The End of The Pirouette (Traveling)

[Gamzee Makara]

Continued from Making a Move

And proceeds to land right on his face in a wonderful display of somersaults and physics. Though the landing is soft, as the ground beneath him was composed of lush, green grass, it still kinda hurt like a bitch. Gamzee comically skid a few feet forward on his face, legs in the air, until coming to a slow stop. He groans, unmoving for a moment as his legs stay splayed in the air. His legs fall to the ground in a few more moments, and his body lays still. Eventually, he sighs, and pushes himself up to a sitting position, stretching one leg out, and resting an arm on the other knee. He takes a moment to examine his surroundings and ho-lee hell. Miracles, all around. Trees, huge giant trees, whose wood is brown as coffee beans, and leaves as emerald as....emerald. The grass was also brilliant shade of wonderful green, but then again, he got a pretty close up view of the grass. There was a lake about thirty or forty yards ahead of him, fog rolling lazily off the banks, a full, blindingly white moon reflecting on the surface and-

Eh? A moon? It's night time? Well, damn. That's news to him. Of course, there was no way for him to tell in that empty, voidless sea of white called The Nexus. Ah well. No harm in all that. In fact, Gamzee was much more of a night-time guy. Nothing good ever happened after midnight, and that's just the way he liked it. But man. all this grass, and all these trees. He ain't never SEEN so much motherfucking green, vibrant life.

Except the slime. But in hue only. That shit ain't life, not by no stretch of the word.

Shoving that dark, dank, slimy thought from his head, he slaps his cheeks and carefully cracks his neck. Awright. Time to get to exploring this new, wickedly green regi-

With an inarticulate scream, something, or rather, someone clocks the sitting troll on the back of his head. Hard.

"Ow! Motherfucker!"

Shit! He knew miracles came out of nowhere, but they shouldn't be all up and hurting like that! He viciously shakes his head back and forth, literally shaking it off, and rolls forward, away from his assailant.

MOTHERFUCK THAT STUNG!

"Hnnng... Motherfucker!"

He puts his hands to the back of his head, nursing the blow, and tries to face his attacker. And as he turns around, catches another wooden club to the face.

"Nyahahaha!" A rather ugly goblin, green in hue just like the vegetation that surrounds them, stands in front of Gamzee, his weapon sunk into the troll's face. Behind the goblin loom two orcs of a darker shade of green carrying lit torches, both letting loose deep, rumbling laughs with their diminutive companion. That is, until, Gamzee latches onto the handle of his attacker's club, which is little more than a chunk of a tree trunk. The teenaged troll's unnatural steel grip slowly pushes the club away from his face, where it had left some dirt on his forehead. But that's not all it gave him; a small smile, innocent in origin, was plastered upon the clown's lips. The goblin stopped laughing. With a look of determination and slight rage, the unimposing creature tries to force his weapon back into his would-be victim's face.

Gamzee wasn't having that shit.

"Wow. Wooooow."

He lets loose a low whistle.

"You motherfuckers ain't got NO kinds of manners. What kinda hosts all up and try to beat the motherfuck out of their guest? C'mon. I know you guys are great guys. Ain't no sense in that."

The irony in this is that would a troll walk uninvited into another troll's home on Alternia, the intruder would've gotten much worse than a club to the back of the skull. Gamzee has such a height that he can lift the goblin a couple of inches of the ground by his club. He pulls his attacker in for a closer look.

"Hrrmmm... Ya'll are some ugly motherfuckers, ya know that? I mean damn. I mighta actually letcha walk off you know, no sweat no foul or no pain or whatever the hell, but I mean this is just..."

Gamzee's eyes briefly flash with a strange ugly orange tint, before returning to their average yellow. His mind; its clear for about half a second, clear of his laziness, clear of his humor and his laid-back attitude. Clear.

"Unforgivable."

Gamzee didn't even know he knew that word. And, without any more words he didn't know, the young, obviously rustled troll threw the club into the lake behind him, goblin and all. With a satisfying splash accompanying the moment, the unassuming troll gives the awestruck orcs a charming, if stupid grin before equipping his Deuce Clubs. The young, teenaged troll was an expert with these colorful juggling pins, in more ways than one. He spins the one in his right hand off his palm, before catching it by the neck again.

"Come one, come all, to the greatest show on earth. Step right up, step right up. Be amazed as I, Gamzee the Tragic Clown, beat the living shit out of you."

[Gamzee Makara]

The slightly glazed over yet cheerful look that usually inhabits Gamzee's eyes is gone. His eyes; they keep threatening to overflow with that menacing orange. The corner of his mouth twitches, his wicked smile cracking his face.

And then it stops. Gamzee can think again, think clearly. His eyes revert back to their usual yellow, and lose any form of malice. He blinks, and then remembers where he was, and the situation he was in. He steels himself for a strife.

The orcs were watching this whirlwind of emotions and changes, somewhat terrified, but somewhat interested as well. As he spoke, the orcs took several steps back - okay maybe they were a bit scared. But, his next change was noticeable. He no longer looked terrifying, no longer looked vicious, no longer looked downright sadistic. He just looked like some weird kid, threatening the two large orcs with a pair of circus toys. That's when they took the initiative.

Gamzee let them make the first move. That whole...whatever it was threw him off. He plastered on an uneasy smile, because a strife isn't fun if you can't fight in a good mood. The green beasties charge him, both at the same time, both shouting primal battle cries. They both raise their weapons, the one on the left raising a rather crude looking axe, and the one on the right carrying a hammer of stone. They bring their weapons down in vicious arcs, hoping to tear chunks out of their foe. Alas, the Clown was having none of that. Using an extreme burst of speed that an unsuspecting enemy wouldn't expect from such a lazy looking enemy, the troll does a front flip, landing on top of the Orcs' heads, one foot on each.

"Like my wicked balancing act?"

He chuckles, and hops to the left orc's head, raising one foot in the air, as if he was balancing on a tightrope. The indigenous warriors of the tangled green didn't take too kindly to this mockery, and attempt to lash out at the balancing buffoon, but the orc who's bald head is currently being occupied only manages to make contact with air, and his flustered buddy succeeds merely in smacking his brethren in the forehead with a hammer. Gamzee has somersaulted through the air once again, but this time lands on his feet in a crouch, arms and clubs held out. He rises to a stand and looks over his shoulder at the scene on display; the unharmed orc is trying to apologize to his brother-in-arms for the friendly fire. It's not working very well. While they stand there unguarded and arguing, their combatant calmly walks up to them, unnoticed. He listens to them for a moment, but can't really understand what it is they're shouting at each other about. He shrugs, raises up a club, and-

*CRACK*

brains the nearest orc, which happened to be the one wielding an axe. Er, formerly wielding an axe. Gamzee blinks. As the hostile orc's body slumps to the ground, the troll comes to the realization that the wet, red stuff coloring the grass ain't dew. Aw shit. He killed him didn't he? Damn... He didn't mean to go all up and do that kinda nasty stuff. Just meant to KO the asshole. The remaining orc stands, mouth agape, looking at his partner dead on the ground.

"Uh. Sorry."

Silence.

"You uh...Want me to say some words?"

The formerly very angry, very hostile creature slowly turns his head to look at our regretful hero, jaw still on the ground. It stays that way for a few moments, the Orc staring at Gamzee, Gamzee with a straight, but impossibly stupid look of apology on his face.

"..."

"Yes please."

And so then, the troll-turned-preacher tries to stay on a personal level with his former enemy, and puts some degree of effort at a strange, strange eulogy.

"Ah, yes. We er, have gathered here on this beaut of a night to celebrate the miracle of- whoaholyshit!"

The moving, emotional sermon is interrupted by a war cry, as the surviving warrior's hammer smashing into the ground where the troll was moments before. The pissed off green motherfucker yanks his weapon away from the cracked ground with a sneer. The former preacher of the moment had rolled away just before the weapon made contact. The off-guard Gamzee regains his composure and makes for a swift toe-kick to the side of the orc's kneecap, effectively bringing the enemy down to a kneeling position. Wasting no time, our hero brings his knee into his foe's chin with a satisfying crack.

Shouldn't have had his mouth open crying out in pain.

The tribal falls backwards, his eyes lolling into the back of his head. The ring announcer voice in his head shouts victoriously, "KNNNNNOCKOUUUUUUT!" Thus, the last thing standing is Gamzee Motherfucking Makara.

The victor sighs as the adrenaline leaves his system. Weird. He's never really felt such a rush from combat. Then again, he's never had a real fight without sopor in his system. With a chuckle, our odd hero decides its a pretty great feeling. He takes a moment to glance back in the direction of the lake. Hm. No sign of the little dude. It sucks, because he kinda wanted to apologize. He reminded him a lot of those weird little guys called imps back home. Gamzee had made friends with them, why not make friends with THESE little dudes? Oh well. Another miracle to be thankful for when it presents itself.

The highblood looks at the juggling pins in his hands. One with a still damp bloodstain. One free and clean, save the colorful stripes that adorn it. He looks down at the orc, it's chest rising and falling slowly, before gazing once again at the unsoiled club. He stands there, looking at the clean weapon for what seems like hours but could only have been a minute or so. He contemplates much in those passing moments, before turning away from the site of battle and walking into the Tangled Green.

[Gamzee Makara]

He can't feel. He can't feel and that scares him. All these thoughts man, these motherfucking thoughts. They're so threatening man. Not to anyone but himself, no, but that's what scares him. In the heat of battle, he couldn't feel the after effects of whatever the fuck that was, but now, now the adrenaline is leaving his body and its being replaced with an old friend that he thought he had said goodbye to so long ago: Fear.

Gamzee was no stranger to fear. It had been his companion for as long as he could remember. But therein lies the problem, eh? Ever since he had been dropped into this motherfucking Omniverse place, land of miracles that it was, the troll couldn't remember or recall where he was from. After that last, outburst of momentary rage, things came crashing back, all at once. It wasn't pleasant. He remembered being small, and tiny, still a grub. He remembered not being fed for days at a time, and being left alone in an empty, dark hive. Loneliness. That is what passed for fear when he was younger. Then, somewhere down the line, things got real. Like, real real man. Gamzee kept getting pissed about every little and all he would do is lash out at people that didn't deserve it, and this led to him even being even more alone and shit it was an endless cycle like that that no one deserved. Then the slime. It calmed him down, almost like a medicine. But shit. This wasn't no over the counter stuff. Man it was so good at first, it felt so nice so calming. It let him have friends. Friends. Man what a concept. They were all little miracles man, miracles that kept him sane. Sopor or not, his friends made him happy, and that's all he needed and FUCK he can't even think straight right now so many memories and shit running through his broken ass thinkpan.

The slime. That Soporific green stuff. It cooled off his hot-head and it felt good. Tasted good too, if you baked it right. But in the end it was bad. It was all bad. It suppressed the Troll's inner thoughts, them dark ones that he couldn't control, no matter how much he wanted to. And that was what was self prescribed to him, as it were, but DAMN if this shit didn't have side effects and drawbacks and negatives and motherfucking everything else. But, through all of that noise, the shivering, the random loss of consciousness, the nosebleeds, the odd seizure, Gamzee lost his fear.

This entire time, the troll had been walking down a dirt path he hadn't even known he was on. The exhausted kid sank to his knees, his hands pressed against his face. Some of these weren't memories. They were things that hadn't happened yet, but were supposed to. Unspeakable things, things that would've happened if he was back on the meteor. He starts to shake uncontrollably, his sight becoming watery. His friends, Gamzee remembers them all now, so clearly, as if he was just talking to them an hour ago. Karkat, Terezi, Nepeta, Equius, all of them were dying painful, needless deaths.

And he was killing them. Strangling, mauling, beating them to death.

His body slumps over, wracked with a soundless sobbing. The lonely clown feels his forehead against the cool earthy dirt beneath him. Damn. Damn. It's been so long since he felt such sorrow. This pain, man. It was almost worse than the hole the Sopor left. But this place, this Omniverse, Universe of Miracles, it cured him.

Karkat. That's who he remembers most clearly. His best friend ever, his best bro. Violet tear drops splish splash to the ground silently, one after the other. The one friend he knew would never leave him alone, never let him hurt anybody if things went to shit. On days when the slime pies were running low, and when a different fog clouded his mind, Karkat was the berserker's anchor. He was what kept Gamzee grounded. The vulnerable troll used him as such now, thinking of his happiest moments with his best buddy, like when Karkat helped him build the horn pile in the lab, so the clownish troll felt more at home(he said he didn't want to but he did it anyways cuz that's what motherfucking best friends are for!), or that time when the juggalo-troll FINALLY got his crabbier friend to taste some sweet, sweet Faygo (it had taken YEARS of convincing!). He thought of all these moments and memories and more, for a good while, until he regained his composure, and then he thought of him some more. Karkat, ill-mannered and all up in a fit he usually was, was the highblood's best friend ever.

When the troll no longer felt alone, warm with thoughts of his friends, he opened his eyes. He was still on the ground, but his cheeks were dry, and his mind purged of loneliness and grief and doubt. He vowed then and there that he would not become the monster that he had seen in his visions. There was no way in hell he was gonna let that nasty hate into his brain. It was bad for the miracles. The clown troll may be alone in this universe, but he-

"Gamzee?"

[Gamzee Makara]

"Gamzee, where the hell have you- GAH FUCK!"

Through garbled shouts of "Best bro!" and "YOU CLOWNISH ASSHOLE!" Gamzee and Karkat embrace, even if the hug is a bit one-sided. He couldn't believe it! The lonely, grieving troll had managed to summon his best friend across universes. Damn how bout them miracles!? The clown continues to smother his fellow troll in hugs and squeezes, much to the latter's chagrin.

Great. Greeeat. Karkat was in the middle of typing up a long, well thought out rant about what a stupid plan the John human SBURB player had regurgitated up from his unused brain, when all of a sudden poof! He closed his eyes for half a second and he opens them again and and BAM! Here he was with this idiotic honk fiend for a friend. And MOTHER OF GOD his head hurt like a bitch! He could remember what he was doing before being warped to this new universe, this Omniverse, but he remembers other stuff too. For example, what the fuck an Omniverse is. These memories, the ones that he doesn’t remember -

They’re annoying as shit.

Admittedly, Karkat was relieved to see his weirdo friend unharmed. Gamzee’s disappearance from the meteor was troubling, to say the least. It kinda went without saying, but the clown’s incessant laid-back attitude, general good will, and just downright goofy antics kinda held together the misfit bunch of trolls as if he were a Juggalo brand Band-aid. Bravado and bullshit aside, Karkat wasn’t much of a leader, and deep down he knew it. Alone, there was no way Karkat was gonna be able to keep everyone of those wackjobs and psychopaths cohesive and compliant. After GZ left, nothing was getting done, and fast.

And okay, MAYBE he missed the guy’s weirdo company and dumb advice.

Dammit dammit dammit! The newly materialized troll’s brain was pounding against its skull. Needless to say, universe traversing wasn’t a very pleasant or comfortable experience, and this faygo chugging dumbass tackling him repeatedly certainly wasn’t helping things. It wasn’t long though before Gamzee had helped the lowblood to his feet, and began to excitedly fill the gaps in his new/old friend’s gratuitous memories.

-----

“So what you’re trying and probably failing to tell me is that some stuck up blindingly pasty white guy who thinks himself god of this particular universe just yanked you from existence while you were napping?”

“Yup!”

“For his own amusement?”

“Yup!”

This was starting to sound painfully familiar. Doc Scratch anyone?

“But the asshole didn’t mention how maybe you could get back home?”

“Well, technically bro, home kinda blew up. Not sure if I’d wanna go back right now cuz-”

“I meant the meteor you insipid piece of circus trash!”

The witless clown reaches into the deep pockets of his polka dot pajamas and pulls out a rubber bicycle horn.

“Honk.”

“Don’t you do it. I’m warning you. You might think you’re just being loveable and goofy but no, I will tear your shit up.”

“Hooooonk.”

Gamzee then proceeds to do exactly as Karkat instructs him not to, and squeezes the horn. Several times.

It goes on like this for a few minutes, empty-headed responses from the tall high-blood and empty threats from his cherry-blooded companion. Finally, assembling pieces of broken, sometimes useless information from the clown, the Knight of Blood deduces this much:

They are trapped in the Omniverse.

The disgruntled troll swears under his breath and starts pacing back and forth in front of a sitting Makara. The former of the two walks at a quick pace, talking to himself all the while. Gamzee’s eyes follow his friend’s movements, all the while a dopey grin upon his face. It was still kinda unreal. It was almost like he could create miracles now. Hell, kar-bro was a miracle now. Man...That’s all he’s ever really wanted to do is show his friends the miracles that he could see. And now, maybe he can. This reverie is interrupted by Karkat snapping his fingers in front of the daydreaming troll’s face.

“Hey focus man! We gotta come up with some semblance of a plan, a strategy, a -”

“Uh... I already had a plan brother.”

Karkat gave him a skeptical, I’m-so-done-with-your-shit look.

“Alright. I’ll bite on whatever fake cheese you’re about to feed me and then proceed to get my neck snapped by a giant, metal, spring loaded guillotine.”

“I was just gonna all up and follow this bitchin dirt path someone made just for us to be usin’.”

The clownish troll gestured to the dirt trail that they were currently standing on. His more serious friend glanced down and thought hard for a moment, probably harder than he needed to about such a simple, dumbed-down plan.

“Alright, fine, whatever. It’s better than standing in the middle of the woods waiting for some vicious indigenous monster to decide that we’d make a good midnight snack. Let’s get going.”

And just like that, the merry band of two was off.

“Hey. Hey best buddy. You want a faygo? Cuz I learned this cool trick-”

“No, you dork, I don’t want your toxic gut rot soda.”

[Gamzee Makara]

End of Thread. Continued at Welcome to Ambrosia!