gross-trolls:

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and you thought the hardest part of being a THRESHECUTIONER was over.

You’ve recently graduated training in the THRESHECUTIONERS’ ACADEMY on CASH-4612, and finally gotten back into contact with your friends from back on Alternia. While you expected things to be INTENSELY CHALLENGING, as befitting the status of a threshecutioner, you didn’t expect the SHEER BULLFUCKERY that would be involved on the job.

It seems like the higher ups are PURPOSELY TARGETING YOU, which they probably are, being that you are no longer HIDING YOUR BLOOD COLOR. They’ve been pulling out all the stops to send you on the crappiest, most isolated missions possible, and you know this for a fact, because this is the FIFTH TIME you’ve been sent to hunt someone down WITHOUT BACKUP.

What is a threshecutioner without a flaysquad? A walking target, that’s what.

You can’t remember the name of this planet, but it’s smoggier than Alternia and twice as bright in the day. Trolls are a rarity here, one not in cavalreaper gear even more so. You have a “contact” to meet (read: dispose of) in about… half an hour ago. They’re late, and the back of your neck prickles with the thought that it’s a setup.

Sometimes you think that’s horseshittery too, because you’re not on Alternia anymore. Then you square up, set your horns, and push, because you’re still ready to prove everyone wrong. You are Karkat Fucking Vantas, and you didn’t get this far to be grubsauce like everyone says.

… But it can’t hurt to check your mail while you wait.

Karkat: Allow interrogations ==>