That being
said, it’s very rude, all things considered, for Karkat to start a
war on Harry Anderson’s birthday.
John’s floating above the outskirts of the Human Capital,
letting the breeze toss him to and fro. He’s hanging upside down in
the air watching the first stage of the Troll Rebellion’s forward
assault begin to establish their defensive position along the
border. Despite the government’s paranoid crackdown on troll
reproduction, they’ve ended up vastly outnumbered anyway thanks to
the incalculable deluge of troll ghosts pouring down from the sky
over the last decade. Someone with political opinions might think
that this entire quagmire was one of the human government’s own
making.
John isn’t really on record as “having political opinions,” but
he does think that the government approached this entire subject
like it was trying to hold on to a water balloon by squeezing it
too tight, and now it’s about to explode in their faces. He’s
wondering if he should go see his son one last time before that
happens. The battle is shaping up to be a pretty serious
engagement. Both sides armed to the teeth, with all modern military
technology at their disposal. Warships, laser guns, laser cannons,
laser mines. Laser mines? Would those be mines that shot lasers, or
lasers that tripped mines? John hasn’t been keeping up with the
recent innovations in weaponry, although he has noted that the lock
industry has finally started to take off. Dave said that this was
all to be expected in a war economy. But John tuned out most of his
analysis, which is what everyone does when Dave starts talking
about the economy.
A flash above the clouds catches John’s attention: another
ghost, falling down from wherever it is they come from. John
follows after the light with an exhausted sigh. The novelty of dead
trolls falling from the sky has really worn off over the years. But
he might as well go warn the new arrival that they’ve landed in the
middle of an imminent warzone. He sets down at the edge of the
crater and peers through the smoke.
He recognizes the ghost immediately, because he sees a younger
version of her almost every day.
Vriska’s face snaps up, eyes blazing. Eyes.
Actual eyes, with expression, color, pupils, and everything.
JOHN: wait. you’re...
JOHN: alive??
John skids down the side of the crater and
helps her sit up. He wasn’t imagining it. She’s extremely alive.
And extremely wounded. And above all, extremely Vriska.
JOHN: oh my god. you’re not just “vriska”...
JOHN: you’re *actually* vriska!
JOHN: you’re like, literal, for real, actual
vriska!
Vriska shoves John away and staggers to her
feet. There’s a bleeding gash on her head and something lodged in
her chest. It appears to be the same material as whatever was
piercing the center of teen-Jade’s corpse. She’s bleeding bright
blue all down her side, but her expression is wild.
VRISKA: What the F8CK are you t8lking a8out?
VRISKA: Where am I????????
VRISKA: I c8n’t 8e here! I h8ve to go
8ACK!!!!!!!!
JOHN: back where?
VRISKA: I need to see what happened!
VRISKA: I NEED TO KNOW HOW IT TURNED OUT!
JOHN: how *what* turned out?
JOHN: vriska, you’re bleeding horribly, and talking
total nonsense.
JOHN: we need to get you some help.
She whirls around and grabs John by the
shoulders. She starts shaking him, voice cracking with crazed
desperation.
VRISKA: I need to go 8ack!
VRISKA: I need to SEE!!!!!!!!
VRISKA: I NEED TO SEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!