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bloodyknuckles · 6 years

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the alcohol will not suppress the fear of death and loneliness

hey yall!

here’s a new vrisrezi fic that i hope you enjoy! the title is from aawake at night by half alive

you can read on ao3 here

[read fic under the cut]

The city of Prospit stretches for miles, as most cities do. The gold sunlight it’s washed in during the dawn hours is flushed out by the purples of the night sky, making the luminous shadows of the buildings seem even more terrifying. It’s an easy cover for you tonight, the short job of robbing the small jewelry store on forty-third avenue. Not only will you be taking the topaz ring you’ve been eyeing for nearly a month, but you will also be taking a largely wanted diamond necklace for a client. A client who will not be disclosed, but decided it would be better to hire someone to do their dirty work for them. A wise decision for a largely wanted criminal. You, Vriska Serket, were just the lucky pawn who got chosen for the job. Silently, you make your way across the street and towards the jewelry store. If there were people on the streets who cared enough to see a young girl moving like a shadow towards a closed jewelry store, the cops, or even the local superhero, might be called. But the only people on the streets of forty-third avenue are drunks, junkies, and tourists who wandered into the wrong part of town or came searching for good liquor and cheap prices. Your advisor comes in over your comm, scaring you half-to-death.

“Hurry up and get in the store, we can’t cover for you the entire night,” Karkat says, more demanding than anything else. You huff out a sigh and press a finger to your ear.

“I’m going as fast as I can without looking suspicious, asshole,” you say. If you were in the same room as Karkat, you would see him roll his eyes, but all you do is hear him growl angrily and type something into the computer he’s working from. He’s shitty with computers, no matter how much he wants to tell himself he’s good. You’ve seen better from other underground hackers, specifically Gold Bloom, and despite the fact that Karkat works in the underground, he seems pretty new to the scene. Young, like you, but not nearly as experienced. Your mother had begun teaching you the life of crime when you were young, which had been expected from a woman who was as wanted as she. It’s only been ideal for you to become a criminal, no matter your age. Your sister, Aranea, had started her life of crime at age fourteen. She was nowhere near the list of crimes your mother had racked up, not even as close as you, and you think that’s because she’s too wrapped up in what people think of her to care about her criminal reputation. Although Aranea’s name was known, it wasn’t a name that made fear slither down the spines of some of the underground criminals.

There was one thing that shot fear down the spines of criminals more than your own last names. Neophyte Redglare was the only name that could shoot hot white panic into the spines of criminal. No lawyer or judge scared the undergrounds more than Neophyte Redglare, or the rest of her family for that matter. No one but close friends knew the real names of Redglare and her two supposed daughters, and even the undergrounds couldn’t find that information out. There were only two tokens of the Redglare’s: their teal and bright red outfits, and their love for sunglasses. Bright red sunglasses, at that. Go big or go home, huh?

“Is the area clear?” Karkat asks through the comm. You give an aggravated sigh before turning your comm back on to reply.

“Yeah, all clear,” you say, beginning to find your way around the store and to the roof. As you said, the jewelry store of forty-third avenue is small. So small, in fact, that it would, of course, be the one to harbor a precious jewel that would seem inconspicuous, unless you had people on the inside. Lovely that most of the people who work at Lowmad’s Jewelers also work for the underground. Well, most of them that you know, at least. The intel your boss had gotten from someone they hadn’t named had been enough to send numbers flying, and high numbers at that. There was no way you were going to turn this job down, and they’d have to rip it from your hands if you didn’t get it. If you hadn’t gotten the job, you think you would have built your own small team to help you steal that diamond. Even if your name had a reputation, you still lived in your mother and sister’s shadows. It was driving you in-fucking-sane. You think your reputation is the only thing that got you this job in the first place, though. That angered you slightly, but you went on with it. Even if they didn’t care about the skill you held, you would get this diamond, and that ring if you were lucky enough, and abscond the fuck out of there before they ever noticed that the precious jewel was missing.

There’s a small chink in your plan, and you notice only once you’ve stepped into Lowmad’s store. The lilac colored walls do not hide the bright teal and red of a Redglare suit. A cane shines, white and very bright against the moonlight, and whichever Redglare is amongst the watch is strewn very casually across the floor. The ugly carpet, someone needs to give Lowmad a lesson on colors, the deep green does not go with the lilac, hides your footsteps thankfully, and you are extremely happy that there is no wood anywhere in this building. The goal is to get past that Redglare, and you don’t know if you can do that.

Redglare taps her fingers on her cane as you creep your way through the building. You’re approaching her when there’s a bright red handled knife with a teal blade shoved into your thigh. You suppress the urge to let out a wail. You think the knife is coated in some type of poison or maybe even some type of sedative, but whatever it is, it hurts like a bitch.

“You smell awful. Nice try on the sneak past, though! I assume you’re here for the diamond?” the Redglare says rather cheerily. You look at her bewildered, ignoring the fact that your blood is now beginning to seep into the carpet. “Well, if you are here for the diamond, Miss Serket, I am deathly afraid you will not be able to get it.”

“How do you know my name?” you growl. Screw the diamond, you need to get the fuck out of here. Asking how she knows you is just stalling for time, you know how everyone knows you, you aren’t one to exactly hide your identity. Face, maybe. Last name? Name. You never say your first name, that would doom you in the real world especially.

“How do you not expect me to know it, dear? You’re wanted quite literally everywhere!” the Redglare says again. You huff out a sigh and pull the knife out of your thigh. Redglare's nose scrunches up.

"Well, if you'll let me pass, I have a diamond necklace steal, and money to be made," you say, making your way around her. She makes a quick move, grabbing your arm and wrenching it behind your back. You howl in pain, and small tears begin to prick into the corner of your eyes. Redglare pops her head over your shoulder and gives a sweet smile.

"I don't think so sweetheart," she says sweetly. "Call me Red, I'm gonna make my name known."

After that, she shoves you out the front door of the jewelry store, still bleeding and in pain.

"So, what you're trying to tell me is that you didn't get diamond, and you got caught by a Redglare? God, it's like you were asking for a death sentence, Serket!" Karkat all but shouts at you. You heave out a sigh and pull your hair.

"I don't know, okay? You said the area was clear! This is on you, Karkat. You are the one who told me we were clear," you growl. Karkat balls his hands into fists, clearly upset.

"Maybe if you had bothered to check the perimeter before you said we were 'all clear' you would've known there was a Redglare there," Karkat says, pointing a finger at your chest.

"You're just bitter you aren't getting your pay," you spit.

"No, I'm not bitter. I'm upset I have to work with you again until we get this diamond," Karkat says.

"Well, Dualscar better hire another hacker, because you aren't good enough," you growl. Karkat looks downright hurt, and he slaps you.

You’re taken off the mission, much to your dismay. You’d fought tooth and nail to keep the job, but clearly, it wasn’t enough. When you’d made your way home, an awful Sunday working at the gas station by Prospit High School, you’d been pissed beyond belief. You still are pissed, for that matter. You slam the door shut once you get home, clearly startling Aranea out of the half-asleep daze she was in on the couch. She peers over the couch, looking at you curiously.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I need a reason to slam the door shut?” you ask, throwing your backpack down and beginning to rummage through the fridge.

“Usually, no. This one felt angrier,” she says. Aranea pops herself off the couch once you bring out the bottle of vodka she keeps at the back of the fridge.

“Oh, the alcohol? Damn, Vris, what the hell happened to you?” she asks as you pour you and her a glass.

“Got cut from a fucking job,” you say, bitterness lacing your voice. Aranea takes a sip from her drink, looking at you over the rim. She collapses into a chair and so do you.

“The job? Like the one with the diamond?” she asks. You nod, taking a large swig from your drink. Aranea scrunches her nose up, confused.

“How?” she asks.

“Got caught by a Redglare. She called herself Red? Said she was gonna make her name known or some shit,” you say, waving a hand. Aranea raises an eyebrow.

“You sure it was a Redglare then? You know there’re copycats,” she suggests. You nod.

“Pretty sure. I don’t think anyone else dares wear that ugly mix of red and teal, even the copycats,” you say.

“That’s valid,” Aranea says.

“I’ve got an idea, though,” you say, tapping your head.

“If you say something stupid, I’m going to beat your ass myself,” she says. You snort and take another drink.

“Well, get your fists ready. I’m gonna steal that damn diamond myself,” you say, your grin broad. Aranea closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a long sip of her drink.

“Vriska, do you know how dangerous that is?” Aranea asks you. You throw your hands up, leaning back in your chair.

“Well, duh! But I know the layout of the jewelry store, and it’s small. Forty-third avenue isn’t even that populated at night, Aranea. I’ll be fine,” you say.

“Yes, but you also fucking know that Redglare’s are positioned there. Vriska, you’ll get arrested, they’ll know who you are. You have a list of crimes almost as long as Mom, you can’t just do something like this, you dumbass,” Aranea says. You shrug, downing the rest of the contents in your cup.

“That is a risk I’m willing to take.”

“You’re impossible. Literally impossible.”

“It’s a skill, dear.”

On Friday, you are filled with jittery nerves and excitement.

Aranea had tried to talk you down for two days until she had given up and begun helping you on your plans. You, of course, would do this alone. No one to supervise you. Just you, your fists and knives this time, and your knowledge of the building. You had told Aranea not to follow you here, but there is no doubt in your mind that she did follow you just to shadow you. You’d done that with your mother countless times, and she’d caught you every time. Your mother had been good at detecting people and bad situations, she hadn’t been that good at protecting herself from them. You like to think you miss your mother sometimes, but in reality, you really don’t. It’s quieter around the house, much less arguing and yelling. Despite the fact you and your sister got along pretty well, you and her had never seen eye to eye with your mother. But it’s not time to ponder back on your memories with her, you have a job to complete.

Now, you don’t doubt the fact that Dualscar had hired someone else for the job. There was probably an entire list of names he had waiting for him if you’d failed your job. You don’t know if he’s sent them out today, or if he’ll send them out tomorrow, you just know that you have to get that diamond before he does. You pick the lock of the jewelry store and slip inside. You let the door shut silently, and find your way to the back of the store as fast as possible. What you don’t expect is to be yanked back by your shirt, an arm over your throat, and pushed into someone’s chest. The person isn’t putting enough pressure on your throat to choke you out completely, but they are making it a little hard to breathe. You claw at their arm, upset.

“Ta-ta, Serket! Didn’t think I would catch you again! Thought you learned from the first time!” a familiar voice says. It’s that girl, Red. Her voice is low and scratchy in your ear, and you want to get it out of your head. The way you claw at her arms just makes your nails slide against the sleek fabric of her suit. You start to beat against her arm, which only applies more pressure to your throat making you choke.

“Might as well quit, I’m not going to let go until backup shows up,” Red grins, her sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. You gasp in a breath, continuing to tear at her arm. There’s crash from another part of the store. Red’s grip on you loosens, and you take your chance to kick her off of you and breathe in before making a mad dash to the back of the room. When you get there, Red is right behind you and there’s another girl holding the diamond. She has a sly smile dressed on her face, and her tattered clothes make her look more like a criminal than your own do.

“So you’re the infamous Vriska Serket, huh?” she asks. You wheeze out a breath and gulp, pointing at the diamond in her hands.

“I came for that,” you growl. All she does is smirk and flip her hair off her shoulder.

“Catch me if you can, babe,” she says, breaking into a run for the door behind you. You thought she might be a little smarter than that, but she runs directly into Red. You heave a sigh of relief as the diamond skitters out of her hand. You bounce over to where the diamond is, snatching it up and making a leave for the door. You hear Red unsheath a knife and throw it. The teal bladed knife knicks your ear, but that’s not anything you can worry about right now. You stumble along the carpet of the jewelry store, catching yourself on the wall, but never slowing down. When you get out the door, you sprint down the sidewalk. You hear the tell-tale sign of clacking, somewhat like heels, behind you. You veer into an alleyway, diving into a trash can and covering yourself before Red, whom you can assume is following you, finds you. You hear Red crash into the alleyway you’re hidden in and you wait silently, fear swallowing you. Something hits the wall beside you and there’s a frustrated growl from somewhere around you.

“You win this time, Serket.”

When you get home, you proudly show off the diamond you achieved. Aranea gapes, surprised.

"You really got it?" she says, excitement evident in her voice.

"You bet," you say, smirking. Aranea immediately opens the fridge, reaching for the vodka you had just drunk a few days ago. This time it's for a celebratory reason and not an angry reason, and you are absolutely ecstatic.

"To be quite honest, I really thought you were going to get arrested or die tonight," Aranea says, pouring herself a glass of vodka. You snatch the bottle from her, taking a swig straight from it.

"Oh, this is straight from the bottle kind of celebration?" Aranea asks, grinning and taking a sip from her cup. You slam the bottle down, a large grin stretching across your face.

"We, well I, snatched this diamond right from this other criminal's hands," you grin. Aranea picks the diamond up from the table and twirls it in her fingers.

"How much do you think we could pawn this for?" she asks. You shrug, looking at it in her fingers.

"Probably a lot. I could bring it to Dualscar, but you know, he kicked me off the job, so it's not really his anymore," you say. Aranea hums.

"We could use the money. I think I'm gonna get laid off soon," Aranea says. You quirk an eyebrow up, taking another drink from the bottle.

"How so?" you say. You push your glasses up and begin to tie your hair into a bun.

"Been screwin' around, not doing what I'm supposed to," she shrugs. You nod.

"Well, if we need to pawn it off, we can. We really do need the money though," you say.

"Let's pawn this baby!"

You will never admit that you live in the worse part of the neighborhood. This was your mother’s fault. She said that living in the rougher part of the streets would make you look less suspicious, clearly because you already looked the part. Those were your mother’s words. That you’d already looked the part. She’d said it specifically to you because you didn’t care about your appearance, while Aranea did everything to look her best. Your mother had always tried to dress you up, no matter how upset you got every time she tried to do it, while Aranea just let you be.

The inside of your house looked nice, though. The living room walls are a deep blue and your floors are a chestnut colored wood. There’s a small TV sitting on a table that holds a few books and quite a few succulents. Aranea has been thinking of getting a few potted flowers or other plants to decorate the house, but you two haven’t settled on if you should or not. The couches are a light grey, and your tables are a sleek dark brown. There are a few family pictures lining the walls, including yours and Aranea’s school pictures you two haven’t got around to taking down yet, and paintings you’d gotten as a gift from someone. You’re sure the boy who gave them to you didn’t paint them himself, but you’d never pointed that out to him. All you did was begrudgingly accept them with a tight-lipped smile.

Your kitchen is also a deep blue, and the counters are a fake granite you’d had done years before you were born. Your cabinets were also a deep brown while your fridge was a lighter grey, along with your stove. There’re almost no plants in here, but there is one aloe plant in the middle of the counter.

Both your and Aranea’s rooms are fucking disasters, while your mom’s was sparkling clean. It still is, considering you and Aranea haven’t been in there since she died. There had never really been a reason too, so you just… never did. You thought about clearing out her room and having a fucking bonfire with her shit, break out some fucking alcohol and just party. For some reason, neither of you could bring yourself to do that. You couldn’t even bring yourself to bring her shit to the local Goodwill. Maybe it was because it held sentimental value, but you highly doubt that’s why you kept it. You had worse memories with all her stuff than Aranea did. There was just something that held you back from selling or burning it.

But that’s beside the point. You’ve had a considerably long day, and it only seems to be getting longer. Currently, there’s a distressed girl in the parking lot, probably around your age, fussing with her car. She has a cane leaning against her car that she picks up after she slams the hood shut and begins walking towards the door. When she manages to make it inside, she makes her entrance known by being obnoxiously loud.

“Can anyone help me with my fucking car?” the girl all but shouts. She has dark hair that’s in an unruly tangle of a bun, and dark skin. She’s also wearing appallingly bright clothes and the whole outfit clashes. She looks happy, nonetheless. Easily, she glides her way to the counter, and slams her cane on top of it, scaring the absolute shit out of you. “Do you, ma’am, think you can help me with my car?” she asks cheerfully. The voice sounds oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on where you’ve heard it before. You don’t worry about it, she’s asking you to help her car. You’ve worked on a few cars before, specifically Aranea’s and her girlfriend’s at times, so you don’t think this will be that big of a deal. Aranea’s girlfriend, Meenah’s, car was a newer model so that was a bitch to learn about since Aranea had a nineties model of some car she’d found at some junk shop for cheap and bought it because you both needed a mode of transportation. Meenah could have easily bought both of you a car, but Aranea was stubborn and refused to let her buy you one.

From inside the store, the car this girl has looks like an early 2000’s model. You can work with that, you can definitely work with that. You might make her pay for your work, you don’t need the money currently, but it would be nice to have.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you say, slipping out from behind the counter. She follows you, walking quickly behind you. That sets off a sense of unease from somewhere inside you, but you brush it off. She’s just a regular customer, she just needs her car fixed this time. Right before you can open the hood of the car, your head is smashed into it. You think you’ve busted your head open, and you are definitely feeling a little woozy now. Easily, the girl jerks you up and shoves you into the back of her car before getting in the driver’s seat. You’re too dizzy to fight back, and just close your eyes and grimace in pain.

“Don’t bleed too much on the seats, alright, Serket?” the girls at the front seat says. That’s when it finally clicks on who the fuck this is.

It’s Red.

“This would not be a routine stop, but I kind of busted your head open, sorry about that,” Red says, a sheepish smile on her face as she pulls into the parking lot of the ER. “Yeah, really, thanks a lot for this, bitchin’ new scar,” you shrug nonchalantly. Both of you get out of the car, and you two walk into the ER. While you sign yourself in, she waits patiently in a chair.

“So, you bashed my head into the hood of a car to arrest me. Where in the world were you going to take me?” you ask, looking over at her while holding your head. Red shrugs. “I don’t really know? I think I had a plan, but the adrenaline of getting you must have really fucked with my head or something,” she says. You nod. “Okay, so I know we aren’t supposed to reveal our true identities to each other, but it kind of sucks just calling you Red in my head. Like, I know you have a name that isn’t Red, and I would like to know it,” you say. It’s more of a word vomit than anything because now that you’re really taking in Red’s features, she’s very pretty. Or maybe that’s just the lack of blood in your head speaking.

“Terezi. Terezi Pyrope,” she says, sticking her hand out.

“Vriska Serket.”

Sometimes, Terezi stops by the gas station. She doesn’t do it very often, but when she does you’re guaranteed a pretty good day at work. She tries to stay until the end of your shift, but she doesn’t usually make it that long. Today happens to be one of the days that she manages to stay for the entirety of your shift Which is from two until seven, closing time. She’s sitting on the counter talking to you when Aranea shoulders her way into the store.

“So, my girlfriend decided it would be a genius idea to steal som-oh, hey, Vriska’s friend!” Aranea’s face turns a bright red, a sense of unease flashing across her face as she looks from you to Terezi. Terezi raises a hand and twiddles her fingers, waving.

“So, your dumb girlfriend Meenah stole something. What’d she steal?” you ask, leaning on your elbows and placing your face in your left palm. Terezi’s interest peaks even more, and she’s looking thoughtfully at Aranea.

“She stole some really expensive wine,” Aranea says. You snort. Terezi rolls her eyes and hops off the counter.

“What a boring thing to steal,” she says, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “Jewels seem more interesting.”

“Usually they would be, but you have to remember that Lowmad’s just got robbed. Priceless diamond,” Aranea mumbles off nervously. It takes everything in you not to lose it, so you turn away and your shoulders shake with laughter.

“God, Aranea, don’t be so nervous,” you rasp through cackles.

“Well sorry, I want to be careful, unlike you!” Aranea nearly shrieks. You begin to laugh harder, and Aranea only grips the steering wheel harder. You writhe in your seat for a moment before calming down and smiling.

“Really, though, Aranea, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

That was a lie.

On Monday, right after you get home from school, you notice there are cops shoving your sister into a cop car. What the fuck. You bolt right up to the house, your insides in a nervous tangle.

“Officer, why is my sister being arrested?” you ask, the nervousness lacing your voice.

“She’s your sister? She’s under arrest for the robbery of Lowmad’s Jewelers, found with evidence in the home,” he says. You’re shaking, but you don’t care to mention that. There are also tears in your eyes, but you refuse to cry in front of these officers. You haven’t cried in front of anyone in a very long time, and you don’t plan on breaking that streak with a police officer. Aranea looks more of a wreck than you do. You begin to chew your nails.

“We’re taking her down to the station.”

Admittedly, you don’t immediately go to see your sister. You call Terezi and ask where she’s at and ask if it’s alright if you can come over. She says yes, and you rush over to her house immediately once she’s given you the address.

“Hey, what happened?” she asks, concern crossing her face.

“My… Dear god, my sister got arrested. Terezi, I don’t know what to do,” you say, running a hand through your hair. The distressed tone of your voice and your blotchy red face must set off even more alarm bells in her head. She places her hands on your shoulders before wrapping you in a hug.

“God, Vriska, I’m so sorry,” she says into your shoulder. You try to suppress a sob, but it ends up finding its own way out.

“Terezi, I’m so scared. If they… if they find out that I did it, then I’ll be arrested, and I don’t even have enough money to bail Aranea out, I just… I don’t know what to do,” you choke out.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, rubbing your back.

“I just want my sister.”

The week has been rough, to say the least.

You’ve been visiting your sister, and Terezi has been hanging out with you at work more often. Something had seemed… off about Terezi ever since your sister got arrested, though. She’d been quieter than usual, and Terezi never shuts her trap. You didn’t think anything of it. Until Saturday.

“I’m the reason your sister got arrested,” she blurts out, clawing at her palm. Your head snaps up.

“Excuse me, what?” you bark, your eyes closing to little slits. You want her to say she’s joking, but somehow, you know she isn’t.

“I called the cops on your sister. They were actually meant for you, but you weren’t home, so they just assumed it was your sister. I tipped them off,” Terezi says. You let a growl escape your throat along with tightening your grip on the counter.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” you say, spite clear in your words.

“Listen, it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment!” she says, her distress evident.

“Calling the cops on me? That seemed like a ‘good idea’?” you scoff, a look of disbelief crosses your face. “I suggest you get the fuck out before you have to use your pretty little knives to kill me.”

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