1. It's "Foundation," not "Federation".
2. The kids seem to be running things more than the Federation, though I'm sure that could be handwaved with some mention of "With the cooperation of Skaianet" or some such.
DAMNIT I knew I had messed up on that somewhere. I even re-read it specifically looking for those kinds of mistakes. And yeah, I gotta make it seem like the kids aren't quite as controlling as they are now. That's why I said it was a template.
*edit* holy crap it's ninja day all over for me again. Anyway, as to your post, CT, i figured we'd just do it as the actual site does it - it's anyone's go. The reason I say we should call individualized dibs is because it's a forum and not a wiki, so doing more than one iteration of the same thing leads to confusion.
Last edited by Douhneill; 12-14-2010 at 04:24 PM.
If you feel that there's no way things could get any worse, that means things will only get better!
...That, or you're possibly being fed on by a dementor. Eat some chocolate, stat.
Bluh bluh, huge chapter. This took way longer than it should have. I couldn't think of a better title, so I might change it!
Conquest
Chapter Ten: Invasions of Privacy
Karkat found himself hiding behind Terezi's shuttle not too much later, doing his best to wait patiently as Sollux hacked apart its security system. Across from them, Aradia wandered the docking bay aimlessly, keeping an eye out for Terezi's inevitable return. It would have been easy to assume that since she'd just arrived it would be at least a few hours before she came back to claim her shuttle, but Karkat knew better.
Nothing about this situation had gone right for him thus far, and he wasn't counting on that changing any time soon.
Sollux's hacking set up was something complicated involving multicoloured wires strung into the ship's power source and not one, but two computers. As usual, despite his keen interest in the subject, Karkat was finding it completely impossible to grok what Sollux was actually doing.
When they were all a lot younger and just entering the fleet, it had been easy to become frustrated toiling in the shadows of his freakishly talented friends. Eventually, though, he'd realized that in terms of the political hierarchy, that very weakness was a strength. Sollux was powerful, aggravatingly so, but all that meant was that he was crucially useful as a tool. There was no reason to ever give him enough rank to actually have any political sway. Why would Command want to do that when they could just boss him around from the top?
It was for reasons like that that Sollux had never been given anything besides a superficial promotion, and probably wouldn't see one for the rest of his military career. It didn't help that he was also painfully aware of that fact.
"Are you done yet?" Karkat prompted, the timeline bearing down on him.
Sollux didn't say anything, and instead just raised one of his hands with his fingers extended. Thinking he was being silenced, Karkat began sputtering out something indignant, but Sollux just calmly folded in his thumb, followed by his index finger a moment later. Karkat rolled his eyes, finally realizing what he was doing.
"A countdown. Wow. Very dramatic," Karkat groaned.
Sollux did nothing but smirk in response, and when he finally folded down his pinky the shuttle's door opened with a pop and hiss. He hastily began packing away his tools, removing the wires, and getting ready to move inside.
"Bam. Done," he said, looking towards the docking bay entrance for any sign of Terezi. Aradia noticed his glance, and shook her head. Satisfied with that, Sollux slipped into the cockpit.
"Yeah?" Karkat replied, following suit. "Well, I'll give you your congratulatory ass pats later. You haven't done the important part yet."
Terezi's shuttle appeared to be more or less standard issue, with a cockpit that comfortably seated about three - more if one was alright with squishing. To the front of the ship was the dashboard and viewscreen, and to the back there was a bit of empty floor space followed by doorway that usually led to a storage area or small resting quarters. Sollux immediately went for the controls, the numerous wires from his computer hooking themselves into the system with the guidance of his psionics.
Most larger ships came with a few free-use shuttles that any resident could use to move between locations, but most trolls that could afford it opted to purchase and maintain their own vessels. This one was definitely Terezi's personal shuttle - the most obvious evidence being that she had apparently been living out of it for a while. The floor was littered with various artifacts of her day to day routine, a mess which seemed to thicken towards the back of the ship.
As Sollux began working on bugging the control panel, Karkat moved towards the back room.
"What are you doing?" Sollux asked, casting him a suspicious glance as he typed.
"Searching the place for evidence. Is that a problem?"
"Depends. Don't mess anything up, okay? She can't know we were in here."
"Oh right, I forgot that since I am apparently Grade A retarded that I need to be schooled on the ways of basic investigation. Thanks a lot buddy, you really saved my ass there."
Sollux shrugged. "Just saying you need to be ready for a huge fucking 'I told you so' if you mess this up."
Karkat scowled at him. "And I'm just saying 'fuck you, Sollux, I don't give a shit.' I know what I'm doing."
Apparently satisfied with that, he waved him off. "Okay, have fun."
Things seemed oddly quiet as he entered her temporary quarters, shutting the door behind him. The area was small, so it didn't take much to make it seem crowded. The resting slab took up most of the floor space, the other corner stocked with a few non-descript storage crates. Besides that, it was mostly just used clothing and a few sketchbooks in varying states of use.
He started idly flipping through one, which was predictably marred with the usual abhorrent colour choices, and the wildly scrawled images that looked abstract even though they probably weren't supposed to be. He tossed it back down onto the resting slab. They were just stupid drawings, who cared?
He focused on the storage crates next, but there wasn't anything of relevance inside. Some extra sidearms, rations, threshecutioners equipment - over all, a vastly disappointing snooping experience. Then again, he wasn't surprised. Terezi was too damn wily to leave anything she considered truly private out in the open.
Only putting a half hearted effort into rifling through the clothes on the floor, Karkat eventually settled for sinking down onto the resting slab in frustration. Typical. He went through all the trouble of breaking into her shuttle, and there's nothing around to make it worth his while. Well, aside from what Sollux was doing up front, anyway.
He leaned back against the wall, thinking over his options. Some kind of secret compartment, maybe? If he was Terezi Pyrope, where would he put his stupid shit?
He closed his eyes, musing on that thought, and until that moment that he noticed something. Something in that corner smelt, and it smelt like...cherry?
He looked under the resting slab again, this time giving the far wall a bit more scrutiny. It looked like one side of the wall panel had been pulled open before. He hooked his claws around the edge, and gave it a pull. It popped out like it seemed like it would, revealing a hidden cubby hole.
The compartment was empty, besides a lone metal box and a bright red cherry scented air freshener. The latter must have been what he was smelling. He pushed it aside, going for the box. It was wide, but not particularly heavy - kind of like a small briefcase. He pulled it out from beneath the slab and sat down with it on his lap. There was no lock on it, so he went ahead and cracked it open.
The contents was a stale stack of drawings, of an origin that he recognized immediately. His teeth clenched in disgust as he felt himself become suddenly furious.
He'd know that pork-chop mouthed, jpeg artifacted bullshit anywhere.
They were series of comics and drawings - some of which were nearly pornographic - and all of which were done by that shit headed Dave Strider, back in his glory days of ruining Karkat's life over the goddamn internet. Of course she'd still have them, wouldn't she? After all these fucking sweeps, of course she would.
Maybe it was left over teenage frustrations, maybe it rage from what she'd tried to do to him, maybe it was the sting of the wounds her claws had left mere minutes previous, but Karkat found himself tearing the drawings to shreds without a second thought. Strips of paper fell to the floor around his feet as he cursed venomously under his breath.
When he was finished with the ones he'd been holding, he began clawing through the rest of them looking for a new target. It was stupid. It was immature. In that moment, though, he couldn't be further away from caring. If a few scraps of paper were all Terezi had to lose in this situation, then so be it.
His pace stopped, however, as he noticed a change in the subject of matter of the drawings. It was no longer Strider's work, but her own. They were traditionally drawn, and from the looks of the style probably done sometime during their session. The gold and blue colour choices were unmistakable. They were drawings of Prospit.
His life on Prospit had been brief - maybe half a minute long in total, which included the agony of being burnt to death by someone he'd considered his blood brother. But, despite his assurances that he had no interest in the place to begin with, there was a sense of longing that had never quite left him. It felt like he'd missed something...something really important.
He flipped through the pages more slowly now, looking them over in a state of bemusement. He hadn't know she'd spent so much time drawing about that stuff.
His heart skipped a beat as he came to one of the last drawings.
It was the same backdrop as the others, smears of gold and Skaian blue, but there was something different about it. He'd occasionally seen her draw herself or some of the Prospitians in the previous art, but this one had two trolls drawn into it instead of one, both done up in golden royal attire. The artwork was messy, almost unintelligible, but he could tell that the first one was Terezi.
And that the one flying along beside her was him.
"KK?" Sollux called through the door. Karkat looked up from the drawing, startled. "KK, I need you out here right now. And be quiet about it."
"Shit," he hissed, just then realizing the mess he had made. He began stuffing both the torn and whole artwork back into the box. Sure, she'd find out someone had wrecked her stuff eventually. As long as it wasn't in the next twenty four hours, though, it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't-
He paused, finding the picture of him and Terezi on Prospit in his hands again. After a moment of hesitation, he folded that one back into quarters and slid it into his pocket, pushing the rest back into the hidden compartment. Making sure it was closed just as it had been before, Karkat went out to see what the hell was going on with Sollux.
He came out asking that very question, but Sollux shushed him immediately, gesture out through the viewscreen windows. His computers - and the rapidly gestating egg of his parasite virus - were still sprawled out beneath the dashboard. Karkat hunkered down beside him, looking out the window.
Aradia and Terezi were standing together at the docking bay entrance, apparently having some kind of conversation. Terezi's stance was aloof, but as the unheard dialogue went on her guard seemed to drop. Aradia was smiling in that sympathetically encouraging way she did so often, and soon enough Terezi appeared to be gushing about some kind of emotional issue in something that resembled an sincere manner.
Karkat gave Sollux a questioning look, who shrugged in return. One thing was clear - they were officially out of time.
"Well, is it done yet?" Karkat hissed.
"Just about. I think Aradia is buying us some time."
"It won't be enough if we don't get out of here right now." Karkat looked out the window again, only to witness Terezi and Aradia having a very soulful hug on the other side of the docking bay. "Oh, what the FUCK?"
"They'll hear you, you idiot!" Sollux snapped, shoving him under the dashboard with a psionically enforced thrust.
"I swear to God, if you don't stop smacking me around with your fucking psycho powers I am going to seriously flip the fuck out-" Karkat was beginning to rant, when he noticed the parasite virus finally freeing itself of its egg. "It's hatching!" he alerted. "What are you waiting for?"
"Okay." Sollux dove down for it, picking up the little creature and feeding it into wires of the control panel. It scuttled away on its many legs, presumably going to bury itself away somewhere it wouldn't be seen. Karkat looked out of the window again, only for Aradia to catch his eye. Even as she and Terezi were still embracing, she noticed him through the window, and gave him a forceful nod.
A forceful nod which clearly communicated 'you two need to get out of the fucking shuttle right now.'
Sollux closed the panels he had opened and started gathering up his supplies. Karkat helped, giving one last hesitant took towards Terezi's temporary respite block. Moments later they slid out of the shuttle's gate, shutting it behind them as quietly as possible. Just as Terezi was disengaging from conversation with Aradia, the two of them escaped, hiding behind another vessel a few lots down.
Terezi went straight for her shuttle and got in. Moments later it powered up, going through standard launch procedures and heading for the air lock. Aradia met up with them shortly after.
"Did you get it in?" she asked Sollux. He pulled out a handheld computer and tapped in a few codes. It beeped, and he nodded.
"It's in. I've got her on the radar now. Wherever she goes, we'll be able to follow her."
"What the hell was all that sap over there about, Aradia?" Karkat snapped. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but Terezi is the enemy. Please tell me that was just a distraction."
Aradia frowned at him. "She's not, and it wasn't. We don't really know what's happening with her right now, and cutting her out of our lives isn't going to help anything until we do. She didn't tell me much, but she's upset. And knowing that is better than nothing." She paused. "But that doesn't mean we don't need to be cautious around her right now. Let's see where she's going."
Sollux gave him a look as if to say 'See? She agrees with me' and followed her towards the shuttle.
Karkat grumbled a few profanities before finally shouting after them, "I'm the one with the keys, you know? You're not going anywhere without these!" He'd barely finished speaking when the keys in his hand lit up with with a glow of blue and red and wrenched themselves free of his grasp, flying straight into Sollux's clutches.
"Sollux, you shit-fanged asshole, I am going to give you the ass kicking of a lifetime!"
They exited the airlock shortly after Terezi, keeping a safe distance as Sollux tracked her coordinates. After some messing around with the engine controls, Sollux proclaimed that he'd cloaked the ship. When asked how, he began rambling out and explanation filled with words that no one in the shuttle but him understood.
"Think you could take it down a notch and give an explanation that makes sense?" Karkat suggested.
Sollux rolled his eyes. "I scattered the energy signature so that it doesn't look like a ship on other people's radar. It really only works on things that are shuttle sized. It means Terezi won't see us. Want to go over the ABCs now?"
Despite the conspiratorial nature of the trip, as it turned out, tracking someone's shuttle was boring. Sollux's beacon kept on blinking, and they kept on following it, and eventually the path veered away from what would have been considered and average routine of flight. Terezi was speeding up - heading towards the outer rim of the fleet. That meant less observers, but it also meant less safety. The outer rim was where someone in a shuttle had the best chance of getting attacked.
"This isn't looking promising," Sollux commented, looking over the most recent set of coordinates. "She's basically going completely off of the hive grid. The only thing out here is enemy scouts."
Or something worse, Karkat realized, seeing a much larger blip than Terezi's shuttle appear on the radar. "Oh, fuck no."
The "hive grid" was the formation of the Alternian fleet, and what enabled trolls to reliable navigate their own ships when moving around the marching order. Going outside of it meant going out of the army's protection, which only two types of people would risk: criminals, or exiles.
And they all knew one very persistent exile who had a personal interest in each of their destructions.
"Shit," Sollux mumbled. "I was right."
Terezi was docked on the personal battle cruiser of the one and only former Empress of the Alternian Empire.
"So fucking stupid," Karkat found himself muttering as he brought the shuttle to a standard glide alongside the cruiser. "I can't fucking believe this."
"Got it in one, huh?" Aradia said, not sounding very pleased with them being right.
"Now what?" Sollux asked, nervously running a hand through his hair.
"We wait," Karkat said, forcing a degree of certainty into his voice that he wasn't sure he had at the moment. "We see what we can see. We tell Feferi what we know. We work from there."
That statement lead into a silence that stretched into the minutes, until Aradia finally put it best.
"Terezi, what are you thinking?" she asked, putting a hand to her face.
Eventually Sollux began fiddling around with the computers again, trying to get a better read on the cruiser, but was having trouble getting in to any system that mattered. Things seemed to be going smoothly though, until he looked up to the viewscreen in shock.
"Oh fuck," he said. That was never something one wanted to hear from Sollux while he was hacking.
"What did you do?" Karkat snapped.
"I didn't do anything! But...the cruiser just put their blasters online."
"What? I thought they couldn't see us!" Karkat looked back at Sollux in a mixture of fury and terror. "They can't see us, right?"
"I-I didn't think they could!" Sollux sputtered.
And that was when the Empress's cruiser opened fire.
This whole thing is really making me want a giant crossover detailing the escape of the trolls and the Foundation's attempts to recapture them. And the kids helping...one side or the other.
Little titbit for that:
Nepeta tried to find her way through the hallways, her hands covering her ears. The noise was hurting her little kitty ears. Turning around a corner, she bumped into someone. When she looked up, she saw a tall, broad man looking down at her with uncertainty in his eyes. A small smile appeared on his face, and he scooped her up, holding her tightly with both arms, to prevent her escape.
"Gocha, you little-" he began.
"Wow mister, you're really strong. Do you know my friend Equius? He's very strong too. I think he might like you, unless you have red blood. Do you have red blood? Equius says that people with red blood are mutants, but I don't think that's true. I mean, Karkat has red blood, but he seems pretty normal. Well, he's a bit angry, but he's not that bad. I really like him." while Nepeta babbled, the scientist reached for his pocket. He had accidentally left a syringe with a powerful sedative in his pocket when he took his lunch break. He didn't know what it would do to this creature, but it was better than letting it run free.
"What are you doing, mister? Are you going to put me back in that room? I don't like it there, I want to go back home. Well, I can't, but I just want to go back to the lab back in the Veil." she continued in a single breath.
When the scientist found the sedative, he made the mistake of looking at the girl he held. Her big yellow eyes were getting watery, and her lips were quivering. "Please mister, don't put me back in that room." she begged with a soft, shaking voice.
The man hesitated if he should restrain her, or that he should get her off-site, hugging her all the way there. He then thought of the punishment of such an action, and steeling himself, took the syringe out of his pocket.
Snikt.
With a gasp of combined surprise, pain, and pierced lung, the man fell backwards, Nepeta holding onto him all the way down. The last thing he saw was the girl dislodging two metal claws from his chest, red with his own blood.
"Aw, you're no fun. Ooh, what's that?" Nepeta looked down the hallway, and saw two small things looking at her. One was a dark yellow, the other was burnt orange. Both were shaped like teardrops and had a single, large eye in their centers. Nepeta scampered torwards them, and sat down on her knees in front of them. The yellow one emitted a high-pitch chatter, to which the orange one replied in the same way. Nepeta reached for the yellow one, which backed up first, then got under her hand, the girl scratching it behind its pointy antenna. The orange one chattered, and made a circle around Nepeta, chatting all the way.
"Aw, you two are so cute. What are you doing here?" she asked. The two looked at her, or more precisely, past her, then quickly skittered away. When Nepeta looked over her shoulder, the last thing she saw before losing conscience was a rifle butt.
A commando heaved her onto his shoulder, while a second activated his radio. "Command, we have subdued SCP-1025-5. Requesting exfiltration route."
And yes, Nepeta met SCP-131 A and B. The only ones who are nearly as diabetical as Nepeta herself.
Last edited by FieryBlacksmith; 12-14-2010 at 05:16 PM.
d'AAAAWWWWW. It's like when someone got the magic coffee machine to make 'something Cassy will like'.
If you feel that there's no way things could get any worse, that means things will only get better!
...That, or you're possibly being fed on by a dementor. Eat some chocolate, stat.
Object Class: Keter when in possession of SCP-1025-23, Safe at all other times
Special Containment Procedures: See main article.
SCP-1025-11 is not to be interred or transported near SCP-1025-3, SCP-1025-6, SCP-1025-8, or SCP-1025-9.
Description: SCP-1025-11 is an apparently amphibious variant of SCP-1025. SCP-1025-11 shows very little outward difference from other specimens, save for a set of small fin-like growths on either side of its neck.
SCP-1025-11 behaves very introverted toward humans. Questioning it will produce little if any information, unless SCP-1025-12 is used as a mediator.
SCP-1025-11 shows no extranormal abilities. However, it is seemingly an adept marksman, as proven with the number of casualties sustained attempting to capture it. It is recorded as only missing once with SCP-1025-23, realizing that it was firing at Agent XXXXX in the process of capturing SCP-1025-24.
In the unlikely event that it can be persuaded to join the Foundation, SCP-1025-11 may show promise as long-range Strike Force support.
Addendum 1025-11a: SCP-1025-11 is not to be engaged at long range now that SCP-1025-23 is back in its possession. If possible, taking SCP-1025-12 hostage will most likely prove effective in convincing SCP-1025-11 to surrender.
So I just went back and read the entirety of what there is so far of Conquest. It's so awesome, I'm loving it. It's like Babylon 5 showed up and smacked Homestuck in the face and they made a kickass story lovechild.
EDIT: bah, C-words, they all look the same.
Last edited by SataiDelenn; 12-14-2010 at 05:28 PM.
d'AAAAWWWWW. It's like when someone got the magic coffee machine to make 'something Cassy will like'.
You got me on a roll here...
The door opened. Something flew into the room, hitting a surpised guard in the face. He pulled it off, but some of it came in his mouth. It was... key lime pie? He wasn't certain about the taste, or what happened next. If he did saw what happened, he could have seen his colleague being hit on the head with enough force to crack his skull, before something leaped at him and hit him hard enough in the next to break it. Their killer looked at what they were guarding: a coffee machine. He studied the machine, and noticed the keypad on it, with some instructions on a note sticked to the machine. Dragging a chair to the machine, he read the note, and a smile appeared on his painted face.
Activating the machine, he began to type. "f-A-y-G-o" Pressing Enter, the machine began to whir, and out popped a cup containing a sugary liquid. Gamzee grabbed the cup, took a snif, and drank the content down in one swig.
"Oh yeah, that's the stuff." Gamzee let a wide grin on his face, and reached for the keypad again.
"s-O-m-E-t-H-i-N-g T-h-A-t W-i-L-l L-e-T m-E t-A-k-E t-H-i-S m-A-c-H-i-N-e B-a-C-k W-i-T-h M-e T-o O-u-R b-A-s-E" he typed. The machine began to shake under its internal strain, but desposited a cup of a bright blue liquid. Gamzee drank it, deciding it tasted like some sort of dark berry, mixed with peanuts. Nothing happened, until Gamzee grabbed the machine, and lifted it above his head without any effort.
"Well fuck me, this must be what Equius feels like all day." Carefully unplugging it and rolling up the wire, Gamzee hauled the machine off with one hand, a club in the other. Sometimes, when you see a miracle, you should just try to grab it.
*edit* holy crap ANOTHER ninja. That's like 4 in 2 hours, or something.
Anyway, LoL aT gAmZeE. "This must be what Equius feels like all day." XD
Last edited by Douhneill; 12-14-2010 at 05:37 PM.
If you feel that there's no way things could get any worse, that means things will only get better!
...That, or you're possibly being fed on by a dementor. Eat some chocolate, stat.
The majestic lioness scurried down the steel corridor. She had pulled her blue hat tight over her ears in an attempt to block out that horrible alarm noise, but to no avail! Nepeta was wondering where Equius was, when she suddenly bumped in to a wall. "Ow!" the cat girl squealed, rubbing her nose with both hands.
She looked around. Nothing to her left. Nothing to her - hold on. What was that weird orange blobby thing? Nepeta crouched down low to the ground, shimmying toward the mysterious blob. She was only five feet away when it suddenly shot up, looking like a large pillar of jelly. The troll hopped backward, claws at the ready.
The top of the blob cocked to the side. It began to hop up and down, similar to a very eager puppy. Nepeta abruptly pounced at the blob, looking very surprised when, instead of falling down or dying, she got stuck in it!
At least it felt really tingly, though. She began to try and wriggle her way out of it. The blob began to envelop her. It felt like being tickled! So, Nepeta did the only thing she knew to do when being tickled: she tickled right back.
Soon, under the sound of her own giggles, the blob was making a high pitched squeal. Quickly, it released Nepeta, and extended two amorphous tentacles. Nepeta batted them away playfully, and the thing continued to extend them, always letting her bat them away.
Yes, Nepeta met 999. Yes, it should be adorable. No, I did not do it justice.
Part II of the Strider brothers battle with CPS- in which things are resolved.
Dave comes home one day to the apartment looking suspiciously bare. For a moment, he wonders with acute irony if Bro took off and left him behind.
Oh, OH how the irony.
But unlikely.
He drops his backpack on the floor near the door where he always leaves it, and heads to the kitchen. Learnin' be hungry work, yo. Bein' the future generation is taxing beyond measure. He doesn't holler for Bro, since it's unlikely he's home right now; he's usually out trying to score gigs, or working some crappy part time job to hold them over when their cash got low.
He opens the fridge, and is met by a spotless interior. Even a few food items, like a loaf of Wonder Bread and a jar of opened strawberry preserves.
WHAT.
Thoroughly weirded out, he shuts it again, and gives the polished metal surface a blank stare. Which is when he realizes the reflection of the kitchen/living room behind him is way less cluttered than it usually is. He turns, eying the space. Cal must be in the trunk, because he's definitely not out dominating the scene. No empty soda cans or chip bags, takeout food cartons, or various flavors of puppet ass. Hell, even some of the posters are down from the walls. The deathtrap cords that pretty much function as carpeting in the main room are all securely tucked away under carpeting, lining walls, or snaking under furniture.
It even smells different. It doesn't smell like home. It smells kinda empty. Cause, let's face it, it usually smells like a man-cave. Or... boy-cave? He's not sure, given their respective ages, what their cave would be classified as. But it is manly as fuck, whatever it decides to be.
He hears movement in the bathroom. Either it's Bro or some mad cleaning woman out for revenge against all the filth in the world. Dave cautiously tiptoes to investigate, peering around the door frame to find Bro on his knees next to the shower stall scrubbing at the crappy linoleum siding. A long time ago it had become an orangey-brown mess from rust and mineral deposits, and Dave is somewhere between surprised and impressed that Bro has managed to bleach the fuck out of a spot the size of a dinner plate. The small space reeks of cleaning fluids, and it kind of makes Dave light headed. It would be small wonder if Bro somehow managed not to get high off of all this. Or dead.
"Bro?"
Bro looks over his shoulder with a kind of frazzled, "Hey, sup" expression, and tosses a salute at him with his chin. He's not wearing his shades, and his lids are irritated from the fumes, red and a little puffy, and Dave can see his brown eyes a little bloodshot.
It's not like he's never seen his brother stressed or hassled or mussed up before. But it's all so random and without preamble, and generally it's an environmental thing and not a mental thing. And this is just.... a little weird. So Dave figures he'll cut through the bullshit and go with it. "What are you doing? And why?"
"Cleaning, man. We got some official company."
"You... invited your manager over? Generally they don't ask to inspect your bathroom."
Bro gives a little laugh as he wrings out his cloth with those knotty hands of his and begins scrubbing at the wall again. "Nope. Something way, way less cool."
Dave catches something in his brother's tone. He isn't sure what it was, be he's sure he doesn't like it. "What's going on." His voice drops it's needling tone, now just flat and maybe a little too quiet.
Bro doesn't answer right away. He seems pretty dedicated to that wall, like maybe he's considering marrying it and having horrible zoning-law breaking mutant offspring. Finally he puts down the rag, and pivots on his knee to face Dave, combing his eyes over his face. He reaches out and grabs Dave's wrists, which Dave is working on stuffing as far as he can into his copious pockets.
Oh shit what is this serious moment, what is going on. This is not like Bro.
"We've got some social workers coming over. They're gonna take a look around, talk to you, talk to me, and then they'll be outta here and offa our backs. Dig?" He raises one eyebrow. Before Dave can let loose the torrent of questions that hadn't quite jostled loose from his lips, Bro breaks in. "Listen: they're gonna ask you stuff like if you're happy here with me, if I ever hurt you or say mean things to you." A sly, ironic smile slipped across his face, "I mean, we both know we fuck each other up something good. But those guys are gonna think I hate you or I'm not fit to..." a thought seems to dawn on Bro, because his brows slowly draw together, "Raise you." A silence falls between them.
Dave shatters it. "Okay. I mean, I'm not stupid." He fixes his brother with his own gaze, feeling something uncomfortable and unnameable slide across his shoulders. It might have been fear, but cool dudes didn't get afraid when the po-po, or any of their lackeys, drop by for tea and cookies. He had to let his brother know he was cool it was cool, and most importantly, he was cool with him. "I get that you're a weird, crazy guy who also happens to be crazy awesome. I mean, did you know that, like, 80% of the whole fucking world doesn't get irony? So it's no wonder you got people hating on your ass."
Bro grins this time. He releases Dave's arms, and picks up his rag again. "Go get sumthin' t'eat. Might be a while before they show up. I wanna finish this stuff."
Before Dave clears the door, he pauses, and then looks over his shoulder. "Bro. Why are they comin'?"
Bro doesn't respond too quickly. But he finally owns up, teeth bared as he goes head to head with the massive stains.. "Some assholes don't get irony."
And the answer is good enough for Dave, who picks his way back through the creepily clean apartment and back to the food-holding fridge. The mind boggles.
Dave is halfway through a peanut butter sandwich when someone knocks on their door. Bro stands from the couch, muting the TV to answer it. Dave doesn't usually see the expression that is currently on his face. He usually wears it when he's about to put the smackdown on some impudent bastards. There is a lady and a uniformed cop- they both come in, but the cop stays by the door. The social worker, who has an unpronounceable name, introduces herself to her brother, says hello to Dave in a bright, chipper voice, and informs Dave of the purpose of her visit.
Wait... Inappropriate sexual material with minors involved?
Whaaaat?
Dave wants to step in and correct all of this, but holds back when he reads his Bro's posture. Not a good time to assert some Strider bullshit detector readings. Adults are crazy people who seem to think that kids are braindead little fuckers who don't get what's going down around them; except for Bro, who has no illusions about Dave's awesomeness.
So Dave sits at the kitchen counter, watching the cop poke through the rooms, with Bro leaning against a wall doing his best to keep his face from souring. The lady came to talk to him.
It sounded mostly like, "Bluh bluh BLUH."
But Dave came around when she asked, "Do you know anything about your brother's online websites or business, Dave? Does he tell you anything about them?"
Dave does not look at his brother, because if he does he knows it'll look like they planned this. And he's no snitch. So he concocts the most "say whaaaaat" look without overdoing it, and responds, "What are you talking about? He works at a dojo, like, a few blocks down." Which was true; Bro was a part time instructor right now, trying to reel in some cash since the puppet sales went down.
She seems satisfied with this answer.
They leave, telling Bro that he'll be notified if there needs to be a follow up meeting. The apartment feels like a vaccuum with them gone.
The Strider brothers exchange glances. Finally, Dave assesses the situation with an apt, "Lame."
Part II of the Strider brothers battle with CPS- in which things are resolved.
Dave comes home one day to the apartment looking suspiciously bare. For a moment, he wonders with acute irony if Bro took off and left him behind.
Oh, OH how the irony.
But unlikely.
He drops his backpack on the floor near the door where he always leaves it, and heads to the kitchen. Learnin' be hungry work, yo. Bein' the future generation is taxing beyond measure. He doesn't holler for Bro, since it's unlikely he's home right now; he's usually out trying to score gigs, or working some crappy part time job to hold them over when their cash got low.
He opens the fridge, and is met by a spotless interior. Even a few food items, like a loaf of Wonder Bread and a jar of opened strawberry preserves.
WHAT.
Thoroughly weirded out, he shuts it again, and gives the polished metal surface a blank stare. Which is when he realizes the reflection of the kitchen/lliving room behind him is way less cluttered than it usually is. He turns, eyeing the space. Cal must be in the trunk, because he's definitely not out dominating the scene. No empty soda cans or chip bags, takeout food cartons, or various flavors of puppet ass. Hell, even some of the posters are down from the walls. The deathtrap cords that pretty much function as carpeting in the main room are all securely tucked away under carpeting, lining walls, or snaking under furniture.
It even smells different. It doesn't smell like home. It smells kinda empty. Cause, let's face it, it usually smells like a man-cave. Or... boy-cave? He's not sure, given their respective ages, what their cave would be classified as. But it is manly as fuck, whatever it decides to be.
He hears movement in the bathroom. Either it's Bro or some mad cleaning woman out for revenge against all the filth in the world. Dave cautiously tiptoes to investigate, peering around the door frame to find Bro on his knees next to the shower stall scrubbing at the crappy linoleum siding. A long time ago it had become an orangey-brown mess from rust and mineral deposits, and Dave is somewhere between surprised and impressed that Bro has managed to bleach the fuck out of a spot the size of a dinner plate. The small space reeks of cleaning fluids, and it kind of makes Dave light headed. It would be small wonder if Bro somehow managed not to get high off of all this. Or dead.
"Bro?"
Bro looks over his shoulder with a kind of frazzled, "Hey, sup" expression, and tosses a salute at him with his chin. He's not wearing his shades, and his lids are irritated from the fumes, red and a little puffy, and Dave can see his brown eyes a little bloodshot.
It's not like he's never seen his brother stressed or hassled or mussed up before. But it's all so random and without preamble, and generally it's an environmental thing and not a mental thing. And this is just.... a little weird. So Dave figures he'll cut through the bullshit and go with it. "What are you doing? And why?"
"Cleaning, man. We got some official company."
"You... invited your manager over? Generally they don't ask to inspect your bathroom."
Bro gives a little laugh as he wrings out his cloth with those knotty hands of his and begins scrubbing at the wall again. "Nope. Something way, way less cool."
Dave catched something in his brother's tone. He isn't sure what it was, be he's sure he doesn't like it. "What's going on." His voice drops it's needling tone, now just flat and maybe a little too quiet.
Bro doesn't answer right away. He seems pretty dedicated to that wall, like maybe he's considering marrying it and having horrible zoning-law breaking mutant offspring. Finally he puts down the rag, and pivots on his knee to face Dave, and combing his eyes over his face. He reaches out and grabs Dave's wrists, which Dave is working on stuffing as far as he could into his copious pockets.
Oh shit what is this serious moment, what is going on. This is not like Bro.
"We've got some social workers coming over. They're gonna take a look around, talk to you, talk to me, and then they'll be outta here and offa our backs. Dig?" He raises one eyebrow. Before Dave can let loose the torrent of questions that hadn't quite jostled loose from his lips, Bro breaks in. "Listen: they're gonna ask you stuff like if you're happy here with me, if I ever hurt you or say mean things to you." A sly, ironic smile slipped across his face, "I mean, we both know we fuck each other up something good. But those guys are gonna think I hate you or I'm not fit to..." a thought seemed to dawn on Bro, because his brows slowly drew together, "Raise you." A silence fall between them.
Dave shatters it. "Okay. I mean, I'm not stupid." He fixes his brother with his own gaze, feeling something uncomfortable and unnameable slide across his shoulders. It might have been fear, but cool dudes didn't get afraid when the po-po, or any of their lackeys, dropped by for tea and cookies. He had to let his brother know he was cool it was cool, and most importantly, he was cool with him. "I get you're a weird, crazy guy who also happens to be crazy awesome. I mean, did you know that, like, 80% of the whole fucking world doesn't get irony? So it's no wonder you got people hating on your ass."
Bro grins this time. He releases Dave's arms, and picks up his rag again. "Go get sumthin' t'eat. Might be a while before they show up. I wanna finish this stuff."
Before Dave clears the door, he pauses, and then looks over his shoulder. "Bro. Why are they comin'?"
Bro doesn't respond too quickly. But he finally owns up, teeth bared as he goes head to head with the massive stains.. "Some asshole doesn't get irony."
And the answer is good enough for Dave, who picks his way back through the creepily clean apartment and back to the food-holding fridge. The mind boggles.
Dave is halfway through a peanut butter sandwhich when someone knocks on their door. Bro stands from the couch, muting the TV to answer it. Dave doesn't usually see the expression that is currently on his face. He usually wears it when he's about to put the smackdown on some impudent bastards. There is a lady and a uniformed cop- they both come in, but the cop stays by the door. The social worker, who has an unpronounceable name, introduces herself to her brother, says hello to Dave in a bright, chipper voice, and informs Dave of the purpose of her visit.
Wait... Inappropriate sexual material with minors involved?
Whaaaat?
Dave wants to step in and correct all of this, but holds back when he reads his Bro's posture. Not a good time to assert some Strider bullshit detector readings. Adults are crazy people who seem to think that kids are braindead little fuckers who don't get what's going down around them; except for Bro, who has no illusions about Dave's awesomeness.
So Dave sits at the kitchen counter, watching the cop poke through the rooms, with Bro leaning against a wall doing his best to keep his face from souring. The lady came to talk to him.
It sounded mostly like, "Bluh bluh BLUH."
But Dave came around when she asked, "Do you know anything about your brother's online websites or business, Dave? Does he tell you anything about them?"
Dave does not look at his brother, because if he does he knows it'll look like they planned this. And he's no snitch. So he concocts the most "say whaaaaat" look without overdoing it, and responds, "What are you talking about? He works at a dojo, like, a few blocks down." Which was true; Bro was a part time instructor right now, trying to reel in some cash since the puppet sales went down.
She seems satisfied with this answer.
They leave, telling Bro that he'll be notified if there needs to be a follow up meeting. The apartment feels like a vaccuum with them gone.
The Strider brothers exchange glances. Finally, Dave assesses the situation with an apt, "Lame."
And they leave it at that.
This, and the part preceding it, were actually really cool. I like your style of writing, and the dynamic you show between Dave and Bro is pretty awesome. Big ol' thumbs up!
Conquest: Future-fic. Four sweeps after Sgurb, the trolls have been recruited into various facets of the Alternian imperial army. Assassination attempts, black romance, and political unheavals. Captain Vantas's day just keeps getting worse. (In Progress.)
We should totally start an index. Who's up for the task?
If you feel that there's no way things could get any worse, that means things will only get better!
...That, or you're possibly being fed on by a dementor. Eat some chocolate, stat.
Adults are crazy people who seem to think that kids are braindead little fuckers who don't get what's going down around them
This is far, far too true. But it is fucking hilarious to watch them fail time and time again and then point out the right answer to them after try #12.