Gristrift

As this is a humanstuck AU, any character names that are English words or shortenings of English words (Dad, the Condesce, Spades Slick, etc.) have been changed minimally to sound more like names.

Do you normally read fanfiction on another website? This story is also available on Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction dot net, and Wattpad.

Part one: Carapacian Catastrophe

Prologue

When Condelle sat down, light had filtered through the dusty window and the fancy-ass curtains, reflecting off her laptop. Some time after that, the room had darkened, leaving only the computer to light up her smudged makeup and frazzled hair. The shit she went through for power. She made a mental note to get that damn Porrim girl to fix her up later. Condelle dared not look at the little clock at the bottom of the screen. Every so often, her stomach would remind her that she hadn't eaten in the last day, or her throat would remind her that she hadn't drank for hours. Ignoring her body, she focused harder, straining her tired eyes and clicking link after link. She placed a pillow under her laptop to keep it from burning her tyrian purple skirt, her only large movement in hours. Nothing hurt the skirt.

The cry of a baby sounded in the room next to her, followed by the sound of footsteps. Condelle shook her head, trying to concentrate while everybody else decided it was time to throw some kind of shitty noise party. She closed a tab in disgust. The Daunchys had seemed so promising, until they posted on their blog about how gross they thought babies looked. The fuck, man? What's gross about a lil wriggling baby? Only three more nearby families looked like they could meet her needs: the Flothers, the Murels, and the Egberts. If those failed, she would have to cast her net even wider, which would make it all the harder to get the children back when the time came if the parents started causing a shitstorm.

Fifteen of the sixteen babies had already been placed. The families had been contacted and had agreed to the project. Each family met three requirements:

-They were willing to raise a child

-They were willing to give up that child once he or she hit puberty and started showing his or her powers

-They wouldn't tell a soul about Condelle or the school.

She moved onto the Flothers, then quickly clicked away. Mituna was a dumbass motherfucker to recommend them to her. They were a group of total flag-waving patriots who would tell the government everything at the drop of a hat. He must have been so caught up in the posts on their blog about wanting a child that he missed the fucking obvious warning signs.

The Murels seemed promising for a long time. Their firm belief in conspiracy theories actually made things better - nobody who thought the government faked the moon landing and 9/11 would ever report a secret school to that very government. If she played it right, she could convince them her school was out to infiltrate the feds and show the world evidence that the conspiracies were true. The Murels would eat that shit up like candy.

They even talked about wanting to adopt a child but being too distrustful of adoption agencies to do so. A grin stretched the wrinkles around her mouth. Little Johnny Murel. Perfect.

She clicked the "Our Family" link on the Murels's website and read until she stumbled upon the bios of Magda, Kingston, and Wesley Murel. At ages 23, 25, and 31, they all still lived with the senior Murels. That wouldn't do. No matter how strong their anti-government beliefs, it looked like they would never give up a kid entrusted to their care. Condelle let out a small groan of frustration and moved on to the Egberts.

Or Egbert, as it was. Only one person, a man of around thirty. His main profiles were on LinkedIn and Serious Business, under the username Pipefan413. He blabbed on and on about his boring as shit customer relations job at Perio Inc, the company that made Barbasol. Occasionally he posted about how much he would love to be a father, male fashion, baking, and the recent upwards trend in pipe prices. Condelle's grin returned as she read through his posts and profiles. This sucker would work perfectly. He obviously wanted to be a father, but his busy lifestyle meant that he would relinquish John when the time came. Condelle could find no information online about his personal life, so he was good at keeping all hush hush about shit. She just needed to make him keep all hush hush about her shit.

She opened up her e-mail account and typed his address into the "to" section.

Dear Mr. Egbert,

I recently had an issue with my Barbasol shaving cream. It says in your company's commercials that in a pinch, it can be used to put out fires. I decided the other day to see for myself if this was true when I was in the middle of a blackout and my candle lit one of my important documents. Shaving cream, as it turns out, is extremely flammable. I ended up ruining the document, my expensive curtains, and several small trinkets of immense sentimental value.

I happen to live only a few blocks from Perio Inc, and though I realize it must be inconvenient, I would prefer working out this problem in person. Can you let me know when an appropriate time would be?

Thank you,

Ms. Condelle Hicks

She hit send. Condelle wasn't worried about using her real name because even the feds didn't know she existed.

Finally, finally, she got up and stretched her muscles, popping her joints in the process. She rushed to the kitchen, turned on the chipped marble sink, and drank the water straight from the tap, relishing the feeling of wetness against her tongue. Her eyes darted around. Nobody could see her doing shit like this. Then she trudged back to bed, snapped her laptop shut, and lay down to sleep. Hopefully, when she next woke up, she would see a new e-mail.

Condelle knocked confidently on the beige door to Dan Egbert's office. In a nearby empty room, Porrim waited with the baby. She was the shit with babies, always able to tell why they cried, though Rufioh and Aranea sometimes took shifts. Dirk wanted to take shifts, but nobody let him after the Red Bull incident.

A large figure appeared behind the frosted glass window on the door. The doorknob turned, the door opened, and out stepped Dan Egbert.

The first thing Condelle noticed was how similar he looked to Jane's old caretaker, Dale Crocker. They had the same fashion sense: a sleek, black tie; a well-tailored suit; two black, shiny dress shoes; a too small fedora; and a pipe, which sat in Dan's left hand. Both also had large noses, but their facial resemblances ended there. Dale was white with a gaunt face and a buzz cut. Dan had round, Asian features and a mess of short hair.

He gave her a smile that communicated both friendliness and seriousness. "You must be Ms. Hicks. How do you do? I hate to see somebody dissatisfied with Barbasol - I shave every part of my body with it every day."

Condelle tried her hardest not to be thrown off by that statement. Staring at his arms, she noticed a lack of the tiny hairs that coated most people's skin. "Don't go near a fire, then. How can shaving cream be so flammable?"

"Actually, I talked with some higher ups this very morning. I am concerned about your statements. Was the shaving cream you used expired?"

"No." She wanted to work the conversation towards the baby as soon as possible, but she couldn't see an opening.

Luckily, an opening presented itself to her as John chose that moment to cry. Condelle could hear Porrim's hushed murmurs of comfort. Dan looked in the direction of the noise. "One of the people in one of the other offices must have just had a baby," he said, a wistful look in his eyes. "I hope it doesn't bother you."

"Not at all," said Condelle, pumping her inner fist. With this last newborn taken care of, her future power would be in the fucking bag. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, so she wiped the gleeful smile from her face. "What do you think of babies, anyways?"

"I love them! I've always wanted to have a child, but medical complications mean I can never have one of- I'm sorry, I shouldn't share my personal information with customers. Forgive me."

"Actually, that's my child," said Condelle. "I can't really afford him and I'd like it if I could get him to a good home, but I'm scared an adoption agency would hold on to him for too long." Lies first, truth later.

Dan's eyes lit up and a smile spread his cheeks apart. Then he shook his head and returned to a more professional expression. "So. The Barbasol. Was your can, by any chance, expired?" He spoke as if distracted, and she noticed he asked the same question twice.

Condelle forced herself to be patient. The last thing wanted to do was yak about shaving cream,she would do anything to get rid of John for twelve to fourteen years and ensure her power.

So when Dan told a joke, she laughed. When Dan told a sob story about getting banned from Cirque du Soliel, she sighed like she actually fucking cared. Whenever she could, she inserted a reference to John in the conversation. Dan's face lit up like a neon sign every time. Before she left, Condelle made sure to arrange another meeting, promising to bring with her some of her problematic shaving cream bottles.

When she next arrived at Dan Egbert's office, instead of shaving cream bottles she carried baby John.

As she walked in, she noticed that Dan barely decorated his office. Condelle couldn't help but compare his bare desk and white walls with her own office, full of glitter, pink paint, and all the gold jewelry she could get her hands on.

"Sorry. I couldn't leave him with my older daughter, like last time," she said, putting a convincing amount of guilt in her voice. He didn't seem to notice.

"Is that John?" asked Dan. "He's gorgeous! Hi, John! You're such a darling little boy... a dawling widdwe boy... coojie cooje coo! Who's the cutest baby in the room? You are a -" Dan looked up. His cheeks turned red. "Urn. Sorry. Won't happen again."

This man's ramblings weren't worth any more of her time. She decided to cut to the chase, using her powers to remotely lock the door behind her.

"I think I know your problem. The shaving-"

"I don't want to hear another word about the goddamn shaving cream," she said.

She must not have put enough seriousness in her voice, because the next words Dan said were, "Are you... hitting on me?"

She grinned and wrote in the air with her finger "NO". A trail of tyrian purple nail polish remained floating. Just to make sure he felt sufficiently intimidated, she made her hair swirl around the room, opening drawers to grab office supplies and throwing them to the floor. The lights blinked on and off a few times to complete the effect.

Dan's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Let's cut to the chase, Dan. I got powers you can't even think of. And I ain't the only one. This boy, for example. John. He could save the motherfuckin' world some day. In fact, if you is willing to believe that I can write words in the air, then you should be willing to believe there was some sorta prophecy or shit about him." There was, of course, no ancient prophecy. She just said that about all the kids in order to sweeten the deal.

"Well then," he said, composing himself, though confusion still tinged his voice. "Let's hear more about this prophecy, shall we?" He adjusted his tie.

Shit, thought Condelle. Nobody ever asked for more details before. Most felt so awed by her awesome display and promises that they simply accepted it and made off with the child. "Well," she said, "when the blue phoenix kisses the red snake, a hero named John's gonna save the world from certain destruction." She hoped he felt satisfied, as she wasn't gonna sit here all day spoonfeeding shit to annoying businessman.

"Golly. And are you sure it talks about this John?"

"Yes, yes, the witch said it right when he was born."

Dan nodded solemnly. "I take it you want me to raise this boy?" A touch of a smile showed through the confusion and fear.

"For thirteen years, uh-huh. Once he starts showing his powers, he comes with me. I got me a special institution for children like him to figure their shit out. Here's my card." She gave him a glittering, tyrian purple card with a picture of her on one side and her contact details and a picture of Insane Clown Posse on the other side. "Keep ahold of that so you can reach me when it's time." She grinned and handed him both the baby and a slip of paper with details on finding her.

"This is a lot to take in at once," he said.

"You got any questions?"

He sat still for a second, baby in one arm, a stern look on his face. "Actually, no. I should be good. I'll, er, contact you if I need anything."

"Sure," said Condelle, smiling. "See you in thirteen years."

She left the room, a grin stretching across her face.