALLY GETS THE SILVER SKULL.
CG: AND AVIR'S MAKING SURE I GET THE CRIMSON CROSS FOR SAVING THAT GUY, BECAUSE SUZACH HAS NO JURISDICTION OVER THE MEDICINAL GUILD.
CG: ANY ORDERS I GAVE WERE PERFECTLY LEGAL. THE SL WAS DEAD, SUZACH WASN'T PLANETSIDE AND I WAS THE SENIOR SURVIVOR, SO TECHNICALLY I WAS SQUAD LEADER UNTIL I SET FOOT ON THE SHIP AGAIN.
CG: I BET THAT NOOKSUCKER CAN'T STAND IT, FUCKING GREENBLOOD HERE *STILL* SHOWING THE BLUE ASSHOLES HOW IT'S DONE.
CG: WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY NEXT QUESTION: OUR WEAPONS FUCKING SUCK.
CG: SERIOUSLY, BOLT-ACTION RIFLES? FUCKING BOWS???
CG: THEY'VE GOT MACHINE GUNS AND LASER RIFLES.
CG: YOU GOT MOVED TO R&D NOT LONG AGO, WHAT GIVES?
TA: well ii work mo2tly with fetch modii and the trolliian team 2o ii don't know everythiing, but here'2 what ii DO know.
TA: two be hone2t, the onii are probably the mo2t advanced ciiviilii2atiion we've fought.
TA: they never fiigured out ftl travel untiil 2ome bumblefuck iin hiigh command pretty much let them hiijack one of our cruii2er2, and they 2pent all theiir tiime on theiir home planet fiightiing each other.
TA: 2o they uniited when we attacked, and centuriie2 of ciiviil war meant they had 2ome kiicka22 weaponry developed.
TA: we've actually 2tarted rever2e-engiineeriing their la2er-ba2ed weapon2 at the lab2 back on alterniia, but ii heard the fiir2t prototype wa2 2tolen iin a raiid.
CG: DAMN, SERIOUSLY? WAIT, FUCK, A RAID?
CG: YOU DON'T THINK IT WAS...
TA: the marquii2e? doubt iit, 2he would have kiilled everyone iin the faciiliity and burned iit two the ground for the hell of iit.
TA: no, iit had two have been one of her goon2, probably that one douchebag riidiing her coattaiil2.
TA: fuck, the encryptermiinator2 caught another enemy tran2mii2iion they want me two take a look at
TA: gotta go kark, glad you diidn't get your a22 handed two you!
CG: HAHA, TRY NOT TO GET CARPAL TUNNEL, CODE JOCKEY.

-- totalAnnihilation [TA] ceased trolling crimsonGeneral [CG] --

Chapter Text

(Meanwhile.)

It's been over a perigree since Karkinos was awarded the Silver Skull for outliving most of his squad, the Crimson Cross for preservation of life, and the Cobalt Sickle for outstanding valor in battle. None of that really matters to him while he's being pinned down by enemy forces, though.

Fuckin' Oni nooksuckers, he thinks to himself as he takes cover behind the sandbags and reloads his rifle. The stream of machine gun fire crashes into the barrier, thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk as dirt and other debris sprays over the sandbag wall.

Such is life in War Squad.

Karkinos checks his HUD's satellite feed. His position is occupied by two machine gun nests and Oni reinforcements are on the way. He carefully peeks around the corner of the defensive wall to check the enemy's activity, palming one of his grenade grubs before calculating distance and trajectory. The explosive is hurled over the barrier, landing with a wet thud next to the enemy gunner.

It never knew what hit it.

New orders on the HUD: flank the remaining gun nest, take out the gunner, then capture the weapons and use them to ward off the incoming reinforcements. Karkinos is to serve as the decoy while the rest of War Squad surrounds the nest.

He zigzags in and out of cover to keep the enemy's attention, firing back when he can. He's taking aim and thinking maybe he can end it here when three bullets slam into his chest. He stumbles backwards and another shot hits his shoulder before he regains the presence of mind to duck back into cover.

His armor kept the bullets from penetrating and doing and permanent damage, but it doesn't do anything for the pain, and taking a few rounds to the chest is no picnic, even for a troll's levels of pain tolerance. Karkinos has to stop for a while to catch his breath.

Wait, shit, there's no time.

("Shoulder that rifle and get your ass back in the game, soldier," he thinks to himself as he struggles to breathe and stop his vision from blurring with every beat of his cardiovascular pump.)

He aligns his crosshairs with the center mass of the Oni gunner and pulls the trigger. The round goes wild, completely missing the mark as another spray of bullets collides with his torso, staggering him again.

This time, he can't take it. Hot iron embedded in armor sears his flesh and the impact of taking that many rounds to the chest has left him unable to breathe. His vision blurs, then darkens as he falls to his knees.

The last thing he sees, before his sight goes dark and he falls into unconsciousness, is a spray of black leaving the head of his assailant.

("At least they made it," is the last thought on his mind before he slumps to the ground.)

----------

He awakens to the sound of continuous gunfire in front of him. He opens his eyes to find a fellow troll (another Threshecutioner, though not of War Squad, judging from the markings on his armor) manning an Oni machine gun.

A hand reaches out to him. He takes it as it helps him to his feet.

"Sir! Good to see you're lucid again!" A familiar voice, a familiar face.

"Chiron." It's good to meet up with someone who'd rather not see him dead for once, even if it is this sweaty tool. He's still sore and hurting but he's most likely got a job to do. "Gimme a sitrep, what's happening?"

"We lost contact with the home ship approximately thirty minutes ago, sir. A ludicrous amount of enemy reinforcements are en route. We've commandeered a few Oni machine guns for use in the defense but we need every soldier capable of firing a weapon. We don't know what command wants us to do because of the blackout, but when there are no standing orders--"

"Hold the line," Karkinos interrupts. "I know. I used to be a Squad Leader, remember?"

"Your fall was... unfortunate, sir. But I've seen you fight, and you earned those medals. I've no doubt in your abilities, sir."

"Stop calling me sir."

"Y-y-yes, sir! Sorry, sir!" Alcaeus snaps to a salute as Karkinos slaps his own forehead.

"Here, set this up next to mine." Alcaeus hands him what appears to be a folded Oni machine gun turret. He takes it and nearly drops it at first; he was not prepared for something Alcaeus had no trouble holding in one hand to weigh so goddamned much.

He carries (more like drags, actually) the weapon to his spot, glad he doesn't have to carry it further than a few standard units, and sets it up. Unfold the tripod mount's legs, point it west, lift the gun holy son of a grubfuck this thing is heavy, flip the tab, bolt it down, and we're good to go.

Alcaeus hands the last mounted gun to another Threshecutioner and is silent for a minute. Then...

"So, what brings you to the Threshecutioners, sir?"

"Excuse me, what?" Karkinos replies. He's not used to anyone asking about his background.

"You know, why are you here? My mor--- a good friend of mine is a greenblood, too, and she's wanting to get into the Infilterrorizers one day. Why not take spec ops training, sir?"

"Threshecutioners are the best of the best. The baddest of the bad. Nobody messes with a Threshecutioner. I guess... I guess that's it. I wanted to see if I could hack it." That's probably the most honest Karkinos has been with anyone, including himself, about his chosen field.

"Ah, the eternal struggle of troll versus self. An admirable goal, sir."

"So, what about you?" Karkinos asks. "You look more like a Ruffiannihilator than a Threshecutioner."

"Funny story," Alcaeus replies. "I originally signed up as an Archeradicator. I didn't last a day in training. Kept breaking the bows." He looses a hearty laugh as sweat visibly forms on his forehead.

"So they sent you somewhere where you could use that muscle productively?"

"Yes, to the Ruffiannihilators, at first. But they felt my natural strength was being wasted there, so I became a Threshecutioner, where I'd see more action on the front lines. But even here I kept snapping my rifle and shattering my sickle. So I fight barehanded most of the time."

"You don't have a gun?"

"I assure you, sir, I am quite well-armed." Alcaeus laughs again as he pulls the monstrosity of a weapon out of his strife specibus. It weighs more than most trolls. It's capable of spitting out more than 50 rounds per second.

(It's a goddamn minigun.)

Karkinos stares at it for a bit. "No fuckin' way. That's the main gun on most aircraft. There's no way you can wield that by yourself."

Alcaeus just laughs at him. "You'll see, sir. You'll see."

----------

The Oni come at the encampment in waves. At first, they are easy to pick off.

Then he hears the all-too-familiar whistle above him. He looks up and yes, enemy drop boxes are inbound, behind the defensive line. Alcaeus's voice is heard on the comm: "Famine Squad, repel the droppers! All others, hold the line!"

Karkinos can hear the drop boxes slam into the ground behind him. Alcaeus revs up his minigun and perforates the first box before its occupant can even exit.

How the hell Alcaeus manages to lift the damn thing, let alone handle the recoil, is beyond him.

He keeps the turret trained on the incoming ground forces advancing on his position. They are steadily gaining ground by sheer numbers; there are too many Oni to simply mow them down. But with communications with command being cut off, reinforcements or bombardments can't be called in.

It's up to them to handle the situation.

One. Two. Five. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. Karkinos keeps knocking down enemy soldiers but they just keep coming. How many of these grubfuckers did they send? Every minute that passes sees them push further and further ahead, the Threshecutioners losing more and more ground.

Finally, a crackle, and a voice on the comms channel. "This is Captain Suzach, status report!" The blackout is finally over.

Alcaeus responds, "Squad Leader Chiron here, requesting backup! There's too many of 'em, sir! We're losing ground, we're going to be overran!"

"I read you loud and clear. Sending support. Suzach out."

For fifteen harrowing minutes, things look increasingly dire. Bodies of Threshecutioners on the front lines fall to the ground intermittently as Oni soldiers approach their position. Supressing fire does nothing to stem the tide, the inexorable flood of enemy troops. Karkinos himself narrowly avoids death as a round narrowly misses his head and another grazes his helmet, leaving a ringing in his auditory channels.

At some point, the nightmare simply ends. It's a blur in his memory; the streak of Alternian aircraft, the dropping of payloads, the Oni scattered by falling bombs. A few manage to cross the perimeter. Karkinos cuts one down with his sickle after being tackled to the ground. Alcaeus snaps another's neck with his bare hands.

He doesn't remember much else about the battle, and his next clear memory is lying in the infirmary, being treated for three bruised ribs.

An hour later, he's back in his respiteblock, in his recuperacoon, asleep.

----------

Karkinos awakes to the sound of his husktop beeping.

-- centurionTechnician [CT] began trolling crimsonGeneral [CG] --
CT: []== E%ellent work today sir
CT: []== I am also most pleased you were not injured seriously during the Oni's final push
CT: []== This is Alcaeus Chiron by the way sir
CT: []== Good fighting today
CT: []== You are a credit to greenb100ds everywhere
CT: []== Oh fiddlesti%
CT: []== I hope that didn't sound condescending
CT: []== Where did I put that blasted towel

-- centurionTechnician [CT] is an idle troll! --

After checking the message, Karkinos remembers it's been a while since his last injection of hemoshift. He pulls out the box tucked under his recuperacoon to get the ingredients needed to synthesize it ready.

He opens it to find nothing. The raw materials, the empty syringes, the sterilizing kit, none of it remains. Just an empty box.

He pulls a chair under a certain ceiling tile and pushes it out of the way, feeling around in the darkness. He breathes a sigh of relief as he finds one of the three emergency doses stashed away. He replaces the tile and injects the chemical cocktail into his forearm.

But this is no time to relax. Someone knows his secret, or knows enough about it to unnerve him. If they knew about the hidden stash of chemicals under the recuperacoon, why not check in the ceiling for further contraband? If he's suspected of lying about his blood color, why hasn't he been brought in? Does command even know about hemoshift? And who broke into his respiteblock, anyway, and how did they know what to look for, and where to find it?

(That lack of action against him, he thinks, is what unnerves him most.)

Chapter Text

The third week is when he starts panicking.

Karkinos's continued existence as a Threshecutioner is based on a grand lie, but it is a lie that he has been able to keep up until very recently. Acquiring the ingredients for hemoshift has never been easy or cheap; he has to order materials from different vendors (and the occasional smuggler) every time, under different names, in different quantities and alongside other chemicals he doesn't need to deflect suspicion.

But around the time his respiteblock was raided, coming by the materials for hemoshift has proven impossible. Packages arrive minus the key ingredients, or not at all. One by one, his black market contacts go dark.

Someone's fucking with him, and it's starting to piss him off.

----------

He's getting desperate. One final dose of hemoshift stashed in the ceiling is all he has left, and it's been over a week since his last injection. He's already pushing it, he's certain his blood has already taken a visibly orange tone, and he's due to be medically cleared for the battlefield again within the next few days.

He doesn't have much choice. Karkinos makes the decision to use the last of the drug.

He pulls up the chair and pushes aside the tile, as he's done countless times. He feels around in the darkness for the syringe and is mildly annoyed when he doesn't find it. He moves his desk over to get some additional height, in order to look for it. The possibility exists that he simply pushed it away the last time he accessed his hemoshift stores.

He's not expecting to meet the gaze of a red-eyed grinning intruder.

(He only gets as far as "What the f--" before his head strikes the ground and all is dark.)

----------

He wakes up in his own respiteblock, lying prone against the wall, arms restrained behind his back and tired of being on the receiving end of head injuries. He expends the effort to at least right himself and sit up, back to the wall, and notices the figure in front of him.

She's about his height, lean, shoulder-length hair and pointed horns, blood somewhere between blue and green if her outfit is any indication. She sports a pair of round, bright red glasses that he thinks maybe he's seen somewhere before, but it doesn't matter because it clicks that this was the person who attacked him.

"The fuck is this about?" he asks her.

"Mr. Histrellin. You put up less of a fight than I anticipated."

"Maybe if you didn't hide in my fucking ceiling and ambush me, I would have stood a chance, you crazy bitch. The hell is this about? You my secret loather or something? I gotta say, I probably have better blackrom prospects than you, lady."

She groans at the suggestion. "Typical Threshecutioner, always thinking with your bulge. No, I assure you, this is strictly business. I presume you were looking for this?" Her hand reaches inside her overcoat and pulls out a syringe.

Karkinos's poker face breaks, but only for an instant. "The fuck is that?"

"Don't play stupid with me, I know hemoshift when I see it."

"Hemo-what? Are you some kind of drug cop?"

"Hemoshift. It's a drug lowbloods use to push themselves up the spectrum, but I'm sure you're well aware of that already. I've seen it a few times in my line of work. The question is, what was it doing in your respiteblock?"

She paces as she continues. "I've been watching you, Histrellin. Investigating. You're obviously making it yourself, judging from the fact that I found the equipment and ingredients in here."

"Then you also know I had all kinds of other shit in here, too. Chemistry's been a hobby of mine since I was a youngling," he lies. "Doesn't mean I'm slinging shit."

"Maybe. But even so, nothing's disappearing at the rate of hemoshift ingredients, which suggests a correlation." She sees right through his bullshit. "Moving on, I don't think you're dealing. Your spending habits aren't changing, you live on a fixed amount of scarabs and you don't make extravagant purchases."

She leans in, closer to his face, and gives him a toothy, unsettling grin. "No. I think you're using. So what's your true color? Mustard? Rust? Maroon?"

He shoots her a death glare that only serves to make her cackle at him. "Did I guess right? What shade of red do you bleed, Histrellin? Crimes against the hemospectrum will end with you getting culled, guaranteed, lowblood."

He's about to spit in her face when the ship is rocked by some sort of collision or explosion, forceful enough to knock the interrogator off-balance.

"The hell was that?" Almost in response, klaxons sound throughout the ship as the call comes over the PA system.

(Attention, all crew: Code 19 is in effect, I repeat, Code 19 is in effect.)

Karkinos's eyes shoot wide open. His captor isn't sure what's going on.

"What's Code 19?" she asks.

"...We're being boarded," he replies without looking at her.

"Boarded?"

"By the Oni, moron. We won't stand a chance if I'm restrained like this. You've gotta undo the cuffs or we're both as good as dead."

"Like hell I am!"

"Have you even seen an Oni up close? They're tough as nails and they'll kill you without a second fucking thought. I've fought these bastards for almost an entire sweep. Undo the cuffs, or we're both gonna die."

"And let you get away? No, I'm not fucking up this one."

"Where the hell am I going to go? If there's a warrant for my arrest, where exactly on an Empire-controlled ship am I going to escape to?"

"You are my prisoner and my mission is to escort you to the captain. Nothing will stand in my way, and I'm sure as hell not going to give you a chance to escape!"

"Suzach." His voice drops to a low growl as the name runs by his tongue. "I should have fucking known."

She steps over him and leans down to his level. "You know the captain?"

"Shit, know him? He's my fucking Squad Leader, and the bastard's had it out for me since day fucking one. That nooksniffer doesn't give a shit about me kicking the ass of every Oni I've crossed paths with, he only gives a shit that I bleed green among the bluebloods."

"But you don't have green blood, do you."

He glares daggers at her again, but it does nothing to wipe that infuring grin off her face. But that's okay, Karkinos thinks to himself. His face falls into a smirk.

"You know, lady, you're a pain. Leaving my hands tied like this and continuing the interrogation, even knowing the Oni are on board. I guess that makes you good at your job."

"I pride myself on my work, Histrellin."

"Yeah, you're a real piece of work, alright. Just one problem."

She makes a puzzled expression at him as she asks, "Oh? And what's that?"

He imitates her sharktoothed grin as he says, "You forgot to restrain my legs."

For an all-too-brief instant, she realizes what he means; she doesn't have enough time to respond to it before he twists his body, lowers his torso and brings his leg round, sending it crashing into the side of her head. Her body falls to the ground with a thud as her glasses, twisted and broken from the force of the kick, clatter across the respiteblock.

He makes his way to his feet, a bit shaky but he manages. There's only one troll on the ship who he thinks could get him out of this predicament and not ask too many questions.

----------

"You want me to what?"

"Use your fucking heat vision or whatever freaky power you've got and break me out of these handcuffs."

Casparr shakes his head. "Firtht of all, you colothhal bulge," he says as he waves one hand over Karkinos's left handcuff, "I don't have heat vithion. Nobody doeth, it'd fucking burn out your eyeth the firtht time you uthed it. It'th a concuthhive forthe."

"So... you shoot punches from your eyes?"

"That'th the thtupidetht way I've ever heard it put, but thure, we'll go with that if you underthtand it. And thecond," he continues as his hands start glowing blue and red, "if I uthed it to break thothe rethtrainth, they'd pulverithe your handth into a fine green mitht."

Casparr pulls his glowing hands apart, and the chain linking the restraints snaps, freeing Karkinos. "Nah, in thith cathe, telekinethith will more than thuffithe."

That doesn't get rid of the cuffs themselves, which are still plainly visible over his uniform's sleeves, but at least his hands are free to use a weapon, should they meet with an Oni infiltration team.

"Tho... why were you in cuffth?"

"Suzach hired some fucking cop to snoop around and bring me in for 'crimes against the hemospectrum' or some shit. First chance I got, I kicked her in the face and ran."

"...Goddamnit, Kark." Casparr starts pacing around his respiteblock. "Thith ith thome pretty theriouth thhit. Are you lying about your blood?"

"No, I'm fucking not," he lies. "But it sounds like Suzach just wants to nail me on some trumped-up charge to get me out of the Threshecutioners." Not even his best friend knows his true blood color.

Casparr shrugs at him. "I guethh tho. Fucking guy'th a bigot, through and through, I know that much. Only met him onthe, fucking nookthucker wouldn't even thhake my fucking hand. Looked at me like I wath thome kinda freak." He reaches for a jar of pellets stored on one of his shelves.

"What are those?"

"Inthectithide. If the boarderth aren't repelled thoon, it'th up to me to douthe the mainframe hiveth with it."

"Damn, you think they'll enact the Protocol?"

"Fuck if I know. Gotta be prepared for the wortht, though, right?"

"Well, I'm off, then. I gotta get to the bottom of this."

"Thhiiiiit, Kark, you thinkin' of takin' Thuthach on? What fucking good ith that gonna do?"

"No, gonna snoop around his quarters, see what I can find. But I don't intend on going down without a fight, if it comes down to that. Here's hoping I see you again after this, bro." He drapes his rifle across his shoulders and holds his arm out for a fist bump. Instead of returning it, Casparr hands him some kind of data module.

"Ithebreaker. It'll fill the lock to hith rethpiteblock with junk data, overload it, and that thhould open the door. It'th only good for one uthe, though. You didn't get it from me, by the way."

"Heh. Thanks." Karkinos pockets it and leaves.

("Good luck, buddy," he mutters to himself, before Karkinos leaves his respiteblock.)

----------

The lone Oni he runs into on his way to Suzach's quarters never saw him coming. One round to the back of the head puts it down for good. Karkinos thinks most of the fighting must be contained to the other side of the ship, otherwise he'd encounter more resistance.

He arrives and the door's locked, just as he imagined it'd be. It's no problem for Casparr's icebreaker, though. He plugs it into the port usually reserved for the digital key, then lets it do its work. The door slides open within the minute.

It doesn't take him long to find what he's looking for, hiding among other papers. It's an official request form for the Guild of Bounty Hunterminators. It seems Suzach used his position to put a bounty on Karkinos's head, marking him as a wanted troll. There'll be no escape unless he can get the bounty cancelled somehow.

But how?

That thought is cut short when Karkinos hears the sound of approaching footsteps, followed shortly by someone standing in the doorway.

"Histrellin. Should have known it was you. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down, at least!" Suzach taunts, before drawing his handgun.

----------

Meanwhile, in Karkinos's respiteblock, the KO'd hunter stirs. She stands shakily to her feet, trying to get a bearing on time and location.

Oh. Right. The target kicked me in the side of the head, she thinks to herself.

She notices her broken glasses lying on the floor, lenses cracked and frame twisted. Goddamnit, these were my favorites. She pulls another pair, these more pointed than the last, as well as a wireless earpiece from the inside of her overcoat. She attaches it to her ear, then presses the transmitter.

"Byakka, this is Aitris. The target kicked me in the face, then got away. Knocked my ass out cold."

The voice on the other end of the line replies, "That's no good. Any idea where he went?"

"He mentioned something about the captain being his Squad Leader. Seems they have a history together, and not a good one."

"Think he went to confront him?"

"It's a possibility, and we don't have any other leads at the moment. I'm going to the captain's quarters. Aitris out."

"Good luck, Aitris! Byakka out!"

----------

Karkinos uses the opening left by Suzach while he reloads his pistol to reload his own weapon. He tries to peer around the overturned table he's using for cover but a trio of shots sends him back behind it.

Getting out of this is going to be tough. Suzach has the advantage in both firing and reloading speed, and that pistol weighs a lot less than Karkinos's rifle so he's quicker on the draw, too. He's going to have to get inside Suzach's head if he's going to win this one.

"Hey, Captain! What's the deal with sending a goddamn bounty hunter after me?"

"You're an affront to the hemospectrum," he responds as he peers around the doorway, trying to get an angle on Karkinos. "I don't know what foul hue is your true color, but you don't belong in the ranks of the Threshecutioners. I will see you purged!"

In one quick motion, Karkinos moves out of hiding and takes a shot, narrowly missing Suzach as he scrambles for cover again. "Yeah, yeah, something about drugs. I wasn't paying attention before I KO'd her but I think we both know they were planted," he bluffs.

"You lie, scumblood. I found them once during your trial, and the hunter rediscovered them during her investigation."

"You know what I think, Suzach?" Karkinos asks as he reloads to replace the one shot he's fired. "I think you're letting your completely obvious hatebulge for me get the better of you. You know romance of any kind between soldiers except for ashen is against the rules, right? Shit's downright unprofessional."

That did it. Suzach charges at him in a rage during what he thinks is an opening.

Unfortunately for Suzach, Karkinos finishes reloading his weapon before he anticipated. He takes a shot, hitting Suzach in the shoulder and making him drop his pistol.

Unfortunately for Karkinos, that doesn't stop him, not from charging and not from drawing his sickle and knocking the rifle from his hands.

Karkinos draws his own sickle in time to parry Suzach's follow-up. Suzach pushes off him and ducks the counter-attack, but not the foot sweep. He brings his weapon up to block Karkinos's in time, then kicks him away, giving him time to return to his feet. Karkinos charges him again, nicking the arm as blue seeps into Suzach's sleeve. Suzach brings his sickle around again, but Karkinos jumps back to dodge.

Karkinos is about to follow up with another assault when a voice shouts "Freeze!" from the doorway. Both men look at the source of the command to find the bounty hunter who tried to capture Karkinos earlier, pointing her handgun at him. He drops his sickle and it clatters to the ground as Suzach laughs.

"And now the tables have turned. Well? What are you waiting for? Shoot him!"

She shakes her head. "Orders were to bring him in alive."

"What do you think is going to happen to him? He's going to be culled once it's all over. Might as well execute the scumblood now!"

And there's that word. Scumblood. She turns it over in her mind.

"You're going to be killed for this, Histrellin. For defying the hemospectrum, and for attacking a superior officer."

"For attacking a-- you fired at me first!"

"I had to. You were snooping around in my quarters. Doing what? Maybe you're a traitor, too. Maybe you're selling secrets to the Oni, and it was up to Captain Vermille Suzach to stop you."

"That's bullshit and you know it! I've done nothing but fight for Alternia since day fucking one and you've done nothing but give me shit for it!"

"I can't have your filthy sludge polluting my Threshecutioners. One way or another, I will have you purged!"

A trio of gunshots ring out. Karkinos opens his eyes, and is surprised to find the hunter pointing her still-smoking gun at Suzach, who has fallen to one knee, clutching his stomach. Rivulets of azure stream down his arm and droplets fall to the floor as he gasps for breath.

Slowly, the hunter makes her way to him, gun trained on him all the while. "It's become clear to me now, Captain. Something felt off about this assignment ever since I got here, and now I know why. You seemed too eager for me to bring him in. It was less like I was bringing in a criminal and more like I was doing you a favor. But I get it now."

She places the pistol against his forehead as he kneels. "This isn't a case of wrongdoing, is it, Captain? He hasn't broken any laws at all, has he?!"

"There were ingredients for the blood color-changing drug in his respiteblock. You said you found them yourself."

"They're common chemicals found damn near everywhere, and he's a fucking chemist by trade, which you would have figured out if you'd done any goddamn research for yourself!" Karkinos tries his hardest not to flinch at that; she really bought it? He hadn't been expecting that. "But no, you didn't, did you? That was part of your plan, wasn't it? To stay ignorant so you could say you didn't know if it were ever brought up!"

She pulls the gun away, only long enough to cock it before returning it to Suzach's head. "No, this wasn't me bringing in a bounty and catching a criminal. This was me doing your dirty work for you. This was personal. If you wanted a contract killing, you should have hired a Mercenerator, or a Laughssassin, not a Bounty Hunterminator. This is a gross misuse of empire funds. Do you know how much it costs to outfit a hunter? Not to mention the costs of covert operations and the fact that the bounty itself is paid out by the empire! But hiring a Laughssassin wouldn't have looked good on you, would it? No, people might start saying you really did have it out for this guy. That your blood prejudice was blinding you to the truth, that he really does have the skills his record says he has and you were just holding him back because he's a greenblood. You had to make him out to be a criminal on some made-up charge so you could have him taken out, and no one would have asked any questions."

She sighs before continuing. "Do you know what the penalty is for using government funding to contract a Bounty Hunterminator to settle a personal grudge, Captain?"

BLAM

"Culling. Immediate, to be carried out by the contracted hunter, if at all possible," she answers, as Suzach's lifeless body slumps to the floor.

Karkinos just stares wide-eyed. Did... did she just execute the captain?!

"Hey, I hate to bother you in the middle of fucking courtblock sentencing and all, but in case you've forgotten, there are still enemy goddamn troops on board just waiting to kill our asses! And you just culled the leader of the entire outfit here!"

"I thought you couldn't stand the guy," she replies as she takes a key from her pocket and undoes his broken handcuffs.

"Hated the shit out of him in the most platonic way possible. But who's going to call the shots now?" He snorts at her. "And on top of that, there's still the matter of the warrant out for my arrest."

"Hold on, I'll take care of it." She pulls a transceiver from her overcoat. "Chief? It's me, the Histrellin bounty is a no-go. Fucking guy thinks the Guild is his own personal army of hitmen, or he did, anyway. Yeah, took care of it myself. Just clear his file, I don't see wrongdoing here. Aitris out."

He glares at her. "Like hell you're giving up that easy."

"Listen, Histrellin, let me lay it down for you. The hemospectrum is bullshit. It's institutionalized bulge-waving that gets in the way of real justice, plain and simple. I don't give a damn what color you bleed, so I'm not gonna ask."

She turns to leave and he says, "You gonna be okay out there by yourself? I wasn't kidding when I told you how ruthless the Oni are."

She shoots him a smirk and replies, "I think I can take care of myself. Question is, can you?" And with that, she makes her exit.

"...the hell kind of question is that?" Karkinos mutters to himself as he picks his sickle up off the floor and sheathes it, then takes another glance at Suzach's body before the comms channel crackles to life on his earpiece.

"All combat units, report to the starboard docking gate! All combat units are needed to repel the boarders, all non-essential personnel are hereby ordered to the escape pods! Repeat, all combat units..."

He shoulders his rifle and begins the trek to the docking gate.

----------

(Sweeps in the future...)

CG: SO, I WAS THINKING EARLIER TODAY.
CG: I REMEMBERED THE DAY WE MET, AND I REALIZED SOMETHING.
CG: I NEVER APOLOGIZED FOR KICKING YOU IN THE HEAD.
CG: I NEVER THANKED YOU FOR SAVING MY SORRY ASS, EITHER.
CG: SO... I GUESS WHAT I'M SAYING IS, THANKS FOR MAKING SURE SUZACH DIDN'T KILL ME.
CG: AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME GO, TOO.
CG: AND I'M SORRY FOR KNOCKING YOU OUT, ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE THAT'S HAPPENED.
CG: GOD, WHAT A FUCKUP I AM, RIGHT?
CG: YOU KNOW, SOMETHING YOU TOLD ME BACK THEN INSPIRED EVERYTHING I'M DOING NOW, IN A WAY.
CG: I KNOW YOU CAN'T RISK ASSOCIATING YOURSELF WITH ALL OF IT, BUT...
CG: I THOUGHT YOU'D LIKE KNOWING THAT.
CG: FUCK, TWINHORN SAYS THEY'RE ONTO US, THE CHANNEL WON'T BE SECURE MUCH LONGER.
CG: I HOPE WE CAN SEE EACH OTHER IN PERSON AGAIN SOON.
CG: UNTIL THEN, REDGLARE.
-- crimsonGeneral [CG] ceased trolling gallantCrusader [GC] --

Chapter Text

IMMEDIATE:

- Karkinos was going to join the push to repel the Oni borders. They would have initially succeeded, but a second wave would overrun them, pushing them further and further into the interior. Initially I wanted the Oni to have some kind of personal cloaking technology but that made them too similar to the Elites from Halo (and they already kind of looked like Elites in my head anyway).

- The Trole Protocol (yet another thing I was aping from the Halo novels) would be enacted; the ship's mainframe hives would be poisoned and smashed to keep the Oni from accessing any intel left behind by escaping non-combat personnel. Eventually even the soldiers are ordered to evacuate. Karkinos would meet up with Alcaeus, who refuses to evacuate: his moirail is on board, and he refuses to leave without her. Of course, he can't just leave him to fight against the Oni presence alone, so he helps in the search.

- They find her pinned down by Oni soldiers, trying to make it back to her own ship. Of course, Aitris (Redglare) is there too, and if it's not obvious by now, Byakka (from the Hunters side-story) is Alcaeus's moirail, so there's a huge round of "you know this guy?" going on. None of the escape pods are left but there's one undamaged starfighter in the hangar. Problem is, it seats two at most, and there's not enough room for any more. They agree to let Alcaeus and Byakka take it; Alcaeus makes his "it was an honor serving with you, sir" speech to Karkinos, and he and Aitris are left behind to fight off an entire Oni boarding party. It doesn't look good for them...

- ...except they somehow manage to do it. I hadn't worked out how yet, though I was leaning toward them hijacking an Oni ship and figuring out how to work it somehow. Also, they totally would have set off the homeship's fusion reactor before leaving, destroying it and an entire goddamn Oni battleship at once.

- Also Karkinos would have taken a bullet during all this, revealing his true blood color (remember, he was starting to come off of the Hemoshift at least one chapter ago), and Aitris would have found out. Initially she would have been like "holy shit, what IS that color" but then she would have been all "well no WONDER you were taking drugs to change it, that's totally illegal but I can't fault you for just EXISTING". And that moment would totally have been the setup for Karkinos/Redglare down the line

LATER:

- The one-shot's events happen, Karkinos becomes declared Champion. After yesterday's update, I wanted the Empress also putting him above castes entirely, meaning he wouldn't have a sign anymore, and thus he'd become the Signless.

- Also the Empress's given name would have been Sepia Iscariot. Nobody will get the reference in her last name.

- More battle scenes. One thing in particular that I wanted to do was Karkinos actually getting along pretty well with the Subjugglators. That would have led to them pledging full support to his campaigns. One scene I really wanted to write was the Grand Highblood (whose given name would have been Nashir Zillyhoo) making fun of the drop boxes Threshecutioners use to deploy themselves quickly from dropships to the surface. Karkinos would have been like "yeah whatever it takes shame globes of fucking steel to ride these things." The Highblood would then have shown him up by straight up jumping out of the dropship, entirely unassisted, and getting up from the massive crater he leaves upon landing, unhurt.

- Sometime after Karkinos becomes the Champion of Alternia, Aradia's ancestor (who was the royal historian, Casparr's matesprit, and would have been named Araja) would have discovered some kind of ancient relic on a formerly Oni world recently captured by Alternia, something they called "The Forge". Problem is, it's activated by bio-sensor, and nobody in Araja's team of scientists and field workers can get the damn thing to work. Karkinos wants to see it, I hadn't planned out why but I was leaning toward "why the hell not". He's accompanied by Casparr, Aitris (who would have become his personal bodyguard by now, by insistence of the Empress) and the Grand Highblood (who oversees a lot of the Champion's official business). Of course, when they get there, Karkinos is able to activate the thing effortlessly.

After yesterday's update, upon powering on, the screen on the Forge would have blinked to life and greeted him with "AUTHORIZED BIOFORM DETECTED. IT HAS BEEN (approximate age of the universe give or take a few million years) SINCE YOU LAST LOGGED ON. WELCOME BACK, KARKAT VANTAS." Before then, it would have said something in indecipherable symbols.

Maybe you see where I'm going with this, but if not, hold on. Karkinos would have toyed with the Forge for a bit, wondering how to use it. Eventually he would have noticed a slot, just big enough to accommodate a strife specibus or sylladex card. First he tries sliding in the card for his sickle; when it asks for another, Aitris gives him the card for Cuelebre's Talons, her double-bladed sword. The Force comes to life, and produces a huge double-headed scythe I would have called 69th Circle of Hell.

The Forge would have been a goddamned Alchemiter. Until yesterday's update, I wanted it to be left over from the session that created the trolls' universe. Then, I wanted it to somehow be left from the pre-Scratch troll session.

A BUNCH OF STUFF INSPIRED BY YESTERDAY'S UPDATE:

- I wanted Karkinos to start remembering pre-Scratch Alternia after using the Forge, not the whole thing, just bits and pieces of it. He would have found grainy old video footage on the terminal connected to it, too (one scene in particular would have been he and Aitris watching a video of themselves and he would have been like "we were matesprits, and I think I actually remember this exact moment", and him successfully calling what happens next in the video would have led to her believing his crazy flashbacks were actually real). This would have caused him to have an epiphany, and maybe start thinking that endless war and conquest wasn't as rad as the empire made it out to be. Maybe endless war and conquest actually totally sucks!

- Then he would quit. He wasn't going to actively work against Alternia, but he would fight the Oni no longer, and he'd tell the Empress personally, with most of his friends by his side. Of course, the Empress doesn't accept resignation letters, especially from the guy prophesied to be the savior of the troll race, so she decides he can't possibly be the Champion. So she stabs him in the chest with her trident, and kills him.

- Except she doesn't. In the ensuing confusion, while the Empress has her back to his body and guards are trying to apprehend a very pissed off Casparr, Byakka, and Aitris, he stirs. He gets up. He pulls the trident out of his chest. He slowly makes his way over to the Empress. AND HE TOTALLY FUCKING RUNS HER THROUGH WITH HER OWN TRIDENT, GODDAMN

Because sometimes, you gotta fight for peace, right

Of course, that doesn't kill her, he can't be that lucky. But it's a hell of a blow to her image once word gets out.

- Karkinos escapes somehow (hadn't planned that out yet), the Empress makes a big speech about how he will suffer for what he's done, and the populace runs with the moniker of Sufferer as they rally around him. The time is right for a rebellion; lowbloods are fed up with the treatment they get from highbloods, and they look to him, the guy who managed to injure THE EMPRESS, as their leader.

ENDGAME IDEAS:

- So he goes with it. His comrades become his inner circle and they all take up codenames for some reason. Casparr becomes Twinhorn (totally didn't call his canon name there), Alcaeus becomes Darkleer, Byakka becomes Huntress (also another one I didn't call), Redglare becomes the Neophyte. Redglare also decides to try to destroy the system from within (hence her deciding to go into law, and that was why they can't contact each other directly, as hinted at in the pesterlog from the last chapter).

- At some point, Mindfang was going to pledge allegiance to Karkinos's revolution, deciding there had to be serious treasure to loot when an empire falls. Later on, this would backfire and she would betray him, because the generous reward for the Sufferer's capture was a sure thing, opposed to the spectacularly bad odds of the revolution succeeding. This would set up Redglare hating Mindfang and jumping at the chance to bring her in, in canon.

- She would not be the only traitor. Alcaeus would be captured by anti-rebellion forces, and offered a deal; if he brings the Sufferer to them, his moirail would not be harmed, guaranteed, and both of them would be pardoned. Otherwise, he would be executed, along with the rest of the group. He complies, but after it's all over, Byakka would end up hating him platonically for the rest of her life for his actions, leaving him to wonder if it was all worth it. JUST LIKE IN CANON

- Then the Sufferer's fate, as seen in yesterday's update, happens

- His last words, I actually started writing last night. They would have been something like "Listen up, shitheads. You goddamn highbloods think this is over, don't you. Do you really think this is it? That someday there won't be another one, just like me? Your old order won't fucking stand forever. Someone else will come along, and he'll be more successful than I ever was, and when he decides he's had enough, he's going to FUCK YOUR SHIT UP." and then he dies

- The implication is that Karkinos was not the Champion. KARKAT is.

EPILOGUE:

- Redglare is the first to spread his teachings. She adopts the grey irons as a symbol and teaches anyone she thinks will listen about the Sufferer, spreading his message far and wide in secret. She sets up the events that would ensure the Second Signless has a sign and a lusus when he comes.

- Redglare's hatred of Mindfang for being instrumental in Karkinos's capture moves her to take the Mindfang case immediately, leading to her death in canon.

- Karkat finds Karkinos's journal, thousands of years later. He dismisses it as bad Thresh Prince fanfiction, but is enamored with the hand sickle he left behind (IT TURNS OUT KARKAT'S STARTING SICKLE WAS KARKINOS'S OLD ARMY ONE THE WHOLE TIME)

- Terezi, the first time she meets Karkat in person, doesn't believe it at first. She's only seen that symbol in the few pages of Redglare's journal she found and once in Mindfang's journal, when she snuck a peek at it while Vriska wasn't paying attention. But she pulls out the necklace from under her shirt (which she found alongside the journal pages) and holy shit, it's the same sign. She remarks to herself something along the lines of "H3H3H3 TH1S SHOULD B3 1NT3R3ST1NG"

- Feferi, upon finding out Karkat's blood color, recalls the forbidden texts detailing the Sufferer kept in Imperial libraries, for the eyes of the royal bloodline only, and bows to him.