TROLL!COPS: The AU

[zebtrestalala]

Ampora Files, Case 124: Section 1 2 3 [4]

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“You’re going to what?!”

“I didn’t stutter. Okay, maybe on the ww’s. I’m gonna go into Nakendoofenpap Towwers and get Mr. Papershoosh’s records for the month of July, XX02.”

“You can’t do that, Mr. Ampora! Those are confidential! Besides, you don’t even know if they have records that far back!”

“You wwanna find out wwho wwas responsible for killin your grandfather or not?”

“…yes. But are you sure you can pull this off?”

“Don’t doubt my sleuthin skills Harley. Those guys wwon’t knoww wwhat hit ‘em”


=> Hours in the future (but not many)

You really wish you had a sidekick. At least somebody to bounce ideas off of. It’s currently 4 o’ clock in the afternoon, and Harley had a point. Those bank files are confidential, and you don’t think anyone’s going to just hand them over. Still, you have to trust your hardboiled-ness and get those banks records for Jut for that month and figure out who the heck paid him.

You’re sure that Problem Sleuth probably did this a few times, so you should be able to do this, right?

There’s no time like the present, so you walk in the front doors. A crocodile sits at the front desk, dressed in a bizarre and seemingly ill-fitting dress. It’s a weird, unearthly feeling to see what one normally assumes to be the lowest strata of the social spectrum in such a high class locale like this.

“Can I help you?” she asks you, or at least you assume it’s a she.

“I’m here to speak to somebody. I had a problem with my bank records,” you reply. Yeah, you’re pretty sure that Problem Sleuth never did any shit like this. It’s almost embarrassing.

“Well, hold on a second, I’ll see-“

“I really really need to speak to someone” you say, flashing a little card which you’re pretty sure doesn’t actually give you any authority but regardless you like to pretend it does.

“Um-“

“Look, just take me to wwhere you keep your fuckin bank records”
“Okay, Mr…”

“Orphaner.”

The crocodile shows you to an elevator and tells you to take it to the twelfth or thirteenth floor, as that’s where they keep most of the records on file. You’re kind of happy that she doesn’t board it with you, it would probably start smelling like weird animal smells. Zoo smells, even. After a ride that seems like forever, you get off on the twelfth floor, and into a sea of cubicles. Of course they keep all their records electronically. Everyone does. You were kind of hoping that you could just waltz in and get a nice clean paper record, but that is obviously not happening. Oh well. You have to start somewhere. Time to get your hardboiled on.

You walk up to one of the nearest workers, thankfully a troll, and start to lay it down on him. The only good thing about this cubicle land is that you don’t have to worry about anyone else spotting you. Keep it down low.

“Hey I need you to do a favvor for me buddy”

“Do I know you?” they respond.

“No an you don’t need to. I need you to look up a record for me,”

“Okay, seriously, I’m calling sekurity”

“This is Detectivve Eridan Ampora, P.I. askin you to do somethin”
“Reashin for the phone now…”

=> Eridan: Pull the blood card

It pains you to do this, but a true detective uses all of his resources in order to solve the case and get the truth. You happen to have a rather nice one.

“Fine. This is Eridan Ampora, of the house of Ampora, descendant of Orphaner Dualscar, askin you to do somethin”

A look of realization spreads over the blue blooded troll's face, and instantly his face forms an utterly sheepish expression.

“Lord Ampora, I didn’t even notise you in such plain klothing!”

“Plain? Just because I’m not wwalkin around in a fancy frilly piece of bullshit doesn’t make my clothin plain. This is a legitimate trench coat you see me wwearin!”

“My apologies Lord Ampora! What do you need?”

“I need you to look up a record from XX02 for me, for Jut Papershoosh in the month of July,”

He takes a moment to look at you, and carries it out for a while.

“Uh, I don’t really know how to do that, Lord Ampora,”
“Oh come on it can’t be that hard”

“No really that’s some deep stuff and I don’t think I have the tenure to pull somethin like that off and… oh shit”

He trails off in the middle of his explanation, and stares silently off past your shoulder. You follow his gaze to two burly crocodiles, fitted in security outfits that somehow manage to fit their awkwardly shaped bodies. They don’t look happy, and they look like they were probably tipped off by that secretary croc downstairs. Dames. You can’t trust ‘em for a second.

“Hey youse comin with us purpley” they grunt, grabbing your arms with a brute force that just comes natural to consorts. The look in their eyes is utterly vacant of an intelligent thought, you mean, can’t they see that you were getting your hardboiled on? Jegus. Some people have no sense of tact in these situations. However, weighing your options between talking and starting a firefight in a banking/office building, you come to the conclusion that while slightly less hardboiled, it’s a lot less paperwork to just start talking.

“Listen here I’m doin an investigation an this guy right here needs to look up some records for me so I can clear one a your idiotic brethren from a crime he might not a done”

“But Lord Ampora I already said-“

“That’s Detectivve Ampora to you. An I knoww that you said you didn’t think you could do it but I honestly don’t see howw it’s that difficult I mean wwhat the hell did they hire you for?”

“Not that”

“Stop talkin purpley, an just come wit us”

“Noww listen here I havve my rights”

“Mr. Ampora, what seems to be the ruckus here?” asks a fifth, unfamiliar voice. The two security crocs part to make way for another, third crocodile, this one in an elegant suit that seems to be such a vast juxtaposition on a crocodile that it honestly hurts your brain a little to look at it. Him.

“Wwho are you?”

“Surely you’ve heard of me, Mr. Ampora. Horgal Nakendoofenpap, owner and CEO of Nakendoofenpap Bankers and Stock”

“Oh”

=> Minutes in the future, but not many

You are now sitting in the office of Horgal Nakendoofenpap, owner and etc. It’s quite a nice office. Normally, your detective skills (or at least all the dime novels you read) would tell you that most of his wealth is ill-gained through illegal operations critical to your investigation, but your common sense tells you that by a bizarre twist of fate, somehow a Nakendoofenpap ages ago was one of the founding fathers of the Alternia City Stock Exchange, and him and his brood have carried a proficiency for money and numbers all these years. The Nakendoofenpap Bankers and Stock is one of the few legitimate establishments that will actually hire consorts, seeing as it has been run by consorts for many, many years. As you admire the golden paperweights shaped like salamanders, or the expensive painting of some random crocodile with a sword grasped valiantly in his hand, at the same time you try to ignore the lecture that Mr. Nakendoofenpap is giving you.

“Clearly you realized when you came in here that you were not intending anything close to polite or legal, and possibly considered assault, trespassing, threatening of…”

There’s a very nice clock on the wall behind Mr. Nakendoofenpap’s desk. It’s adorned with what, from your vantage point, appear to be rubies of some sort, with bits of steel clockwork poking out to make you wonder if it was intended as a piece of modern art or timeteller primarily. It’s kind of cool, in an underground sort of way.

“I’ll have you know that Mr. Papershoosh is a descendant of one of the four heroes of Alternia City. No, not the four led by the Weasel Warrior, these were four heroes of the consort races, which helped with the founding of…”

Holy shit he’s still talking.

“His family is a direct descendent of the Sord Croc, one of the warriors of the group, the most proficient fighter, and he was directly assisted by the Secret Wizard, the…”

All this history is truly fascinating. Really, it is. You can see from the bookshelf next to Mr. Nakendoofenpap’s desk that it is simply filled with “The Last Great Battle of Consortkind” or “Nakking: A History of a Great Language,” and other pro consort bullsh- you mean, excellent literature. But it is, by no means, relevant to your investigation or gritty in any way. It’s kind of fruity, actually. You just don’t see the point. Is there a point?

It takes a moment of him stopping his speech to realize you said that last bit out loud.

“A point to what, Mr. Ampora?” he asks, his sharp teeth glistening in the light.

You take a moment to compose yourself, then answer, “This wwhole thing. I mean, it’s great to know everybody’s great grandfather and everythin they’ve done but I’m concerned wwith wwhat this guy has done an wwho paid him to do it.”

“That’s highly confidential, Detective,” he replies. “Just think what would happened if we started handing out bank records to anyone who asked! Quite a scandal!”

“Yeah but this is different.”

“I fail to see how, Detective. You’re a P. I., no? So how am I supposed to know what your employer wants from this information? How are you supposed to know what your employer wants from this information,”

“Don’t go doubtin my fuckin detectivve skills you scumball. This lady wwants to knoww wwho killed her god damn grandfather.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck with that, but we can’t help you.”

“But you don’t understand this is the only lead I got right noww! Papershoosh’s a drunk wwashup wwho can’t remember fuckin yesterday an he’s the both the killer an the wwitness! The girl’s got no fuckin clue wwho had it out for gramps an this record is all I got you inconsiderate fuck!” you yell.

“And I’ve told you, Detective, you’re not getting any help from us” he hisses, between teeth clenched together. The stare that he’s giving you would paralyze weaker men in their seats, but you’re relatively unfazed due to your acclimation to this sort of look from most people you deal with.

“H4h4, don’t worry, Mr. N4k3ndoof3np4p, w3’ll t4k3 1t from h3r3!” says a voice you are entirely too familiar with from the doorway.

Officer Terezi Pyrope stands in the doorway of his office, the nervous secretary broad from downstairs jittering nervously behind her.

“3r1d4n, you’v3 got som3 ‘spl41n1n to do!” she says between chuckles, as you almost dart to the relative safety of a fellow troll. “Don’t worry, w3’ll m4k3 sur3 to gr1ll h1m r34l good!”

“Thank you, officer, now please get him outta my sight.”

“Ter thank god I though he wwas gonna bite my fuckin head off” you say as you ride down the elevator.

“Hold th4t thought unt1l th3 comm1ss1on3r 1s don3 w1th you, D3t3ct1v3,” she says with a wide smile on her face.

Oh fuck. This isn’t good. Anyone who’s in the lobby as the door opens can clearly see a look of panic and dread spread over your face.

***

You are now Eridan Ampora and you are in the office of Police Commissioner Authority Regulator, or AR for short. You are getting your head bit off in a less literal sense then you were previously in danger of. It’s still not a pleasant experience.

“Detective Ampora, what in the name of everything lawful did you think you were doing?!” he shouts at you.

Oh god you think to yourself. He’s already started adding law into every sentence he speaks

“Doin invvestigatin sir”

“That’s commissioner to you, detective! Remember that you are just as subject to the laws as everyone else!”

“Right sir but I-“

“Don’t. Don’t say you were breaking the law in the name of justice because that isn’t justice. You are following a crude mockery of justice and I won’t have it! I can’ stand that sort of backwards thinking!”

“Sir I really don’t see wwhat wwas illegal wwith-“

“Nakendoofenpap Towers are a legitimate business establishment and you trespassed on their property, you threatened an employee and tried to use coercion, and you verbally assaulted numerous people! That’s illegal!”

“Yes sir but Mobster Kingpin’s place is a legi-“

[background=yellow]“And pursuing a case that has been dead and cold for ten years? Why is this risk necessary for a case that has already been solved by the law?!”[background]

“Because it’s the only case I havve”

“What?”

“Ms. Harley’s case is the only case I’vve had in a month. An it feels so much more important than my prevvious cases. Honestly I’m tired bein thought of as ovverfloww for the police force, comish, because I’m a fuckin P.I. and people group me wwith police officers all the time, tryin to get me to solvve wwho wwrote graffiti on the city bridge or wwho stole an old lady’s purse in the mall. I feel so much more alivve doin this case comish and I don’t need you, somebody’s wwho’s not my boss, to try an tell me that I can’t do this case. If she thinks somethin’s beloww the surface I wwill not rest until I find it.”

This is how you were taught. When you first worked under Problem Sleuth. Your mentor. Your friend. The closest thing you had to a real father. Pursue the truth, no matter what. Get underneath everything, dig your fingernails into the cold unforgiving layers of deceit and pry until you find the truth underneath. And that you will do.

“…Fine, Detective. Just remember who pays the rent for your office”

“You, comish. Don’t wworry, I’ll swweep up all the dirt I uncover.”

“Good. Just try not to sweep it onto us, alright?”

With a deep sigh, he opens the door, and lets you out. You really need to get into that bank record. However, you really don’t have any idea how to get it. You’re pretty sure that they still had some sort of electronic record in the 80’s, but it’s obviously really old and heavily encrypted, shoved down to the lower echelons of their database. Maybe it’s been cleared, but you can hope that Nakenpapendoof would keep records from that long. Maybe. There’s hope.

Now if only you knew… oh no.

A terrible thought just entered your head. It would be something absolutely embarrassing and humiliating. You really don’t want to. You mean, you really don’t want to. He’ll never let you live it down. But, then again, would a true P.I. care about his reputation when the truth is at stake?

Besides, it’s not like you’d sacrifice your relationship. It’s nonexistent, after all. However bad you might want to have something, with someone, you and him have absolutely nothing to speak of except a platonic rivalry stemming from something kind of foolish.

=> Eridan: Get Sollux to hack into the network for you

“You want me to do what?”

“Come on Sol it can’t be that hard.”

“Eridan, why the thit would I want to do that? Do you realize how much crap I could get for thith?”

“Please Sol I mean I knoww wwe aren’t the best of buds but it’s the only lead that I got right noww”

"Yeah right you thay that about every fucking thource you get in a cathe. You alwayth play evertything up and make it theem like the fate of the fucking world dependth on you following every lead you get."

"But Sol I'm bein serious this time come on this is my serious face," you say, a look of desperation that you've had the chance to practice many times on your face.

“So you jutht need me to hack into thith bank network, right? You’re not gonna come crying to me when you can’t figure thomething elthe out, right?”

“I just need you to do this for me I swwear.”

“Well, againtht my better judgment, I’ll actually take your thwear as thomething dependable and believe you”

“Thanks Sol I owwe you”

“Hold on a thec I haven’t done anything yet”

In a dark room that smells of pipe smoke and vaguely of candy corn, the two of you (well, mostly Officer Captor) work towards the truth, hacking through firewalls and deciphering passwords, crafting a virtual worm that tunnels through layers of protection to find the origin of veracity beneath it all.

Yeah, it’s going to take a while. Your computer hasn’t even loaded yet.

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So it turns out the wireless place didn't close down! Yay! With any luck I'll write up this entire story within the week, and will upload all of it within a a week or two. Already I have new story ideas brimming, involving other underused characters, in my opinion. As always, feel free to comment on Eridan's (and my) successes and failures in this chapter.

[Huanir]

Sopor Somnolence
Fortunately, there was a pail of suds nearby. Gamzee grabbed it in a rush

PAIL
PAIL
PAIL

Yeah, I wasn't able to think up a way around that. I avoided the word "bucket", but that only gained me so much ground. In my headcanon, buckets don't actually matter that much, but I still want to avoid triggering the inside jokes in the minds of the forumites.

--EDIT--

Also, apparently Sopor Somnolence is the most popular thing I've ever written or ever will write?

--EDIT--

RE Tails of the Kitsune:

Beautiful...

Your writing has great strength. When I was first reading about Crevan, I was rather concerned about how he would turn out as a character since he has anger super powers (I know they're not actually powers, I'm simplifying for shorthand). However, you're making a good character out of him, especially with the admission that he carries hatred without justification ("without justification" is also shorthand). This is a story I'll be watching closely.

Gallad's quirk is meant to be serpentine, no? It's fun inventing quirks.

Oh, by the way, here's your soul. I think you accidentally left it with me back on page 79.

[Wigmund]

Eridan? Hardboiled? I didn't foresee that one. Keep em coming.

BTW Anyone know what happened to wigmund?

A mixture of depression and mental exhaustion But I'm back.


Would You Kindly
Part 3 (Parts 1, 2)

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"Oh goddammit, how did you know?!"
Karkat stared at the next entry of the notes Mr. Pupa had given him. Nepeta and Gamzee stared at their leader and best friend, confused and somewhat frightened.

"What is wrong Karkitty? What does Mr. Pupurr tell us to do next?" Gamzee nodded as she spoke, trying to nudge Karkat out of his enraged silence. Karkat looked at his two companions and then back at the note from their horrible, terrifying boss. He put the note away and started to look around the supply closet they were hiding in.

"The fucker said there are three janitor's suits in here that we should wear if we want to continue this fucking plot."
"Fucking miracles."
"I really fucking doubt that," Karkat muttered as he rummaged through the piles of dirty towels, cleaning supplies and random junk the cleaning crews of the APD headquarters building would stash in this closet.

At one point Karkat pulled back with a large bag of warm liquid in a clear plastic bag, "What the fuck is this?" He opened a valve and took a sniff...

Blood, specifically troll blood mixed with something else.

Karkat threw the bag as hard as he could against a back wall, splattering its contents across a good portion of the room. Nepeta and Gamzee jerked back, gave their boss more worried looks and then went back to digging through the junk to find what Mr. Pupa had left for them. Nepeta found the three suits.

Splattered with the blood Karkat had thrown earlier.

"Oh noooo, there's blood on our costumes!" Nepeta stared at Karkat with tears in her eyes.

"We can clean this shit off, we're in a cleaning supply closest. Surely the fucking janitors have something to remove bloodstains. I mean, how else can the fucking cops' keep their uniforms so clean or remove shit from the carpets?"

Karkat pulled up a couple of bottles of cleaning solutions, dumped them into a bucket (noting Gamzee's look of disgust) and gagged when they fumed up. He took some towels, dipped them into the solution and sighed in relief when they wiped away the blood on the uniforms. He handed a uniform each to Gamzee and Nepeta, telling them to get dressed.

Karkat and Gamzee got into the uniforms without difficulty, but Nepeta forced them to turn around while she got into hers.

"Fur modesty!"
"Nepeta...I've already seen you-," Karkat was quickly silenced as Gamzee grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to look at a wall. "Give the motherfucking kitty her space my best fucking friend." Karkat glanced up at Gamzee who was wearing a very large, very knowing smile on his painted face. Dammit.

"The face paint has to go Gamzee."

Gamzee slouched as the words entered his rather thick head. He grabbed a nearby moist towel and removed the face paint he always wore. "Fucking shit man. Not cool at all. But I guess I fucking understand, can't be fucking in disguise wearing a big sign telling all the motherfuckers who I am. Shit, the fucking towel smells like fucking shit. Fuck."

Eventually Nepeta announced she was ready and the three grabbed some cleaning equipment to complete their ruse and left the closet. Karkat led them out of the jail wing, ignoring the hateful glare from one of the cells, and past the very cop that was supposed to make sure they didn't get up to shenanigans like this.
"Hey janitors! I've heard they've got some kind of mess up in the offices. Fucking bat can't keep from making a mess up there."

Karkat froze for a bit, pulled his cap lower over his face and nodded. The three walked up to the elevators in the main lobby and called for one.

They entered the elevator when it opened, only noticing after the doors closed that someone else was already in there.

"To which floor are you three going?"

Gamzee froze in absolute terror. Karkat glanced up at the now unpainted clown and back at the person in the car with them. Oh fuck, it was the nurse from the clinic they used all the time. She'd see through these terrible disguises in no time.

But she just looked at them, slightly bored with her fingers hovering over the buttons.

"Um...uh, we're going up to the main offices..."

Kanaya sighed, "Same level I'm going to then." She pushed a button to close the doors and the elevator continued its upwards journey. Several floors went by in silence before the doors opened up again and the jade-blood exited the car. "Here we are, I imagine that your services are need in the interrogation room. Apparently Officer Pyrope left a mess in there when she got a little enthusiastic with a suspect."

The nurse pointed down the hallway in one direction as she continued down the other. The trio exited the elevator and went in the direction Kanaya indicated. Karkat glanced over his shoulder and noticed Kanaya shaking her head as she walked away from them. Fuck...did she see through their disguises? Is she going to fucking tell a cop?

Karkat glanced up at Gamzee and noticed that the troll was paler than his usual face paint, "Gamzee - are you fucking okay?" Gamzee nodded silently, but still had the gaze of terror plastered across his face. Karkat wanted to find out what was terrifying the guy, but right now they had to find out what Pupa wanted them to do next.

They continued down the halls and eventually made their way to the interrogation rooms. They opened the doors and ducked inside.

There was a mess and a couple of new dents that Karkat hadn't seen since the last time he was in here. The three looked around and made sure that the cops had left the recording equipment disconnected before Karkat pulled out the note.

"Let's see what our fucking boss wants us to do next," He flipped a couple of pages and found the following:

Would you kindly make your way to the offices of Police Commissioner Armstrong Righteous.
I shall assume you are currently on the Main Office Level of the Headquarters. The Commissioner's office is on the opposite side of the building from the Interrogation Rooms.

"Fucking creepy. How does he know where we are?"
"He's a fucking smart ass Gamzee, who the fuck cares. Now let's get this shit cleaned up before a cop gets curious and make our way to that damned office."

The three left the room spotless and started across the offices to where Mr. Pupa wanted them next. They worriedly walked past hordes of officers, detectives and others as their journey continued. All the while Nepeta would whimper slightly whenever a cop would brush too close to her.

Karkat wanted to gut a couple of the blue fuckers when they whistled and stared at her ass with lecherous grins on their faces. He noted who they were for later. Patrol officers. He'd be able to find them.

But there was a bigger problem ahead of them. A very familiar pair was approaching them from down the hall.

"Officer Appleberry, it smells like the janitors have been busy wiping up my little mistake."

"Hehehehehe"

A/N:

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Sorry I've been away for so long. I've just been in a mental funk for the past couple of months and feeling incredibly uninspired.

But I'm feeling better and I'm back to spam the hell out of the TrollCops AU. But I'm not sure if this fic entry is up to par, but it's been two months since I wrote the previous entry I need to catch up on everthing people have written since I vanished, y'all have been busy

IN STORY NOTE: Karkat and Nepeta didn't freak out about the bucket because in my headcanon for the TrollCops AU, trolls have been breeding like humans for centuries so only the conservative High Houses care about that stuff (which is why Gamzee blanched). There aren't any Imperial Drones or Mother Grubs, they've been dead for a very long time thanks to a war between the Troll Empire and several human empires that I will probably write something about in the future.

[Phi]

Good to see you back in action, Wigmund.

[liefErikson]

YES! Wigmunds back. Nuff said.

[mythmonster2]

Awww yeah, Wigmund's back! Glad you're feeling better, mate. Depression happens to the best of us.

[MrCreazil]

Our god has returned!
All hail Wigmund, Heir of Trollcops.

[zebtrestalala]

Aw man wigmund there you go making my fics look like crap again. All hail the wigmund! THough, I didn't just come to whine. Here's another chapter of the Ampora Files Case 124 (the number is because that's what I thought was Jade's birthday. It's 12/1, isn't it?


Ampora Files, Case 124: Section 1 2 3 4 [5]

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=>Perspective Switch

You are now Jade Harley, and you are currently slightly concerned about the detective you hired to investigate your grandfather’s murder. He seems like he might know what he’s doing, but at the same time he also seems to be acting out a dime novel, taking all the necessary pauses and speaking rough, smoking a pipe as he walks through the streets, seemingly immune to the vast disparities between the various groups in the city. Oh well. You’re sure he means well. You tend to assume that of everyone at first, though.

=> Jade: Do something foolish
You’re not doing anything of the sort! You’re just getting pet food for your dog, Becquerel, at the local pet shop. Bec’s a hungry…whatever kind of dog he is, and since a full dog is a happy dog, you need to keep your beloved dog satisfied.

“Hi Mr. Nitram!” you greet the shop owner as you walk in.

Though only five years older than you, Tavros Nitram has been very supportive of you since your grandfather died. He’s worked at this shop for at least 10 years, and has since become the owner. Bec’sstrange eating habits add up to quite a large sum of food spent on dog food and steaks, the “added preparation” notwithstanding. Mr. Nitram usually cuts you a deal, though, bless his soul.

“Hello, Jade, how, um, are you? Bec still doing well?”

“Of course! Thanks for helping out as always!”

“Oh, it was, uh, no problem. Just doing what I could!” he says, a smile breaking out on his face. “So I imagine you want the usual, huh?”

“Yes, but…” you start, before stopping short.

A question hangs at the tip of your tongue, and it hangs there for a while. You really don’t know how to propose it, or if you should. Tavros Nitram has a way with animals that even the most fervent animal lovers like yourself can’t parallel. It’s why the shop does so well, you suppose. And you suppose Mr. Nitram could be helpful, considering how unsuccessful your first interrogation went. You don’t know how well Detective Ampora will take it, but…it’s Mr. Nitram! Surely Tavros couldn’t hurt the investigation too bad, right?

“Um, Tavros?” you continue. “You’re really good with animals, right?”

“Uh, I guess so” he replies. “Why?”

“Well, it’s just that we were investigating the death of my grandfather, and well, we tried to interrogate a crocodile, but it didn’t go too well, and well, I was wondering if you could possibly help me out!”

“Oh, wow, Jade, um, I guess, I’d be honored to help you!” he replies. “I just need to get Marcie or someone to run the shop for me for a while”

A little while later, Tavros leaves the shop in the hands of an assistant, and you two head over to the Papershoosh residence. A nervous crocodile answers the door, and as far as you can tell, it’s the same grandfather crocodile that answered before. You’re sure that he tries his best to look after his family, and even if complete mess-ups like Jut show up every once and a while and completely blow any chance of financial progression, he really wants everyone to succeed!

“Hi, Mr. Papershoosh? It’s me, Jade Harley, and this is my friend, Tavros Nitram, and I was-“

“No bad squiggle horn troll?” he croaks.

“No, Detective Ampora will not be attending today,” you answer, rolling your eyes a little. Detective Ampora sure did a number on this family.

“Good. Jut upstairs if you look for him”

“Thank you!”

“You’re working with Detective Ampora? Isn’t, um, he kind of a, joke?” asks Tavros as you ascend the staircase. The stairs creak under your feet, and Tavros’ large horns end up scraping away some of the wallpaper.

“Yes, but I’m sure he tries hard and means well, you know? Anyway, I think this is his room.”

You cautiously open the door, and when no one opens the door, you step in. Jut appears to be sitting in some sort of makeshift bed, creaking and rotting away after the ages. You make a motion to Tavros that this is the guy, and you slowly approach.

“Jut Papershoosh? It’s me, Jade, I just came back to try and ask you a few things again,”

“I tell pretty lady all I can. No more is in head.”

“Well, I brought a friend here to try and help you fill up your head, Jut.”

You turn to Tavros, and whisper in his ear, “Ask him if he knows who hired him to kill my grandpa, please?”

Tavros reaches out to the crocodile, his hands rubbing Jut’s head in a caressing matter, and echoes your question. Jut’s eyes get wide and blurry, as his mind seems to drift elsewhere. He starts to speak in low, guttural tones that don’t seem exactly like naks. You can’t make heads or tails of it, but Tavros quickly translates.

“I, um, think that he’s saying, that one of his cousins, um, told a man, that Jut needed money, or, um, something, and then the old man gave Jut money so he could kill him, and then showed him how to fire a pistol? I don’t really know, my crocodile isn’t very good.”

“Is he giving a name? Anything?”

“It’s all gobbledegook, but, hmm, I think, maybe, it was a, um, a Vidra Nedrin?”

“I don’t know anyone by that name!”

“Um, well, it could have been a mob boss, or someone, I don’t know what, your, um, grandfather did.”

“I guess I really don't either...Well, thank you, Tavros. I’ll ask Eridan if he can find anyone by that name, and we’ll make sure they pay for what they’ve done!” you say, hopeful despite not knowing who the killer is. It’s actually better this way, you think. It’d be worse if you did know who the killer was, you think. You’d hate to be betrayed.

You give Tavros a hug, and then walk out the door. Once you walk out the door, you realize that Tavros didn’t follow behind you. A few seconds later, he walks out the door, says that he was just finishing up, checking on Mr. Papershoosh, and then walks out with you. You have to tell Eridan about this!

=> Speaking of which…

“Fucking finally. Here it ith.”

“Holy shit I thought your computer wwas gonna explode,” you exclaim.

“Yourth would’ve if we ended up uthing it. Your computer is five yearths old, you know that right?”

“It’s a classic.”

“It’th a piethe of thit ED. Now can we jutht finith thith before EQ catcheth on?”

“Yeah let’s see blah blah McDonald’s paycheck, etc, and one deposit of 2,000 boonbucks by a Mr. DPB.”

“That mean anything to you?” asks Sollux.

“Not a thing,” you answer.

“Lookth like you get to play thleuth again then”

“I’m not playin sleuth Sol this is the real deal”

“Well then good luck on the real deal, then. I’m gonna wath my handth and go back to working the front dethk, if you don’t mind. And remember, we had a deal. No fucking calling on me if you can’t figure out how to work the thift key.”

“Yeah, yeah, get lost I got this,” you respond, and go back to your headquarters.

You don’t really know any major criminals who have those initials. All of the Felt members go by one word names, so it could be any of them, but the Felt tends to deal with artifacts, not murder of innocent grandfathers. Unless Hass Harley had a powerful artifact that could have been useful to the Felt, in which case they would’ve just stolen it from him, most likely not killed him. The Midnight Crew, for all you know, have the same names that they go by. None of them have the initials DB. Unless it was both Diamonds Droog and Hearts Boxcars together paying the funds, but you doubt it. They’d more likely threaten someone to do the dirtywork, rather than pay them to do it. Actually, that eliminates most of the gangs in this city. Why pay when you can threaten with violence? Clearly this was someone trying to stay clean. Someone with ties to Hass Harley. You don’t know anything about the man, so you think you’re going to need another resource. That’s part of what bein’ a P.I. is all about, anyways. Being resourceful. You’re going to need someone with a lot of information, more than anyone could need.

You pick up the phone and call one of your dames. She’s a good dame, knows her place and won’t cross you.

“Hey, Kan, I’m gonna need the help of a Seer.”

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As always, comments and criticisms are welcome. Even though Eridan's close to solving the murder, there's still a good bit of a story to be told. Including something that isn't just people talking/Eridan being dependent on other people to do his work ("using his resources")

[epic_houseplant]

I'm working my way through this. I've got to say that I love all of this. It's also inspired me enough to want to try to make a Troll Cops comic issue from all of this. (My own take, at least.)

So, what would be appropriate to put up? Finished pics I know, but thumbnails? Script? I mean, this is going to take a while.

Here's a draft of the first page script, at least:

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Page 1
Panel 1
Establishing shot. Long panel. It's a metropolitan city by the sea, looking like some strange mash up of Houston, TX and New York, NY, somehow looking a little unique while also being every metropolitan area ever. It's evening, and the city is bathed with the light of the setting sun. Humans are turning getting ready to turn in for the evening, the early rising trolls are getting up, and the carapaced people are just doing their thing.
Narrator: Alternia. The city that cannot sleep.
Panel 2
Closing in, normal grid panel. Overhead shot. A lone police car is driving. The streets are relatively clear.
Narrator: It's a tough job keeping this streets free of crime.
Panel 3
Closer in on the police car. Shot's at an angle.
Narrator: Fortunatly, we have...
Panel 4
Long panel. The two trolls in the car are Terezi and Sollux. They're both in police uniforms, and wearing their normal glasses. Terezi looks somewhat tired, while Sollux is keeping his eyes on the road.
Narrator: TROLL COPS!
Terezi: I hate early shifts.
Sollux: Thuck it up, Pyrope.

[Wigmund]

Thanks for the kind words everyone I'm happy to be back.

Would You Kindly?
Part 4 (Parts 1, 2, 3)

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The trio froze when the all too dreadfully familiar laughter drifted towards them along with the equally familiar sociopathic toothy grin.

"Did you three have fun cleaning up my little 'accident'?" Terezi beamed at the disguised Karkat gang as she looped an arm around her beleaguered squad partner's neck. He sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Karkat started to yammer something but Officers Pyrope and Captor swept by them, Terezi still gazing straight ahead, but Sollux gave the three a slightly confused glance.

"Bluh, I hate those chemicals you guys use," Terezi muttered in passing, "Always messes with my nose."

Karkat glanced behind himself to watch the duo round a corner in the hall and disappear from sight before breathing a sigh of relief. Nepeta's eyes were as large as plates and Gamzee had pulled his hat down so low that his nose was barely visible.

"Too fucking close guys, too fucking close."

He nudged his partners and they continued on towards the Commissioner's office. Avoiding other officers whenever possible, bolting past an office containing a worried-looking DOOF officer who was wiping his sweaty brow with a overly damp towel and stopping only briefly to listen in on some rather juicy banter emanating from the HQ's dispatch office. Nepeta's eyes lit up as she listened in there.

"...oh my..."
"Fucking hell no Nep, we need to keep going."

After what seemed like an eternity to Karkat, they reached the Commissioner's Office. The overly decorated door boasted a large bronze plaque that proclaimed:

OFFICE OF ALTERNIA CITY POLICE COMMISSIONER
ARMSTRONG RIGHTEOUS

"Guess this is the motherfucking right place my best fucking friend," Gamzee's glazed gaze shifted from the door to Karkat. Karkat glared at his high friend and then opened the door.

They made their way into the office but were shocked when they found themselves face to face with the Commissioner himself.

Who was busy making paper hats for himself. A particularly majestic example of which he was currently wearing upon his carapaced head.

"Who intrudes into my office? This is a most flagrant violation of office policy! I should have you three punished! Who are you that would intrude upon my jurisdiction?" Righteous proclaimed as he pointed an overly long baton at the three and gestured wildly with his free hand, "I will have you three thrown to the judges! They will relish the chance to punish violators of the Alternia City Police Headquarters Code of Conduct!"

He continued rambling, pointing and occasionally stomping on the desk, causing the clutter gathered upon its surface to jump and bounce about. That is, the clutter he hadn't kicked to the ground before the Karkat Gang entered his domain.

Nepeta was the first to speak up, "Um, Mister Commissipurr, we are the cleaning crew. We're here to clean your office."

Commissioner Righteous stopped, "Oh, janitorial services. Your intrusion is forgiven then." He jumped down from the desk and started to head out of his office. As he was leaving he turned to face the three, "But is it not Wilma Quiche that usually performs the weekly janitorial duties on the last workday of the week of my office?"

Karkat and Gamzee looked at Nepeta, who looked up at them and then back to the curious Dersite, "Oh...she happened to be sick this week. Terrible case of infur- I mean influenza and would miss work on Furiday at the furry least. So they sent us up to clean your purrfect office today."

Karkat started to move a free hand towards his face, to hide his fear that everything had been blown. But he was shocked when Armstrong nodded in agreement and then started to walk away from them, "Influenza?! Dreadful human disease, I shall have a note expressing my concerns for her well-being and beauty along with a bouquet of flowers sent to her." He closed the door behind himself as he left.

The three stared at the door and then the two guys looked down at Nepeta who was wearing a huge grin upon her face. Karkat started to yammer, but stopped when she enthusiastically hugged him, "I GOT TO ROLEPURRLAY KARKITTY! Didn't I do a good job?"
"Yes you did, thanks for that. Can't believe the Commissioner is such a fucking idiot though."
"Motherfucking miracles."
"It was kind of obvious when you looked at the door Karkitty," Nepeta gave Karkat a sidelong glance with a malevolent grin.
"That's true, now let's find out what Mr. Pupa wants us to do next."

Karkat pulled out the notes:

Would you kindly get onto the Commissioner's personal computer and activate a series of programs.
The instructions on what to do are as follows...

Karkat hestiantly followed the instructions from the note. Fucking hell he wasn't any good with computers. Last time he messed with one it exploded and wiped out power for most of the Settlements for three weeks. But Mr. Pupa's notes were remarkably easy to follow.

Also, it helped that the Commissioner had his password on a note stuck to the monitor. AUTHORITY. Fitting password for the lunatic.

After doing some rudimentary programming following the instructions from Pupa. Karkat was instructed to use some wires that were conviently hidden in Gamzee's pockets - "Fuck if I noticed those motherfucking things" - and make some connections between the Commissioner's computer and the phone on his desk.

"Don't know why the fuck we're doing this, but let's see what's next," Karkat flipped to the last page of the note and froze as he looked at the last instruction from their boss.

Well, their former boss.

Would you kindly meet your end at the hands of the APD.
I have no further use of you or your acquaintences as employees.

Karkat started to breathe heavily and was trying to keep from panicking. But they could see something was wrong.

"What's wrong? What does Mr. Pupurr want us to do next?"
"Yeah, what's the motherfucking deal? Why are you fucking sweating?"
Karkat took a deep breath and wadded up the note, tossing it into the trash, "THE FUCKING ASSHOLE HAS BETRAY-"

"I'll just check it out, the call said someone broke into the Commish's office," the three watched the door open revealing a cop who was laughing at someone still in the hallway, "What kind of fucking moron would do that here? I mean-"

He froze when he saw the trio clustered around the desk. Everyone muttered "Oh fuck" at the same time.

"HOLY SHIT, WE'VE GOT-"

The officer was cut short when a window pane shattered and a hole appeared in his forehead. He collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

"Oh shit, we are fucked."
"Karkitty..."
"Oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckohfuck...not fucking miracles..."

A/N:

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Now I need to figure out how to get them out of this situation.

But yeah, Mr. Pupa betrayed the Karkat Gang. Why will be explained later as well as why he needed them to do this.

[Phi]

Oh no. OH NO.

[aspiringHelpfulness]

Welp, I just remembered this. Time to reread all the fics again.

And for some reason, I like writing fics about the past. Because here's another one. It's my first fic in a while.

From Scraps to Struggles: Part 3 (Prologue, Part 1, Part 2)

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"it's been about a year since can town was attacked by the alternian invasion military's last members. would've been worse if the humans didn't show up. they somehow won against the trolls, and spared us, despite being carapaces. but the trolls wanted to bargain something for that. they wanted the majority of the city to be under THEIR control. EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE THE ONE THAT LOST! WHAT'S WORSE WAS THAT THE HUMANS AGREED. WE WERE LUCKY TO BE SPARED, BUT NOW WE'RE REGARDED AS 'LOWER THAN REDBLOODS!' IT DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHING GOOD! WE WERE NOW THE MISTREATED PEASANTS OF 'ALTERNIA CITY.' BUT ABOVE ALL, IT'S A MONARCHY! I HATE THEIR QUEEN. 'HIS IMPERIOUS CONDESCENSION,' AS SHE WAS CALLED. SHE'S NOT A KING, BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME HATE HER ANY LESS." WV, now known as the WANDERING VIGILANTE, said these words in disgust, to his friend currently next to him.

"yeah, first of all wv, this is an empire, not a monarchy. second, you think that's bad? look around. crime. it's everywhere. oppression, corruption, murder, slave driving, vandalism, jaywalking, you name it. there's just so much crime i can't stand it. and it's all because of the trolls and their way of life." AR, now the ARBITER RENEGADE, said to WV, almost sharing his opinion that this city was as bad as it could get.

"heck, if it wasn't for the green-blood and blue-blood standing up for us, we'd be killed. at least pm got off easy, as mail courier for the city. the king and queen, not so much. i still can't believe that the purple-blood messed them up that badly. but i'd rather not talk about that..." AR felt a chill down his spine as he said this. WV tried to shift the topic.

"yeah... hey, ar, it's been almost a year... can't believe that time flies that fast. it felt like days. ever since we became undercover heroes. how'd we even manage to avoid suspicion, right? maybe those trolls ain't as smart as we thought." WV attempted to make a jab at the trolls.

"haha, yeah... man... i wanna stop those crimes right now. i'd do that, definitely. i wanna help that seppucrow fella stop them midnight crew guys. i don't know how he'd make it out alive, when even problem sleuth and his gang couldn't stop em completely. sure, they'd roughed 'em up a bit, but that's all they managed. both sides couldn't deal enough damage to the other to completely stop them, so they stayed out of each other's hairs." AR laughed and suddenly delved into the past.

Ten months ago, more survivors of the First Skaian War showed up in Alternia city. Carapaces, humans, trolls, they all showed. About a month after that, three groups of carapaces established themselves as the top criminal forces in the city. The Midnight Crew, The Felt, and Mobster Kingpin and his LEGITIMATE ESTABLISHMENT mob. Those guys were just the beginning, though. There was also Marquise Mindfang and the Gamblignants, and Orphaner Dualscar. That's not even mentioning the Red Holocaust of 10/25/2404, a mass culling of red-bloods that had vaguely enough motives for treason, but not much. It was a real bloody mess. Subjugglators had their field day and art classes. Crime rates couldn't have been higher, with revenge and all that...

Miraculously, a month after THAT, crime rates have gone down, partly due to the main criminals taking out any competition, and partly because of the vigilantes that have been springing up. Two of them being WV and AR, the very first vigilantes. The rest of them were a group known as The Guardians. The Guardians were a group of four adults, named Seppucrow, Gritman, Jasper Skaiance, and Hass the Flame. Crime rates were really low with them taking out any criminals they could find. Then the Consorts showed up in the sewers about a month later. That was WV and AR's first meeting with The Guardians. They collaborated to keep the consorts at bay, until they were promptly dealt with by the authorities. Even then, the sewers still weren't safe, and entry was forbidden since then. After that, it was the usual deal. Stopping crime, visiting PM, WQ, and WK...

Six months later, the month before today, WQ and WK died. It was unknown whether it was a murder; the evidence was inconclusive. It was a sad day for their group, but for the rest, it couldn't have been a better day. Even the humans were celebrating. All of them did, except the five humans that saved them, the two trolls who stood up for them, and the Guardians. That made fourteen out of tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of celebrating people, mourning the deaths of these two.The Guardians retired that day, and started living normally.

Crime rates were at an all-time low that day. And shot up to shocking proportions the day after, and every day since. The trio was still recovering from their deaths. PM took every day off and refused to carry the mail, or even read it. WV and AR put a halt to their vigilante work momentarily, regardless of the crime rates. All they did was perch themselves on the edge of the roof of Skaianet Labs and observe the chaos below, making spiteful comments at the trolls and telling jokes. Today... It was a bit different.

"HEY F*CK*SSES, THIS IS MY SPOT. NOW GET THE F*CK OUT, I'M PLANNING A F*CKING UPRISING HERE."

"WAIT A MINUTE I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU THAT! NOW GET OUT BEFORE I F*CKING MAKE YOU! AND YOU BETTER KEEP QUIET ABOUT THIS!"

Author's notes:

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Well, that was a weirds note to end it on, but I'm planning something here. I'm following canon characters for now. And reusing canon plots. Yeah... I'm running out of ideas. This should be predictable

Clarifications:
WV speaks in bold, AR in italics.

This takes place at around 2405. The main characters will be born in about two years. I chose the year 2404 for the Red Holocaust because it's 18 (6+12) years before 2422.

The Guardians names: Seppucrow is obvious. Gritman came from Mangrit. Jasper Skaiance came from Jaspers, and a portmanteau of Skaia and science. Hass the Flame is also obvious.

Part Two has some exposition as to who exactly attacked Can Town and who saved them.

[Namboto]

RE Tails of the Kitsune:

Beautiful...

Your writing has great strength. When I was first reading about Crevan, I was rather concerned about how he would turn out as a character since he has anger super powers (I know they're not actually powers, I'm simplifying for shorthand). However, you're making a good character out of him, especially with the admission that he carries hatred without justification ("without justification" is also shorthand). This is a story I'll be watching closely.

Gallad's quirk is meant to be serpentine, no? It's fun inventing quirks.

Oh, by the way, here's your soul. I think you accidentally left it with me back on page 79.

Thanks for the compliments!

With gallad I was going for more of a stereotypical mob boss feel, pronouncing the s more like a z, but it works as hissing too. To explain Crevan's: It's supposed to sound very snooty, like some stuck up young nobleman. T|-|E L||\|ES are him subconsciously putting himself a step above everyone else, even in writing.

EDIT:

It's good to see you back Wigmund, I always enjoy your stuff.

[Redbird]

@ Wigmund- As everyone else is saying, it's great to see you back again. And with two updates as well! They are as good as always. I really do wonder what Mr Pupa has planned though...!

[Aquila]

Oh sweet, good to see Wigmund back.

Wigmund, any idea when we'll see that comic you and frostedWarlock were working on?

[CalamityCons]

This seems like a really awesome idea and I've gotten a couple of ideas floating around in my head about it. I just have a question...

Firstly, how solid is this fanon? Am I allowed to go completely off the handle and not reference any other fic at all? Is there anything that should remain constant across all fics? I'm not talking the basic stuff like "Who's a criminal, who's a cop", "The Karkat gang is made up of three trolls and are under Dr. Pupa" and things of the sort. I'm talking like, whether the Karkat Gang live in a house or not, or what the city is structured like, or the personalities of each character.

I hope I don't sound too businesslike or anything. I'm still getting used to this forum. Please don't eat me.

[pimudragonfeline]

First post info is cannon everything else is head cannon.

[CalamityCons]

I see.

Another question; in this story that I have thought up in response to this AU, one of the characters dies. Is this acceptable?

I'm sorry. I just really don't want to step on any toes here.

[aspiringHelpfulness]

Yeah it's acceptable. It's your headcanon. Do what you like and what you think is ok.

[pimudragonfeline]

Wigmund cannon is also a thing.
But for your question. Yes it is acceptable as long as it isn't gratuitous but I think we need others people's opinions on this as well.

[Huanir]

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Wigmund killed Jade.

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Granted, it was only temporary, but still.

I'm also planning on a few characters not making it to the end. No objections, just be reasonable about it.

[CalamityCons]

Alright, thanks! I guess that's a good enough go-ahead. I'll have the first part up soon-ish.

[Huanir]

Major writer's block on Eridan's story, so I wrote about 15-year-old Mr. Pupa instead.

Rescue

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Tavros wheeled himself into the pet store in time to see a young human girl crying. He would have placed her in the eight to ten range, which meant she was a bit too old to be throwing a fit for not getting the pet she wanted. Was she crying for something else, then?

She was standing alone by the checkout counter, holding a wire cage with a couple of rodents in it. Hamsters, perhaps? Upon hearing Tavros' entrance, she glanced to the door and stared as his wheelchair for a bit before remembering that she was being impolite. Blushing a bit, she looked up at his face, her eyes glistening with tears.

Tavros put on his compassionate face. "eR, PARDON ME, BUT, UM, MAY i ASK WHAT IS THE MATTER?"

The girl sniffled. "We're moving, and the new place won't let us keep any pets, not even gerbils." Ah, not hamsters.

Tavros pushed his wheels and rolled up to the counter beside her. Leaning forward, he looked into the cage. "wHAT ARE THEIR NAMES?"

She sniffed again. "Dusty and Blink. Dusty is the brown one, and the white and gray one is Blink." The beginnings of a smile started to show on her face; apparently, she liked talking about her pets.

"aND WHAT, ER, IS YOUR NAME?"

"My name is Sarah."

Tavros smiled. "wELL, sARAH, MY NAME IS tAVROS, i SOMETIMES COME HERE AFTER MY LESSONS TO SPEND TIME WITH THE ANIMALS," He reached out with his mind and calmed down the gerbils, making them feel comfortable with him. "tHEY ALWAYS SEEM TO LIKE ME,"

The gerbils scurried to the corner of the cage closest to Tavros, looking at him through the wires. Sarah watched them for a bit, then looked at Tavros. "tHEY SEEM SO FRIENDLY," he said. "wHAT ARE YOU PLANNING ON DOING WITH THEM?"

Sarah's eyes were again downcast. "None of my friends would take them, so I'm asking the pet store people if they can take them and sell them to a new home."

Tavros reached out his hands. "mAY i HOLD THEM?"

Sarah blinked in surprise. "Um, sure!" She set the cage down and opened the door.

Immediately, Blink ran out the door. "Oh!" Sarah exclaimed, about to chase him down, but it ran right toward Tavros.

Tavros looked down at his feet. "i'M AFRAID, UM, THAT i CAN'T REACH HIM, cOULD YOU PICK HIM UP FOR ME?"

Sarah scuttled over to Tavros' chair and picked up Blink. "Did you see how he ran right to you?" she asked, handing the gerbil over. "I think he likes you!"

"aNIMALS OFTEN DO," Tavros said, taking Blink and setting it down in his lap. "i COULD TAKE CARE OF THEM," he offered.

Sarah's smile was immediate and bright. "You'd do that? Oh, thank you so much! Do you know how to take care of gerbils? They're social animals, so you need to play with them. Can you do that?"

Tavros nodded. "i TAKE MY LESSONS AT HOME, SO i'LL BE AVAILABLE," He started stroking Blink's fuzzy back.

"Oh, good! Also, you'll need to use to wooden toys instead of plastic ones, because they can eat through plastic ones, and that's bad for them. You can buy packaged gerbil food here. They love fruits, but don't give them too much, or it'll upset their tummies. Oh, and also, change their water every day, and clean their cage once a week. I tried to take them on a walk once, but that didn't work, so I don't think you should try that." As if he even could. "If their teeth get too long, you'll need to take them to the vet to get them clipped. They're social animals, so they should be kept together. Oh! And another thing, don't blow in their faces, since that can cause seizures..."

And on she went. A full five minutes later, she and Tavros left the pet store, him with the cage in his lap, and their paths split at the shop's entrance.

---

Tavros had once owned a pet snake. He thought it would help him come to some sort of epiphany, since it had no legs and still struck fear into the hearts of so many. It didn't, and he had it taken away shortly after it came into his possession. Despite their leglessness, snakes weren't like him. They were built to slither and crawl on the ground, and Tavros was meant for greater things. Tavros was meant to fly. He would not overcome his handicap like a character in one of those sappy inspirational movies his maid loved so much - he would bypass the problem altogether.

In this spirit, Tavros had picked up a pet giant centipede. This particular specimen had over sixty legs, more than enough for anyone. "Hello, Pupa. I brought you some new friends." Centipedes did not actually undergo pupation, but Tavros really liked the name Pupa. It kind of fit, since the centipede had to molt several times throughout its life. When done molting, it would eat its old skin; there was a brutal efficiency about that which Tavros found appealing.

He set the gerbils' cage next to Pupa's aquarium. The two-foot predator lifted its head, waving its antennae in expectation. "Pupa, meet Blink. I'll introduce you to Dusty later." Picking up a pair of chopsticks, Tavros lifted the gray and white gerbil out of its cage and lowered it into the centipede's tank. "Play nice."

A/N

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I know that centipedes don't really get that big. It's fiction, and the size of the centipede is dramatized therefor.

This was mainly written to make sure I didn't get too rusty at writing, but I think it offered me a chance to look into Mr. Pupa's head a bit, back in its early stages - you could almost call him Mr. Larva at this point. *gets shot for terrible joke* Anyways, though, I think his approach to pets as a motif for his handicap gives us some insight into him and his goals.

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Said goals being the acquisition of First Guardian powers, as detailed in Setting Up the Board. And that reminds me, I still have to work on Ektos so that the concept doesn't suck so much. I'll get right on that.

Also, I've missed the attention. ;)

--EDIT--

Welcome, CalamityCons. I just realized that every one of your posts so far was in this thread. Welcome! :)

[zebtrestalala]

Ampora Files, Case 124: Section 1 2 3 4 5 [6]

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“So Eridan You Are Looking To Investigate Anyone Who Had Ties To Hass Harley With The Initials of DPB?”

“Yep you got it”

“And You Believe That Us At SEER Can Help You,” she continues. Kanaya has an odd way of expressing what she thinks, restating the obvious in a snarky, disbelieving tone to try and deconstruct it in front of your face. It’d be irritating if it hadn’t helped you before.

“Absolutely. You guys got dirt on evverybody in this damn city,” you reply. “Evven me right?”

“I assure you, Ampora, it doesn’t take much to have dirt on you,” says Rose, “the Seer,” Lalonde, from a doorway. She glides over to where you and Kanaya are talking, her dress moving in a way that makes it seem like she isn’t even moving her legs.

“And why would we want to help you, Detective? We don’t just hand out our information to anyone who asks, you know. I’d like to think we have some principles”

“I’m doin an invvestigation of a murder, and I need some help gettin a check on this guy. Hass Harley, you know the guy?”

“Eridan Did You Know That Hass Harley Was One Of the Founding Fathers Of SEER?”

“Wwait, I thought you guys founded S.E.E.R.?”

“A common misconception, Mr. Ampora. While I made this organization famous with my deductive skills, the Society for Ectotechnological and Energy Research actually had a function before I came along. My mother was actually part of this organization for a while,” she explains. “Furthermore, I must ask, did you know that Ms. Harley also works here?”

“Uh, yeah I did,” you respond.

“So why is Jade not here? Surely she would want to know who was responsible for this crime,” says Rose, a dry smile on her face.

“Look, I’m just tryin to protect her noww let me do my job.”

“I Believe That It Is A Common Misconception That Hiding Information From Someone Will Protect Them Eridan And I Think That You Could Have Probably Saved Yourself Some Time And Effort If You Had Just Asked Jade To Look Into It For You,” Kanaya adds.

“Okay alright apparently it’s take potshots at Eridan hour so wwhy don’t you just get the snarky bullshit outta your systems so I can actually do my job and find out wwho killed Old Man Harley,” you snap back. Broads. You should’ve known better than to expect nothing but bullshit from ‘em. They’re all the same.

“As tempting as that may be, Detective,” Rose begins, a small laugh escaping from her lips. “I believe we’ll give you the assistance that you need, on the condition that you tell Jade everything that you find out.”

“Okay quick question wwhy the hell are you play Mom to Harley, I mean wwhat does it matter to you?”

“Unlike you, Mr. Ampora, I actually care about and protect my friends. Perhaps that is why you have so few,” she responds, as cool as a glacier against the naked skin.

“What Rose Means Is That We Care A Lot About Jade As Friend And Coworker And We Don’t Want Her To Suffer Or Get Gypped Out of A Closure On This Matter,” Kanaya interjects.

“Right thanks noww can wwe get goin,” you respond, your ego bruised.

“Right This Way”

The device they use is relatively simple. It’s a big computer with lots of wires and flashing lights, and several wires that go into further devices that you don’t understand. But at heart, it’s a big computer with lots of faces stored on it. You wonder if anyone’s ever used it for social networking.

“So we’ll just pull up a profile for the late Hass Harley, and try to find people who were close to him with the initials DPB,” Rose explains. “It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

The data’s entered, and the computer takes a minute to calculate the information processed in it.

“So this is the big secret behind S.E.E.R? A giant computer?”

“This is a compendium of our work, Detective. How we get the information is another matter completely. It’s more work than it appears.”

“It Appears There’s A Result On The Computer. There’s A Man By The Name Of Damian Pitre Bonaparte, Who He Travelled With On Several Of His Adventures, And A…David Patrick Brinner.”

“Hmm. Of the two, I’d have to go with Dr. Brinner, as a likely suspect.”

“Wwait. Howw do you knoww this guy is a doctor?”

“Because he used to work here, Detective. He worked with my mother and Mr. Harley. I’ll tell you everything you know if you give me a second.”

=>Rose: Explain

You’re not Rose, but she’ll comply anyways.

“Dr. Brinner worked closely with my mother and Hass on an ectobiological research project, researching the connection between the dead and the living, and how to bring both the past and the dead back into the present and the living. Dr. Brinner claimed that he was a “Ghost Psychologist,” and that he needed to work on this project so he could better communicate with the dead and solve all of the terrible psychological problems that being dead could cause.”

“But couldn’t he only be a ghost psychologist if they wwere ghosts or somethin?”

“He wasn’t the most sensible person, from what my mother told me. Nor stable. But his enthusiasm was well received by Mr. Harley. He truly believed that there was a way to create a machine that could branch the worlds of the living and the dead, and he would do anything to make that machine a reality. At first, my mother and Hass shared his enthusiasm, and worked to study ectoplasm and psychic energies involved, but eventually they realized that they weren’t making as much progress on it as they hoped, and only Dr. Brinner worked with as much fervor as they originally had. Though it was eventually completed, and was by all means a group effort, my mother believes that Dr. Brinner thought that he was cheated, and that he should have had all the money. Mr. Harley was the lead researcher, so when he turned up dead, it was very fortuitous for Dr. Brinner. I don’t know what’s being done with the machine nowadays, but one of the last actions my mother did before she was removed from the patent was to install one in S.E.E.R. laboratories. After the incident, Dr. Brinner left, presumably to market this possibly unstable technology in less than legitimate markets. Nonetheless, the technology isn’t cheap to build, so more than likely it is a rare find.”

“An she told all of that to you?”

“No, of course not. My mother didn’t let me know much of her personal life. However, I was able to pull up a log of hers on the computer just now, and was able to piece together what happened,” Rose explains, looking towards the door expectantly.

“Now Eridan Make Sure You Let Jade Know About This Or Else There Will Be Serious Repercussions,” Kanaya adds, a serious look on her face.

“One last thing,” you add before you abscond from these two insufferable broads. “Any idea wwhere he livves?”

“The computer reads that his last residence was 123 Hog Road, and that he should still be living there,” Rose replies. “Don’t make waste, Detective. I want this man to have justice as well.”

“Wwill do, ladies,” you reply, as you walk out the door.

=> Eridan: Rendezvous with the client

It isn’t too hard to contact Jade. In Problem Sleuth’s time, maybe you’d have a hard time of finding her, and there’d be a car chase with a bunch of goons, but it’s the modern day, and you only have to dial her up on your cell phone. The S.E.E.R. building itself has horrible reception (probably to avoid tracking and all that stuff that private organizations hate) but outside the clear blue sky lets the transmission flow smoothly. Fort Skaian doesn’t seem to interfere with the signal at all, despite its close proximity to the building.

You tell her to meet you back at the Police Station, and you’ll tell her everything that you know. As much as you want to go and confront the murderer, you should wait to tell Jade first. You kind of fear the wrath of an angry woman more than the bullet.

Not that you don’t jump out of the way of one when you’re shot at.

Like you’re being shot at now.

You have no idea where the shot came from. It was really out of nowhere, as soon as you stepped off the property of Fort Skaian, a bullet whizzed about 3 or 4 feet to your right. Soon after, several more gunshots erupt in the relative silence of the military district. You’d expect something like this in Projects of the Narrows, but not this place. Whoever it is definitely is not the brightest, and definitely followed you here.

A shriek breaks through the overpowering noise of the gunshots, screaming, “JUT DEAD. TROLL KILL JUT!”

Fuck, that explains it. Stupid fuckin consorts blaming a freakin overdose on you just because you played a little rough with their third cousin or whatever. Only a crocodile would start a firefight near one of the most heavily guarded bases in Alternia City. However, you know you’re on your own. No one’s gonna break security to help out a P.I. Nonetheless, they don’t realize how much shit they’ve got themselves into.

“I didn’t kill Jut you fuckin morons! He probably just ovverdosed on wwhatevver drugs he’s on!”

“DRUGS NO STAB PEOPLE. TROLL KILL JUT!”

Well shit, now he committed suicide. Well, that’s what you get for trying to rationalize with animals. The only reason they’re going to see now is the end of a barrel.

You look out over the jersey barrier that you’ve taken for shelter, and spot a flash of red in one of the alleyways. While they may be trying to hit you with amateur pistols and machine guns, a typical thug-like animals weapon, you’re decked out with the Ahab’s Crosshairs, a family heirloom that you may have unrightfully stolen from a family that disowned you. This rifle has more precision than any croc’s weapon, and you know it.

Leaping forward, you go into a roll, dashing forward to the next available shelter, a car parked unfortunately at the side of the road. Yeah, the insurance is definitely getting paid by them. The barrage of bullets puts a steel drum symphony to shame, and the throbbing in your head puts a bass drum to shame. The side view mirror catches glimpses of red darting in the alleyways, and you think you have a good idea of where one of the crocs is.

Peering through the shattered window, you aim the crosshairs to right where you saw him poking out, and wait. Any second now and-

BOOM.

The crosshairs fire off a burst of sparkling blue energy, pulsing and twisting as it pierces the head of the gangster. The croc falls to the ground, a few shots going off on a crappily made AK-47 as it falls beside him. You know what happens now. The amateurs get mad about their fallen friends, and then they start getting stupid. This isn’t an intelligent war. This is just a bunch of angry, hormone driven animals who think you did something you didn’t.

Sure enough, you start seeing more red in the sideview mirror. Like the unintelligent group animals they are, they instinctively think that sticking together in packs makes them safer. It just makes a bigger target.

What you didn’t count on, but you luckily caught, is the oil that is currently dripping out of the side of the car, and pooling underneath it. You know how guns are fired, what with the explosive force behind it. Bottom line is, they’re hot. And oh fuck are they using tracer rounds those little shits.

As you start sprinting away from the parked explosive device, the resulting explosion clips you in the leg, leading you to tumble and flip a bit in the air as you attempt to dive behind a nearby tree. You take a second to nurse your injuries. Looks like it’s a little bruised, but luckily your Sleuth Roll was successful, and it wasn’t hurt too badly. However, the smoke is making it hard for you to take aim at the crocodiles. However, these are the crosshairs you’re talking about. Not your everyday pawn shop weapon. It’s scope is unrivaled by commonplace rifles. You pick out a speck of red that doesn’t quite blend in with the flames, and take aim. Over the roar of the flames, you can barely perceive a gurgling cry, and more swarm to their fallen comrade. Amateurs. You pick them all off easily.

You don’t really have a count of how many crocodiles attacked you, but you’re sure they’re not done. One appears from an alleyway on your side of the tree, and spots you as soon as you spot him. Luckily, the firing rate of the crosshairs is unparalleled as well, and before he can even pick up his gun his stomach is ripped open by a beam of wrath.

This almost seems to be too easy.

Just as you think that, you are grabbed by a clawed hand from behind, and realize too late that you exposed you back side for a bit too long. You find yourself in a death grip from behind from a crocodile, and his jaws look ready to actually rips your arm off. You twist and butt stroke him with the crosshairs, but he tears at your side with his claws while turning away. Enraged, you begin to club him over the head with the crosshairs several times, before realizing what you’re doing, and just shoot him.

That’s it. You need to get out of here. These red scaley assholes don’t even know what they’re doing. Sure, they’re trying to fuckin kill you but they probably really think you killed Jut Papershoosh. And every one that you kill in self defense is more paperwork. It’s not sleuth-like to get into stupid arguments like this, you tell yourself.

You break into a run; away from where you were engaged, trying to take as much cover as you can. You’re not being a coward, you’re being smart. Smart people run. Also, running people’s legs smart. You’re not injured. It’s a good pain. You should run more often. Any time now that endorphin high will start up and everything will be fine. You’re so happy that you end up shooting two more crocodiles that come at you with machine guns.

You can’t really keep this up for much longer. Your leg is injured, and you need to stop, but the crocodiles are probably on your tail, predators they are on the hunt of their prey. You need something that will be a sure get away, and you think you know what it is. S.E.E.R. lies relatively close to the Lolar River, one of four rivers that flow through the city. It’s clear, it’s beautiful, and it’s romantic, but more important than that now, it’s water. Which you can breathe. Which crocodiles can’t.

With a final wind, you finally reach the bridge that overlooks the river, and, wasting no time, make a dive off of it into the clear river beneath. You hold your body rigid, and splash somewhat gracefully into the clear water below.

Damn it, you JUST bought this trenchcoat. You really hate the dry cleaners, man, they’re freaking racist against trolls. And you’re pretty sure they’re run by the Midnight Crew.

Muttering to yourself, you start swimming back towards the police headquarters.

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Welp, that's the guy who paid Jut off for killing Grandpa. I hope you don't all shoot me for using this guy as involved in the murder. I tried some second-person action this time around, not sure how it went. Tell me what you think as always.

Oh, and this fanfic is currently taking up 35 pages in Microsoft Word and counting. Do I write too much?

[CalamityCons]

Boy, these stories seem pretty good! I like the oneshots.

I hope what I make will be good enough!