(NOTE: This thread is living in the main Artbound thread for a number of reasons - partly to generate a bit more traffic, partly because this is a hub for fanfic, fanart and fanmusic, all of which have threads that live here, and partly because some other AUs such as VictoriaBent and MMORPGStuck have made their homes here too. If this does need to be moved, let me know and I'll make sure it gets to where it needs to go.)
TROLLCOPS: THE AU
VERSION 2.0: THE REVENGENING
Alright, let's get this shit started. TrollCops is an Alternate Universe which takes the characters we all know and love from Homestuck and puts them into a cops vs. criminals setting. If this sounds vague, that's because the definition of TrollCops is very vague. There is no one "established" canon, and pretty much anything goes so long as it revolves around the theme of crime and people fighting it. Any contributions are welcome - writing, art, music, image manipulation, and anything else you can think of. If you think you've got anything, or just want to come along and talk about the setting, then feel free to come in and post. The ACPD needs members, and we're always recruiting. Lurkers need lurk no more.
All credit for the TrollCops setting goes to Deeum, and credit for each individual work goes to its respective author.
So, here's the "standard" roles for the TrollCops characters so far:
Superheroes and Vigilantes
Iron Lass (Jade)
The Culler (Feferi)
By no means do you have to stick to this in your own story. The canon of TrollCops is incredibly flexible, and changes from the default setting are not only allowed but encouraged. If you have any ideas that differ from what's listed here, post them anyway! Everybody's welcome here in Alternia City.
Due to the fact that this AU went dead for a long time, a lot of updates in canon have yet to reflect on the default TrollCops story. If you have any suggestions for how to implement these, then post them below.
PLEASE NOTE: Due to the dated status of this AU, some of the links in the original index went dead. I've only included the ones that were still functioning, as well as those submitted after the front page stopped updating. If I've missed anything, let me know.
INDEX PART 1 - LAND OF ART AND PICTURES
THE BIOS: (made by Lakobe, Kayak and cyclicCircumferentia)
Back in the grim, dark ages that were the beginnings of this AU, frostedWarlock and friends in the RP community decided it would be fun to invent TrollCops episode names and title cards as though it were a real show. Here are their orignal ideas, alongside supplemental episodes and snarky commentary from myself (MindMessiah), Ra Zarudo, and anybody else from the original thread that I might have forgotten.
Season 1 - Meet The Team
The pilot series of TrollCops, and the suprise sleeper hit that blew both audiences and critics alike off their feet. It was an acclaimed success, winning several awards and spawning a wide variety of spin-off merchandise. The first series was noticably much lighter-hearted than those following it, focusing on a series of one-off and mostly comedic episodes rather than the overarching plots of other series.
Ace of Space
Red Vs Blue
Until Morale Improves
Black and Blue
Season 2 - Felt Overcoat
Series number two of TrollCops focused mostly on the antics of the Felt, the mysterious gang of villains introduced in the first series that proved remarkably popular with viewers. Despite this obvious audience appeal, TrollCops started losing viewers, mostly due to competing with shows such as Homestuck: The Anime. In additon, contention between the writers and publishers led to legal issues that would split the franchise between multiple networks.
Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey - Space Lass, EgbertMan, and SeppuCrow all had to pull three all-nighters in a row in an attempt to capture the elusive Mindfang, and on the fourth day they must somehow find a way to deal with the preposturous amount of Eggs and Biscuits timecloning all over the city.
As Luck Would Have It
As Luck Won't Have It
Calling Shots - As the various forces of the city race against each other to capture or kill the Felt, we learn more about their reasons for doing so.
Irons in the Fire
Season 3 - The Lazaro Saga
With the series divided across multiple networks - and MSPA Studios still holding the rights to both due to a mobius double technicality reacharound, the third seasons of Troll!Cops took two sharply differing directions in terms of writing and plot. This difference was mainly due to a massive falling out between Carlos Lazaro and the rest of the writing team, although both series would be directed by the same group.
Season 3A introduced Erigami, a masked supervillain with a sharp resemblance to Detective Eridan Ampora, who mysteriously "got better" following his apparent suicide in Irons in the Fire. 3A would try to balance the plot with a more light-hearted direction focusing on individual character development, which it did to a more approving reaction than the later episodes of Season 2.
Season 3B of TrollCops took a darker turn after the studio kept writer Carlos Lazaro to form a new writing "B-team" and provide a new storyline involving Bec Noir - the even-more-murderous alter ego of Spades Slick. Running for nine episodes, Season 3 drew both surprised praise and extreme derision from both fans and critics alike due to its increased violence and borderline-grimdark plot.
Each season's finale episode - "Gaius Futilus" and "Dogs of Noir" - would both earn Emmy nominations for Outstanding Animated Series, ultimately losing to the "Cascade" episode of the original Homestuck the Anime series.
Despite better reviews by critics, the series' bifurcation ultimately proved to be its swan song as the decision to air on two different networks carved its viewership in half. MSPAS sacked both writing teams, even filing a cease-and-desist order against Lazaro following the Crabface OVA controversy. After an abortive attempt to restart the series with the critically panned Troll!Cops Superkids, MSPAS shut down its Troll!Cops studio and focused entirely on Homestuck: The Anime's sixth season.
Troll!Cops' rights were picked up by 413 Studios, who plan to release a new season in 2013 following Homestuck: The Anime's conclusion.
Season 3A - Erigami Spin-Off Series
After the well-documented court case Lazaro v MSPA Studios, former writer Carlos Lozaro won the rights to the show and produced an eight-episode spin-off series with a much darker tone. Critics praised the new direction for the show, but the grimmer plotlines with increased continuity failed to draw back the dwindling audience and Lazaro was eventually forced to negotiate a new contract with MSPA Studios in order to remain solvent.
Season 3B - Black Noir
Season 3B of TrollCops saw the series take a darker turn after the creators brought on an acclaimed noir comics writer, George Parichino, to head the writing team provide a new storyline involving Bec Noir. Running for nine episodes, Season 3B drew both surprised praise and extreme derision from both fans and critics alike with "Dogs of Noir" earning an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Animated Series. Parichino was abruptly sacked following the nomination, and his remains were found buried near a construction site.
You Don't Know Slick
He Stalked By Night
One Flew Into The Doghouse
April The Thirteenth
A Few Good Dersites
Dogs of Noir
The Green Miles
"Crabface" Original Video Animation
The Troll!Cops "Crabface" OVA was a series of four non-canon episodes with a new story penned by Carlos Lazaro. Focusing on the street gang, the OVA became infamous for its detailed graphic content and gratuitous profanity - even by the standards viewers were used to for Karkat's frequently expletive-laden dialogue. Despite being released unrated, the Crabface OVA was quickly pulled from shelves after a barrage of complaints from decency groups, and remains a sought-after collector's item for fans of the series.
Engage Criminal Mode - When a friend of Gamzee's shows Karkat a way into the city's illegal sopor trade, Karkat seizes the opportunity to make some easy money...but at what cost? And why is Officer Terezi suddenly having terribad, nightmarish visions?
[CG]: Ascend - Fearing the Carcino Gang becoming too good as his 'employees', Mr. Pupa tries to have them killed, Karkat is offered assistance from a mysterious new supplier, and Terezi and Sollux have to cope with the bodycount.
carcinoGangster - Karkat, Nepeta and Gamzee are on top of the world and living large. But cracks appear in the gilded mask when Karkat also starts getting high on his own supply - and the PD decides to turn up the heat.
[CG]: Descend - With the law and the entire Strider Mafia bearing down, the Carcino Gang turn on each other and Karkat is forced to pick between his empire and doing something he cannot bring himself to do. Can Officer Terezi Pyrope give him a way out before he takes the entire city with him?
Troll!Cops Superkids: The Spinoff Series
Since the darker tone of Series 3 and 4 failed to bring back audiences, the creators of TrollCops decided to produce a spin-off series in an attempt to return to the more comedic Season 1. However, the absence of the original cast and writing team coupled with the jarring tone shifts caused it to be almost universally panned, and only two episodes were ever released.
Unveiling - Being locked up hasn't stopped Mr. Pupa from being a criminal mastermind. So when he seizes control of the Veil and threatens to unleash havoc upon Alternia City, it's up to The Breeze to break into jail and stop him. And in order to break into the Veil, he'll have to get help from the only person ever to break out: Hass Harley.
Tagline: "Back when I was in the Veil, I was the big man. Hass the Rock, they called me."
The Long Four-Thirteen - On the eve of the anniversary of Alternia City's founding, the Midnight Crew find themselves poised to take the throne as the city's most powerful gang...and SeppuCrow himself is determined to stop it with his allies Commissioner AR and Officers Sollux and Terezi. But in the mere span of twelve hours: 6:12 pm to 6:12 am, their war on crime will change all of their lives. All of them. And not always for the better.
Tagline: "I've given my life, my lisp and b0th my eyes and pers0nalities t0 protecting this city...but the 0nly thing I've learned is that the 0nly thing y0u can c0unt 0n...is CH4NC3."
Over the course of TrollCops' rather lenghty run, several episodes were written, produced and filmed without ever being aired on TV. The reasons for this varied from episode to episode - copyright issues, negative response from test audiences, premature season cancellation - but all of them were eventually leaked to the public.
Three Green Torsos
Bl99d and Sym69l - Sollux and Terezi start digging into the Order of the Sufferer...and suddenly find themselves twice targeted: not just from the Order and their mysterious assassin, but also from a police investigation. Leads to massive Dan Brown shenanigans.
Handmaid In Alternia - Aradia has been rebuilt as a crimefighting robot as a shining example of the city's finest. So why is Mayor Crocker doing everything in her power to stop her?
Cat Scratch F33ver - The SeppuCrow has always relied on a dizzying array of gadgets and technology to keep the sick fires of justice burning. But he may soon have a new rival - whose feral instincts send all his technological ingenuity down the stairs.
Special Delivery - WV's battle against a mysterious serial killer has attracted the attention of our investigative duo. But all the trails seem to lead back to Postmaster Penelope Mendez.
Last edited by MindMessiah; 09-22-2012 at 03:23 PM.
This signature is currently down for maintenance. We apologise for any inconvenience.
Now then, since I need to get this thread started somehow, here's a little thing I wrote called Beat Cop, providing an alternative origin story for Karkat. I didn't like it much when I wrote it, and in fact I said some very mean things about it. But now that I have the advantage of hindsight, I think I like it more than I did previously.
Beat Cop, Chapter 1
There are serveral ways for an officer to leave the force.
Some retire after years of service to their beloved city, too old or too tired to continue to protect and serve. The law is generous with their pensions, and any officer who lives to enjoy theirs can count on living out their remaining years in comfort.
Some end their careers midway through, preferring to put their skills to use in other fields than law enforcement. Employment oppurtunities are rife for ex-cops within the city, since the training and status that come with the badge are arguably better than any degree.
Some have their service cut short, sacrificing themselves to better protect their citzenry. At any time, the cruel hand of fate, crime or Mr Pupa can come down on any officer. Brave individuals of all stripes, from Officer Medigo, who wasn't even able to complete her fist case before her brutal contract killing, to Sergeant Regulator, whose career lasted for fifty sweeps before his end at the hands of the Felt, lay down their lives on a regular basis in order to defend those around them.
But the worst way for an officer to leave the force is none of those. Rather, it is to be phased out, slowly and surely, as those around you rise to fame. It is to be forced into the background by events outside of your control, watching events transpire that you can do nothing to influence. It is losing everything to a single twist of fate, to be defeated by one bad roll.
That is how you left the force.
You can remember your last case all too well. Back then, you were partnered with Sollux Captor. He was one of the most annoying, stuck-up little nooksniffers that you've ever had to put up with, and yet you would kill to be his partner again. It wasn't as though you spent that much time with him anyway. Instead, most of your on-duty hours were passed alongside Terezi Pyrope, the troll now widely regarded as the ACPD's finest officer. Of course, it was nothing like that back then. Back then, you were just a bunch of rookies, eager to prove yourselves in the fires of duty, motivated by idealistic visions and inaccurate fantasies.
It was a simple task, to be honest. SEER had reported that there was a mole working for Mr Pupa within the department, and your job was to find him. And you did, though he wasn't the only one, as you would later learn. He'd left a visible paper trail, and all that was left to do was take him down. Unfortunately, he'd figured out that you were onto him, and had flown the coop by the time you stormed his apartment. You likely would have lost him there, if Terezi hadn't recieved a mysterious note covered in feathers one night. It told you where he was lying low, and you got the go-ahead from command to shoot to kill. This time, he wouldn't be escaping.
There were four of you in the squad car that night. You and Sollux were sat in the front, bickering about which channel to switch the radio to, while Terezi and Vriska were slouched in the back. It was your first case with the then-Officer Sekret, and you didn't know much about her, other than second-hand bitching picked up from Terezi. If you had, you would've been a lot more wary about what was going to go down. Instead, you were far too busy arguing with your partner over completely trivial matters.
OH COME ON, THIS IS THE THRESH PRINCE THEME SONG!
AT LEAST LET ME HAVE THIS!
no way. ii am not lii2teniing to that bull2hiit.
"NOW THIS IS A STORY ALL ABOUT HOW,"
"MY LIFE GOT FLIPPED TURNED UPSIDE DOWN,"
okay, that'2 iit. ii'm breakiing that piiece of 2hiit.
WOULD YOU TWO STOP 1T!
SOLLUX YOU C4NT BR34K TH3 R4D1O
W3 K1ND OF N33D 1T
1M SURE YOU C4N PUT UP W1TH K4RKL3S MUS1C FOR 4 WH1L3
SUCK IT, BULGEMUNCHER, WE'RE RIDING WITH THE PRINCE TODAY.
kiill me now. plea2e.
Yeah, you were kind of an idiot back then. But at least you were a happy idiot.
Once you arrived at the mole's hideout, you went silent. He knew you were coming, but for whatever reason Pupa hadn't seen fit to reinforce him. Maybe he had decided to pull out there, and cut his losses. You don't know. You've been working with the guy for over two sweeps now and you still don't understand him. You doubt you ever will. Whatever the reason, he was all alone, one human with a pistol versus four heavily armed ACPD officers. It shouldn't have been a problem.
The bastard had prepared for you, at the very least. Several barricades gave him a distinct advantage as you shot your way through the building, and there was at least one explosive trap which ended up caving the ceiling in, seperating you from Terezi and Sollux. It was just you and Vriska, running up the stairs in an effort to corner him on the roof. You should've guessed from the manical glint in her eye and the evil grin on her face that she was planning something, but you simply assumed that she was enjoying herself a little too much. None the wiser as to her intentions, you burst onto the roof at about the same time as Sollux and Terezi, all your guns pointed at the snitch getting ready to jump.
It was then that Vriska pressed her hands up to her forehead.
At the time, you couldn't explain what came over you. Out of nowhere, your body stopped responding to commands and started moving of its own accord. Despite your brain screaming at you to stop, you drew your pistol and emptied a clip in the general direction of your fellow officers. Thankfully, your aim was off, and only one of your rounds connected, hitting Sollux in the foot. You can still remember how suprisingly tough he was for a lowblood. Asshole barely even flinched.
Only much later would you find out that Vriska had been the one responsible for your rampage. You were suspicious from the moment you started shooting the place up, of course, but you would only get proof when you started working for Pupa. At the time, you were too busy to start thinking about who caused this, because after controlling you she drew her sidearm and shot you twice in the stomach. It's at this point that she stopped manipulating you, because you remember letting out a slightly delayed yell of pain and collapsing like a sack of bricks.
Everything else after that is a blur of pain both physical and mental. Sollux was yelling, Terezi was confused, Vriska was laughing... it wasn't until you got back to the station that you understood the gravity of the situation. You had compromised the whole operation and let the perp escape. Not only that, but you had fired on your fellow officers and wounded your own partner. You were a failure, and a disgrace to the entire force. And none of it was your fault.
There was an inquiry afterwards, and though you were cleared of all charges, the chief saw fit to pull you off active duty. Sollux was reassigned to Sergeant Authority Regulator, and you were stuck sitting at a desk all day filling out paperwork. Reading about the exploits of your former friends in second-hand reports and old newspapers. Sat alone, with nothing to comfort you but a lukewarm cup of coffee every morning. And due to the bullet wounds that you'd taken, your blood colour was out of the bag, and now even the lowest of pencilpushers saw fit to treat you like a piece of dirt. You existed in this limbo of humiliation and self-loathing for almost half a sweep before you finally snapped.
It was a spur of the moment decision, and one you would come to regret later. You stormed into the chief's office, tore off your badge, and gave him a speech almost entirely consisting of the word "fuck". What you failed to realise when you were giving him the sweariest part of your mind was that no matter how terrible your job was, it was still keeping a roof over your head and food in your stomach. As it turned out, the landlord didn't care how dignified an exit you'd made, only that you pay up the rent each perigee. You searched for work elsewhere, but nobody would take you up. They'd all heard the story of Karkat Vantas, the cop whose blood was as dirty as his dealings.
You were able to pay your rent with favours and false promises for about three perigees before the landlord finally grew tired of your bullshit. Your insults turned into compromises, and eventually shameless begging, but he was having none of it. You were thrown out onto the streets, with no money, no job and no home. You had no choice. You would have to rely on the sympathy of others. It was the lowest moment of your life.
Beat Cop, Chapter 2
It was raining when you were thrown out. It’s always raining in Alternia City. The torrential downpour slowly dulls your seething rage into a muted feeling of hopeless despair. Without any sort of food or accommodations, you’ll wither away within the week, and it’s not as though you have any family to back to. Saying that you don’t have anybody is an exaggeration, though. They aren’t family, but they will bloody well have to do.
You had at least one friend in this dank hellhole of a city. Well, nominally a friend, at any rate. You met her in the orphanage while you were growing up and, let's face it, you kind of hated her. But you kind of hate pretty much everyone you meet, and you actually ended up talking to her on a regular basis, which coming from you is like a fucking knighthood. You ended up looking out for her and her idiot friend, because nobody beat on those assholes but you. Besides, you're pretty sure she harboured a soft spot for you - the amount of times she asked to share a recuperacoon was beyond belief.
Still, no amount of childhood philanthropy can account for the fact that you were a gigantic douchebag. The moment you got out of the orphanage, you signed right the hell up for the police service and never looked back. You never bothered to get in touch with either of your old maybe-kindof-buddies. As you trudged up the stairs towards her apartment, dripping rainwater all over the filthy carpets, you realised the sheer insanity of your scheme. You were going to ask someone who you mistreated and neglected for several sweeps to let you into their home and help get you back on your feet. The moment she opened her door, however, your doubts all but disappeared.
:33 < karkitty!
:33 < i havent seen you in furever!
:33 < oh my god, what happened to you?
:33 < you look like you just lost a fight with a tiger!
I'VE HIT A BIT OF A ROUGH PATCH, ALRIGHT?
YOU PROBABLY READ ABOUT IT IN THE FUCKING NEWSPAPERS.
:33 < was that you?
:33 < i cant believe it!
:33 < did they really just kick you out like that?
NAH, I QUIT.
I FIGURE THAT IF THOSE INCOMPETENT SACKS OF WIGGLER SHIT WANTED TO PUT AN END TO MY CAREER, I MIGHT AS WELL MAKE IT OFFICAL.
:33 < thats so pawful!
YEAH, I KNOW.
LOOK, AS YOU CAN PROBABLY TELL, I HAVEN'T EXACTLY BEEN WALKING ALONG GOLD-PAVED STREETS LATELY.
I DON'T SUPPOSE I COULD ASK...
GOD, I CAN'T DO THIS.
:33 < what?
FUCK IT, FORGET I SAID ANYTHING.
I'M NOT GOING TO BARGE INTO YOUR LIFE AND RUIN IT LIKE THIS.
:33 < dont say things like that!
:33 < if you need anything at all, just ask!
:33 < thats what friends are for, right?
I GUESS SO.
THOUGH IF THAT'S THE CASE, I'VE BEEN A PRETTY SHITTY FRIEND.
:33 < dont worry, ive been doing fine!
:33 < i can show you if you like
:33 < come on in and make yourself at home!
The apartment was battered, dirty and nearly devoid of furniture, but you were so glad to be someplace warm and safe that you didn't give a shit. You flopped yourself down on the couch, and ended up accepting a tuna sandwich and a blanket. You politely - well, politely for you, anyway - turned down her offer to share a recuperacoon, though. There's only so much you're willing to do for a friend. Instead, you bunked down on the couch for the night, and suffered through a night of violent dreams and restless sleep that trolls are subjected to when they sleep without sopor slime. Most of these dreams involved a bloody revenge upon various members of the police force.
You slept sporadically for almost twelve hours, tossing and turning in an attempt to get some sort of rest. Rest never came, however, and you found yourself permanently trapped in your vivid dreams, floating heads covered in terrifying facepaint, a lucid grin spread across his OH FUCK THIS ISN’T A DREAM. You jumped backwards, nearly falling off the sofa as you made out a familiar lanky frame sprawled across the floor in front of you.
HeY tHeRe, MoThErFuCkEr!
DON'T FUCKING DO THAT, GAMZEE, YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME.
Oh MaN, i'M sOrRy, BrO.
i'M jUsT eXcItEd To SeE mY fAvOuRiTe MoThErFuCkEr AfTeR sO lOnG.
yOu ShOwInG uP hErE, aFtEr So LoNg...
IT'S LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING MIRACLE, I KNOW.
Ha Ha! FuCk YeAh, MaN.
mOtHeRfUcKiNg MiRaClEs EvErYwHeRe.
So, WhAt HaS mY bEsT mOtHeRfUcKiNg BrO bEeN dOiNg?
I REALLY DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.
ASK NEPETA IF YOU WANT THE EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DETAILS.
SPEAKING OF WHICH, YOU'RE STAYING HERE TOO?
ShIt YeAh, MaN.
nEpEtA iS tHe MoThErFuCkIn ShIt'S bItChTiTs, LeTtInG mE sTaY hErE lIkE tHiS.
i HaVe To HeLp HeR wItH wOrK aNd ShIt, Of CoUrSe, BuT i WoUlDn'T hAvE iT aNy OtHeR fUcKiN wAy.
YOU AND WORK? HA!
THAT'LL BE THE DAY.
YeAh, I jUsT kInD oF sTaNd ThErE aNd SpAcE oUt.
BuT sHe SeEmS hApPy EnOuGh WiTh ThAt.
WHERE IS SHE NOW?
ShE lEfT sOmE sOpOr PiEs, ThOuGh!
YoU wAnT oNe?
Living with Gamzee was always a chore – and by chore, you mean “one step away from beating the shit out of that moron”. But you are about as fond of him as you can be of an idiotic clown stoner who can’t tie his own shoelaces without falling over. You left him to waddle off to the kitchen – and by kitchen, you mean “room where you keep the minifridge and stove” – and decided to wait for Nepeta to return, turning on the ancient TV set and hoping to catch a Thresh Prince rerun.
You had a feeling it was going to be a long day.
Over the next two weeks, Nepeta was rarely in, leaving the two of you to your own devices. The apartment was hardly a palace, but it had a TV and a stock of food and as such was enough to keep you alive and entertained. Sleeping on the couch was a pain in the ass, though, and you bitched about it to her over and over again. The next day, she sold nearly everything she had to get you your own recuperacoon. That was likely the closest you ever got to returning her flushed feelings.
You never asked Nepeta how she was able to pay the rent. You never asked about her mysterious absences late at night. You never asked about the bags of trash that she never emptied. You went about your business, and she went about hers. You had a roof over your head and a plate of food on the table every evening. After the debacle that was your law enforcement career, that was all you ever asked for. Sometimes that plate had cat food on it, but considering that you were essentially freeloading you weren't in much of a condition to complain. Everything was going alright until one knock on the door in the middle of the night.
This is another memory that has embedded itself firmly in the forefront of your skull every time you try to delude yourself that you’re a success, which is never. It was around midnight, and Gamzee had long since passed out after drinking one too many Faygos. You were lounging around on the couch, flicking through the dozen or so TV channels in a vain attempt to find something decent while waiting for Nepeta to return from whatever errand she was running, when there came a heavy banging on the door from behind you. Thinking that she had simply forgotten her keys, you hefted yourself off the sofa and went to let her in.
Except it wasn’t Nepeta that came in, but rather a large green thug of an unknown species dressed in a suit of the same colour and wielding a menacing-looking crowbar. If your time on the force told you anything, it’s that people like this always mean bad news. Sure enough, you were right.
You. Where’s Lejion?
That doesn’t matter.
Your friend took something that belongs to us, and we want it back.
I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.
I don’t care.
I’ll ask you again – where is Lejion?
SHE TOOK OFF SOMETIME THIS EVENING AND HASN’T BEEN BACK SINCE.
You’re not making this easy for yourself, Mr...
YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW MY NAME.
Are you sure you want to make me angry?
Tell me where that pathetic little catgirl thief is or you are going to meet with a very unpleasant accident.
FOR THE LAST FUCKING TIME, I DON’T KNOW WHERE SHE IS!
Now instead of an informant, you become an example.
The thug started to walk into the room, raising his crowbar with clear intent to turn your head into a cherry milkshake. Despite your close combat training, you were unarmed and standing up against an attacker nearly twice your size, so you did the one thing you could do – kicked him in where you presumed the balls were and dashed for the kitchen. Your crude blow barely seemed to faze the attacker, however, and he charged after you, thankfully ignoring the prone form of Gamzee and focusing on you, which on reflection may not have been so fortunate after all.
You burst into the small, sparsely furnished room, desperately searching for something with which to defeat your pursuer. The banging from behind you clearly indicated that he was just a few seconds from beating you to death, and you started desperately throwing opening the cabinets in search of a serviceable weapon. Your eyes came to rest on a steak knife, several inches in length, and you spun around with blade in hand to face the crowbar-wielding housebreaker. He was ready to kill you, weapon raised and eyes glinting maliciously. Seizing the initiative, you dived in underneath his swing and stabbed as hard as you could.
One of your main rules is that you never kill people, under any circumstances. While you did shoot some people during your stint as an officer, you never killed anybody, and even after you started working for Pupa you swore you wouldn’t go beyond grievous bodily harm, mostly to try and convince yourself that you’re better than him. That day was the first time you broke that rule, and you swear it will be the last. There are only two people who you would make an exception for – both of whom are, ironically enough, on your side.
At the time, however, you didn’t care for any sort of moral debate. What you cared about was the fact that there was a dead body lying in your kitchen, oozing bright red blood all over the grimy tiles. Gamzee was still dozing in the corner, oblivious to the carnage that had just taken place. You needed to hide the body somehow, before the police showed up and used the smallest excuse to lock you up and throw away the key. Nepeta sure as fuck had a lot of explaining to do, though back then you had no clue as to whether you should confront her or try to conceal the whole affair. Your internal dilemma was promptly resolved by her bursting in through the wide-open door.
:33 < karcat!
:33 < something terrible has happened, and...
:33 < oh no!
:33 < is that a body?
NO, IT ISN’T.
IT’S JUST SOME RANDOM STRANGER WHO FELL ASLEEP IN OUR KITCHEN AND SPILT KETCHUP ALL OVER HIMSELF.
OF COURSE IT’S A FUCKING BODY!
:33 < oh god
:33 < i was hoping we would have some time before they arrived
WHO’S “THEY”? WHY DID SOME RANDOM THUG BURST IN AND TRY TO TURN MY BRAINS INTO COTTON CANDY? WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?
:33 < i dont have time to explain
:33 < we need to get out of here as fast as-
YES YOU DO HAVE TIME TO FUCKING EXPLAIN.
YOU ARE DOING TO SIT DOWN, AND YOU ARE GOING TO TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK YOU’VE BEEN DOING THAT’S CAUSED SHIT TO ROCKET FANWARDS.
So you and Nepeta sat down on the couch together, and she explained to you exactly what had been happening over the last few perigees. She told you how she and Gamzee had been struggling to make ends meet, she told you how she had turned to stealing and thievery in an attempt to survive, she told you how her heists had slowly become more elaborate and more daring, she told you how she had bitten off more than she could chew by attempting to steal some of the Felt’s timeline artefacts, and she told you how they had come after her and her friends, like you.
After she had finally finished her long and elaborate explanation, you were silent for several minutes. The fact of the matter was you were at a dead end. The Felt wanted you all dead, and you couldn’t go to the police for protection since you were officially now a murderer. Fortunately, the Felt had one major enemy within the city that would be willing to take in someone of your skillset. Nepeta didn’t like the idea, but you were able to talk her into it. Dragging Gamzee along behind you, you headed out into the streets, searching for a refuge in a city seemingly hellbent on killing you.
You were going to become a member of the Midnight Crew.
Beat Cop, Chapter 3
Joining the Midnight Crew proved to be a rather difficult task. Finding one of the city’s most notorious criminal gangs is fairly tricky; otherwise the police would have sorted the place out long before now. Or at least they would, if half its officers weren’t being paid off by some syndicate or another. The rampant corruption is so prevalent within the force that you sometimes wonder why most citizens don’t just camp outside their doors with shotguns and raid convenience stores once a week for supplies. It would make life a lot simpler - but you digress.
After several weeks of poking around carapacian hotels, speakeasies and other disreputable establishments, the three of you were finally able to meet up with a Dersite who claimed to be connected with the crew as an informant. He was not keen to meet with you, however, and claimed that the Midnight Crew only took Dersites into its ranks. You got angry at this point and told him to fuck off, even going so far as threatening him with the crowbar that you took from the dead Felt thug. Suddenly, he was all ears. He even went as far as setting up a meeting between you and Spades Slick, the leader of the gang. This sudden change in tone struck you as odd, but his reasons for flip-flopping so quickly became perfectly clear later.
The Dersite told you to head to an abandoned warehouse on the other end of town, which immediately set off alarms in the back of your head. For a start, the three of you are now wanted criminals and catching a bus isn’t exactly a viable option, and secondly, an abandoned warehouse is as suspect a venue as a large derelict mansion or a college frat party without internet access. It was almost guaranteed that your meeting would be interrupted by a dramatic shootout. Still, you needed to get in touch with the gang somehow, and so Nepeta hotwired a car (she had apparently gotten rather good at vehicular theft throughout her criminal career) and drove you over to this incredibly cliché meeting place.
By the time you arrived, night had fallen over the dreary city, the perpetual rainfall giving way to an icy chill that hung over the streets like a damp blanket. The warehouse was dark and isolated, and as the three of you stepped inside you kept a firm grip on your crowbar, half-expecting a burst of gunfire to erupt out of the darkness and fell your entire party in a single swoop. What happened instead was that a group of about a dozen Dersites, all dressed in neat black suits and wielding submachine guns slung under their arms. Nepeta jumped to a combat-ready stance and started hissing quietly, but you shushed her quickly and turned to the two leading figures, while the rest spread out around you in a vaguely menacing semi-circle.
you the little shits that offed crowbar
:33 < was that a question, a statement or an insult?
A mixture of the three.
To put it more simply, are you the trolls that killed the Felt member known as Crowbar?
And you recovered his weapon?
you lot have done more for us in a month than boxcars has in a year
i might even let you walk away from here
WELL, THAT’S THE THING.
SINCE WE… I KILLED THAT CROWBAR GUY, BOTH THE POLICE AND THE FELT HAVE BEEN AFTER US LIKE AN OVERZEALOUS DOG WHO WON’T LET GO OF THE STICK.
WE NEED A PLACE TO STAY, AND SOME PROTECTION IF NECESSARY.
say no more
any enemy of the felt is a friend of mine
You sure, Slick?
That’s a remarkably quick acceptance, coming from you.
these guys killed a felt member
thats more than youve done
So Seppucrow didn’t count?
fuck yeah he counted
thats why youre second in command
SO, ARE WE IN?
yeah sure thing
droog will get you sorted out
come with us
One perigee later, and the three of you were the first non-Dersite members of the Midnight Crew. As it turned out, the Crew owned a large share in several of the carapacian businesses across town, and as members you could revel in the benefits as you pleased. The initiation training for becoming a member, however, was pretty goddamn brutal. Slick ran you through exercises over and over again, until you were pretty much at a military-grade level of skill. You passed through fairly easily, since you’d undergone police training beforehand, but Nepeta struggled and barely completed it. Even then, her success seemed to come mostly from the assistance that the burly Hearts Boxcars provided to her. The senior Crew officer seemed to have taken a shine to her and her romantic affinities, and the two of them would waste away many an hour together discussing shipping possibilities and making you want to vomit.
You were always more attached to Slick. Well, perhaps “attached” is the wrong word. He took up a role as your mentor, for want of a better word, and jumped you through all the hoops that membership entailed. Normally, someone looking over your shoulder criticising your every move would drive you batshit up the fucking belfry, but he managed to retain that perfect balance of sardonic and supportive that you wish you could achieve. He coached you through all your training and your first heists alongside the rest of the gang, and your respect for him rocketed with his every act. While you would never admit it to anyone, it was nice to have someone to rely on other than yourself for once. He was almost like the father you never had, though parents rarely leave encouragement in the form of “no you dumb homo tool youre shooting wrong”.
Eventually, you all became fully-fledged members – well, all of you except Gamzee. Deuce took pity on him though, and made him an honorary member, but he was never allowed on any heists for fear that he might be more of a liability than an asset. You and Nepeta, on the other hand, were standing shoulder to shoulder with the dapper gentlemen, clad in neat black suits of your own, ready to aid the Midnight Crew wherever it might need the help. You forget how long you ran with the Crew for, but it was almost certainly the highlight of your criminal career. Unlike Pupa, you actually respected Slick – still do, in fact – and serving under him was a pleasure rather than a chore. Together with the crew, you pulled off dozens of heists, thefts and raids that, while not quite bringing the city to its knees, certainly made it flinch.
But all good things in your life must come to an end, and your stint with the Midnight Crew was one of them. Your final job with them was a supposedly simple one – break into an ACPD officer’s house, retrieve several incriminating files, and bring them back to Slick. By this point you should’ve realised that nothing you ever get involved in is simple, but you went along with it anyway. You and Nepeta would head over there in one of the cars, with you providing the muscle while she cased the joint, and Gamzee would tag along as a lookout. That was the plan, and so at 4:13 in the morning the three of you pulled up outside a large, swish house in the up-end of town.
Nepeta cracked the door open quickly and easily, not making a sound as she snuck into the main room. You followed close behind her, regisickle clutched firmly in your hand, watching her back and checking for any security. She did find a sophisticated alert system, with lasers and alarms running across the entire house, but it was offline for some reason. That right there should have been your cue to abscond the fuck out there, but instead you urged her to press onwards towards the office, where any files would be kept. Nepeta sidled up to the door, checking the lock before slowly pushing it open. There, sat in her office chair, was Vriska Sekret, dressed in a smart brown suit with a smug grin spread across her face.
Why hello there, Officer Vantas!
Whoops, I mean “Mr” Vantas. My mistake.
Welcome to my humble ado8e.
Do you like it?
DO I LIKE ANYTHING THAT’S HAD YOUR FAT GRUBBY FINGERS WIPED ALL OVER IT? HELL FUCKING NO.
Glad to see that you’ve still got some fight in you.
So, do you fancy a second round?
You didn’t bother to give her the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you shoved Nepeta out of the way and charged towards her, eager to douse your sickle in her uppity blue blood. Perigees after she ruined your career, you were going to return the favour. You got to about five feet in front of her before your legs stopped moving of their own accord. You looked back up at the smug face in front of you, now pressing her hands to her forehead.
Poor little Karkles.
I thought you would have learnt not to attack senior officers 8y now?
Oh well. We’ll make a policeman of you yet.
Every muscle in your body was itching to make an angry retort, but your lips remained sealed shut by the whims of an intangible outside power. Rather than giving in to your every urge and carving Vriska into so many small pieces, you turned away from her, dropping your regisickle on the floor with a clang. Nepeta was looking at you the whole time, an expression of confused consternation on her face. You remember that you never told her exactly how you got kicked off the force. If you could’ve done, you would have provided her with an explanation, but instead Vriska pulled the string on her little meat puppet and you swung a punch at Nepeta with all your strength. The blow caught her clean on the nose and sent her flying across the room, smashing into the opposite wall and breaking several electronics. You dearly, dearly hope that they were expensive.
As green blood started to drip from Nepeta’s nose, you felt Vriska’s hands grab yours, cuffing your arms and sliding a blindfold around your eyes without even a twitch of complaint from your part. Once she had you bound and blinded, she freed you from her control, though by that point any free will you had was completely token. She left you standing there for a while, no doubt to put your companions into a similar state, before grabbing you roughly and starting to push you along.
DO YOU ACTUALLY THINK YOU CAN PUT ME AWAY?
THE MIDNIGHT CREW HAS SOME VERY GOOD LAWYERS.
Oh no, I’m not arresting you.
I’m taking you to see someone faaaaaaaar more important.
Now quit your 8itching and go to sleep.
You swear, if you ever come to power in this city you are going to have all the cerulean bloods culled. Scorpio powers are dangerous as fuck, what with mind control and somnia to boot. In any case, you found yourself awakening an unknown period of time later, blinking your eyes open to find yourself in a very large and very dark room, sat in front of a very large table. You would usually spend some more time surveying your surroundings, but on this occasion you were rather understandably drawn to the ominously glowing pair of eyes sat on the other end of the table.
The figure, seeing you stir, reached over and pulled a small string dangling next to him, turning on a small lamp on his end of the table. A small patch of light illuminated the room, turning it from dark to merely dim. Now that you have some powers of vision, you can see that the giant table you are sat in front of is actually a huge map of Alternia City, with little models and counters dotted across its surface. What you are focusing on, however, is the brown-suited troll with the top hat and absurdly large horns sitting across from you, his goggles covering his eyes and providing an unnerving glow to compensate for their absence.
aH, gOOD, yOU'RE AWAKE.
1 WAS BEG1NN1NG TO WONDER 1F YOU WERE EVER GOING TO GET UP.
Mr Pupa. The one troll universally regarded as the source of all of Alternia City’s problems. A criminal mastermind of the highest calibre, with a plan for every situation and half the ACPD in his pocket. And he was sitting right across from you. You remembered being told during orientation that only something like half-a-dozen people had actually seen him in person, since he operates mostly through proxies and dead drops. Were you still a cop, you would have been attempting to bludgeon him to death with whatever instruments were on hand. As a member of the Midnight Crew, your attitude hadn’t evolved from that much. Still, there was no doubt that any attempt to kill him would have resulted in your untimely demise, so you decided to listen to what he had to say.
WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?
yOU DON'T SEEM TO BE VERY 1MPRESSED.
DID YOU EXPECT SOME THEATRICS?
SHOULD I WALTZ AROUND ON THIS TABLE HERE, HARPING ON AND ON ABOUT MY RELATIVE SMALLNESS AND INCOMPREHENSIBLE ANGST WHILE THE AUDIENCE WANTS TO DRIVE A POOL CUE THROUGH MY FOREHEAD?
BECAUSE I'M AFRAID THAT THE CHANCES OF THAT HAPPENING ARE EXACTLY ZERO.
gOOD, bECAUSE THAT 1S NOT WHAT 1 WANT FROM YOU.
1NSTEAD, 1 WAS 1NTERESTED 1N H1R1NG YOU.
wHAT'S SO FUNNY, mR VANTAS?
OH, I'M SORRY, BUT FOR A SECOND THERE IT SOUNDED LIKE YOU SAID THAT YOU WANTED TO HIRE ME.
LIKE I WAS SOME SORT OF LAWBREAKER-FOR-HIRE OR SOMETHING.
yOU HEARD ME CORRECTLY THE F1RST T1ME.
WAIT, YOU WERE SERIOUS?
1 NEVER JOKE, mR VANTAS.
1 WOULD L1KE TO EXTEND AN EMPLOYMENT OPPURTUNITY TO YOU AND BOTH YOUR FR1ENDS, nAMELY M1SS LEJ1ON AND MR MAKARA.
mY STAFF ARE CURRENTLY SUFFERING FROM A H1GH... TURNOVER RATE, aND 1 COULD USE 1ND1V1DUALS WITH YOUR UN1QUE TALENTS.
WAIT A SECOND.
WHERE ARE NEPETA AND GAMZEE?
YOU BETTER NOT HAVE LAID A FINGER ON THEM, YOU SLIMY BASTARD, OR I'LL-
yOUR COMPAN1ONS ARE PERFECTLY SAFE, mR VANTAS.
aND 1 CAN GUARANTEE THAT THEY W1LL REMA1N SO, 1F YOU ACCEPT MY OFFER.
SO YOU'RE BLACKMAILING ME.
bLACKMA1L 1S SUCH AN UGLY WORD.
1 PREFER THE TERM "COMPREHENS1VE MOT1VAT1ON".
CALL IT WHATEVER YOU LIKE, BULGEMUNCHER, BUT IT'S THE SAME FUCKING PRINCIPLE.
AND I KNOW NEPETA WELL ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT SHE CAN BREAK OUT OF WHATEVER DAMP LITTLE HOLE YOU'VE STUFFED HER IN.
1 HAVE NOT STUFFED YOUR L1TTLE FR1END 1NTO A HOLE.
sHE 1S 1N FACT STAY1NG 1N ONE OF THE BEST APARTMENTS 1 CAN AFFORD, aLONGS1DE MR MAKARA.
Upon your demand, Pupa slid a hand into his jacket, and pulled out a small while envelope. He took a brief moment to examine it, before sliding it along the table and over to you, somehow managing to avoid all the little figures scattered across the map. You picked it up once it reached you, tearing it open to reveal four photographs, each of either Nepeta, Gamzee or the two of them frolicking around in an apartment that looked far too lavish for its own good. Both of them looked so happy. You felt a twinge of guilt knowing who was paying for their luxury lifestyle.
OK, SO YOU'RE NOT KEEPING MY FRIENDS IN A BIRD CAGE. THAT'S GOOD TO KNOW.
BUT STILL, WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I TRUST YOU?
bECAUSE 1 HAVE NO REASON TO BETRAY YOU.
1N FACT, 1 WOULD CONS1DER MYSELF PR1V1L1GED TO HAVE KARKAT VANTAS H1MSELF WORK1NG FOR ME.
He reached down into the depths of his jacket once again, this time pulling out something small and indistinct that you couldn’t make out from that distance. Taking a brief moment to admire his handiwork, he placed the object on the table, beneath the dim lamp. Beneath the light, you could just about make out what it was supposed to be – a small, model figurine in your image. It is at this point that your memory starts to blur, mostly because you were seething with rage at the thought that he could treat you like a piece to be moved around his map, a mindless pawn only good for following orders.
YOU HAD THAT PREMADE!
THIS WHOLE FUCKING THING WAS YOUR PLAN FROM THE BEGINNING, WASN'T IT?
YOU SON OF A BITCH.
yOU ARE MAK1NG A VERY ARROGANT ASSUMPT1ON, mR VANTAS.
yOU BEL1EVE THAT 1 BASED THE PLAN AROUND YOU.
tHOUGH 1 ADM1T THAT YOU ARE NOT ENT1RELY 1NCORRECT.
1N CASE YOU HADN'T ALREADY NOT1CED, l1EUTENANT SEKRET WORKS FOR ME.
YEAH, THAT WAS PRETTY FUCKING OBVIOUS.
sPEAK ONLY WHEN SPOKEN TO, mR VANTAS.
yOU WOULD DO WELL TO REMEMBER YOUR MANNERS AMONGST YOUR BETTERS.
FUCK YOU, I'LL TALK WHENEVER I FUCKING WANT TO.
yOU ARE AN ANGRY L1TTLE FELLOW, aREN'T YOU?
eXACTLY WHAT 1 NEED.
nOW, 1F YOU WOULD LET ME F1N1SH?
sEKRET WORKS FOR ME, aND HER JOB WAS S1MPLY TO REMOVE MY 1NFORMANT FROM DANGER.
1N FACT, sHE D1D HER JOB A L1TTLE TOO WELL.
sHE ENDED UP JEOPARD1S1NG THE CAREER OF A PROM1S1NG YOUNG OFF1CER SHE USED TO PROV1DE A D1STRACT1ON.
1 PRESUME YOU KNOW WHO 1'M REFERRING TO.
YES I FUCKING DO, YOU NOOKSNIFFER.
YOU RUINED MY CAREER AND FORCED ME ONTO THE STREETS JUST SO THAT YOU COULD FUCKING HIRE ME?
aGA1N W1TH THE ARROGANT ASSUMPT1ONS.
yOU HAVE TO REMEMBER THAT WHEN 1 FORMULATED TH1S PLAN, h1R1NG YOU WAS NEVER MY 1NTENT1ON.
bUT WHEN 1 HEARD THAT YOU HAD QU1T, 1 SAW AN EXCELLENT EMPLOYMENT OPPURTUN1TY.
AND WHY SHOULD I JOIN YOU?
WHAT'S TO STOP ME FROM GOING BACK TO SLICK?
OR THE ACPD? I'D BET THEY'D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU'VE JUST TOLD ME.
bECAUSE 1 AM MAK1NG A BETTER OFFER THAN BOTH OF THEM.
wORK1NG UNDER ME, 1 CAN GUARANTEE THAT YOU W1LL HAVE FOOD, wATER, aCCOMODAT1ONS, aND PROTECT1ON FROM THE ACPD AND THE FELT.
1N ADD1T1ON, 1 CAN PROV1DE THESE SERV1CES TO YOUR FR1ENDS AS WELL, pROV1DED THAT THEY ARE W1LL1NG TO COOPERATE.
bES1DES, yOU DON'T WANT TO GO BACK TO THE POL1CE.
1 CAN TELL.
WELL, YOU GUESSED WRONG.
I'M OUT OF HERE, YOU ARROGANT WINDBAG.
You got out of your chair and started walking towards the door. You were able to get about six steps away before you heard a quiet click behind you.
oNE MOMENT, mR VANTAS.
yOU D1DN'T LET ME F1N1SH.
1 ALSO HAVE A NEW REVOLVER.
cUSTOM MADE. 1T JUST ARR1VED TODAY.
aND 1 AM QU1TE KEEN TO SEE 1F S1X BULLETS 1S ENOUGH TO K1LL A LOWBLOOD.
wHAT DO YOU TH1NK?
That's Diamonds Droog talking with perfect syntax in Chapter 3, just in case you couldn't tell. His text colour is that of moirallegiance, both because it fits with his namesake and because it would be boring to have all of the Midnight Crew talk in black. And yes, he has killed Bro. I'll elaborate on that later, when and if I cover Dave's backstory.
I don't think I quite conveyed the tragic, heart-wrenching story that I wanted to write, but hopefully I managed to make Karkat sympathetic enough to make his constant misfortunes seem like genuine gut punches rather than cosmic anvils descending from on high. Oh, and Mr Pupa is an absolute delight to write. It's like the Joker and General Tarquin had a one-night stand whilst lying next to a pile of radioactive waste.
Last edited by MindMessiah; 08-27-2012 at 08:57 PM.
Reason: BL4R HTML T4GS
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Okay, I was actually quite fond of Beat Cop, honestly. And ohmygodyouguyshavesomuchcontent. How can a single mortal read it all?
Regardless, this seems like something I would be interested in joining. You guys take fanarts, yeh?
To address those queries in no particular order, yes, we take content of any type, I have a tendency to be rabidly self-deprecating and back in its hayday this thread could pass an entire page in but a day - hence the index being split into two separate posts. Also, have a pre-emptive welcome aboard! We need every poster we can get.
This signature is currently down for maintenance. We apologise for any inconvenience.
To address those queries in no particular order, yes, we take content of any type, I have a tendency to be rabidly self-deprecating and back in its hayday this thread could pass an entire page in but a day - hence the index being split into two separate posts. Also, have a pre-emptive welcome aboard! We need every poster we can get.
Huzzah! May this renovating of the ACPD be fruitful!
Good to see this thread is back in action. Man, I miss the good old days where TrollCops was a lively little thread where every day there were like 3 new fics on the page (this is an overexxageration). I may have to drudge up one of my old fics and work on it again...
Egbert Man, Egbert Man,
Does whatever an Egbert can
While we sing
Look out for Egbert Maaaaaaaan
Ha, that's awesome. I've stuck that up in the index, so congratulations on being the first person in the new thread to post something. Well, aside from me, but I had my first fic pre-written and posted five minutes after the thread went up.
So, a couple of days ago I promised that I would bring you a new fic that was better than Beat Cop, and I've made good on at least one of those two promises.
Okay, I'll cut the self-deprecatory shit from here on out.
Dead Man's Shoes
Alternia City has never had a shortage of crime. What it has always had is a shortage of crimefighters. The city's police force has a ridiculously high mortality rate, and finding honest citizens willing to lay down their lives in the name of justice is like trying to find a blob of paradox slime in a recuperacoon. Corruption within the ACPD is considered something of an ancient tradition, and it is often said that if you fired every dirty cop in the department there wouldn't be enough clean ones left to supervise a children's playground. It is no surprise that some people decide to take the law into their own hands, dispensing their own brand of vigilante justice.
For a long time, the city's most infamous lawkeeper went by the alias of Seppucrow. A mysterious masked man with a fearsome reputation, he would strike wherever the numerous gangs of the city converged, leaving nothing but a few feathers and a trail of corpses to mark his presence. The police hated and feared him nearly as much as the gangs did, since while he restricted his hunts to criminals he was still a murderer, and some of his detractors would often say that he was no better than those he killed. That did nothing to change his heroic status amongst the majority of the populace, who saw him as a real-life Batman who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty.
What most people didn't know was that Seppucrow's real name was Dirk Strider, a man just as mysterious as his crimefighting counterpart. He lived in a small apartment up in the rough end of town, alongside his son and Lil' Cal. He'd never tell anyone he had a son, though. You were his Bro, and those that met the two of you confirmed that Dirk treated you like the brother he never had. He had a wife and daughter too, but upon any mention of them he would fall silent, his pointy shades concealing whatever thoughts were going through his mind at the sound of their names. That was the big advantage of shades, he would tell people. No-one could ever tell what you were thinking.
He was younger than he looked, his toned physique and youthful complexion concealing the fact that he was nearing the business end of his thirties. There was never any one field of employment that kept him occupied for long, and he drifted from odd job to odd job, spending his spare time exercising and practising his swordfighting skills. Of course, all this was in preparation for the "night shift". You were perfectly aware of you Bro's nighttime excursions, and often ended up training with him in an epic battle of ironic one-upmanship. Looking after a kid while carrying out one of the most dangerous jobs in the city was hardly an optimum arrangement, but Bro was certain that you could take care of yourself. It was a spartan lifestyle, but the two of you were content.
You could talk for hours about the good times you had with Bro. You could, but you never would. While the ambushes of puppets during late-night toilet breaks were a chore to deal with, Bro compensated for that by being one of the most badass motherfuckers you've ever met. You are quite certain Egbert never got to engage in swordfights with his dad atop the rooftop while spurting out rap lyrics. His training regime was exhausting, and often got in the way of your schoolwork, but you didn't give a shit. You were a rooftop-bound rap ninja of awesome, and so long as you could do that Bro didn't care how many Ds you came home with.
But Alternia City dictates that all good things must come to an end.
Bro's mistake, if you could call it that, was biting off more than he could chew. Mr Pupa had not yet come onto the scene, and the Felt were still at only fifteen members strong (seriously, what was the deal with that?) so the main gang on the streets was the Midnight Crew. They had turned their part of town into a red light district, and even the police wouldn't venture too far out there for fear of the Crew's retribution. It was up to him to bring order to the streets with nothing but a sharp sword and an intimidating appearance, and for the most part, he succeeded. But he hadn't counted on the machinations of one Diamonds Droog.
The Midnight Crew were brawny and well equipped, but not paticularly smart. A few quick hit and run attacks were enough to keep them on their toes and disrupt their operations without any real personal threat, and soon the black bodies were piling up with only the slightest traces of an attack. But there were traces nontheless, and while the other members of the gang were busy poking through dark buildings with submachine guns Droog was hunting through scraps of evidence, hoping to find some way to track down the feathery asshole slaughtering his men. After several months of detective work, he was able to find the pivotal piece of evidence - half of a broken sword embedded through a Dersite's chest.
Before this point, you've been piecing together the story from what you found out afterwards. It's here, though, that you can start narrating from personal experience. Bro's swords didn't break. That was a fact about as solid as the sky in Alternia City being permanently overcast. Turns out, he'd taken one of your swords that day while his was being sharpened, and as a result the cheap piece of shit had shattered. And with a blade, they could track the retailer and eventually you. Bro paid up a deposit for a new apartment, and started making arrangements for moving without leaving a paper trail and perhaps lying low for a while. He told you to take care of telling Rose and Mom about this. You had just finished delivering the news over Pesterchum when the ceiling caved in.
There might have been an explosion, but your ears were to busy ringing to register anything. Whatever they'd done, it had blown a massive hole in the roof, showering wreckage all over the apartment and covering your entire room in dust and fragments of the air conditioning unit. Clutching your head in your hands, you took a moment to recover before grabbing the katana off your wall and staggered out into the main room, wondering what the hell was going on. The room was filled with the rubble of the ceiling, and your vision was curtailed by the dust of broken plaster clouding the room like the smoke of a particularly putrid fire. What you could see, however, was Bro, sword in hand and stood in a combat-ready stance. You yelled at him, still uncertain as to what was going on. He turned to you, and in that second the door was kicked off its hinges and a dark figure strode in.
Bro was fast, but Droog was faster. The second he came through the doorway, he had his pistol up and blazing, firing off a bullet with every step. While Bro was fast, tough, and nearly unbeatable with a sword, he usually had the advantage of suprise. In a straight shootout, he was just as vunerable to bullets as anyone else. Droog didn't have the guts to take him in a fair fight, so he took the advantage by emptying seven bullets into his chest, each one entering with a dull thud. Bro staggered back with each hit, before finally bumping into the crumbling back wall and slumping to the floor. That likely would have been enough to finish him, but evidently Droog wasn't done.
He reached his claw-like hand down to his belt, and pulled out a regisword out of its dangling holster. Continuing his relentless advance until he was standing over his opponent's prone form, Droog took the sword and slid it right through Bro's stomach. There was a horrifying gurgle, a slight bubbling noise, and then silence. It was at his point that you broke from your terrified vigil and charged, determined to do something, anything, to hurt this fucker. Maybe, just maybe, if you got there fast enough you could save him, turn back time to when your Bro wasn't collasped on the floor with seven bullets in his chest and a sword in his gut-
Without turning around, Droog took his gun and fired the last bullet in the clip squarely at your heart.
If you could describe Bro with one word, it sure as fuck wouldn't be "paranoid". There were plenty of words that suited that guy better, like "cool", "ironic", or "ninja". But he certainly was paranoid, and with good reason. The guy had a lot of enemies, and while he didn't go as far as booby-trapping the door you certainly had to deal with your fair share of midnight ambushes by Cal because Bro wanted to test your awareness. Still, when he told you to wear his bulletproof vest while you were moving out you thought he'd gone off his rocker. As it turns out, his paranoia was perfectly justified. But gogdamnit, why did he have to give you his only one?
You laid on the floor for a while, unwilling to drag yourself over to Bro and confront what you already knew. While the vest might have saved your life, being shot in the chest was still painful as fuck, and you used the sharp pain in your chest as an excuse not to get up for a minute or two. You heard Droog exchange a couple of words with some unseen companions, before leaving the devasation he had wrought behind him. A brief moment of silence passed, and then there came a tortured coughing from the other side of the room. Suddenly, you were up and scampering over to Bro's side. He was still sat where he fell, making no effort to stem the copious bleeding from his chest. His shades had fallen from his face into his lap, and there was a small smile on his face as he turned toward you, his complexion even more pale than usual.
thank fuck youre alive
please tell me you have a plan
No plans this time, buddy.
He got me, fair and square.
no thats bullshit
the fucker burst in and shot you
And I should have prepared for that.
Look... I'd love to sit here and shoot the breeze, but I...
hang in there man
deep breaths and shit
Take care... of Rose and Roxy... will you?
That was the first time he'd said their names since the divorce. It was at that point, more than any other, that the full gravity of the situation hit you.
And... Cal too...
dude hang on
youre still here
the ambulance will be here soon
Give them hell... Dave...
no no no no no
bullshit you cant die
thats not happening
bro say something
come back man
please dont die
You knelt there for what seemed like forever, desperately trying to revive the limp form of your big brother. You shook him, tried to stem the flow of blood somehow, desperately attempting to stop him from bleeding out. Eventually you gave up, and just sat there, watching the pool of blood around him slowly grow bigger and bigger. Your trousers were caked in the stuff, but you didn't care. All you cared about was the fact that Bro was dead in front of you, and that Diamonds Droog bastard was responsible. You were going to make him pay, even if you had to kill the entire Midnight Crew just to reach him.
It was the sound of sirens outside that drove you to your feet. As incompetent as the ACPD were, they could at least respond to a fucking building being bombed. But you weren't going to let them find you like this. Your grief was slowly being consumed by rage, and a rabid determination to carry out your brother's last wishes. You picked Bro's katana off the floor, cleaning off the blood that it had been soaked in with your shirt, and gave it a few swings. It made a distinct swishing sound as you swung it to and fro, almost as though it could cut through the air itself. Now, there was only one thing left to get.
Pushing open the door to your brother's room, you found that it was perhaps the one place in the entire apartment that was untouched by the explosion. You ignored the smuppets that were scattered all over the room, pausing only to stuff the now-still form of Lil' Cal underneath your arm, before crouching down to reach under the filthy bed to pull out a large trunk. Flipping it open, you see that it's all still there - Bro's Seppucrow costume, in all its feathery glory. You grab the cowl from within the depths of the trunk, and hold it up to your face. It is modelled after a bird, obviously, with a large beak protruding from the forehead and a hardened plastic covering the rest of your head, save for the face. The costume didn't need a mask. Bro's shades did the job perfectly well. After a moment of cradling it in your hands, you slide it over your head. It is far too big for you, but you can get it adjusted later.
Dirk Strider may have died, but Seppucrow would live on.
Well, I said I'd flesh out Dave's origin story, and I did. Though I only spared him 2000 words as compared to Karkat's 7000, so I may have let favouritism influence my writing slightly. After writing Dead Man's Shoes, the one thought that's still nagging at the back of my head is whether or not I gave Bro a dignified enough death. The dude chops meteors in half, for Christ's sakes - it seems like a bit of a cop-out to have him shot to death by a smooth guy in a suit.
Still, aside from that minor qualm, I think this one went alright. This is my second time writing Sad!Dave, and my first attempt received such rave reviews as RUN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD RUN so I toned down the emotional theatrics this time around. Hopefully that's an improvement. There's a lot more I wanted to say with this story, but I couldn't really fit it in properly - for example, the whole situation with Bro's estranged family. Maybe I'll expand on Dave later, but for now I'm thinking I should focus on the Cops in TrollCops.
Last edited by MindMessiah; 08-23-2012 at 11:35 AM.
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Alright, I hate to double post, but this thing needs a good bunp. Plus, I've got another fic ready to go, called Heireditary! (Get it? It's a pun! Because hereditary, and John's a heir, and... nobody? Okay.)
dave, have you ever thought about starting a family?
For once, you manage to startle Dave a little, as he gags on his beer and replaces it on its coaster before looking at you like you just asked to drink some of his urine. The two of you are sat together in one of Alternia City's numerous bars, catching a drink together in the short gap between working your arses off in the day and helping save the city from nefarious criminals at night. Your lemonade is sat nearly untouched in front of you, but Dave's beer is already about half-full, standing proudly next to the two other empty pint glasses of his. Sometimes you get the feeling that Dave drinks a little more than he really should - but he'd never let you raise the issue and anybody else would flip the fuck out upon you mentioning this, so you let it slide.
dude what the fuck are you talking about
you know - settling down, getting married, having kids...
i know what you meant
im not retarded
but thats a fucking stupid question
why do you think that?
because our line of work is gogdamn dangerous
i learnt the hard way that raising a kid while pissing off every major gang in the city is bad for your health
and forgive me if i dont think family life is that great
coming home to find out that your bros come out of the closet while your mom is shagging your friends dad isnt exactly therapeutic
oh man, i almost forgot about that.
sorry about bringing it up.
nah its cool
i got over it a long time ago
besides with your dad boning my mom we might as well be literal bros now
ha ha, yeah!
brother from another mother!
You extend a bro fist bunp to Dave over the table, who returns it before taking another swig of his beer.
so why are you asking about this
you dont usually just spring something like this on me
have you got your eye on someone
need the advice of this casanova here
no, no, nothing like that!
to tell you the truth, i was actually thinking about adoption.
so, the other day i was asking around the orphanage, seeing if there was anything they needed help with, and... well, there was one little consort who no-one seemed to be talking to.
i went over to talk to her, but i don't speak salamander, and she didn't speak english, so we couldn't have much of a conversation.
but i asked the owner what her name was, and guess what she was called!
why the fuck is that relevant
oh, come on!
don't tell me you've forgotten con air already - we only saw it again last week!
and i have been trying to forget it ever since
but yeah i remember that casey was the little girl
im just wondering why that makes this consort so special
i mean if youre so desperate to adopt you couldve just walked in there and played fucking eenie meenie miney mo
but she looked so lonely, and with a name like that...
i just felt like someone was trying to tell me something.
sure it sounds stupid, but i'd rather have a flimsy reason than no reason at all.
well if you want a brat of your own then im not going to stop you
suppose that means youre going to have to retire as the heir though
thats a right kick in the balls
the streets are dangerous enough with three superheroes on patrol
knock that down to two and im going to have to start looking for a sidekick
and ive got enough in my grill without people noticing that i keep a little kid in spandex locked in the house
no, i meant what was that about retiring as the heir?
i'm not going to just give up!
like you said, the city needs heroes!
so youre not adopting
why do you think these things are mutually exclusive?
i can fight crime and raise a kid at the same time!
putting aside the fact that you couldnt raise a loaf of bread
theres a reason most comic book heroes dont have families
Dave pushes his beer to the side of the table and leans over, lowering his voice to the point where you have to strain to hear him. His expression remains inscrutable behind his shades, but you swear his tone of voice has become more sincere and almost aggressive.
listen to me egbert
i know you think crimefighting is some big game that lets you use those weird ass birth defects you have
but it fucking well isnt
people die doing this job
every criminal in this city wants you and me dead
and theyll take any advantage they can get
they dont give a shit about who they kill
all of them are fair game when criminal mcthief comes around
do you know what its like to watch the guy who raised you your entire life bleed to death in front of you with nothing you can do to stop it and nothing you can do to hurt the fucker responsible
i didnt think so
so you might want to think twice before bringing a kid into this shit
Though you can't see his eyes, you get the feeling that Dave is giving you a particularly intense glare. He's got a point - superheroism can get dangerous at times. You remember the one time you got shot twice in the chest. Not fun. And Dave's had it infinitely worse, having no special powers whatsoever and taking up the mantle of Seppucrow over the corpse of its previous owner. Maybe taking in a daughter while you're still fighting crime is going to come back to bite you in the ass in the long run.
But somehow, you still feel unfufilled. No matter how many criminals you put away and how many lives you save, Alternia City seems determined to keep the crime rates high and the quality of life low. There's no real indication that you're doing anything to make a difference, and your house is as quiet and empty as always every time you return home. You need something to tell you that you're making some sort of impact on the city, one bright, smiling soul who's life you've improved to raise you up after a night of failure.
it's just that, like you said, there's not much reason for me to be a superhero at the moment.
aside from wanting to help people and putting the windy thing to use, i don't have any real motivation.
but let's face it, this city is pretty awful.
there's a lot of bad people running around, and not enough good people to keep them in check.
and that's the city those kids have got to grow up in.
but i have a chance to make life better for one of them.
while i can't fix things for everyone, i can at least look to casey and remind myself that i'm still helping.
to remind me what i'm fighting for, and what the cost will be if i fail.
that's the reason, i guess.
Wow, you were not expecting to say something like that. Even Dave looks rather taken aback at your little speech. But it's all true. You need somebody to keep you anchored, to remind you that policing the streets is a serious task that will have grave consequences should you fail, and to provide you with hope whenever times are looking their darkest. Taking a small sip of your lemonade, you look back at Dave, who has managed to conceal his brief moment of surprise beneath the expressionless mask that covers his face once again.
i have to say
i wasnt expecting you to come out with something like that
nor was i, to be honest.
i know i cant tell you how to live your life
if you want a kid running around then thats your choice
i just dont want you to come home one night and find her multilated corpse
im just telling it like it is
you know as well as i do that i would never let something like that happen!
theres some things you cant prevent
With that ominous warning, he grabs his beer from the end of the table where he left it, and downs the rest of it in one. Slamming his glass back on the table, he gestures to the nearest waitress and points to his depleted drink. She takes the hint, and fetches him another beer from the taps at the bar, sliding it down the table and into his hand. He gives a small nod, before turning back to you and bringing his shades down to the bridge of his nose. With his bright red eyes looking straight into yours, he continues the conversation in a... different direction.
so youre going through all the stress of having a kid without actually banging anybody
what the fuck is the point in that
This has nothing to do with the fic above, but why is Casey almost always portrayed as evil whenever she's mentioned in TrollCops? Forgive my scepticism, but I have always had difficulty seeing a young, harmless consort raised by John of all people growing up to become some sort of sociopathic mass-murderer. Mind you, people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, and I will be the first to admit that maybe I let my weird hatecrush on Vriska permeate my writing a little too much.
As for the fic itself, I don't have much to talk about - really, how much can you say about John and Dave having a drink together in a pub? I've been writing a lot of these "worldbuilding" fics recently, and while setting the stage is all well and good the lack of posts here seems to suggest that I might be boring people with all this set dressing. I can guarantee that story arcs are on their way, but when they get here is really up to you lot.
I don't know if my negativity was putting people off, so I might go back and edit the Beat Cop post to make it slightly less venomous. Other than that, I'll be back with yet another fic either tomorrow or on Monday.
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For what it's worth, I've quite enjoyed reading Beat Cop, Dead Man's Shoes and Heireditary. I've always found the world building fics entertaining.
Awesome! Glad to know I'm not just talking to myself here. All the worldbuilding stuff is mostly for the purposes of expanding on my own headcanon without having to just explain it - once I've got enough of Alternia City fleshed out, then I can start tearing it to pieces.
EDIT: Instead of double-posting this time, I'm just going to leave my next fic here. Titled In Memoriam, it's essentially a John origin story, which is impressive since it doesn't actually explain his origins.
A chill wind blows across the courtyard, its icy tendrils whipping around your shoulders and causing you to shiver uncontrollably. You start to wish you'd worn something a little heavier than just a t-shirt, but for once the sun had been weakly glowing over the city without a permanent cloud cover and you figured that maybe, just maybe, the wheather might actually be warm enough for casual wear. But when you're this far from the greenhouse-esqe congestion of the city center, the dreary light of day provides little warmth. Oh well. Too late to head back home now.
You walk up to the old, cast-iron gate stood in front of you, and start fiddling with the cold metal catch with your even colder hands. After a moment of numb clumsiness, you unbolt the lock and heave the gate forward, making a familar creaking noise as it opens onto the grassy field in front of you. The gravel path running through the centre of the yard crunches underfoot as you make your way past the rows to the left and right. Each is lined with a variety of different stones, but you don't bother to check any of them. You know where the one you're looking for is. Thirteenth row on the right, fourth one down.
It doesn't take you long to reach the right place. The headstone stands where it always has for the past twenty-two years, a simple stone slab built to preserve the memory of whoever lies beneath it. Sadly, the city services don't take much care of the local cemetaries, despite how often they need to be used, and as a result the inscription on the tombstone has faded to the point of illegibility. That doesn't matter, though. You know who's buried here.
hey again, mom.
Kneeling down by the slightly protruding pile of earth, you open up the carrier bag that you bought out with you and pull out two bouquets of flowers. The ones that Jade left there last week have wilted and turned brown, as dead as all the other inhabitants of the cemetery. You take the old flowers off the grave and put them into the bag, replacing them with brighter and more lively specimens. No doubt they'll die within the week too - at which point Jade will come along, and repeat the process all over again. You suppose you could plant some flowers, or bring a pot along, but you're happy with the current cycle. Replacing death with new life strikes you as a nice idea, in a symbolic sort of way.
i bought you some new flowers again, as always.
jade asked me to give you a bunch of moluccella - well, i think they're called something like that, anyway - and i've got some roses.
i have to say, it's really nice of rose to keep sending me these flower bunches.
maybe i'll send her one back as a thank-you present at some point.
what do you think?
Now, you're a scientist. Well, the jury's still out on whether ectobiology is technically a science or some form of weird temporal magic, but you are still based in facts and hard numbers. You hold no illusions that you're talking to a piece of rock behind a pile of dirt underneath which is the coffin that holds your mother's remains. You still talk to her anyway, though. Rose says it's a method of keeping yourself grounded. Maybe she's right. But if you're honest with yourself, you never got to talk to your mom while she was alive. If anything, you're making up for lost time.
there's not much going on at the moment, really.
my college reunion is in a week, but i don't know if i'll be going or not.
i mean, karkat isn't going, and he was my only real friend there.
he's busy with super-important cop stuff.
oh! did i mention that karkat's a cop now?
i thought he was going to roam the streets, fighting crime and bringing law and order to the streets of alternia city.
that would have been sooooo coooool.
it reminds me of when me and jade were little, and we'd play cops and robbers together in the park.
i was always the cop, every time.
when i was little, i always wanted to be a police officer.
but nowadays, i don't know if that's a good idea.
karkat hasn't had a lot of good things to say about the police.
they have to do loads of training, and deal with murders, and i've heard that the acpd can be rather nasty to people.
so maybe being a cop isn't the best job in the world.
but nobody said you had to be a cop to help enforce the law!
actually, speaking of that...
there's something i wanted to tell you.
You pause briefly, and stand back up, stuffing your hands into your pockets both in an effort to keep warm and as a sort of nervous reflex action. You're still not sure about your decision, but really, if you're uncertain about something then there's no better person to discuss it with than Mom. Besides, everything's in place now, and it's a bit late to back out. You're not so much trying to convince yourself as you are just passing news along. Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself.
you remember when dave's bro died, and dave decided to continue his job as a vigilante?
well, he's actually been doing pretty well at it!
i looked it up, and crime rates are always falling in the areas where he does his thing.
and he's just one guy with a bunch of cool gadgets and a sword!
so i was thinking, what could someone with a bunch of cool gadgets and special powers do?
after all, i've never really had a use for the windy thing.
and i figure that flying, air bursts and super strength would be pretty useful for crimefighting.
that is, if i can work out how to use them properly.
rose is still stumped - she says that i'm a biological impossibility.
grandpa's got half of crockercorp trying to figure out how i got my powers, and how to use them effectively.
but i'm sure they'll hit upon the right answer eventually!
i hope so, because i need to keep my powers in check.
i don't want to kill anyone or anything.
dave does that, and i guess i can see his point, but i'm not going to murder someone for shoplifting.
we have a justice system for a reason, after all!
if we commit crimes to bring criminals in, then we're not very good heroes, are we?
all the other superhero stuff has been taken care of.
rose made me a costume, and dave's teaching me how to fight properly.
he says i'll get my ass kicked on day one, but i don't believe him.
and i've even got a superhero name - the heir!
it's a pun on the fact that i use the windy thing.
really, the only thing left to do is start crimefighting.
There is another conversational gap while you wait for a reply that is never going to come. Aside from the fact that you are talking to yourself in front of a corpse, these introspective trips to the cemetery are often very therapeutic. If only you could get a reply. You've got no idea what your mother would think of your decision to take the law into your own hands. Dad never talks about her, and Grandpa and Nanna only provide the vaguest of replies when questioned about it. You like to think she'd be happy that you're being assertive, though.
It takes a long time for you to think of what to say next. There's not an awful lot you can say with words, really. Words have always been Rose's strongpoint, and she's always willing to talk your ear off for hours should you need someone to chat with. But in moments like these, words don't count for much. It's actions that are the measure of an individual, as Rose once told you, and you're ready to go and make the city a better place, for everyone. And in your eyes, that's a pretty good action to judge yourself by.
that's what i'm doing.
i hope you're alright with this.
dave often talks about how dangerous it is, and how everyone will be after me, but i think i'll be fine.
even with super strength and all that, i'll make sure to be careful.
after all, you died bringing me into the world, so i'll try to stay in it for as long as possible.
and hopefully, i'll make the streets a bit safer and the city a bit happier.
that's what you would have wanted, right?
The only response is a small gust of wind blowing through the empty graveyard, causing you to shudder again as the chill passes through your exposed skin. You'd better get back home soon, before you catch your death from the cold. Pulling the carrier bag over your arms in an attempt to keep yourself warm, you start to walk back towards the gate. After a few steps, however, you stop, and take a quick look back at the small, faded headstone.
i'll be back again in two weeks time.
sorry i never got to tell you that.
I have been told on many seperate occasions, by many different people, that my primary strengths lie in writing comedy. Where I can, I will slip occasional jokes into my work, even in situations where the material itself is not comedic in nature. I mention this because In Memoriam does not contain a single joke. Every so often, I have the urge to write something dramatic, and fics like this are the natural result.
I should probably mention that in my headcanon, all the kids were naturally concieved, with their alpha counterparts filling the same role as they did in the beta universe. Hence, Dirk and Roxy are Dave and Rose's parents, and Jake and Jane are the parents of Dad, who in turn fathered John and Jade. This only left one blank, in the form of John and Jade's mother. And I saw no reason to fill that blank when an empty space would be a more effective framing device. In Memoriam served three purposes - to flesh out John's origin story, to explain this mysterious gap in the family tree, and to get what I considered to be a pretty good story idea on paper, all within 1500 words.
Once again, since I'm not accustomed to writing stuff like this, I have no idea whether or not I managed to tug on any heartstrings. If I did, then consider that the intention, and if I didn't, then consider this a method of fleshing out John's character. In that case, I win either way.
And that'll be all from me from the next few days. If you've got anything you want to contribute, anything at all, then go ahead!
Last edited by MindMessiah; 08-26-2012 at 01:12 PM.
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It's understandable, really. This whole thing went dead for about a year and a half, and it was secreted away in the Group Art Projects subforum. I thought this was a sad fate for such an awesome idea, and performed my necromantic magics to bring it back into the public eye. And by the public eye, I mean the 200 or so viewers it's had so far.
EDIT: Damn, ninja'd by AA. Can't wait to see what you've got for us!
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And yet another doublepost to bring you yet another fic! Sorry this one's so short. It's partly because I've got writer's block at the moment, and partly because I'm working on a megapost for the main fanfiction forum. The fic's called Regret, and it's the first time I've ever written anything from Vriska's POV.
You don't often feel regretful. It's one of those feelings you learnt to block out a long time ago, alongside many, many others. In your line of work, regret gets you killed. Remorse is a feeling for the weak, and you are strong. The strong don't let such petty concepts as emotion hinder their actions. You were taught a long time ago to shelve this stuff away, to put things like guilt, pity and fear in their rightful place.
And yet, no matter how hard you try, there is still the occasional crack every so often. You are sickened with yourself whenever you let these moments of weakness overtake you, and every one always manages to plant a new seed of niggling doubt in the back of your mind. The few moments in which you do allow yourself a private moment of emotion are few and far between, reserved for when you've justified your actions to yourself a dozen times over and still can't get to sleep at night. This is one of them.
She hadn't done anything to you, after all. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just a young trainee who thought it would be a good idea to go poking around in the generator room when the power went down. All she had to do was throw a switch, and the whole place would light back up again, earning her a couple of brownie points from her superiors. She didn't know that you'd killed the power for a reason. How could she?
Thankfully for you, she was confused at first. There are plenty of reasons for a senior officer to be transporting classified documents from place to place. It was only when she followed this up a while later and found that none of the aforementioned documents had been seen since that she got suspicious. She had yet to learn that idealistic rookies who try to track dodgy dealings back to their source tend to have a life expectancy similar to that of a mayfly. You caught wind of her amateur sleuthing pretty quickly, and got word back to Pupa the same day. His response was exactly what you expected.
Her assassination was laughably easy to carry out. Nobody really questions orders from the higher-ups, so when you passed down word from the chief that she was to go down to help investigate a murder in one of the seedier parts of town she armed up and got right to it. Not a single eyelid was batted when she was without a partner, and nobody bothered to check whether anyone had actually been killed in the abandoned warehouse you sent her to. You didn't even have to manipulate anyone. Pity, really. That's always one of the funniest parts of these things.
If there's one good thing you can say about her, it's that she put up a good fight. Her psychic abilities, whilst not nearly as honed as yours, still kept you on your toes, and her marksmanship had certainly improved from what you saw her do on the target range. But ultimately, when a highblood fights a lowblood there's no real question as to who's going to take the more bullets. The two she managed to lodge in your shoulder are only registering as a small ache now. You doubt she's ignoring the three rounds in her chest and the combat knife in her gut.
Standing over her prone form, you feel that awful twinge of regret gnaw away at you once more. All she was doing was her job. Protect and serve, and all that other nonsense that you've been ignoring during your time on the force. She had nothing in particular against you, but against your cause instead. And you made her pay for it with her life. Yet another emotion wells up in your traitorous gut, this one stronger and less insidious than the guilt. It almost feels like revulsion.
Hang on a second, is she moving?
Indeed she is. Despite all the pain you've put her through, she's still alive, no matter how barely. Her eyes are flickering open, and a dull groan comes out of her mouth. Seeing a lowblood survive something like that gives you a new level of respect for the dying police officer in front of you. But no matter what she's lived through, she's going to have to die anyway. You can't let her live. And yet, it seems unfair for her to meet her end like this. She fought bravely, and her desire to uphold the law, no matter how misguided, is certainly admirable.
For a brief moment, you almost consider letting her live.
You quash this notion the second it rears its ugly head. She knows far too much. Your position in the ACPD is far too valuable to sacrifice for the life of one lowly officer. Besides, even if there was an alternative option, Pupa would never risk the off chance that she might end up compromising even the slightest hint that your loyalties might lie with someone other than the police force. Besides, you've killed dozens of people before now. What difference is one more death going to make?
It's a pity she had to get caught up in this. From where she's sitting, it must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck. Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.
Her stirring groans are quickly silenced by the sound of a heavy boot being applied to her neck.
I'm not the best person to do a deep and analytical deconstruction of Vriska's psyche, mostly because I usually ignore all the deep and interesting character development and just slap her straight into Chaotic Evil territory. The writing part of me recognises that there is a sympathetic character in there somewhere, but having said that, I do my best to make her unsympathetic. After all, good intentions count for naught if you can't back them up with actions, and no matter how much she regrets doing bad things, she still does them. That's the point I was trying to convey here - she's stuck in a hole that she dug herself, and she's trying to get out of it by digging deeper and deeper and my gog this metaphor is tortured - but I probably just ended up pissing off Vriska fans. Sorry about that.
Also Fallout: New Vagas reference yay.
While I'm here, I might as well make an embarrassing little confession here - I've never actually read through the full index of TrollCops, despite setting the bloody thing up. Mostly I just copied the link addresses wherever they were written down and just stuck them on the front page. I never even read through Wigmund's stuff, even though that basically became the default TrollCops canon. Suffering from a little bit of writer's block today, I went and took an archive binge - only to discover that when I wrote Dead Man's Shoes, I was unknowingly copying the plot of Wigmund's Take It All In Stride. Pretty much verbatim. So I'd like to apologise for that minor gaffe. I'll bone up on other people's stories and hopefully do more original stuff in the future (he says, as he posts about something that's been covered a million times before).
Last edited by MindMessiah; 08-28-2012 at 03:34 PM.
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In one place per continually changing instant of time.
Re: TROLLCOPS 2.0: THE REVENGENING
So I had a fic made but couldn't remember the districts of Alternia City for naming appropriate locations. Rather than invent new ones I did a little Archive diving in the old TrollCops thread and finally found Wigmund's map post which contains not only the map but also names and descriptions of the districts. Quoting here for easy reference:
Originally Posted by Wigmund
Improved the map.
Like before, the only things denoted are the Wards. All other details are left off so that they are mutable during people's stories.
Here's my general ideas about the Wards:
City Central (Pink area) - Where the city government is located. It was built at the beginning of Mayor WV's term because he wanted an impressive area to run the city from. Alternia PD HQ is also here, but I imagine the Trolls themselves are situated elsewhere.
The central portion of the Central Square is dominated by a massive glass tower that houses the city government. Strangely, the city government only takes up the bottom third of the place as well as the penthouse suite where WV has his office and personal suite. The rest of the building cannot be reached in any way from the public portions of the building. No one knows who goes in or goes out or what ever happens in that portion, even the windows are mirrored (WV wanted the building to be noticeable) to prevent people flying nearby from peeking in.
Glass City (Light Gray area) - This ward is almost exclusively massive skyscrapers and elevated roadways. Think of Gotham in Batman Beyond except without flying cars. There is an Underworld here filled with older buildings abandoned during the upward blitz. Homeless, Consorts and other vagrants wander the ground level while rich executives never see anything below the layer of gardens that blocks out the sun for those below.
Alternia Heights (Blue-Grey region) - This massive area is less densely populated than the rest of Alternia City. Towards the Guardian Resevoir Dam, the ward is mostly middle-class suburbs and strip malls. Towards the sea, the ward is dominated by the estates of the city's wealthy. Along the coast, it is sheer cliffs towards the south and actual sandy beaches to the north.
Young Tavros Nitram lives at his family's estate up against the sea cliffs. He lost both of his parents under mysterious circumstances that he obviously had no links to and he lives under the stewardship of a Mr. Rufio Pan.
Other notable families include the Lemonsnouts (lizards) with their long tradition of Senators and the Nakdoofenpaps (crocodiles) who all but run the city's stock exchange. Both are notable for being the only prestigous Consort families.
HFH Airport (Dark Gray area) - Hass 'The Flame' Harley International Airport. Serving the greater Alternia City region with its very efficient service. It's only vicious rumors that there are frequent crashes in the mountains that surround the city.
Fort Skaian (Purple area) - Massive multi-branch military base. Rumors are rampant in nearby areas about strange shit from that place escaping into the city's sewers and subways. The military naturally denies this and says that the heavily-armored, flamethrower-wielding patrols they send into the sewers are just to clear out gas pockets.
The Settlements (Brown area) - Row housing, old businesses and light industry. Your average inner-city slums. This region is heavily populated by Trolls and neighborhoods tend to segregated by blood color.
The Karkitty gang can usually be found here if they are not running errands for Mr. Pupa.
Dockside (Orange region) - Actually two separate wards (names lost to time and only important to the councilmen who claim to serve the area), but these areas are so heavily dominated by the docks, warehouses and storage facilities that the only people living here are the absolute bottom of the economic scale. The island is known as the Docker's Crescent and is linked to the city by a undersea tunnel heading west towards the rest of Dockside.
All of the city's gangs, cartels and crazies cause trouble here as they smuggle goods into and out of the city.
The Veil Maximum Security Prison and Server Islands (Dark Red circle) - The region's maximum security prison. The sixteen islands circling the prison itself are heavily armed watchtowers that have standing orders to blast anyone and anything that approaches or leaves the area without permission.
Of course, that doesn't stop the criminals from frequently breaking out and leading everyone to think that the front gates are actually revolving doors.
Karkat spent a week here and is more frightened of going back than he is of Mr. Pupa. Something terrible goes on within the prison's walls, probably the reason so many are eager to get out.
The Narrows (Red area) - Welcome to the area of the ethnic enclaves which are essentially small towns in and of themselves, all but sealed off from the city proper. Two notable areas within the Narrows are Novaya Derse and Prospit Nouveau.
The Midnight Crew all but runs the Narrows, facing only minimal competition from The Felt, The Strider Mafia and Mr. Pupa at the edges of the Ward. Their main hangout, the Paint Job run by one Miss Paint is located on Narrows Island.
Old Town (Yellow area) - The oldest part of the city, this is where the original settlers put down roots over 400 years ago (413th anniversary coming soon). It's old growth and short stubby skyscrapers if there are any. Much of this ward is built on top of older buildings as they sank into the soft soils making up the coastline of Alternia Island (this is the reason all current city growth is on the mainland).
This area is dominated by humans and enclaves for groups such as Orientals, Jews, Eastern Europeans, Latinos and other such minority cultural groups are found here.
It is thought that the Strider Gang and Crowboy are based out this area. The Felt are believed to operate out of an old mansion on the border with the Narrows, but this is highly unlikely as that is Doctor Scratch's personal estate.
Foundry (Green area) - The true industrial area of the city. Oil refineries, heavy manufacturing, massive metal forges dominate the area and the sky line is filled with burn-off towers.
Heavily polluted, this area has few sane inhabitants. Rumors persist of roving bands of sociopathic reavers, but the APD denies these rumors - just don't wander around here after darkaloneunarmed at any time without several friends and substantial personal protection.
The Lost Ward (Light Blue area) - this was once a residental region much like the Heights, but a mysterious disaster sank much of it into the sea and left the rest as collapsed ruins. Now sealed off by a massive fence and sea wall barricade. The Lost Ward is believed to be overrun with Consorts, mutants and other horrors.
It is the primary source for all illicit materials for the city, but the police don't have the resources to go in and clear it out.
This is also where Karkat and his friends originally lived up until The Disaster.
However the biggest threat from this area is in fact the Cult of the Secret Wizard.
And so, without further ado, two fics with an intermission between them.
Dave perched on the edge of a rooftop surveying his surroundings. He briefly considered how amazing it would be to jump off the building and land without dying but that would require one of the hundreds of piles of loose hay that were all over the place in like… ancient Damascus or something. Dave, on the other hand was in the middle of Old Town on one of his nightly patrols of his area of Alternia City. He was only one hero and couldn’t patrol the entire city on a nightly basis at least not without using his time tables constantly. He’d considered it before on some long nights, heck he even used them from time to time just for a little bit of extra shut eye, however he tried to keep unnecessary temporal shenanigans to a minimum. He didn’t want to accidentally start up another Strider Mafia, after all. So he and a few other vigilantes working with SEER had split up portions of the city on a rotating basis.
That night things were quiet on his patrol, relatively quiet as far as Alternia City crime is concerned. It was convenient as that gave him time to address another problem that had been bothering him, the problem of his new shadow.
A man roughly his age wearing a dark gray hoodie had been stalking him on his patrols the past week or so, usually Dave just ignored him and gave him the slip somewhere on his route. But today Dave had a few extra minutes to hopefully get him off his back for good.
You know, I’m not taking sidekicks.
Knowing his cover was blown, the man stepped out from the shadows.
I don’t want to be your fucking sidekick, dumbass.
Then why the shit are you following me? Are you scouting me or something? Want me to join some league of super dorks.
Damnit, now my cover’s blown. How will I ever show my face again at the Justice League Baseball Stadium ever again. Guess I might just have to commit Seppucrow right here and now lest I bring dishonor to my dojo of heroes.
What. Are you trying to say something with that snide little reference there?
What about baseball or the aforementioned super dorks?
You know damn well what I mean. Cut the bullshit. What are you here for?
A rooftop duel. You and me.
I have to- what?
Let’s do it.
You accepted that rather quickly.
I’m sorry did you have a speech ready or something?
Well not really I-
Something about avenging a family member? About trying to further your skills? Or about trying to prove how big a dick you have?
Something similar, it’s really more like I’m asking a question that only a fight with you can answer.
What question is that?
He was silent for a moment before responding.
Maybe I’ll tell you after. Anyway, like you said, let’s do this, man.
Right. Let’s make it happen.
And so Crowbro dueled with his shadow. His shadow moved first, making a pedestrian straight charge at the vigilante, Dave dodged easily. He retaliated making what seemed like a straightforward attack which his shadow dodged without too much effort but then Dave gave him a punch in the face. The rest of the duel proceeded in a similar manner, Dave and his shadow danced in the night clashing blades and exchanging blows flash stepping around each other’s attacks and counter attacks. Dave had to respect the mysterious man’s skill, but the outcome of the duel had been decided in the first exchange. When he decided enough was enough Dave chopped his opponent’s sword in two sending the blade half sailing away into the night. To his credit the man was ready to continue even with just half a sword, but Dave held up a hand to stop him.
Hold up man. This fight’s over.
The man dropped his stance but didn’t say anything.
So, that answer your question?
You telling me what it was?
Fine whatever. Look you’re not half bad with a sword, but my stance on sidekicks still stands. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got bad guys to fight.
Then Crowbro soared away from the building without another word.
All that's Missing is a Sparkly Transformation Sequence
A lone man stood upon an unfinished building at an abandoned construction site in the underbelly of Glass City. With him he had a simple duffel bag, in his eyes a glorious mission.
Okay. Badass anime hair.
He reached into his duffel bag and retrieved the necessary hair care products, hair gel and a comb. With one hand cupping a generous amount of gel and the other holding his comb he swept both over his blonde hair bringing his follicular appendages into multifaceted points. The end result almost resembled a bird when viewed from one angle. From another angle, a dragon.
Check. Unbreakable badass katana.
With lighting speed he retrieved his sword from the bag, unsheathed it, and cut through a steel girder like the shitty bamboo statues he had honed his skills on originally. Making several more swings he confirmed the strength of the steel he had forged letting hundreds of steel shards fall dangerously to the ground below.
Check. Ironic hat themed t-shirt.
He unzipped his hoodie and then tossed it behind him to reveal a white shirt with the pattern of an orange baseball cap printed on the front.
Fucking check. And lastly, while also most importantly.
He reached into the bag a final time, and donned a pair of badass anime shades.
Check. Only one thing missing.
And he knew precisely where it was, or rather, who would have it. It was the only thing he wasn’t willing nor able to duplicate, after all, there could be only one.
He swung his Katana over his shoulder and stared off into the distance. The next instant he was gone.
I figure at this point you probably get the idea, but just in case you couldn't resist reading these words before the above two spoiler'd sections the title to the next one is in the spoiler tag.
The Rise of Dirk 2.0
It was four in the morning, and Dave was fucking tired. Three bank robberies, four attempted homicides and some shitface literally tried taking candy from a baby. Ordinarily, Dave didn’t bother with things level of purse snatching or lower, but this was in the middle of his route home, and the guy literally stole candy from a baby. He was just asking for a beating or being tossed into a dumpster while you got mom and junior to safety. Who even takes their kid out on the streets of Old Town in the middle of the night anyway?
Dave was on this line of thought and just touching down in the middle of his acrobatic fucking rooftop parkour shenanigans when he had the shock of his life. Standing on a wall about six feet above him and holding onto a satellite dish was the spitting image of the late Dirk Strider. Well spitting image sans hat and fingerless gloves not to mention the face was different but the blonde badass anime hair, shades and katana were all there. He’d come across cosplaying superhero wannabes before… but this was different. These were Bro’s street clothes. Something was up and he was going to find out what the shit it was.
Hey there. Lil bro.
What. The. Shit. Who the fuck are you?
Come on, Dave, don’t tell me you don’t recognize your own brother.
What the fucking shit. Explain yourself. Now.
It’s simple, Dave, your brother was a legend in this city.
This, I know.
And his death left a deep anime shaped void. A void you’ve been trying to fill with your actions as Crowbro.
Not really sure how you managed the whole figuring out my secret identity thing, but yeah, your point?
You aren’t filling Dirk’s shoes, Dave.
The fuck I’m not. I’ve done more to push crime back in this city than he ever managed.
Sure, you’ve made a small dent to the crime in this city by fighting it on two fronts, both your bro’s super hero shtick and that clone mafia thing you’ve got going on, the latter of which is frankly quite impressive.
So I’m guessing you’re going to say that you can do better.
I have no doubt that I could, but that’s not my point. My point is that you’re slipping on the little things, the more subtle things.
Irony, rap, and most importantly, puppets.
What the hell.
You can’t just drop the art when fighting crime and killing villains. So you wear a bird hood. So fucking what. Where’s the style Dave? Where’s the flair?
I can’t fucking believe this. People are murdered in the street in this city on a daily basis and you’re complaining about something as lame as puppets?
Puppets are awesome and you know it. Your bro knew it.
My bro was… Look he was badass and awesome and all but he was weird about some things. Puppets have always been lame.
I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a fellow Strider!
This just makes this decision all the more important then. Dave, you’ve made it clear that you are not a satisfactory guardian for Lil’ Cal. Hand him over.
This is about Cal? I don’t even have him anymore.
What? What did you do with him?
I tossed that thing in a dumpster. He was creepy as fuck.
Cal is not a thing! He’s an awesome little dude.
Okay let’s back up a fucking minute here and get back to my first question. Who. The fuck. Are you?
I thought I already made that clear.
Remind me then.
Fine. I’m a badass phoenix risen from the ashes of a kickass smuppet making genius. I’m the audiovisually remastered version of an old anime classic that's fading into obscurity. I am Dirk motherfucking Strider, 2.0.
Shit. Bullshit. Bull fucking shit! You can’t just declare yourself the shitty reboot of an actual human being. You can’t just replace someone who died!
This coming from the guy with an entire mafia made up of his clones?
That’s completely fucking different!
It’s completely fucking the same.
Look you don’t even know the beginning of how this weird time shit works, don’t pretend you do.
Time shit? So are these clones literally you just defecated out of the ass end of time travel or something?
I just thought you had some advanced cloning machine or something. Anyway, all that is irrelevant. So where is that dumpster that you tossed him into? I’d rather not have to search every dumpster in the city to find him.
I don’t know. And I don’t care. But you’re not leaving this rooftop after insulting the memory of my bro.
So, what you’re saying is that we’re doing this man?
He tilted his glasses slightly, letting a slight gleam reflected from an unseen light source flash upon them for emphasis.
We’re making this happen?
Oh my god…
You’re that guy from that duel a year ago, aren’t you? I thought you gave up following me after I handed your ass to you back then.
I just got better at moving unseen. All your ass delivery did was answer one question for me.
Oh not this question bullshit again.
Sorry, but this shit is here to stay. I’ve already told you the answer, but the question was this “Am I ready?”
Ready for what? Turning into a shitty cosplaying hero wannabee?
Ready for the student to become the sensei, to take my discipleship to the next level and become the man whom I once followed, and then surpass him.
So you think you’re ready, but what happens if I kick your ass right now? You going to vanish for another year and stalk me until you try again?
Why don’t you stop flapping you lips and ask me?
Not wasting another minute Dave rushed in at top speed hoping to own “Dirk’s” ass quickly and end his nonsensical schemes. Dirk didn’t show the slightest sign of movement and Dave struck empty air. Dave turned around just in time to block Dirk’s counter charge. How’d he get so fast? Without giving Dave any time to think further Dirk swung again and Dave blocked, but this time the blow didn’t land. Dirk had vanished again. On instinct gained from years sparring with his brother, Dave ducked just under the swing aimed at the back of his head. Dave retaliated, but Dirk had already somehow vanished a third time. Dave simply couldn’t keep up with his movements, it was all he could do just to not die. In the moment after Dave realized this that an unseen strike disarmed him embedding his blade four inches into concrete. When Dave looked forward again he saw a pair of angular shades and a sword less than an inch from his throat.
Dirk stood there a moment reading Dave’s expression, then he stepped back and sheathed his sword.
You’ve been stagnating. Your skills have stayed the same this past year. Leave the superhero bullshit to me from now on, Dave, you’re clearly not up to the task.
Dave didn’t respond as Dirk turned and walked to the roof’s edge, as much as he hated to admit it, the asshole was right. He hadn’t improved much over the past year. But there was one question he had to ask.
Several of those swings back there were more than lethal if I had slipped up. So why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? Or do I have to get my ass handed to me again in another duel for you to answer a simple fucking question.
Dirk paused a moment before answering.
Cause you’re my bro.
I’m not your fucking bro. Kicking my ass doesn’t suddenly make you being my bro a thing that’s real.
If you had slipped up enough to let one of those obvious attacks kill you then you wouldn’t have been worthy enough to be my bro. And then I’d have no qualms killing you.
…You’re fucking insane.
Dirk turned towards Dave with the trademark strider expression, held up one hand in a peace sign, and fell backwards over the roof’s edge.
Yeah there’s no way you’d just commit suicide like that.
Still, Dave walked over to the edge because, after all, the guy was a nutjob. He peered down and saw what looked like a body bleeding in the street down below. A body with blonde spiky anime hair, pointy shades, and wearing a shirt with an orange shirt depicted on the front.
Dave quickly made his way down to the empty street and examined the body more closely. It was an extremely well made mannequin, with what looked and smelled like actual blood leaking out its body. Pinned to its shirt was a note. Dave picked it up and read it.
Made you look.
Sincerely, Dirk Strider.
Dave crumpled the note in his fist angrily. Suddenly, a hidden compartment in the mannequin’s chest opened up revealing a digital countdown clock at displaying two seconds remaining. The number ticked down to one with a beep.
Dave had just enough time to dash away from the mannequin towards a nearby dumpster hoping to use it to shield himself from the mannequin’s impending explosion. Contrary to Dave’s expectations, the Dumpster burst open burying Dave in a pile of bulbous foam puppet ass. Later on Dave pieced together that the dumpster must have originally been open and that Dirk must have dived into that container of plush rump like a muppet themed assassin right out of the Crusades. But at that moment Dave was a tad too absolutely enraged to have any kind of rational thoughts.
Rumor has it that Crowbro’s rancorous bout of profanity could be heard all over Old Town almost up to the Narrows.
One of the things I love about Dave's actions with his bro in Homestuck are how he's one of the few people that can break his coolkid demeanor, and does so in just about every encounter they have. Cal freaking him out, rooftop duels. Heck even when Dave came across Bro's corpse he lost his cool, in a different way and for different reasons, but the cool was nonetheless lost. Even coming across Dirk in the dreambubble he just about flipped his shit. So naturally, just about when this thread was made I had an idea of Dave and Dirk being rival vigilantes in Alternia City with a strong dislike of each other. Even to the point of Dirk creating the Anbroids, a gang of robots to rival the Strider Mafia. I was all set to write this out but then MindMessiah posted Dead Man's Shoes and while anyone can have their own headcanons for fics in trollcops, having Dirk still alive would drastically change Dave's character and simply making him and Bro separate people with no explanation didn't feel right to me and I wanted to avoid having Dirk just appear from an alternate timeline/universe.
Rather than give up the concept I thought, "What if some random guy just reinvented himself, his appearance, his entire life as Dirk Strider?" From the moment of it's conception I considered it a fantastic idea. Dave now has a seriously legitimate reason to hate Dirk, the poser making a mockery of his brother. Not to mention Dirk has made himself a convenient a target for all the unresolved issues Dave had with his Bro before he died with none of the familial love there to get in the way. Rose would have a field day analyzing the both of them. Not to mention it's even more fitting for a poser to become the master of irony than the original master himself.
Also, bird cowls and vigilantes perched on top of buildings easily leads to Assassin's Creed references. It's actually kind of surprising noting the similarities between Crowbro and Altair. And then later Dirk in the smuppet dumpster.
Last edited by Unclever title; 08-31-2012 at 01:42 PM.
Reason: Text coloring error.
Feferi Peixes sat on a park bench in Condescension Square, feeding some pigeons. Her father, the Mayor, had invited her to the memorial park for a picnic lunch, and she had accepted giddily. The two of them hadn’t spent any father-daughter time together in what felt like sweeps. He’d been so busy lately working on the Can Town housing projects that he hadn’t had much free time. But apparently, the Mayor had managed to clear up enough space in his schedule to see his favorite daughter. Which is to say, his only daughter.
Feferi glanced around, hoping to see the Mayor’s polished carapace – but nothing. She sighed. The Mayor could be a little scatterbrained sometime, but surely he wouldn’t forget their rendezvous. While she waited, Feferi decided to examine one of the large statues that were dotted throughout the park.
It was a large iron sculpture of a troll wearing a cloak. Two nubby horns poked out from under his hood, and he had one arm raised, as if calming a crowd. The placronym at the foot of the statue claimed it to be the Signless, the anonymous troll who had single-handedly begun the revolution that freed Alternia City from the clutches of its heartless ruler. When the city had been founded four hundred and twelve years ago, a fuchsiablood whose real name was lost to history, but who had called herself the Condesce, had managed to set herself up as the leader of the settlement. She had oppressed her fellow pioneers, and allowed the groups of cutthroats and bandits that would eventually become the Midnight Crew and the Felt to set up shop in the pubs and seedy taverns. The thieves would share some of their loot with her, and in exchange she allowed them to stay.
Feferi knew all this thanks to all the time she spent in the Alternia City Library. While she wasn’t a particularly bookish person, history fascinated her. She also knew that eventually, a group of trolls, humans, and carapacians had risen up against their dictator, led by the Signless. They had overthrown the despot, and established a more democratic form of government. After this, the Signless vanished, and was never seen again.
Feferi eyed the statue of the Signless for a little longer before returning her attention to the pigeons. She glanced at her wristwatch. A quarter after one. Her father was late. Feferi huffed in irritation.
“’Ey. Anyone sittin’ ‘ere?”
Feferi looked to her left towards the source of the voice. It was a female troll, tall, with long black hair that reached her waist. He horns curved towards each other in the middle slighty. She wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and had bright purple lipstick on. Several golden hoops dangled from her ears, and she also wore a fancy-looking golden necklace. She was outfitted in a purple dress that reached her knees, under which she wore fishnet stockings. More gold jewelry adorned her arms and wrists, and she wore a golden anklet around her left ankle. But what caught Feferi’s attention the most were the troll’s eyes. They were a vibrant shade of fuchsia, like her own.
“Oh! No, there isn’t,” Feferi responded, scooting over on the bench to make some room for the other troll.
“Thanks,” said the troll, who sat down next to her. The troll pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, lit a cigarette, and took a drag. She then looked at Feferi. “Ya want one?” she asked.
Feferi shook her head. “I don’t smoke.”
The other troll shrugged. “Suit yourself” she said before tucking the cigarettes away again. The troll looked at Feferi again. “Don’t think I’ve ever run into another fuchsiablood before. You from around here someplace, sweetheart?”
Feferi nodded. “Yes. I actually live in Glass City. And I’ve never met another fuchsiablood either!” She added. Which was true. Fuchsiabloods, or “royalbloods” as they used to be called, were few and far between. They were a rare and, according to some, dying breed.
The other troll whistled. “Glass City, huh? Them’s some fancy digs. You sittin’ on a fortune or something?”
Feferi flushed a little and shook her head. “No, I work as a secretary in my father’s office. I just found a good deal is all.” Feferi paused. “What did you say your name was?”
The other troll took another drag of her cigarette. “I didn’t. But my name is Meenah. Yours?”
Feferi extended a hand, which Meenah grasped, and the two shook. “I’m Feferi.”
Meenah whistled again. “What, as in the Mayor’s daughter? Well jeez, forgive my impudent attitude your honor.”
Feferi smiled again. “Oh, that’s alright. I appreciate the company. I’m waiting for father, and he’s a little late.”
Meenah rolled her cigarette between her fingers, causing little spirals of smoke to go up into the air. “You two goin’ out on a little father-daughter date, huh? That’s nice.” She put her cigarette back up to her lips. “I never knew my daddy.”
Feferi frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Meenah waved a hand in the air. “Nah, that’s alright. He was probably scum anyways. My mama never kept the best company, if you know what I’m sayin’.”
Feferi did, unfortunately. Since her father had become the Mayor, crime in Alternia City had gone down significantly. But there were still an awful lot of terrible things going on that not even the ACPD could handle.
Meenah chewed the end of her cigarette thoughtfully. “I bet your daddy really loves you. Do just about anythin’ for ya.”
Feferi nodded. “Oh, he would. He’s a very loving person. It’d break his heart if anything happened to me.”
Meenah nodded slowly, still chewing on her cigarette. “That’s what I figured.” She stood up and turned to Feferi. “Well, Ms. Feferi. I’ve enjoyed our little chat, but I’m afraid I have somethin’ I need to do now.”
“Of course,” Feferi responded. “I enjoyed talking to you as well.”
Meenah took the cigarette out of her mouth and put a hand out. Feferi stood to shake it. Meenah clasped a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a lucky gal,” she said. “Havin’ a daddy that’s there for you.”
Feferi smiled. “I know.”
Meenah pulled out a handkerchief, and Feferi’s expression turned a little sad. Was Meenah about to cry? “Otherwise,” Meenah continued, “this woulda been a complete waste of time.”
Feferi furrowed her brow. What was that supposed to mean?
“I’d like to say I regret doin’ this,” Meenah said, as she placed the handkerchief on Feferi’s face. Feferi’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening, and she tried to pull away. But Meenah’s grip on her shoulder was too strong. As her consciousness slipped away, the last thing Feferi heard was Meenah’s voice.
“But the truth is, I really don’t give a shit.”
Family History, Part Two
Another beautiful day, the Mayor observed happily. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the Can Town project was coming along fabulously. The Mayor had just finished signing the papers which would allow for the actual zoning of Can Town. It was predicted that at this rate, Can Town would be fully constructed by the 413th Founder’s Day Parade. He didn’t have any more pressing matters to attend to today – perhaps he’d call his daughter Feferi and see if she wanted to go have a father-daughter date or something. Yes. That sounded like a good idea.
A knock on his office door interrupted the Mayor’s thoughts. He called for whoever it was to enter, and in stepped – oh my. Oh dear, yes, it was the Post Mistress. The two of them had a sort of friendship, and she frequently delivered letters to him personally. He had considered asking her if she’d like to go to dinner sometime, but he’d always found some reason to chicken out. But today was his day! Nothing could go wrong! The very sight of her gleaming white carapace made his spirits soar even higher.
They exchanged pleasantries, and she set a small white envelope on his desk. The Mayor examined the letter – why, it was from Feferi! - for a moment, and then returned his attention to the Post Mistress. They engaged in light conversation, and the Mayor asked her if perhaps she would enjoy going down to Butler Island – no other restaurant in town had better service! – this weekend, if she wasn’t busy. To his delight, she accepted, and after she left, the Mayor began to hum a little ditty to himself, fingering the little firefly brooch he wore at all times. It had been a gift from Feferi, and he referred to it affectionately as Serenity.
Oh, speaking of Feferi. The Mayor picked up the envelope and opened it up. Inside was a piece of green paper. How strange. He opened the paper up and…
“Calm down, Mr. Mayor,” said an exasperated Inspector Eridan Ampora. The Inspector had been on the phone with the Mayor for that past fifteen minutes, and he was still unable to get any sort of sense out of the carapacian. “Mr. Mayor, really. I can’t help you if I can’t understand you.”
Eridan’s secretary poked his head in curiously. The Inspector waved at him to buzz off, and the secretary shrugged before closing the door. So gogdamn nosy, Eridan thought. The Mayor was still rambling unintelligibly, so Eridan set the phone down for a minute. When the tinny sound of the Mayor’s voice finally sounded more subdued, he picked the phone back up. “Now, Mr. Mayor, I’m going to ask you again. What is the problem?” He listened for a moment, and then jumped up out of his seat. “Feferi has been what!?” he shouted.
The secretary poked his head in again, but this time Eridan ignored him. He listened to the Mayor for a few more moments, a grim expression on his face. “I’ll be there right away,” Eridan said into the phone, and then hung up.
“What’s going on, sir?” asked the useless secretary.
The Inspector grabbed his coat off the hook and shrugged over his narrow shoulders. “It seems,” he said, grabbing his fedora and setting on his head. “As if there’s been a kidnapping.”
Inspector Ampora stepped into the Mayor’s office, closing the door behind him. The Mayor was pacing back and forth, and the Chief was already there, along with Officers Pyrope and – ugh – Captor. Captor glanced back at the sound of the door, and he snorted. “Who invited thith guy” he sneered.
The Chief gently reminded Officer Captor that the Inspector was here on the job as well, and to shut the hell up and get back to work.
Officer Pyrope grinned. “Easy Sollux. Here, let’s go outside.” She led her partner out the door, but not before Captor and the Inspector exchanged dirty looks.
Eridan sniffed, and then stepped forward. “Where’s the note?” he asked.
The Chief pointed at the Mayor’s desk, informing the Inspector that they had already dusted the note for fingerprints. The Inspector nodded, and stepped forward to examine the letter.
It was written on green stationary in some sort of purplish-pink ink. The creases were it had been folded were neat and precise. Eridan read the letter aloud. “Transfer 1,000,000 Boondollars to Jake English’s bank account within the next seven days, or you will never see your daughter again.” Eridan turned to the Chief. “Who’s this English fellow?”
The Chief explained that Hass Harley, famous explorer and businessman, had once been called Jake English in his youth, but that the man had changed his name during his college years.
Eridan mused over this for a moment. “Well, I think we can rule out the Harleys as suspects. They have plenty of money, and they’ve never shown any dislike towards you, Mr. Mayor. In fact, I think Jade Harley is a friend of Feferi’s.” Eridan’s voice cracked when he said Feferi’s name, but he covered it with a cough.
The Chief said that he had been thinking something similar. He also noted that the green stationary was the same kind of paper that the notorious gang the Felt used in all of their documents.
Eridan tapped his nose thoughtfully. “Alright, so it looks like the Felt is involved. Which would make sense. There are only three crime syndicates in the city big enough to have the guts to do something like this.”
The Chief agreed. He started to say something else, but just then Officer Pyrope walked back inside. The Chief asked her where Officer Captor was.
“He’s downstairs, Chief. Discouraging the curious.” She grinned again.
The Chief nodded his approval, and asked her what she made of the situation.
Pyrope frowned. “Honestly Chief, I’m not sure. Can I smell the letter?”
The Chief said that she could, and Officer Pyrope walked up to Eridan, who handed her the ransom note. She looked at it for a moment, and then took a long hard sniff. Her frown deepened.
“Chief, you may want to get forensics in here.”
The Chief asked why the hell he would do something like that.
“Because,” Pyrope responded. “I think this letter was written in blood.”
I felt like it'd be interesting to talk a little bit about Alternia City's early history (which isn't a topic I've seen much discussion of) while simultaneously paving the way for a little bit of a mystery/thriller type thing. I don't know how many parts this thing is gonna have, but I do know that it was fun to write.
Oh also I liked all the things you guys wrote. Dave is awesome. Dirk is awesome. Dave+Dirk=SUPERAWESOME
Also the thing about John was sad and good at the same time.
YOU EVEN INCLUDED ALL THE EPISODES (although the writer of season 3 clearly wasn't its villain >_> ))
I AM TOTALLY GOING TO READ YOUR SHIT WHEN I GET UP IN THE MORNING.
In the meantime, thinking up stuff trying to get Calliope and Caliborn!LE into the canon:
At one point she'd be an up-and-coming cop in her Callie disguise, while he'd be working his way up the crime ladder like the main character from a GTA game or something. Doc Scratch would be leading the Felt knowing full well that Lord English is "already here".
Also came up with their "origin" stories though that involves a really long-winded backstory to New Alternia itself, involving the 11/11/11 prophecy being a century early, the destruction of Liberty City (I'M SO CREATIVE) during "The War" etc. With new pre-scratch ancestors revealed, this is sure to get...interesting.
EDIT: Also because it's 3AM and I've lost control of my life, have this thing that I upgraded from the previous thread:
Jane Crocker - Just a normal corporate heiress that enjoys baking and cooking...until she puts on her headband and becomes The Countess, leader of the League of DOOF. She not only plans their grand schemes but also takes the lead in executing them. After all, nobody suspects this cheery girl that enjoys baking and private-eyeing to be one of the greatest supervillains on the planet.
Jake English - A notorious European (they all talk in British accents when speaking English, duh!) arms dealer and poacher, resides in the former Harley Manor. Becomes a sort of "Lord English Lite" thanks to some shady deal he made after an accident (and also for Nic Cage reference) - gains extra agility and enhances any firearms he gets his hands on, but no time powers and no poolball eyes. Effectively ALFA's "muscle," needed when shit needs to get done with little discretion and extreme prejudice.
Roxy Lalonde - Rose's sister and one of the city's most affluent and debauched socialites also happens to be ALFA's technology (and social networking) wizard. A master hacker who is one of the few that can match or beat Sollux, she also works on projects for (and flirts with) the other members and orchestrates blackmail to help provide the group with resources. Although her inherent "void" powers can generally help her escape detection, she can also "upgrade" ordinary windows into temporary portals to make her escape - and many an unlucky individual has met a gruesome slicing end trying to follow.
Dirk Strider - Ironically (yes, ironically) the "hero" of the group as he is the only member to forego using lethal tactics as the Cromaeus. Essentially the Christopher Nolan to Dave's Burton/Schumacher. The original SeppuCrow who allegedly died in Dave's arms, he had somehow survived (ironically due to cloning shenanigans though he tells the other members that he simply "passed out from a little ass blood") and fled to Tibet where he had learned some secret art of kung-fu or something. Now back in New Alternia, he is (inwardly) horrified to find that Dave has turned the SeppuCrow name into a franchise as well as a mere side project to the new Strider Mafia.
Dirk must now wage his own bifurcated war - one as the Cromaeus against the city's crime syndicates, and one to teach his brother what it means to be a hero. And at the same time he must also participate in ALFA's plans (and constantly rebuff Jake's offers to be his "partner," in both senses of the word). How many irons can he hold on either side of the fire before he gets burned?
Seriously, you guys. I leave for three days and you've already started pumping out several litres of concentrated awesome. And you've been incorporating the Alphas into this in ways that are actually imaginative and creative. Gog, with all the awesome ancestor stuff here and the latest update, I feel rather bad about neglecting those guys. Keep it up, and I'll keep it all index'd. Sorry I wasn't able to pass comment on these earlier, but I was kind of flooding the thread with my stuff.
Anyway, I'm currently drawing a blank when it comes to material. Stupid writer's block. I suppose the least I can do while I'm here is provide you with a bit of feedback and some answers to queries.
@Unclever title: Wow. I would never have thought of something like that. And you managed to pull off the "sibling" rivalry really, really well. All this Dave/Dirk stuff is shaping up to look pretty damn good.
@awfulAlliteration: Looking good so far! Fleshing out Alternia City itself is something we haven't had much of, though that likely has to do with the fact that most of the stuff around here was done before alphas or ancestors were a thing.
@Ra Zarudo: Yeah man. If I have to copy a thread word-for-word, right down to using the exact same formatting style because I'm too lazy to think of a proper way to present it, then I do it right. And yes, "Erigami v TrollCops" does look a little peculiar, but I couldn't be bothered to come up with a studio name and I probably wouldn't do it justice anyway. Oh, and I must be the only person in this thread who can't figure out how to utilise the alphas properly.
Last edited by MindMessiah; 08-31-2012 at 01:06 PM.
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In one place per continually changing instant of time.
Re: TROLLCOPS 2.0: THE REVENGENING
I'm torn between that and him be Troll Mr. Rogers. Because that sweater. That darn sweater. He'd be all about telling kids about the wonders of imagination and that each and every one of them is special, just as uniquely special as everyone else. So always remember to check your many respective privileges before you start thinking yourself more special than your friends at school.
Though thinking about the politics angle I'm imagining him being the kind of guy at town hall meetings with a huge laundry list of complaints and grievances about city ordinances, community inequalities, etc both real and imagined.
Meenah would not only have the Crocker fortune (or be disinherited from it, trying to get it back?) but also leverage Karkat as blackmail.
Meanwhile Kankri would be all "shoosh" at Karkat being all "DAD WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN SINCE I WAS A WRIGGLER? I ACTUALLY ATTEMPTED TO GIVE A DOUBLE-DIGIT FRACTION OF A FLYING FUCK ABOUT JUSTICE IN THIS CITY AND I ENDED UP KILLING A COP, GETTING KICKED OFF THE FORCE AND BECOMING A MIDNIGHT CREW ENFORCER. WHY WEREN'T YOU THERE!?"
EDIT: Also, a little bonus for the folder files...
Det. Callie Ohpeee
She's just transferred here from what's left of Liberty City and I finally understand why limebloods are so valuable to troll society. She's probably the best damn sketch artist we've ever had - which I hope will make up for the fact that she literally shows up to work half the time. Come to think about it, every day she isn't in we seem to end up taking custody of...
I'm not exactly sure what species he is, but I do know what he is to us - trouble. This little green skull kid with a crooked smile literally treats everything as a game, which makes it even more mysterious when he seems to just up and vanish every time he's busted, along with the AK we keep stashing in evidence. Must be that new older Japanese girlfriend of his.