lucybox | whatever

whatever

EPISODE 1: meeting
EPISODE 2: the latvian mob
EPISODE 3: a concussion
EPISODE 4: bench talk
EPISODE 5: break-in

[ what would someone following the number connected to dave strider notice during recon? well.

dave strider, thirteen, gangly and edging on getting taller but way too skinny, angular and bony in a way that says he could stand to eat more food more often. he constantly wears shades. he equally constantly wears long-sleeved shirts and jeans in the houston heat. dave is too careful to ever let that shirt ride up enough to show what's underneath, and he never lets his shades get jostled off his face in public.

the kid has more of an online presence than his brother. he runs a webcomic with an avant garde sense of style and some truly disturbing strips that occasionally seem to correspond with times his number has come up; he sells shit on the site sometimes, t-shirts or book compilations or keychains. the money isn't saved but tends to get spent on groceries. he trolls internet forms at random but does seem to speak regularly to at least three other kids, and has for at least three years. these conversations are all mostly superficial even though the kids are close. the deepest he ever gets in them is with rose lalonde, who lives in new york. sometimes they talk about his dreams.

to each of them he only has positive things to say about his brother, whom he idolizes.

the other half of his computer use seems to go to online school, which dave does all right on. he only occasionally misses deadlines, but more frequently turns shit in ahead of time. he participates haphazardly on the forums as required, but aside from an odd sense of humor and a decent grasp on the subjects, he doesn't say anything worth reading.

following dave in person is harder. he doesn't leave the apartment often except to go to the store, or occasionally the library. he has hung out in the park once or twice but always goes home the second his cellphone buzzes with a text. his interactions with other people are limited; he's polite and casually friendly and charming to the grocery store employees and the librarian, and he doesn't turn people away when they talk to him exactly, but he never discusses anything of note and always excuses himself pretty quickly. dave doesn't like to be touched and doesn't let it happen, never needing to flinch back because he moves faster than that, and doesn't let himself get in the position where someone will try to touch him.

at the store he gets apple juice and bread and peanut butter. or junk food that keeps longer, kept at the back of his closet. nothing he has to refrigerate or heat up. at the library he gets art and film books or photography collections or comics or shit like my teacher is an alien or animorphs or pretty much anything. he doesn't usually check them out to go back home, unless it's a thing for school. when he signs his name on anything it's a careful angular scrawl and he likes to do it in red - dave always keeps a red pen in his pockets. at the park he tends to sit on a bench with good sightlines and sometimes he'll feed birds bits of torn bread and sometimes he'll scroll through shit on his phone (tumblr, random sites, pesterchum) but mostly he just kind of sits there and listens to music.

he downloads a lot of music. sometimes he mixes up new shit and uploads it, sending it to his friends or occasionally just keeping it to himself. dave maintains some social media accounts but is weird about them. there are disjointed quotes or phrases and oddly angled pictures and he seems to treat them like some sort of joke only he gets, but he's almost dedicated to them like he doesn't seem to be to a lot of shit. there's a blog he used to update but doesn't any longer about tony hawk and other things and every glimpse into his mind through his words is unclear and a little off.

a lot of the time he seems to be in the apartment alone. he isn't always, despite appearances, and he knows it. there's a ton of surveillance equipment inside the apartment and dave treats the cameras and recording devices with a casual weariness and wariness. his brother is constantly monitoring both dave and the equipment; fucking with that would probably be a bad idea for anyone paying attention, but it might be possible to jack some of those frequencies, if you're careful.

inside the apartment he mostly stays in his room. when he comes out he's nervous and cautious but nothing ever shows on his face. even in the sanctity of his own room this is true; dave doesn't emote when he can help it and even when he jumps when a trap goes off, his expression doesn't change an iota. when he speaks his voice is low and too-texan, but he doesn't usually unless he's outside of the apartment and has to. there is no point, since his brother seems disinterested in speaking to the kid. he rambles in his interactions with other people online but in person always cuts them short, seemingly uncomfortable with talking for too long.

the one activity that takes up most of his time, however, is training. at any hour of the day or night dave might be called to the roof. bro owns the entire building, and no one has ever called in anything about the striders. if they have, it was taken care of quickly and quietly and nothing ever got to the people who might have done something with it. bro watches everything and this is how things go: dave goes up the stairs with a sword in hand and once he's at the top it starts and then it keeps going until it's over. sometimes it goes on past that. it can take hours on end or only a few minutes, and there isn't any way to predict which it's going to be. eventually dave's left alone and he lies on the roof for a bit until he picks himself up and goes back inside the apartment. he patches himself up quickly and efficiently and doesn't complain at all. the most he has ever done is inform john egbert he got his ass kicked, and john assumed dave was exaggerating like dave always does.

here's another thing to notice: dave strider is used to being watched. he's paranoid about it, trying to read from every tiny clue in his life what will happen next and coming up blank. so when there's an extra pair of eyes he notices after a few hours, and he doesn't like the feeling. he picks himself up off the roof and ignores a broken wrist and too many cuts to count and probably a few cracked ribs in order to lean over the edge of the railing, eyes scanning surrounding buildings with a tense little frown.

it's pointless to tell bro. it might be bro. is he supposed to confront the change or ignore it? it's impossible to tell when bro wants him to roll with something or dig his heels in, and if he can't figure it out quick before the inscrutable time limit runs out, bro will probably be disappointed. and also maybe mad? it's hard to tell if bro ever gets mad or anything else at all, but dave would like to avoid that eventuality and measure up, so...

so.

right.

he can't spot who might be watching him but he didn't expect to. he can never spot bro in the apartment, either. so maybe he needs to change the location? maybe this is counter-surveillance training. it's not the usual so it has to be something else, after all. he's too tired to think it through but that doesn't really matter because there's probably a time limit and he shouldn't be too tired for it so he can't be.

the next day dave will completely disregard his usual daily schedule and leave the apartment. his injuries are taken care of even if he's oddly careful about his wrist, a makeshift brace involving a wrist watch making it casual. dave can always make his walk seem easy and relaxed no matter what he's hiding. he doesn't go to any of his usual locations. instead he goes to the movie theater, wastes precious grocery money on a ticket for a random action movie, and immediately ditches through an emergency exit in the theater once he's zipped in.

he loiters around out of sight to see if he can catch anyone coming out after him.

there are a dozen other little trips and traps like that planned if his simple first-ditch effort doesn't work as he zigzags around the city with absolutely no gameplan, testing the waters to see what comes up. there's no possibility of waiting for probably-bro to explain himself, because bro doesn't do explanations. so. time to figure out the rules as best he can and hope it's what he's supposed to be doing.

the lack of any ominous texts to his phone is either encouraging or terrifying. dave can't be fucked to figure out which it is, exactly. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ ...

yes, but only because it might be bro. he won't say anything, though. ]

[Goddammit. Awkwardly, Dirk throws it all on the line]

I'm not interested in hurting you, dude. I'd just like to have a conversation, maybe over lunch. I've got an expense card I never use.

[ AH, THIS ASSHOLE AGAIN? dave purses his lips in legitimate frustration. when he speaks, it's full-on texan drawl in a flat tone devoid of any emotion beyond mild irritation. controlled but uncontrolled. ]

I know I'm pretty, but maybe find someone else to go stranger danger on.

[ he can think of zero good reasons for a grown man to be following around a thirteen year old kid. like...it's one thing if bro is behind this, because then it would...

not creepy? somehow? or at least it would be expected creepiness. but. it feels wrong to consider that this creepy as fuck move would be acceptable if it came from bro, so dave just Does Not Consider it. ]

I ain't in the market for whatever you're sellin' and my bro probably wouldn't appreciate you doin' it.

[ he...thinks. there's literally no way to tell until and unless bro intervenes. dave might be expected to handle this one on his own. he has no way of knowing. ]

[Don't overplay your hand don't overplay your hand don't overplay your hand.]

Your brother probably would object more to me bein' the only person who can match him skill for skill in technology and martial prowess.

[ a snort. DIRK MAYBE OVERPLAYED HIS HAND? ]

Impossible. Bro's the best at pretty much everythin' and you got clocked by me.

[ dave's a speck of dirt compared to bro. if he in any way managed to outplay someone, they don't stand a chance in hell against his brother.

right? ]

Real as this has been, Mr. Stranger Danger who definitely did not deny my accusations, I've gotta go.

I also tracked you well beyond his scope. Your brother is pretty talented, I'll admit. But since his goal is to terrorize you and not to have a conversation, I figure I'm doing fine with my handicap.

[THAT was overplaying his hand. So he goes all in.]

My name's Dirk. Before you run off, tell me honestly: is this what you'd want if Rose or Jade or John were in your situation, and somebody showed up with the skills and resources to help them?

[ dirk gets to "rose" and dave hangs up. he stares at the payphone for a second or two but nope, the stranger danger scale just ratcheted up a level. even bro doesn't really talk about dave's friends.

he knows bro reads his conversations, of course. but bro never brings up his friends, not like that, not as a weapon. and holy shit, dave clearly needs the training if all he could do was clock a guy trailing him and not evade the man.

that sets up a fission of unease in the pit of his stomach. will bro be upset dave got followed? that he couldn't stop it immediately the way bro would've been able to do? is this a failed test?

there is exactly one way to find out. it has a .001% chance of working, because bro never really explains jack shit. but dave has to go home anyway, so...whatever. he'll start heading there, not bothering to take a weird route but cutting straight towards the apartment building instead. ]

[Roxy and Jake applaud him for his incredible people skills. Dirk tells them to shut up. But that means moving on to plan E, so Roxy and Jake start moving themselves into position while Roxy gives him the data to meet Dave on the way there.

Which is why Dave gets Dirk, looking incredibly long-suffering for a man with a deadpan, holding his hands up in the universal "I'm unarmed" gesture, in his way.]

Please. I'm tryin' to help. I'm not very good at it, it turns out, but my boss isn't really good at the whole terminatin' employees thing.

Look, if... some kind of Strife is what it takes for you to believe me, or the unveiling of my entire comicbook backstory or whatever, I'll do it. But your number's up, and it's my job to make sure you survive the next forty-eight hours. So... please help me do my job and keep you breathin'.

[This is bad. Dirk knows this is bad. Roxy manages to take enough of a break from what she's doing to tell him it's bad. English at least gives him an encouraging remark about him doing his best, which is possibly even more insulting.

He is Trying.]

[ dave really, really wants bro about now. shit. he never should have left home, he should have just asked bro yesterday if it was a training exercise. ]

S'not your job. My bro's my guardian, and I don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about, but I'll survive today and tomorrow and the day after just fine, thanks.

[ your number's up, what the fuck does that even mean? ]

And you might wanna get the fuck out of dodge if you ain't a part of this, 'cause if I clocked you, he sure as fuck did. Whatever fantasy you're tryin' to live up to here, maybe don't fuck with actual people for your roleplay thing? I'm bein' nice, but not everyone is gonna be.

It's my job because a dude who talks like Teddy Roosevelt pays me to stop people from being killed when we can see it coming.

[Seriously what the hell is up with English. Dirk will never get that. He talks like he's from the 1920s.]

Our information says that you're going to die in the next forty-eight hours. Twenty-four, now, since we got the information yesterday. Maybe less than that. And our information is never wrong.

[There are the repeat numbers, of course. But Dirk doesn't want to explain that yet. He thinks if he says 'abuse' the kid will stop humouring him.]

Edited 2017-03-07 08:03 (UTC)

Your info's wrong, then. I'm not gonna die. You're the most dangerous thing to happen to me in the past thirteen years.

[ besides which: ]

If you think for a second I'm gonna listen to some dude who appears out of the ether and goes "oh your number is up" like that fuckin' explains or means anythin', you've got another thing comin'. Take your ominous horse and pony show and sell it to someone else, man. Maybe you and Roosevelt can whistle up some business in DC. Governments are supposed to like that kinda shit, aren't they?

[ dave wouldn't know. he keeps his eyes on dirk, behind his shades, but starts walking again. he's barely humoring dirk as is, but he isn't bolting and he isn't attacking as of yet. ]

I've been told my people skills need work.

[Dirk will walk with him? It's better than the bolting. He might need to arrange something fast but right now Roxy and Jake are on time.]

As the government, we, uh, don't get along too well these days. [Because Dirk has a very Reese backstory. That's how you make Batman.]

I'm not that dangerous to you. The most you'd get fightin' me is a bruised ego, kid.

[ hopefully roxy and jake and dirk have a Plan here that accounts for the fact dave will bolt again and again if they take out bro. because holy shit he's never even considered calling it abuse and he has no idea who these people are and dirk's freaking him out even now. dave's jaw tightens when dirk falls into step with him, but as always he's too small and too weak to do a single fucking thing about the unease so he just pretends it doesn't exist.

he doesn't bother responding to yet another reminder that he can't stand his ground against anyone and the guy walking next to him could kick his ass. dave is used to being helpless - who cares if the stalker wants to remind him just how helpless he really is? ]

Not sure how many ways I can say "find someone else to bother", dude.

[ he can't even tell what this guy wants.

maybe it's just impossible to tell what any adult wants. or anyone at all. or maybe it's just impossible because none of them ever want anything dave actually has. maybe it doesn't even matter what they want, because they're always going to just take it anyway, and he's never going to be able to stop them. whatever the fuck this guy wants, he clearly can get around dave's meager attempts to stop him.

bro might help, but bro might not help.

sometimes dave wonders why he bothers getting cash to feed himself, or any of the rest of it. this is, right now, one of the times he's wondering that most strongly. he wants to be anywhere else, doing anything else, and no one is ever going to let that be a thing, not until their own agendas have been met and probably not even then. weird stalker dirk spins things a different way, but dave has the feeling as soon as he gets what he wants - what, for dave to play along in whatever hero roleplay he has going on? - he'll be gone or he'll want something else, and none of it is about dave so much as the cooked up fantasy.

granted, stalkers don't usually make shit about their victims, so that's not too surprising. but it'd be cool if he could at least be the star of his own show before he, like, got shanked in an alley or something. the question is whether or not dave cares enough to stop it at this point.

he's wondering if he wants to help it along, even. ]

Can you just go find someone else to do the hero roleplay with? I'm not gonna call the cops on you or whatever, so just...leave me alone.

That isn't exactly an option. Teddy R has a policy against refusing to take numbers. Once or twice, I've asked for it, but... this isn't one of situations where I'd be willing to drop the number even if he told me to.

[Not this number. Not Dave Strider, too skinny for his height and too wary for his age.]

It isn't about roleplayin' hero. If it were, that isn't really the role I'd be cast in. [because he has BLOOD ON HIS HANDS weh weh he is darkness he is the night whatever] If you knew somethin' bad was going to happen, and you had the power to stop it from happenin', would you really be able to just let it happen anyway?

Why the fuck do you keep referrin' to me as a number.

[ like, great, his stalker is just as happy to think of him as not a person as everyone else in his life, but it'd be great if that would just...stop. being a thing that people did?

he doesn't answer the question. ]

That's what we get the people we're supposed to look at as.

[Dirk holds out a piece of paper to Dave: his social security number, quickly jotted down in a messy orange pen.]

The information we get, that's it: a set of numbers that tell us where to look. We don't know if they're a good person or a bad person; all we know is that within forty-eight hours of their number showing up, they'll be involved in a violent crime leading to someone's death. The guy who invented the system said it was because he wanted to keep the human element in it.

We get it as a series of digits and then we have to learn what's happening and what to do. Who's involved, what's happening. We have to learn about them as people so we can figure out how to keep people alive.

[Holy shit he is glad English and Lalonde are busy because they would definitely not be happy with him saying this.]

[ dave takes the paper because it is handed to him and clearly he can't get away so why not. as to what dirk says? however unhappy his friends would be, it's the least wrong thing dirk has said so far, but it's not enough. ]

What system?

[ wary and disbelieving but he hasn't bolted yet. resigned to the conversation in a way that probably isn't good, but since when did anyone care about that?

he's not sure what his social security number is meant to prove. dave lives with bro. he doesn't really assume anything he does is private, though he does assume some people have the manners not to bring everything up. ]

I'd tell you, but that would ratchet you up from 'in danger from one threat to your life, right now,' to 'in danger always, from a lot of people.'

[He would like Dave to let him help him. He is not willing to let Dave get himself caught up in the biggest conspiracy the US government has ever wrapped itself up in.]

Look. You don't want my help, and I can get why. Do you really want me to just get lost?

[ ah. more mysterious bullshit. dave just stares at dirk, because why would he even care if he's in that much danger, and hands back his social security number. ]

Yes.

[ yes, he wants dirk to get lost. he doesn't need yet another adult with weird nebulous uncertain wants in his life. not another adult who won't explain a single fucking thing but assumes, always, that he knows best and that his way of handling things is the only way.

dave's expression, already closed off, shutters further. ]

I can handle myself, thanks. And if I ever can't, that's my business.

[Jesus Christ. Dirk watches the shutters close in that face. Why didn't they send Roxy to make contact? A weird bubbly mother figure was exactly what this kids needs. Not Dirk.]

Then I'll get lost.

[He hands a different piece of paper to Dave.]

This is my number. If you ever decide you'd like to handle it alone with someone else. Not expectin' you to keep it, but the offer is open-ended.

You and Teddy Roosevelt will leave me alone?

[ he doesn't move to take the piece of paper, watching dirk intently. he in no way shape or form believes this guy will stick to his word on anything. ] ]

No. [Bluntly honest.] But we won't bother you unless you contact us, or you're immediately about to die.

We can't make you let us help you, but we can't allow someone to die if we can stop it. This is the best compromise I can offer you.

Neither of those things is gonna happen.

[ he has no idea why this guy thinks he'll die, but he won't. dave spends his days in boring ways. he strifes bro, sure, but bro would never kill him. his brother is controlled in ways dave will never be. you can't kill someone in a fit of passionate rage if you don't have passion. or rage.

every hurt is directly intended in order to train dave to be something better than he is now. it will never go beyond that, and if it does...

dave supposes if it does, the plan has changed or he'll have become obsolete somehow. ]

Don't track my shit. You owe me fifteen bucks. [ and a new phone. ]

[Dirk literally goes into his pockets to get out his wallet and give Dave the money?]

Good counter-surveillance tactics.

[Fifteen dollars is now being offered to Dave.]

[

ok like he wasn't being entirely serious but since dirk DID force him to spend fifteen bucks in order to figure shit out (he is not sure if 15 dollars and half a day is good or bad, regardless of the praise?) dave will take the fifteen dollars and put it in his own wallet. which is mostly held together with duct tape but has a few random sbahj stickers on it. ]

Not good enough. [ bro's right. he needs to do better. ] I'd say "later" but I'm hopin' you'll just, like, disappear. So.

[ he will...TRY TO GO HOME NOW??? christ he probably has to deal with rose, if bro hasn't cooked up something new or decided dave failed at whatever this was (dave is...sort of certain this wasn't bro? now? but he's not 100%). ]

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