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

They're not, like, porning it up though. Are they? That seems illegal if they are.

[ HE'S PRETTY SURE although don't quote him on that.

uh. shit. he should probably get something to blend. despite dirk ordering a larger meal, dave ends up asking for a grilled cheese and a water. egbert liked grilled cheese, and the state of the strider kitchen pretty much meant dave had never really had one. may as well live it up!

that's like the cheapest sandwich he could get, though. ]

I assume it's pretty tame. [He's never been in one??? Not his kink, for one thing.] Did they tell you the table they're sittin' at?

[So that they can position themselves to be nosy eavesdroppers/observers.

Dirk would tell Dave he can order AJ but that's probably Being Creepy so he'll resist? Honestly a grilled cheese sandwich is better than what this kid usually eats. Maybe he'll manage to get him to take some cookies home.]

Yep. But you can probs guess which one.

[ they are. green lantern fanatics? the group near the back with shirts and shit is a good guess. dave will meander towards a booth with a good line of sight within hearing for dirk to get his creep on at, with the bonus of slotting dave himself with a wall to his back ]

Do you only work in Texas?

[He can but he likes letting Dave try out his own skill set? He nods at his positioning.] Clear line of sight between yourself, the target, and all exits, and no chance of approach from behind. Good choice.

[Casually noted like all the rest of his positive feedback has been.]

We work exclusively in Houston.

[ oh. more compliments. dave is grateful for the shades, because his eyes go wide for a split second as he stares, and. dirk doesn't need to see that?

he clears his throat. ]

So what happens to the people not in Houston?

They die. The Machine witnesses their deaths but is unable to send any human agents to intervene. There isn't anyone for it to tell.

[ right. no one's listening. he can ask. ]

Why? You indicated it was a government...whatever. Why isn't there a damn task force or anythin'?

Because the government doesn't care. [As simple as that.] They wanted the Machine to detect acts of terror. It gives them the relevant numbers list: the people it should look at to stop large groups of people from dying. They aren't interested in what is called the irrelevant numbers. Maybe some of them might care a little, possibly, but acting on that information wouldn't be worth the risk of the Machine being discovered. So the so-called irrelevant numbers are discarded while the government works the rest.

Huh.

[ FOR SOME REASON, HE FEELS BETTER ABOUT BEING CALLED AN "IRRELEVANT NUMBER" THAN HE HAS ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE DIRK HAS SAID? ]

Is that why you, like, quit. Wait no that wouldn't make sense you said you started up 'cause you didn't have another thing to do.

[Dave, you're an idiot.]

'Quitting' might be the wrong word for it. The CIA tried to kill me and my partner. I'd been asking too many questions about how we got our information, which meant I was gettin' too close to the Machine. They thought they succeeded in killing me.

[But he made it out alive, just barely, because he has insane Battle Continuation skills. He'd dragged himself home for the people he loved and found that they weren't there.

He didn't die then, but he was moving closer and closer to it until English found him and gave him a job.]

Oh my god why does everything out of your mouth sound ridiculous.

[ - WAIT ]

Not. To shit on your tragic batman backstory? I mean. Hm.

[ nope. can't save it. ]

Is there anyone who isn't tryin' to kill or arrest you?

[A pause.]

English's pet dog really likes me.

...Got anyone else for this category besides one dog?

[ DIRK?????? ]

Lalonde and English are on my team. Crocker gave up on arresting me.

[...]

You haven't tried to kill me yet.

Doesn't count, I've tried to hurt you before.

[ SO HE IS AT LEAST MIDDLE OF THE ROAD, CLEARLY. ]

You haven't today.

Super tempted to.

[ not actually. BUT HE CAN THROW A SUGAR PACKET AT DIRK. ]

[Which Dirk easily catches. And pours into his orange juice THINGS ARE WRONG WITH HIM.]

Guess I'll just have to keep on my toes.

[ dave makes a face what the fuck are you doing to that poor innocent juice, dirk? ]

Do your creepazoid impression. [ because either they brought their food with them or it's here and dave will. focus on that a bit ok. ]

[He's making it more delicious. And sipping his juice as he watches the group for tensions, violence, etc etc.]

[ dave will start eating his grilled cheese, carefully and like an explorer. he will also like. ignore the group save for paying attention to loud sounds so if someone starts shooting give him a heads up or smth ]

[Half of Dirk's attention is on Dave eating because good? Eat that good. Get sustenance.

The group is loud, but energetic and vocal is actually promising. Very loud people are usually not quietly conspiring to commit murder. Their mark shows up and Dirk sort of... shifts, and it's weird but he becomes even less noticeable. Somehow. The magic of blending.

He mostly drinks his orange juice? It's a waste of a panini. He'll probably package it to go and give Dave the cookies to take home if he can.]

[ dave reacts to the change in dirk by slouching in his seat and acting completely bored and taken in with his sandwich. it's a studied sort of casual that most people would buy easily: bored teenager, move on. to dirk it's probably more like watching a cat's hair stand on end. should be good enough if anyone bothers to glance their way, however, especially when he pulls out his phone to scroll through a few sites without absorbing any of the information.

he does raise his eyebrows pointedly at the panini, though. what a waste of food? ]

[Dirk shoves one of the cookies in his mouth. He goes up to the counter and grabs some stuff: panini goes into a container and the cookies in another one. Both are handed to Dave.]

Nothin' actually murderous here, so no need to risk being identified again. Let's go back to your first lead and see what he's up to. You can take those home if you want.

[ there's a crack in dave's forced cool as he reacts for all intents and purposes like dirk just handed him a live bomb. when was the last time anyone ever just handed him food? the sandwich was one thing but jesus dirk has spent more on shit for dave in the past hour or two than anyone else has spent in the past month, probably. he so did not earn this.

making a scene about being handed food in a cafe with a latvian monster would probably be ill advised, though. dave...refrains from doing more than flinching. ]

Right. After you?

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