CHAPTER 7. Distress Call From the Closet
The mood at the scene of the crime is mixed. All three of them would label the main emotion as “extreme tension,” but that is a concept that means vastly different things to each of them.
Vriska, thriving on it, has not felt so decadently alive in a very long time. Tavros has never in his tragic existence felt so close to death, which is surprising to him.
Vrissy is trying her best not to grapple with any cosmic truths at the moment, since she’s getting a phone call in the middle of hiding for her life.
She grumbles to herself a bit before answering.
VRISSY: Really, Harry Anderson? A phone call?
VRISSY: Asshole’s lucky I keep my shit on silent.
HARRY ANDERSON: hey vris, what the fuck??
HARRY ANDERSON: are you looking at instagram, because your, uhh, situation? it’s ALL over the place.
VRISSY: Yeah Harry I would say we are Extremely Aware of the Situ8ion.
VRISSY: As it Unfolded the fuck all around us.
HARRY ANDERSON: i can’t believe you actually did that.
VRISSY: Oh can’t you? Can you really not????????
HARRY ANDERSON: look, babe, i thought you were joking!
HARRY ANDERSON: why would anyone believe you had an actual dead religious figurehead in the back of tavros’s car?
HARRY ANDERSON: he makes us scrape dirt off our shoes before we get in!
VRISKA: As much as I’m loving watching your m8sprit attempt to squirm out of any responsi8ility for his dum8shit actions, we should pro8a8ly get to the getaway part of this 8ackwards heist.
VRISKA: Does he have a real plan this time or are we just gonna try our own luck?
HARRY ANDERSON: where even are you? this audio sucks shit, it sounded like you were...i couldn’t hear you right.
VRISSY: We’re in the janitor’s closet near what you always tell me is the Good Water Fountain, 8ut we can’t stay here.
VRISSY: And no, you heard it fine, that was just Vriska.
HARRY ANDERSON: oh ok. so that part about the other vriska was true too i guess?
HARRY ANDERSON: awesome, yeah. cool. normal.
VRISKA: We could call Rose and Kanaya, may8e?
VRISSY: My Moms would either give us a Medal or Kill Us Themselves, it’s like 50/50 odds.
TAVROS: Don’t love those numbers, folks,
VRISSY: Ugh and also they might 8e like. In the middle of important War Shit.
VRISKA: So? What we just did was some important war shit.
HARRY ANDERSON: i can’t keep up with all of you assholes talking at once.
HARRY ANDERSON: can we just meet back at my mom’s place? she shouldn’t be at home.
VRISSY: Fine, okay.
HARRY ANDERSON: people are starting to disperse, so if you’re gonna make a run for it, now’s your shot. don’t get caught.
VRISKA: Wouldn’t dream of it, 8a8e.
VRISSY: >::::[
HARRY ANDERSON: christ, what a shitshow.
They stand up and brush themselves off. There’s no time to waste, but there’s one final element they’ve not worked out.
Part of the reason, Tavros thinks, that he’s been so game to continue on with the worst plan anyone has ever concocted, is that the more bullshit they endure, the longer they can put off actually doing anything that matters.
If he’s getting sprayed with a sprinkler and getting clown feet in his face, it’s a farce. It can’t hurt him. But if they get to the part where he’s shoving the uncooperative weight of his uncle’s corpse in an incinerator, he will stop floating in protective semi-consciousness above his body and it will all be real.
There’s no time for an incinerator, now, and somehow, Tavros realizes, reality has caught up with them all the same.
All three of them are quiet for a moment while they look down at the body. There is a soft, wet plink as a droplet from his bloodied nose hits the tile.
VRISSY: So what do we do a8out...
VRISSY: Him.
TAVROS: I’d prefer to,,, not drag him along any further, if possible,
TAVROS: The cat is rather out of the, um,, bag at this point, is it not?
VRISSY: Yeah, no real Point in wasting time hiding him anywhere 8etter than this.
VRISSY: Vriska?
VRISKA: Yeah. Fuck it. I’m done dealing with him.
VRISKA: Finally.
VRISKA: 8ye 8itch.
Trolls are made for the battlefield.
From the moment a troll oozes out of the mother grub’s pulsating sphincter, through the trials of the brooding caverns, across the brutal day to day slog of Alternian society, all the way to their Ordeals, to the sucking void of space. They are bred for nothing but endless war.
But Commander Vantas...Commander Vantas is different.
Dirtblooded, unclean, descendant of a heretic, he never should have even made it to the surface. He should have been euthanized by a well-meaning jadeblood. And if somehow his hideous mutation managed to squeak past, his lusus should have put him out of his misery.
He was, as troll Lana del Rey would put it, born to die.
But he didn’t die. He is, despite everything, one of the only Alternia-born trolls left standing. From the humblest of beginnings, he has risen to the highest echelons of achievement.
Or so all the pamphlets say.
The actual Commander Vantas has blisters on his heel and has been taking pot-shots at scouting drones for the last six hours. He could use a bath, honestly.
MEENAH: yo nubs is that u
MEENAH: pretty rank
KARKAT: OH MY GOD.
KARKAT: I FLATLY REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN SMELL MY NATURAL MUSK OVER THE STENCH OF BLOOD AND BURNING FLESH.
KARKAT: I CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING MORE ASININE THAN YOU GETTING ON MY CASE ABOUT PERSONAL GROOMING ON THE BATTLEFIELD.
MEENAH: didnt i warn u bout thinking tho?
KARKAT: GOD DAMMIT MEENAH, DON’T MEME AT ME.
KARKAT: PEOPLE ARE DYING.
MEENAH: oh wow fuck u right
MEENAH: let me save all my jokes for that specific time in the foreseeable future when we arent all fightin for our lives
MEENAH: would that work for you commander
KARKAT: IF YOU AND THE REST OF THE GENERAL’S COUNCIL HADN’T INSISTED THAT I STAY OUT OF THE WORST OF THE FIGHTING, WE WOULDN’T HAVE THIS PROBLEM.
MEENAH: yeah cause youd be dead
MEENAH: u cant lead every charge
MEENAH: gotta be realistic boss
KARKAT: I KNOW THAT.
They have had this argument more than once. In fact, both of them could play either side of it. Karkat has done his time in the field, of course, leading small guerilla operations to free prisoners and sabotage Crocker’s supply chains, but Meenah and the rest of the council is right. Which is why he’s here, instead of at the front lines with his rebels, where he belongs.
His true value is his face. His symbology. At the end of the day, he is a fucking ad campaign.
*CHIME*
SWIFER: boss check the news!
KARKAT: OH FUCK.
MEENAH: what
KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST.
MEENAH: nubs i swear 2 god
KARKAT: IT’S GAMZEE.
KARKAT: HE’S DEAD.
MEENAH: oh
MEENAH: well shit
KARKAT: I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS.
MEENAH: u okay
KARKAT: NO!
MEENAH: u wanna talk about it
MEENAH: i know u and jellybulge had a thing
KARKAT: FIRST OF ALL--JELLYBULGE?
MEENAH: u outlawed fishpuns i gotta make my own fun
KARKAT: GROSS.
KARKAT: AND I GUESS IF YOU CALL AN OBSCENELY PUBLIC PALE ACT, PERFORMED IN A FUGUE OF DESPERATE PANIC INTENDED TO PREVENT HIM FROM MURDERING ALL OF MY FRIENDS INSTEAD OF JUST HALF OF THEM “A THING”.
KARKAT: THEN YES, I GUESS WE HAD A THING.
KARKAT: BUT IF YOU’RE ASKING ME IF I’M SAD THAT HE’S DEAD?
KARKAT: ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT.
KARKAT: I HAVE HATED THIS PIECE OF BUBBLING, FECULENT CLOWNFLESH FOR DECADES, AND SO HAS EVERYONE ELSE WHO RESPECTS THEMSELVES.
KARKAT: REST IN THE POWERFUL GAZE OF MY ETERNAL LOATHING.
KARKAT: THAT’S NOT WHY I’M SAYING FUCK A BUNCH OF TIMES.
MEENAH: u need a reason to say fuck a buncha times
KARKAT: SHUT UP.
KARKAT: LOOK AT THE PICTURE.
MEENAH: kinda blurry
MEENAH: what am i supposed to be lookin at
In the distance, heavy artillery rolls across the heaving sky. It sounds like thunder, but by now they know the difference.
KARKAT: I DON’T KNOW, MEENAH, AT THE PACK OF KIDS CARRYING A DEAD CLOWN?
KARKAT: THAT’S VRISKA.
MEENAH: oh yea i guess it is
MEENAH: always knew that fish was gonna grow up shady
KARKAT: WHAT? NO! NOT VRISKA MARYAM-LALONDE.
KARKAT: I MEAN, SHE’S THERE TOO. BUT BUT I’M TALKING ABOUT THE OTHER VRISKA! MY VRISKA.
KARKAT: FROM MY UNIVERSE. THIS VRISKA’S ANCESTOR. SHE’S HERE.
MEENAH: she a ghost or some shit
KARKAT: I DON’T THINK SO? I CAN’T SEE HER EYES IN THIS PICTURE, BUT SHE’S COVERED IN BLOOD, AND SHE’S CARRYING GAMZEE, SO SHE’S CORPOREAL AT LEAST.
KARKAT: UNLESS SHE HAS A FUCKING LIFE RING TOO. HOW MANY OF THOSE THINGS ARE THERE?
MEENAH: okay but who gives a shit how she got here nubs
MEENAH: maybe focus on the big picture
KARKAT: YOU’RE RIGHT. FUCK.
KARKAT: “CROCKER CORP CEO JANE CROCKER HAS CONDEMNED THE ASSASSINATION AS AN ACT OF TERROR, AND IS CALLING FOR THE PERPETRATORS’ ARREST.”
MEENAH: wait aint that her kid there holding up the clown ass
KARKAT: UH...WOW, THIS ARTICLE IS WAY TOO LONG. I HATE WAR CORRESPONDENTS, JESUS FUCK.
KARKAT: OKAY...HERE. OH. OF COURSE. CROCKER IS CLAIMING HER SON WAS KIDNAPPED AND FORCED TO PARTICIPATE.
KARKAT: AND THEY’VE NAMED ME AS THE MASTERMIND.
MEENAH: well we woulda taken credit for it anyway so this saves us the time
MEENAH: thanks jane owe u one
KARKAT: SHIT.
KARKAT: THE TIDE OF PUBLIC OPINION IS DEFINITELY TURNING AGAINST JANE.
MEENAH: thats good tho right
MEENAH: thats what we want
KARKAT: WHAT WE WANT IS TO STEER THE CONVERSATION IN OUR FAVOR SO MORE PEOPLE JOIN OUR CAUSE.
KARKAT: WHAT WE DON’T WANT IS TO GIVE THE PRESIDENT AN EXCUSE TO ENACT MARTIAL LAW.
KARKAT: SHIT. OF COURSE THIS WOULD HAVE TO DO WITH FUCKING SERKET.
KARKAT: LITERAL MONTHS OF PLANNING, HOURS AND HOURS OF LOGISTICS, AND ALL OF IT GOES UP IN SMOKE BECAUSE OF ONE SPIDERY ASSHOLE.
KARKAT: SHE *WOULD* FIND SOME WAY TO WRECK MY SHIT FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE.
MEENAH: yeah it sucks
MEENAH: so what are ur orders boss
Boss. That title used to grate on him. Even now, it sends a twinge of discomfort through his gastric sack, but he breathes through it.
KARKAT: NOW?
KARKAT: NOW WE PIVOT FROM THE SUBLIME TO THE RIDICULOUS.
KARKAT: I NEED TO TALK TO EGBERT.
Harry Anderson has rushed home faster than ever before in his high school career. It doesn’t occur to him once along the way that he could have provided a less ostentatious getaway car for his friends.
It’s no matter. They’ll make it. He won’t allow himself to internalize any other option.
He is too busy with these mental gymnastics to notice his father’s car parked outside.
John, Roxy, and Harry Anderson proceed to have the tail end of a conversation they had before, in another medium.
The three fugitives arrive, and, at Vrissy’s direction, park in the back. Unsure if it’s safe to go inside, they hide in the landscaping and text their contact. Vrissy is no stranger to sneaking in and out of Harry Anderson’s window, but the stakes are quite a bit higher, now.
VRISSY: Are we good to go? Your mom’s Car is in the driveway.
HARRY ANDERSON: oh my god you are not gonna believe this but i got home and my dad was there?
VRISSY: what??? 8ecause of all this? How the fuck did he find out so fast?
HARRY ANDERSON: no he was apparently just schmoozing with my mom if you can fuckin believe it? like you do with your ex you haven’t talked to in years i guess?
HARRY ANDERSON: his timing is comically bad. it’s maybe the funniest shit he’s ever done.
HARRY ANDERSON: anyway he roped me in to going out for a drive so sit tight.
VRISSY: Are you Fucking KIDDING me right now Harry Anderson?
HARRY ANDERSON: i know, i know.
HARRY ANDERSON: but no worries, i asked my mom to pick me up some snacks so she’ll leave to go to the store in a sec.
HARRY ANDERSON: just sneak in after she leaves and hide in my room, and i’ll be back in a bit.
VRISKA: Ok, she’s gone.
VRISKA: I’ll take out the side window with this rock, clim8 in, and then let you two in the 8ack door.
VRISKA: It's go time!!!!!!!!!
VRISSY: Love the Enthusiasm 8ut hold on a goddamn minute.
VRISSY: No Need to 8reak my 8oyfriend’s window, I have a key, duh.
TAVROS: You have a key to Harry Anderson’s?
VRISSY: Is now really the time to get jealous, Tav?
TAVROS: I’m not jealous,, it’s only that I’d have given you one to mine,,, if you wanted.
VRISSY: There’s a Reason we don’t make out at your house Tavros, and it’s 8ecause the vi8es are a8solutely fucking rancid in there, thanks to your mom.
VRISSY: Anyway, that’s like a thousand miles past the Point, here!!
VRISKA: Yeah who cares, let’s MOVE!
A bedroom stands empty. There is no boy standing in this bedroom, or indeed anyone else. However, if the boy whose bedroom it was were here, one might remark that his name was HARRY ANDERSON.
And FUCK, one might say, does he like MUSICAL THEATER.
He has been in his fair share of school plays, but he has LOFTY ASPIRATIONS to STAR in bigger and better productions. He especially appreciates modern MUSICAL REMAKES of classic OLD EARTH MOVIES. It's a craze that not everyone is happy about, but in the absent boy they have found a DEVOTED FAN. There is also just enough overlap between his taste and his father’s to allow for SOMEWHAT STILTED CONVERSATIONAL BONDING from time to time.
The boy who is not yet here has also been known to dabble in ACCESSORIZATION. He could be described as a COBBLER ASPIRANT, a NEOPHYTE MILLINER, or even a BIT OF A WHIZZ WITH A NEEDLE AND THREAD. His mother got him his first SEWING MACHINE when he was 10, to keep him from using hers all the time. His looks are HAND-CRAFTED, often IMITATED, but never DUPLICATED. His COSTUMES appear in various AMATEUR PRODUCTIONS, the devising of which takes up most of his FREE TIME. His friends are usually LESS APPRECIATIVE of his attempts to dress them up than he would like, though.
While it is full of these important details and more, the room still stands empty. But very soon it will remain un-stood in no longer.
Getting there is uneventful. There are no barking dogs, no traps, no lurking observers. The thrill of success is short, and it isn’t long until they’re wading agonizingly through the slow thickness of time.
They have nothing to do but wait.
VRISSY: Wow, our moment in the spotlight is really making the Rounds.
TAVROS: May I look?
TAVROS: I turned my phone off immediately upon aiding and abetting murderers,, since mother most certainly has tracking capabilities for it,
TAVROS: So I haven’t seen anything,,
VRISSY: Eat your heart out, Tav.
TAVROS: Wow,,
TAVROS: That’s quite a lot of attention,,,
TAVROS: It’s getting a bit surreal to see my, uh,, frozen mask of horror on every news site,,
TAVROS: It’s a good shot of you,,, though, Vrissy,
VRISSY: It really is Shockingly well composed.
VRISKA: And the filter doesn’t wash me out. Not 8ad for a human photographer.
VRISSY: I checked that kid’s profile and they’re really pretty decent.
VRISSY: May8e if we all survive this, I’ll look them up and see if they need new models.
TAVROS: That’s the spirit,
VRISKA: How long is this going to take?
VRISKA: I know John is all depressed and long winded now 8ut surely he should have dropped his precious 8oy 8ack home 8y now.
VRISKA: These are crucial minutes we’re wasting.
VRISSY: Oh, is trying on all my 8oyfriend’s accessories not passing the time well enough for you?
VRISKA: Desper8 times call for desper8 measures, Vrissy.
VRISKA: And this is some dire shit.
They stare each other down. Did she mean the fugitive situation, or Harry Anderson’s fashion choices? Vrissy feels silly wondering this, but despite the situation they’re in, she can’t help but feel more acutely anxious about Vriska’s presence.
She likes her life, and she trusts her own choices. But now, looking at everything from Vriska’s vantage point, it all feels silly. Unimportant. Childish.
She can’t tell if she wants Vriska to rip in to Harry Anderson or if she wants her to stay silent. To put off the moment where she has to defend him or join in.
Luckily, Harry Anderson opens the door and puts off any fraught decision making for the moment. He kisses Vrissy’s temple and she leans in to the warmth of him.
HARRY ANDERSON: aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.
HARRY ANDERSON: so sorry it took so long.
HARRY ANDERSON: can’t rush a heart to heart, you know how it is.
VRISSY: You actually had a Heart to Heart with your dad? How many times did he Cry?
HARRY ANDERSON: none, actually, i think he got that over with when he was talking to my mom.
HARRY ANDERSON: but god, it was a mess. i had to keep talking to keep him from looking at his phone or turning on the radio.
HARRY ANDERSON: i may have told him more about my deep passions and emotions in the last hour than the whole rest of my life combined, just to keep him from hearing the fucking news.
HARRY ANDERSON: which, by the way, is a complete clusterfuck. they’re asking for tips about your location, blasting the fucking photo everywhere. all of it.
HARRY ANDERSON: great shot of you, though, babe.
HARRY ANDERSON: and tav actually held his own? absolute madman.
HARRY ANDERSON: and you, too, uh.
HARRY ANDERSON: vriska.
HARRY ANDERSON: nice to meet you by the way. i see you’re enjoying my collection of scarves.
VRISKA: Yeah. Are we all here and acqua8nted now? Gr8. What’s next?
John Egbert has not had a day like this in a very long time. He can barely keep track of this series of epiphanies he’s having. He stretches out on his couch to relax and process the gifts of advice and connection his friends and family and ex-family have just given him.
He is in the middle of wondering if it’s even possible to reach further depths of insight when his phone rings.
KARKAT: JOHN.
JOHN: hey karkat! great timing!
JOHN: so much just happened and im kind of reeling about it.
KARKAT: YEAH NO SHIT.
KARKAT: SO IS HARRY ANDERSON SAFE?
JOHN: huh? yeah, i just dropped him back at roxy’s, why?
KARKAT: THANK FUCK. I DIDN’T SEE HIM IN THE PICTURE, BUT THIS IS, AND NO OFFENSE MEANT TO YOUR GENETICS, THE EXACT KIND OF BULLSHIT I WOULD HAVE EXPECTED HIM TO GET HIMSELF HAPLESSLY INVOLVED IN.
KARKAT: NOT SURE HOW VRISKA MARYAM-LALONDE AND TAVROS EVEN GOT INTO IT WITHOUT HIS DEFT TOUCH. EXCEPT OF COURSE I DO, BECAUSE FUCKING VRISKA.
JOHN: none taken, but what are you even talking about? vriska? our vriska?
KARKAT: JOHN.
JOHN: is something going on? i just spent the afternoon with my son, and i think he would have told me if something was up with his friends?
KARKAT: OH MY LUSCIOUS SHITTING CHRIST JOHN LISTEN TO ME.
JOHN: listening!
KARKAT: ARE YOU IN FRONT OF A TV.
JOHN: well yeah, actually.
KARKAT: JOHN I’M BEGGING YOU TO TURN IT ON. ANY FUCKING CHANNEL WILL DO.
John takes it in silently. The slain clown, the teen fugitives, the self-righteous political spin. God, the photo. The photo of his son’s friends, actual goddamn Vriska Serket, and the very clearly dead Gamzee, doused in a cascade of tepid public school fire sprinkler water, the flash from the alarms illuminating them in a holy fluorescence. It’s the stupidest, the most dangerous, and the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
The absurd joy of it bubbles up his chest and out his mouth in the most genuine fit of laughter John has felt in years. And now that he’s started it, he can’t stop.
KARKAT: JOHN ARE YOU SEEING IT?
John can’t answer. He can’t speak. His body has given itself over to the long-lost feeling of manic euphoria. It had felt like Harry Anderson was holding something back on the drive earlier, but he had already told John so much. He hadn’t wanted to press for more.
KARKAT: IT’S NOT FUCKING FUNNY, EGBERT!
John can’t breathe. Something is happening. Something is finally fucking happening, and he’s finally awake enough to appreciate it.
KARKAT: MORE HINGES ON THIS THAN JUST THE LIVES OF THESE TEENAGERS, WHICH SHOULD BE ENOUGH FOR YOU TO TAKE SERIOUSLY, BUT APPARENTLY NOT.
KARKAT: JOHN, THIS IS A LINCHPIN MOMENT FOR THE ENTIRE SYSTEM. THIS COULD BE HOW WE LOSE, JOHN.
John wheezes himself into relative calm. He has to get Karkat to understand. He clears his throat and breathes.
JOHN: karkat, this can be how we win.
JOHN: i know what we need to do.