Chapter Text
Dear friend of mine has
Broken his union
Broken from tradition
Broken his vision of the future
Alone, alone, alone
Not alone at all.
-No Kind Words, Maccabees
Around 1:30 p.m., a green truck parallel parked across and down the street from the target's apartment building. Three trolls and a human emerged; the human was the driver, a blonde man. The trolls were the blind teal blood and obnoxious yellow blood that live with the target. The final troll is the target. The troll hesitated in his writing, his hand stilling on the ink pen.
He had been stalking one Karkat Vantas for months now.
The group crossed the street and went into their home. The stalker troll sighed then began writing.
The human and truck is new. The group was gone a whole night and half of today. Perhaps a new trend; recently discovered they all graduated high school this month.
The troll sat the pen down, this time for good. It was, as he had begun to refer to it, the big day. He closed the notebook he was using to make notes on his target and placed the cheap composition notebook on a bookshelf, trading it for a better quality one. He opened it on his desk and sighed contentedly.
This notebook was only written in Alternian, the native tongue for most trolls. This troll in particular found it far easier to read Alternian than English, and this notebook was one of his favorites. It detailed the history he had poured over, even before coming to Earth, and was what today's existence was for.
It was an Alternian history novel on the ancient rebellion. The troll had spent multiple years pouring over the stories he had read. Though a disgusting stalker, the troll was one of the leading historians on the ancient and infamous rebellion in Alternia. He was only recognized on Earth; it was a forbidden topic on Alternia and besides, historians didn't exist there anyways. Not that he had recognition here either. No one cared about trolls.
But their rebellion was important nonetheless. The troll had found signs all over the two planets of its importance and was determined to see himself through to the end of the fruits of his labor.
Today was a special day. Today, someone else was going to find out about his work.
The troll glanced out the window of his study and into the window across from him. It had been an accident, living next to his stalker. He had always thought his next door neighbors were obnoxious children. That was, until the trolls had tried to rearrange their room.
His window stared into the window of one Karkat Vantas. A few years prior, the trolls began their march through puberty, and his neighbor had been particularly frustrated. He had something as small as trying to replace his framed artwork when a nail had caught his arm. Blood as bright and thick as rubies had run, and the unnamed troll had been so shocked he locked himself in his bathroom for hours.
But since then, he had a new purpose to life. He had been close to giving up his dreams. The signs of the rebellion's importance had faded back then, and the troll had felt particularly hopeless in his studies. The troll's blood had revived him though.
The rebellion was important and still needed. And it seemed to be reoccurring, the troll thought. The emergence of another red-blooded troll, which was a genetic failure and deformity amongst the Alternian race, signaled the coming of something great on the horizon. And the troll, who had fled to Earth not only for safety but to continue his studies, was determined to start it.
He clutched the notebook tightly to his chest and closed his eyes. He rehearsed the history: the red-blooded trolls birth, his fight against the Condense, the troll's death that sealed the Condense's power and the horrific blood feud the had worsened with centuries. He had to know it perfectly. He couldn't mess up this once chance.
Suddenly he was setting the book down, despite it's importance. Then he was standing up and walking over to his window.
Inside, the troll fought his movements. But it was for naught.
Outside his window, in the alley below him, was a tall troll. At first, he couldn't understand what he was seeing; panic had made him lightheaded and thinking wasn't as clear. But then he had caught it: a flash of purple on the troll's shirt.
A purple-blooded troll was royalty. And there was nothing royalty disliked more than disobedience and dishonor.
He had fled Alternia for this very reason. Blue-, purple-, and pink-blood trolls were savage and dedicated to their system. Any act against the ruler was forbidden and harshly punished, oftentimes with torture and death. Anything disagreeing was destroyed; Earth's medical professionals known as therapists would have all been slaughtered on Alternia for promoting weakness while doctors didn't even exist. The reign of the Condense was strong and all powerful. One did not disobey.
But he had, hadn't he? He had kept prying. He should have known better.
The troll in the alley smiled up at him. He held something up in his long, thin hand: a little black box with a startling button.
It's time, brother, the voice inside his head spoke.
That was another part he had studied: Chucklevoodoos, the magic specific to purple-bloods. He was unsure of how it worked, but knew it was terrifying. Something to do with their religion, the god of clowns and death, and manipulation of the mind and emotions allowed the purple-bloods to complete fears unheard of. Mind control, body control, nightmares, and madness were merely normal for the purple-bloods abilities.
He tried to scream NO back, but was in no control of even his tongue. The purple-blooded troll in the alley below him made him march to his kitchen. There, he was forced to open his fridge.
It had been cleaned out completely, the troll realized sickeningly. He had been inside my home , he thought. The purple-blood made no note and forced him to bend, open the bottom crisper, and pull out the single box inside.
It was plain black, similar to a ring box but larger. Upon forced opening, it revealed a standard orange bottle, like what was handed out from the human's pharmacies. There was no label on it, and he couldn't tell the color.
Despite his lack of knowledge on the bottle, he managed it open it perfectly the first time. Hands trembling, he downed it in three large gulps. The taste was utterly repulsive.
Then, he was free. He dropped to the ground in relief and moaned, curling up into a fetal position. Behind him, the fridge door stood open, and cold air breezed on the troll's back.
It is time, brother. The voice was louder this time and he shuddered. A sharp pain shot through his stomach, and he moaned again.
What did I do to deserve this? he thought. He was shocked and terrified when he got a response.
You wanted to speak out, brother. You found information that wasn't yours and were going to share it. That is a crime, my brother.
The troll moaned again as a horrific pain wrenched through his whole lower body, burning like acid and tingling like knives instead of pens. His body convulsed.
It was our history.
Another wave of pain hit. The troll shook hard on the floors. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. Whatever had been in that bottle wasn't human-made; it was an Alternian poison.
Everyone deserves their history.
That thought took most of his concentration to think. The pain was starting to take over and it was all he could think about. It was all over his body, twitching his toes and even in his brain. As his blood pumped the poison around his body, he began to black out. Soon, he would faint. Then, he would die.
It wasn't long now.
Was I right? The thoughts of his research--the assumptions in his research he had to make when he ran out of ideas, the idea of a reemerged savior, the defeat of the past savior leading to an invincible reign of Her Imperial Condense--flashed through his mind.
But the other troll was silent.
Pain engulfed the poor troll. His studies departed from his mind and he began to scream in distress. The pain stretched over him and pulled him, dragged him down under consciousness as the actual effects of the poison began. Lung collapse, heart stoppage, arteries blocked and unable to pump were just around the terrifying bend.
Quietly in his mind, the troll uttered one last curse.
Goodnight, brother.
It was the last thing the troll ever heard.
But the last thing he saw was his own floor exploding around him as his apartment building collapsed.