Serving Justice with Punches

Needless to say it wouldn’t be a day in the life of Carlos Makara without something unexpected happening when he wanted to relax. And happen it did. Stepping through the door and closing it with his foot after walking through the freezing weather and muttering his usual profanity about how fucking cold it was, something odd had entered his ear. Something that he wouldn’t have really expected and if you told him it would happen he’d probably call you an idiot and to stop smoking whatever your buddy gave you. After the noise he had heard finally registered he finally came to the realization ‘German..? Who’s here on ditch day?’ Not that there was anything unusual about that, a lot of students sometimes would simply forget it was ditch or would simply walk around campus looking for their friends, but this wasn’t a student Carlos recognized. First of all he didn’t recall anyone, at least any female student, speaking German and secondly they certainly did not look so… so… otherworldly. Seeing the students shocked expression immediately told Carlos this student was modded; the silver hair, the glowing freckles, and her sheer height, she was probably just as tall as him! The visage of the student made Carlos think back to all those fantasy films and books about elves and how they looked, but looking at this tall tree of a girl made him think that she could get a role in the next big fantasy film if she tried.

It was needless to say if anyone knew John that he would have planned this for the longest while. Since he was aware of its very existence, this trip was a long time coming. The feeling upon letting his eyes settle on the treasure that was the miniature rectangular playground of plastic orbs was unlike anything he had ever known before. It was longing. It was love. It was nostalgia the likes of which even movies couldn’t even hope to achieve after watching them the first time, forgetting about them for years, and seeing them pop up on T.V. Truly, this was the pinnacle of his existence. Every single moment before now had led him to this. 

He was dressed casually for the occasion, but if Egbert had his way he would have gone the full four-hundred and twenty miles when it came to showing how much the ball pit meant to him. He was thinking a candlelit dinner by the moon-side shore, gazing into the multicolored pattern of it’s exterior and alluring beauty of the spherical shapes past a quick, hard ramp. Violins would play sweet, yet fiery music straight from the hearts of bribed musicians. Then, he would take it home after a wonderful, splendid walk back, concluding the night by tumbling into the influential depths and resting among the embrace, the caress of the familiar smelling globes.

It was just a normal day, wake up, have some coffee, do job, there wasn't supposed to be anything except for a normal day on the job. After walking through the campus just enjoying the fresh air Carlos had stepped on something squishy, what was it? Picking it up and looking at it revealed it to be an unremarkable little blue ball, thinking nothing of it and tossing it aside didn't stop him from noticing the fact that there were more of them. Odd, where were they coming from? Following the trail lead to the answer. Ball after ball, surprised expression to shocked face, what the fuck was going on here?

Carlos was feeling a little homesick. There was just something that made the Makara feel nostalgic for his old home, sure his old home was pretty much a shit hole but that was hardly the point. In fact, it was the shitty things he missed the most, The smell of cigarettes that wafted through the streets, the loud bickering of two motherfuckers yelling at eachother over the price of some disgusting meat the butcher scrounged together, it added to the charm. But if there was thing that he missed the most it was the fights, the groups of scum gathering to bet on who would get their face punched in and who would lose a few teeth. The Columbia this judge new was no more than an awful place with even worse people, but it was his awful city. It was nothing like this place, this place had decent people from all over and it was cleaner, but that just made it feel fake, it was as if the place he was in wasn’t real and just some naive spoiled child’s view of the world.

Gamzee’s life had been going pretty good, he had a good thing going on with Meenah, he had a business under way, he was even becoming leader of a few of the clubs at school. Honestly Gamzee was enjoying his time on Skaia more than he had actually expected. He’s started classes a bit ago and sure, while some of them were a drag all of the classes he’d signed up for were important stuff for him to know in the future which mean that he’d need this shit if he ever wanted to get his dream going. So all and all Gamzee would say that he really did enjoy Skaia.

That was until he found out his father, Carlos Motherfucking Makara, was going to be coming to teach…something? What in the name of actual fuck could Gamzee’s father actually teach anyone? How to emotionally cripple your child after their mother dies? Perhaps how to marry a woman not even a few years after her death? Oh, or maybe show more love for your step son than your own blood, yeah that was probably what it was knowing his father, how to be a disappointing father 101.

Of course Gamzee had very little to actually do with his father for a long time, he’d pretty much made sure not to have any contact with him, that was until he received a rather curt message from his father informing him that they were going to have a discussion to make sure Gamzee wasn’t wasting away his father’s money ‘Banging hookers and doing stupid shit.’ Oh it was so nice to hear from his father again, he’d almost forgotten how shitty he was. Gamzee had spent the entire night stewing in his own rage.

So the day of the discussion Gamzee had gotten himself cleaned up and walked all the way down to “Professor” Makara’s office, walking up to the door Gamzee stared at the name plaque thinking for a moment of how very easy it would be for him to just take the it and throw it in the trash some place. Really just shove it in his father’s face of just how little his son cared about him but for now Gamzee would play nice and make sure that dear old dad was happy….for now. 

Still, all of this needed to be done for the good of the Makara name and for his son, even if the youngest in the Makara line resented him for it and judging from the look on the young man who had just entered his office told him, that resentment was still fresh and alive. Good, maybe it will make sure he doesn't go off the path his father put him on.

"Well Gamzee, when ya work as hard as I have, it shows." Maybe there was more condescension in his tone than he had intended and no doubt Gamzee had heard it. Carlos had to admit that his office was rather extravagant for a teacher, but when you are one of the greatest judges of your time it is nice to be appreciated. The judge had grabbed to glasses and a bottle of fine whiskey he had brought from Earth and began pouring it into both glasses.

While the first few cooking classes that Tierra had taught were mostly her trying to keep idiots from cutting their fingers off and preventing the act of burning the campus to the ground, after a while she got used to and almost sort of enjoyed teaching her class. Well, sure, there was always that one kid that couldn’t be taught anything - this time around it being a blond boy in shades - but Tierra could deal with that so long as everyone else was capable of following basic instruction. Which they fortunately were. Which luckily meant the only thing she had to do after class was tidy up her work station and not have to spend extra time cleaning up everyone else’s mess as well. That just meant she hopefully wouldn’t be late to pick up her old friend from the shuttle-port, the Peixes humming to herself casually while organizing and wiping down counters.

For Tierra, it had been years since she saw Carlos Makara - Lawyer, ex-fighter, stud - and even longer since they had been able to just… Talk. She still considered him maybe her oldest and closest friend despite their odd relations after her husband died. It was trying for both of them, her losing her partner and him losing a lifelong friend, and really all they had at the time was each other. It ended up after that, despite the two of them hating how the other took up Colonius’ time at the start, that they had come to tolerate each other, and even work well together as Carlos got hired as Tierra’s personal lawyer. Sure, his license may be less than legitimate for all she knew, but if he won lawsuits she didn’t care. Well, then Carlos’ wife went like Colonius, and admittedly, things got very weird for them at her funeral. And things really shouldn’t’ve been weird.

Well. there were only so many times you could openly deny to yourself that you may or may not’ve nailed your friend at his wife’s funeral. Because, and let’s face it, that isn’t a very classy move no matter how many glasses of funeral wine you have in your system. The fact that she could still remember the statue of Jesus staring down at them with that ever condescending look that Jesus statues usually had on their smug-ass messiah faces wasn’t a really good sign either. But anyways, weird past behind her - far far far behind her - the Crocker Mogul kept to cleaning her work space, looking down at the mess of pancake batter splattered against the tile wall behind her sink and sighing exasperatedly while she leaned over to wipe up the mess, not paying any heed to the sound of footsteps behind her - it was probably one of her dumbass students picking up their backpack that they forgot - and drawling disinterestedly, “Ey, if ya gonna keep fo’gettin’ ya shit in here I’mma start throwin’ all’a it in th-” Before abruptly stopping talking as she felt the trespasser’s hands grope her ass firmly.

There was something different about this ass though, but it was hard to figure out. Sure it would be a little if he checked some random girls ass in a school, but fuck if he cared. Then it hit, he knew that ass, he could find that ass in a crowd from meters away without an issue. So there was only one course of action for such an ass. So like any gentlemen meeting his old lover after years apart, the spire of hair and tattoos walled forward and like slamming down his gavel, slapped the mound of flesh and gave it a firm squeeze. But something was wrong.