Subject: Of Trolls and Talking: Chapter 2
Posted on: 2021-09-08 23:03:00 UTC

(Author's Note: Once again, we return. Turns out? Bro really liked what I wrote and demanded to help make ideas for more. I supposed it couldn’t hurt- I never did like leaving things on a cliffhanger.)

(Disclaimer: The Dojo and matching manager belong to Soap and Alleb. Luxury belongs to Jay and Acacia. Melpomene was originally written by Tawaki, ended up on the "up for adoption" page, and I don't know whether this disclaimer holds up as strongly for them anymore. Doesn't hurt to put it down, anyway.)

(Content Warning: Contains uncomfortably-worded threats [blaming Louie for those ones], innuendo, and a singular chancla.)

Y’gatha glided down the hallway, scanning back and forth. She knew - she wasn’t sure how, she just knew - that where the Generic grey halls were, there’d eventually be Agents. It was only a matter of time.

She turned a corner and came across a small doorway labeled as a Dojo. Grinning to herself, knowing there must be Agents in this place of violence and feeling this was as good a place as any to start her line on conquest, she looked in and opened her mouth to scream her signature chant.

”Pew pew pew! Y’gatha Mesome obli-”

A few seconds later, Y’gatha found herself retreating down the halls under the unrelenting, painful blows of the Dojo’s owner. To be more specific, the chancla she wielded with force and finesse greater than anyone, glittery Warrior Sues and power fantasy Stus included, Y’gatha had ever known.

Y’gatha fled, her wings carrying her faster than they ever had in her life as the short, deadly woman’s yelling and cursing faded away into the distance. She turned another corner, barely making the turn with her speed-

And came barreling into another person, sending them both collapsed on the floor in a pile.

Y’gatha took a moment to regain her vision, but it was then she noticed the person she was pinning to the ground.

She was a blonde, ditzy looking woman with a short ponytail and the sort of vacant expression one normally had after one-too-many shots of dogwater mead. She also happened to be wearing clothes that showed what Y’gatha thought, even by her own glittery standards, was far too much skin for the late morning.

But the most important detail was the badge. Emblazoned with a three-eyed rubber duck, Y’gatha remembered the symbol from her Factory training. A Bad Slasher - which meant an Agent. This was what she had been waiting for.

“Oh, hello there!” the woman chirped, somehow unfazed by Y’gatha, destroyer of fun sucking wet blanket continuums, pinning her to the floor. “This wouldn’t be a preposition, would it?”

Y’gatha stared for a split second, completely stunned by the complete lack of fear response.

Excuse me?” she finally said.

The blonde smiled and tilted her head coyly, fluttering her eyelids. “Last time I checked, usually the pinning comes after the clothes come off. Did you miss a step?”

Y’gatha stared at the woman for a moment.

Five seconds later, Y’gatha was blasting away down the corridors again, as far away from this mad Agent as she could get.

She needed to find someone better to get a reaction from. Someone volatile, defensive, easy to rile up, she needed-


Y’gatha threw herself to a stop in front of the wandering Agent, grabbed her shoulders, and screamed:


The Agent, a tall anthropomorphic tabby cat, looked startled for a half second before composing her expression. She slowly, meaningfully gripped her hands on Y’gatha’s shoulders, clenching hard enough that the Suvian actually winced, and pushed her away.

“Y’gatha Mesome,” she said, spitting each word out like she was trying to kill Y’gatha with sheer speaking force alone, “Needs to get some help, preferably away from here, before someone drives several unmentionables up her orifices.”

Y’gatha grinned inwardly. Finally she managed to get a rise out of someone! She leered and leaned forward.

”Y’gatha destroys-”

Two seconds later, Y’gatha was on the ground, twitching in pain and desperately trying to keep from screaming.

“I did warn you,” the Agent said, casually waving the ludicrously high-tech screwdriver she'd just used as an improvised taser. “I don’t have the time nor patience to deal with yet another sack of furless flesh gone off the deep end.”

She put away the tool and strode on past Y’gatha’s prone form, continuing down the halls. Then she paused.

“If you want someone who’ll actually treat your attention-seeking babbling with the respect it deserves, go find a Flower. It’ll be cleaner that way; I’m sure the Janitorial Division has enough to mop up as it is.”

She let out a quiet chuckle, then disappeared around the corner.

It took Y’gatha several ensuing minutes for the convulsions to stop. When they finally did, she pulled herself up, one thought echoing through her head:

The Flowers. Of course.

She staggered against a wall for support, wincing as another quick aftershock ran through her exoskeleton. Even through the pain, she found herself grinning again.

It was time to confront the final boss.

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