[Fic] Homestuck: The MacGuffin File
Title: The MacGuffin File
Author/Artists Writing by me; art by odifen and cephiedvariable
Fandom: Homestuck
Words: ~3000.
Rating: PG-13, for a little bit of violence
Summary: They say it's a lost Dostoyevsky manuscript; otherwise it's an unpublished Tchaikovsky sonata or Rachmaninov's fourth symphony. They say a lot of things, but for Agent Dave Strider of the CIA, the file means one thing: trouble.
Notes: For Round Three of the HSO! It placed... somewhere between seventh and ninth place, I don't know, there were a lot of ties. (I could whinge for days about not having had 1500 more words to tell this in; Jenn and Odie are champs; gatty was my gracious beta.)
> PAST DAVE: EXPOSIT
The name's STRIDER. DAVE STRIDER. The year--1955. The place--Budapest, Hungary, in a crappy hostel overlooking the ELIZABETH BRIDGE, because your handlers are a CHEAP TROLL and a RANK SADIST. But it could be worse. It could be Australia.
Your Cover Is A College Student On Exchange A Hostel Is The Most Appropriate Venue For Your Stay
She's absolutely right, Dave. Your charming, roguish baby face and inability to deal politely with any authority figure that doesn't hold your testes in a vicegrip make this the ideal way to get you into a hostile country.
You hate it when they do that.
ok fine whatever chief ill live
but when i get my ass rolled in a dark alleyway i expect you all to cry at my nice catholic funeral
rio grande pouring out of the cathedral wrecking everyones good shoes
maryam i know how much you love shoes
You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, don't be ridiculous.
damn right
so what exactly am i retrieving anyway
--wrong question. The two of them stare at you from across the chief's desk, and Agent Maryam speaks first.
Your Clearance Isnt High Enough To Know That Agent
Meet The Contact
Obtain The Envelope
Now Lets Talk About Your Wardrobe
Let's.
> PRESENT DAVE: ASSESS
And so you have in your possession: ONE SUIT (navy blue, pinstriped, jade green tie: courtesy of Agent Maryam, who doesn't trust you to make sartorial decisions), two sets of COLLEGE-STUDENT DUDS (generic), AVIATOR SUNGLASSES (suave), an assortment of TEXTBOOKS (obscure), and an ARRAY OF VERY FANCY SPY GADGETS whose exact nature will be revealed when, or if, the narrative demands their use.
> WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG?
Everything.
> NOW YOU'RE JUST BEING UNFAIR TO YOURSELF, COME ON, HOW HARD CAN THIS BE
Chief Lalonde says that a true secret agent maintains a supple, healthy core of self-doubt under a layer of paranoia beneath an aura of cool wrapped in a three-piece suit.
You suspect that she's just screwing with you. In fact, you're sure she is. But it's a good point.
> HAVE A NIGHT OUT ON THE TOWN
The nightclub is decadent in a thin, drab way, incredibly illegal, and in a massive bunker on the Pest side of the city. Where else would your contact pick? The walls are plastered with propaganda posters up to the ceiling; and the booze is cheap and plentiful, but all of it is unlabeled vodka smuggled over the Polish and Croat borders in the dead of night. And there is so much pálinka.
You'll stick to the vodka.
You take a shot of it straight, no chaser, and it burns down your throat like you imagine bleach would, or paint thinner. Your iron stomach earns you some appreciative glances from a few trolls sitting down the bar from you. And from Terezi Pyropova, actual exchange student from Leningrad, sitting under a poster advertising the Soviet Air Force, sipping something dubious and grinning at you.
> WELL, THAT'S NICE, BUT GO MEET YOUR CONTACT ALREADY, WE HAVE A FUCKTON OF STORY TO TELL AND NOT A LOT OF SPACE TO TELL IT IN
You catch sight of the back of his head in a booth that looks like it was salvaged from a wrecked airplane's seats. Dishonorably discharged from the Marines, defector to the Soviet Union, extreme double agent: he's risking his cover just being here.
And he's your big brother. Strider the elder looks at you over his glass of--yeah, it's pálinka, you should've tried it, fuck.
i mean if you had to give me a rough estimate
ballpark it for me big bro
please, i didn't even have time to, calm yourself, little man.
youre full of it
i see you're getting all paranoid
coming along nicely
and now you're doing big fancy pickups for the government, i am so proud.
You sit down, lean back against the back of the chair, and--
shit shit shit
see, you still don't keep your guard up
your allies are the ones you have to watch the closest, i taught you that
big brother is watching you.
shit
ok
do you have the thing im here for
of course, kid
and sit up straight, christ, be a little more suspicious-looking, why don't you
two amerikáncy or whatever meeting in a booth in a shady nightclub, nothing to see here, folks.
From the seat next to him, he picks up an enveloped marked both "Макгафин" and "麥高芬." They say it's plans for a missile defence shield. They say it's a lost Dostoyevsky manuscript; otherwise it's an unpublished Tchaikovsky sonata or Rachmaninov's fourth symphony. They say it contains blood slides from the troll Soviet premier, Feferi Peixes--rumored to be the only Tyrian purple blood in the world. They say a lot of things.
And now you have it sitting on the table in front of you. You think real hard about asking Bro how he got his hands on this, but decide against it; and when you look up again, he's vanished.
> WELL, THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNEXPECTED
So you go and see Terezi. You met her on the Elizabeth Bridge two days ago, and she showed you around Budapest, bought you gulyás and exclaimed over how red it was. The two of you debated ideology and morality and law, and then she shoved you into the Rhine when you tried to end the argument and laughed when you pulled yourself out, sopping wet and furious. It can't hurt to say goodbye to her.
> IT'S NOT LIKE THIS IS GOING TO END WITH YOU HANDCUFFED TO A CHAIR OR ANYTHING
What, no. That's just silly.
H3LLO H3NDSOM3 M4N, 4R3 YOU W4NT1NG--
> SWITCH THAT CONVERSATION RIGHT OVER TO RUSSIAN
Bitches love your immaculate command of Russian.
so whats a nice girl like you doing in a shitheap like this
4 N1CE GIRL NEEDS TO RELAX
YOU KNOW HOW BUSY 1 4M WITH MY STUD13S
too busy for me
that it
givin me the brush off pyropova
after all weve been through
first you throw me in the river now you throw me under the bus
hurts me right in my feeling parts
YOUR3 US3L3SS 1N TH1S C1TY W1THOUT M3, 1 WOULDNT L34V3 YOU ON YOUR OWN
That smile. That unhinged smile. Forget saying goodbye to her: if you play your cards right, this is going to be a very good evening.
dont be silly my animal instincts wouldve guided me
OH Y3S OF COURS3
4ND WH4TS 4N 4M3R1C4N BOY DO1NG 1N H3R3
WH4T 4 CO1NC1D3NC3
what no im canadian miss pyropova
maple syrup ice hockey bad beaver jokes
true north strong and free and whatever the french lyrics for it are
> FLAG DOWN THE BARTENDER, ORDER THE LADY A DRINK
You lean back on the bar, scanning the room for threats. Nope. Nothing. Comrade Pyropova shifts a little closer to you when your drinks come.
TH3 HOR1LK4 H3R3 1S D3L1C1OUS
TH3 OWN3R 1S UKR41N14N, SH3 M4K3S 1T 1N TH3 B4CK ROOM
> CONSIDER ASKING HER BLOOD COLOR
Shit, no. You've only known her for a few days, and communist trolls obscure their blood color, or else do their class symbols up in bright red, like the Sufferer did when he fought alongside Lenin. It's nice to know whether you're dealing with a highblood or a lowblood in bed -- whether she's going to levitate you off the ground or have naughty feelings about pulling your intestines out for streamers -- but she seems mellow enough for you to not want to worry about it. You guess rustblood -- goldblood, at the highest. Harmless psionic. Nothing to get the adrenaline racing, but you'll have enough of that until you're safe on the plane with the file.
WHY MR STR1D3R, YOUR3 ST4R1NG
yeah you caught me
fish out of water struck dumb by your proletarian beauty
flopping around gasping for air
quick comrade tell me about lysenkoism and collective agriculture
im ever so grateful for your assistance maam
A little too Good Southern Boy, but you don't think your accent carries over to Russian. Terezi takes a sip of her drink and and shuts her eyes and smiles like she's having something inappropriate done to her.
Which is the last thing you remember before blacking out.
> DAVE: WAKE UP
You're tied to a chair, for starters. Whoever did this to you didn't suspend a naked lightbulb over your head -- no, there's morning light creeping around the edges of the yellow-and-puce curtains. Those, and your chair, are the only pieces of furniture in the room. The walls are scrawled with chalk, but only at the very edges of your vision.
Points for style, at least.
Someone's shuffling around in the next room over. The pattern of footsteps means troll, and --
HOW DO YOU F33L, MR STR1D3R?
PL34S3 DON’T STRUGGL3 4G41NST TH3 KNOTS, TH3YLL ONLY G3T T1GHT3R
so is this the part where you tell me you spoke english all along
NO, 1 ONLY SP34K RUSS14N
BUT 1 D1DNT H4V3 TO L1ST3N TO YOUR CONV3RS4T1ON W1TH YOUR LUSUS F1GUR3 TO KNOW WH4T H4PP3N3D TH3R3
4FT3R 4LL, 1V3 B33N W4TCH1NG YOU S1NC3 YOU 3NT3R3D TH3 C1TY
She has. She has. You are so fucking stupid. She walks around front of you and leans against the wall. Her uniform says KGB, says legislacerator; the insignia and piping and class symbol are all in...
Teal. Teal means highblood.
There is no way you're getting out of here alive.
1 THOUGHT!
so i take it youre not an exchange student from leningrad
NOP3
> REMEMBER THE WORDS TO THE HAIL MARY
You rattle a quick one off in your head, then think hard about your escape routes once you've calmed down. A little. No, not at all, and the way she smiles says she can hear your heart is pounding.
In case of capture by a hostile highblood, the Company's policy says to get the everloving fuck out of there was soon as possible, and at any cost. Trolls don't think like humans, especially when you're at their mercy.
YOU 4R3 GO1NG TO 4NSW3R SOM3 QU3ST1ONS FOR M3 D4V3
1 C4N C4LL YOU D4V3, Y3S?
well seeing as youve been calling me dave for the last three days
BUT W3R3 M33T1NG 1N 4 PROF3SS1ONAL CONT3XT! 4ND 1 4M 4 CONSUMM4T3 PROF3SS1ON4L
sure call me whatever you want
NOW, DO YOU R3COGN1Z3 TH1S F1L3?
you know i do
3XC3LL3NT!
DO YOU KNOW WH4T 1T CONT41NS?
no
She pushes it up to your face, grinding it in.
1 WONT B3 H4PPY 1F 1 H4V3 TO 4SK YOU TW1C3
DO YOU KNOW TH3 CONT3NTS OF TH1S 3NV3LOP3?
(Failing that, cooperate through the pain and don't give away too many state secrets. And know that you died serving your country. You don't even know what's in that envelope, let alone why you should let yourself get killed for it. Fuck, that makes you mad. And Chief Lalonde wouldn't have sent you out here to die, not if there were a couple of legislacerators hunting in the city, so she must not have known. If she did, someone must have gone over her head. No wonder she gave you your pick of weapons.)
im not lying fuck why would i lie
TH4TS MY F4VOR1T3 TH1NG TO H34R P3OPL3 S4Y WH3N TH3Y'R3 B31NG 1NT3RROG4T3D
OF COURS3 YOU H4V3 3V3RY R34SON TO L13
4ND 1 H4V3 3V3RY R34SON TO F1ND OUT TH3 TRUTH!
4ND QU1T3 4 F3W M3THODS 4T MY D1SPOS4L
Then she draws her hand back way less than a human would need to to slap your face as hard as she does. Your head snaps to the side, and, sure enough--when you jerk, the ropes get tighter.
1 DO NOT 4PPR3C14T3 TH3 S4RC4SM, D4V3
4NSW3R TH3 QU3ST1ON
no fuck i have no idea whats in it
christ im just the messenger boy
She slaps you again. Harder. You didn't even know it got harder than that first one. Something on the inside of your mouth is cut and bleeding, but you won't give her the satisfaction of seeing you spit it out, so you grimace and swallow it.
WHO S3NT YOU?
youve been following me you gotta know at least that
Y3S, BUT 1 W4NT3D TO S33 1F YOU WOULD T3LL M3
CL34RLY YOU N33D MOR3
T3ND3R1Z1NG
There's something wrong here. You can't tell what, but it's niggling at you, you've gotta to be missing something. Terezi grins and leaves you alone with your bleeding mouth, and whatever it is will have to wait, because your stomach rumbles loud enough to drown out your thoughts.
> BE TENDERIZED
By the time Terezi comes back, the sun is bright behind the curtains and you've lost feeling in your left arm from ill-advised wriggling against the ropes. And you have to use the bathroom. That's getting to be one hell of a problem. She's got a few things under her arms, and she sets them down right out of your sight.
nice to see you
i was getting lonely for a little while there
and id twiddle my thumbs but there seems to be a logistical problem
by which i mean your knots are fucking insane
mind cutting me some literal slack here comrade
No response. She walks up to you to put your sunglasses on your face, but before she manages to get them on you catch sight of a fresh teal bruise spreading on her jaw, a few smears of blue--no, cerulean--blood that weren't there before.
All right. That makes sense. Trolls fight all the time, even communist ones.
> SHUT THE HELL UP AND PAY ATTENTION, YOU'RE ON TO SOMETHING HERE
1 SHOULD K1LL YOU
and im still alive here
how about that
you have the file you dont need any more from me
just send my body back as a warning
BUT 1 C4N ST1LL G3T OTH3R 1NFORM4T1ON OUT OF YOU
im operating alone in the city
total communications blackout
one checkin with my handlers when i arrive one when im about to leave
TH3R3 1S ONLY 4 V3RY SL1M CH4NC3 YOUR3 T3LL1NG M3 TH3 TRUTH
4ND MY M41N PR3OCCUP4T1ON 1S W1TH TH3 TRUTH
so hit me again
But she doesn't. God help you, she doesn't. Instead, she spins on her heels to pick up a stuffed animal, slips a slim noose around its neck, and hangs it from the curtain rod.
im trying hard not to thanks
can i at least go to the bathroom
H4H4H4H4H4H4H4 NO
> HAVE A SUDDEN REALIZATION
Legislacerators are a holdover from Tsarist Russia, and were officially absorbed into the First Chief Directorate, the anti-espionage unit, in 1947. Right after the war. They're deadly, they're vicious, and they never lose their quarry.
And they always work in pairs.
so wheres your partner
YOU NOT1C3D
of course i did
hell yes
one man observation machine right here
1 D1DNT TH1NK SH3 N33D3D TO B3 H3R3
H3R PR3S3NC3 WOULD H4V3 B33N R3DUND4NT, YOU S33M TO H4V3 4 V3RY W34K W1LL
cut the shit
Terezi advances on you, but then she stops and shakes herself out in that troll way that's halfway between shivering and vibrating. You've seen that look on her face before, that softening of the sharp lines of her face, when she wound her arms around your neck at the top of Géllert Hill, and, oh. That explains it. But you're sure she's still perfectly willing to pull out your throat, so no way are you working this angle.
SH3D K1LL YOU W1THOUT TH1NK1NG, OR 3LS3 D3L1V3R YOU TO TH3 PROP3R 4UTHOR1T13S
so you did this to save me
NO D4V3 NOT 4T 4LL
BUT 1 F1ND MYS3LF R3LUCT4NT TO HURT YOU
1TS TH3 STR4NG3ST TH1NG
1 H34R TH3YR3 WORK1NG ON 4 V4CC1N3 FOR TH4T, TH3YLL 1NNOCUL4T3 US WH3N W3R3 WR1GGL3RS
does it even work like that
1T DO3SNT
BUT W3 H4D FUN, D1DNT W3?
ok seriously can i please go to the bathroom now
my bladders pounding on the walls and crying here
And the thing is, you did have fun. You really did. It could have started to feel like troll serendipity, before she drugged you and tied you to a chair.
Then Terezi hits you again, and a fresh wave of blood fills your mouth. You spit it in the floor this time. While you're distracted, she snaps the ropes holding you down and claws you deep down your left forearm, hard enough to make you shout and swear in pain.
SH3 N33DS TO SM3LL TH4T 1 D1D MY JOB
3V3N 1F H3R NOS3 1SNT 4S GOOD 4S M1N3
SH3LL B3 4BL3 TO TR4CK YOU BY TH3 BLOOD 4S LONG 4S YOUR3 ST1LL BL33D1NG, SO G3T 1T CL34N3D 4S SOON 4S POSS1BL3
UND3RSTOOD?
nice knowing you terezi
GOODBY3, 4G3NT STR1D3R
She wets her fingers in the blood dripping down your arm and gives you the best fucking kiss of your life, and she's the one who breaks away, in the end. You don't realize you're clinging to her uniform jacket until she plucks your uninjured hand off of her and points toward the door.
> GO TO THE BATHROOM
The window is unlocked, and you're only on the first floor. You grab a towel to wrap around your arm and run, fast and far as you can. You don't look back: not at the blood you're trailing, not at Terezi Pyropova's empty eyes boring holes in your back as you go.
Author/Artists Writing by me; art by odifen and cephiedvariable
Fandom: Homestuck
Words: ~3000.
Rating: PG-13, for a little bit of violence
Summary: They say it's a lost Dostoyevsky manuscript; otherwise it's an unpublished Tchaikovsky sonata or Rachmaninov's fourth symphony. They say a lot of things, but for Agent Dave Strider of the CIA, the file means one thing: trouble.
Notes: For Round Three of the HSO! It placed... somewhere between seventh and ninth place, I don't know, there were a lot of ties. (I could whinge for days about not having had 1500 more words to tell this in; Jenn and Odie are champs; gatty was my gracious beta.)
> PAST DAVE: EXPOSIT
The name's STRIDER. DAVE STRIDER. The year--1955. The place--Budapest, Hungary, in a crappy hostel overlooking the ELIZABETH BRIDGE, because your handlers are a CHEAP TROLL and a RANK SADIST. But it could be worse. It could be Australia.
Your Cover Is A College Student On Exchange A Hostel Is The Most Appropriate Venue For Your Stay
She's absolutely right, Dave. Your charming, roguish baby face and inability to deal politely with any authority figure that doesn't hold your testes in a vicegrip make this the ideal way to get you into a hostile country.
You hate it when they do that.
ok fine whatever chief ill live
but when i get my ass rolled in a dark alleyway i expect you all to cry at my nice catholic funeral
rio grande pouring out of the cathedral wrecking everyones good shoes
maryam i know how much you love shoes
You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, don't be ridiculous.
damn right
so what exactly am i retrieving anyway
--wrong question. The two of them stare at you from across the chief's desk, and Agent Maryam speaks first.
Your Clearance Isnt High Enough To Know That Agent
Meet The Contact
Obtain The Envelope
Now Lets Talk About Your Wardrobe
Let's.
> PRESENT DAVE: ASSESS
And so you have in your possession: ONE SUIT (navy blue, pinstriped, jade green tie: courtesy of Agent Maryam, who doesn't trust you to make sartorial decisions), two sets of COLLEGE-STUDENT DUDS (generic), AVIATOR SUNGLASSES (suave), an assortment of TEXTBOOKS (obscure), and an ARRAY OF VERY FANCY SPY GADGETS whose exact nature will be revealed when, or if, the narrative demands their use.
> WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG?
Everything.
> NOW YOU'RE JUST BEING UNFAIR TO YOURSELF, COME ON, HOW HARD CAN THIS BE
Chief Lalonde says that a true secret agent maintains a supple, healthy core of self-doubt under a layer of paranoia beneath an aura of cool wrapped in a three-piece suit.
You suspect that she's just screwing with you. In fact, you're sure she is. But it's a good point.
> HAVE A NIGHT OUT ON THE TOWN
The nightclub is decadent in a thin, drab way, incredibly illegal, and in a massive bunker on the Pest side of the city. Where else would your contact pick? The walls are plastered with propaganda posters up to the ceiling; and the booze is cheap and plentiful, but all of it is unlabeled vodka smuggled over the Polish and Croat borders in the dead of night. And there is so much pálinka.
You'll stick to the vodka.
You take a shot of it straight, no chaser, and it burns down your throat like you imagine bleach would, or paint thinner. Your iron stomach earns you some appreciative glances from a few trolls sitting down the bar from you. And from Terezi Pyropova, actual exchange student from Leningrad, sitting under a poster advertising the Soviet Air Force, sipping something dubious and grinning at you.
> WELL, THAT'S NICE, BUT GO MEET YOUR CONTACT ALREADY, WE HAVE A FUCKTON OF STORY TO TELL AND NOT A LOT OF SPACE TO TELL IT IN
You catch sight of the back of his head in a booth that looks like it was salvaged from a wrecked airplane's seats. Dishonorably discharged from the Marines, defector to the Soviet Union, extreme double agent: he's risking his cover just being here.
And he's your big brother. Strider the elder looks at you over his glass of--yeah, it's pálinka, you should've tried it, fuck.
i mean if you had to give me a rough estimate
ballpark it for me big bro
please, i didn't even have time to, calm yourself, little man.
youre full of it
i see you're getting all paranoid
coming along nicely
and now you're doing big fancy pickups for the government, i am so proud.
You sit down, lean back against the back of the chair, and--
shit shit shit
see, you still don't keep your guard up
your allies are the ones you have to watch the closest, i taught you that
big brother is watching you.
shit
ok
do you have the thing im here for
of course, kid
and sit up straight, christ, be a little more suspicious-looking, why don't you
two amerikáncy or whatever meeting in a booth in a shady nightclub, nothing to see here, folks.
From the seat next to him, he picks up an enveloped marked both "Макгафин" and "麥高芬." They say it's plans for a missile defence shield. They say it's a lost Dostoyevsky manuscript; otherwise it's an unpublished Tchaikovsky sonata or Rachmaninov's fourth symphony. They say it contains blood slides from the troll Soviet premier, Feferi Peixes--rumored to be the only Tyrian purple blood in the world. They say a lot of things.
And now you have it sitting on the table in front of you. You think real hard about asking Bro how he got his hands on this, but decide against it; and when you look up again, he's vanished.
> WELL, THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNEXPECTED
So you go and see Terezi. You met her on the Elizabeth Bridge two days ago, and she showed you around Budapest, bought you gulyás and exclaimed over how red it was. The two of you debated ideology and morality and law, and then she shoved you into the Rhine when you tried to end the argument and laughed when you pulled yourself out, sopping wet and furious. It can't hurt to say goodbye to her.
> IT'S NOT LIKE THIS IS GOING TO END WITH YOU HANDCUFFED TO A CHAIR OR ANYTHING
What, no. That's just silly.
H3LLO H3NDSOM3 M4N, 4R3 YOU W4NT1NG--
> SWITCH THAT CONVERSATION RIGHT OVER TO RUSSIAN
Bitches love your immaculate command of Russian.
so whats a nice girl like you doing in a shitheap like this
4 N1CE GIRL NEEDS TO RELAX
YOU KNOW HOW BUSY 1 4M WITH MY STUD13S
too busy for me
that it
givin me the brush off pyropova
after all weve been through
first you throw me in the river now you throw me under the bus
hurts me right in my feeling parts
YOUR3 US3L3SS 1N TH1S C1TY W1THOUT M3, 1 WOULDNT L34V3 YOU ON YOUR OWN
That smile. That unhinged smile. Forget saying goodbye to her: if you play your cards right, this is going to be a very good evening.
dont be silly my animal instincts wouldve guided me
OH Y3S OF COURS3
4ND WH4TS 4N 4M3R1C4N BOY DO1NG 1N H3R3
WH4T 4 CO1NC1D3NC3
what no im canadian miss pyropova
maple syrup ice hockey bad beaver jokes
true north strong and free and whatever the french lyrics for it are
> FLAG DOWN THE BARTENDER, ORDER THE LADY A DRINK
You lean back on the bar, scanning the room for threats. Nope. Nothing. Comrade Pyropova shifts a little closer to you when your drinks come.
TH3 HOR1LK4 H3R3 1S D3L1C1OUS
TH3 OWN3R 1S UKR41N14N, SH3 M4K3S 1T 1N TH3 B4CK ROOM
> CONSIDER ASKING HER BLOOD COLOR
Shit, no. You've only known her for a few days, and communist trolls obscure their blood color, or else do their class symbols up in bright red, like the Sufferer did when he fought alongside Lenin. It's nice to know whether you're dealing with a highblood or a lowblood in bed -- whether she's going to levitate you off the ground or have naughty feelings about pulling your intestines out for streamers -- but she seems mellow enough for you to not want to worry about it. You guess rustblood -- goldblood, at the highest. Harmless psionic. Nothing to get the adrenaline racing, but you'll have enough of that until you're safe on the plane with the file.
WHY MR STR1D3R, YOUR3 ST4R1NG
yeah you caught me
fish out of water struck dumb by your proletarian beauty
flopping around gasping for air
quick comrade tell me about lysenkoism and collective agriculture
im ever so grateful for your assistance maam
A little too Good Southern Boy, but you don't think your accent carries over to Russian. Terezi takes a sip of her drink and and shuts her eyes and smiles like she's having something inappropriate done to her.
Which is the last thing you remember before blacking out.
> DAVE: WAKE UP
You're tied to a chair, for starters. Whoever did this to you didn't suspend a naked lightbulb over your head -- no, there's morning light creeping around the edges of the yellow-and-puce curtains. Those, and your chair, are the only pieces of furniture in the room. The walls are scrawled with chalk, but only at the very edges of your vision.
Points for style, at least.
Someone's shuffling around in the next room over. The pattern of footsteps means troll, and --
HOW DO YOU F33L, MR STR1D3R?
PL34S3 DON’T STRUGGL3 4G41NST TH3 KNOTS, TH3YLL ONLY G3T T1GHT3R
so is this the part where you tell me you spoke english all along
NO, 1 ONLY SP34K RUSS14N
BUT 1 D1DNT H4V3 TO L1ST3N TO YOUR CONV3RS4T1ON W1TH YOUR LUSUS F1GUR3 TO KNOW WH4T H4PP3N3D TH3R3
4FT3R 4LL, 1V3 B33N W4TCH1NG YOU S1NC3 YOU 3NT3R3D TH3 C1TY
She has. She has. You are so fucking stupid. She walks around front of you and leans against the wall. Her uniform says KGB, says legislacerator; the insignia and piping and class symbol are all in...
Teal. Teal means highblood.
There is no way you're getting out of here alive.
1 THOUGHT!
so i take it youre not an exchange student from leningrad
NOP3
> REMEMBER THE WORDS TO THE HAIL MARY
You rattle a quick one off in your head, then think hard about your escape routes once you've calmed down. A little. No, not at all, and the way she smiles says she can hear your heart is pounding.
In case of capture by a hostile highblood, the Company's policy says to get the everloving fuck out of there was soon as possible, and at any cost. Trolls don't think like humans, especially when you're at their mercy.
YOU 4R3 GO1NG TO 4NSW3R SOM3 QU3ST1ONS FOR M3 D4V3
1 C4N C4LL YOU D4V3, Y3S?
well seeing as youve been calling me dave for the last three days
BUT W3R3 M33T1NG 1N 4 PROF3SS1ONAL CONT3XT! 4ND 1 4M 4 CONSUMM4T3 PROF3SS1ON4L
sure call me whatever you want
NOW, DO YOU R3COGN1Z3 TH1S F1L3?
you know i do
3XC3LL3NT!
DO YOU KNOW WH4T 1T CONT41NS?
no
She pushes it up to your face, grinding it in.
1 WONT B3 H4PPY 1F 1 H4V3 TO 4SK YOU TW1C3
DO YOU KNOW TH3 CONT3NTS OF TH1S 3NV3LOP3?
(Failing that, cooperate through the pain and don't give away too many state secrets. And know that you died serving your country. You don't even know what's in that envelope, let alone why you should let yourself get killed for it. Fuck, that makes you mad. And Chief Lalonde wouldn't have sent you out here to die, not if there were a couple of legislacerators hunting in the city, so she must not have known. If she did, someone must have gone over her head. No wonder she gave you your pick of weapons.)
im not lying fuck why would i lie
TH4TS MY F4VOR1T3 TH1NG TO H34R P3OPL3 S4Y WH3N TH3Y'R3 B31NG 1NT3RROG4T3D
OF COURS3 YOU H4V3 3V3RY R34SON TO L13
4ND 1 H4V3 3V3RY R34SON TO F1ND OUT TH3 TRUTH!
4ND QU1T3 4 F3W M3THODS 4T MY D1SPOS4L
Then she draws her hand back way less than a human would need to to slap your face as hard as she does. Your head snaps to the side, and, sure enough--when you jerk, the ropes get tighter.
1 DO NOT 4PPR3C14T3 TH3 S4RC4SM, D4V3
4NSW3R TH3 QU3ST1ON
no fuck i have no idea whats in it
christ im just the messenger boy
She slaps you again. Harder. You didn't even know it got harder than that first one. Something on the inside of your mouth is cut and bleeding, but you won't give her the satisfaction of seeing you spit it out, so you grimace and swallow it.
WHO S3NT YOU?
youve been following me you gotta know at least that
Y3S, BUT 1 W4NT3D TO S33 1F YOU WOULD T3LL M3
CL34RLY YOU N33D MOR3
T3ND3R1Z1NG
There's something wrong here. You can't tell what, but it's niggling at you, you've gotta to be missing something. Terezi grins and leaves you alone with your bleeding mouth, and whatever it is will have to wait, because your stomach rumbles loud enough to drown out your thoughts.
> BE TENDERIZED
By the time Terezi comes back, the sun is bright behind the curtains and you've lost feeling in your left arm from ill-advised wriggling against the ropes. And you have to use the bathroom. That's getting to be one hell of a problem. She's got a few things under her arms, and she sets them down right out of your sight.
nice to see you
i was getting lonely for a little while there
and id twiddle my thumbs but there seems to be a logistical problem
by which i mean your knots are fucking insane
mind cutting me some literal slack here comrade
No response. She walks up to you to put your sunglasses on your face, but before she manages to get them on you catch sight of a fresh teal bruise spreading on her jaw, a few smears of blue--no, cerulean--blood that weren't there before.
All right. That makes sense. Trolls fight all the time, even communist ones.
> SHUT THE HELL UP AND PAY ATTENTION, YOU'RE ON TO SOMETHING HERE
1 SHOULD K1LL YOU
and im still alive here
how about that
you have the file you dont need any more from me
just send my body back as a warning
BUT 1 C4N ST1LL G3T OTH3R 1NFORM4T1ON OUT OF YOU
im operating alone in the city
total communications blackout
one checkin with my handlers when i arrive one when im about to leave
TH3R3 1S ONLY 4 V3RY SL1M CH4NC3 YOUR3 T3LL1NG M3 TH3 TRUTH
4ND MY M41N PR3OCCUP4T1ON 1S W1TH TH3 TRUTH
so hit me again
But she doesn't. God help you, she doesn't. Instead, she spins on her heels to pick up a stuffed animal, slips a slim noose around its neck, and hangs it from the curtain rod.
im trying hard not to thanks
can i at least go to the bathroom
H4H4H4H4H4H4H4 NO
> HAVE A SUDDEN REALIZATION
Legislacerators are a holdover from Tsarist Russia, and were officially absorbed into the First Chief Directorate, the anti-espionage unit, in 1947. Right after the war. They're deadly, they're vicious, and they never lose their quarry.
And they always work in pairs.
so wheres your partner
YOU NOT1C3D
of course i did
hell yes
one man observation machine right here
1 D1DNT TH1NK SH3 N33D3D TO B3 H3R3
H3R PR3S3NC3 WOULD H4V3 B33N R3DUND4NT, YOU S33M TO H4V3 4 V3RY W34K W1LL
cut the shit
Terezi advances on you, but then she stops and shakes herself out in that troll way that's halfway between shivering and vibrating. You've seen that look on her face before, that softening of the sharp lines of her face, when she wound her arms around your neck at the top of Géllert Hill, and, oh. That explains it. But you're sure she's still perfectly willing to pull out your throat, so no way are you working this angle.
SH3D K1LL YOU W1THOUT TH1NK1NG, OR 3LS3 D3L1V3R YOU TO TH3 PROP3R 4UTHOR1T13S
so you did this to save me
NO D4V3 NOT 4T 4LL
BUT 1 F1ND MYS3LF R3LUCT4NT TO HURT YOU
1TS TH3 STR4NG3ST TH1NG
1 H34R TH3YR3 WORK1NG ON 4 V4CC1N3 FOR TH4T, TH3YLL 1NNOCUL4T3 US WH3N W3R3 WR1GGL3RS
does it even work like that
1T DO3SNT
BUT W3 H4D FUN, D1DNT W3?
ok seriously can i please go to the bathroom now
my bladders pounding on the walls and crying here
And the thing is, you did have fun. You really did. It could have started to feel like troll serendipity, before she drugged you and tied you to a chair.
Then Terezi hits you again, and a fresh wave of blood fills your mouth. You spit it in the floor this time. While you're distracted, she snaps the ropes holding you down and claws you deep down your left forearm, hard enough to make you shout and swear in pain.
SH3 N33DS TO SM3LL TH4T 1 D1D MY JOB
3V3N 1F H3R NOS3 1SNT 4S GOOD 4S M1N3
SH3LL B3 4BL3 TO TR4CK YOU BY TH3 BLOOD 4S LONG 4S YOUR3 ST1LL BL33D1NG, SO G3T 1T CL34N3D 4S SOON 4S POSS1BL3
UND3RSTOOD?
nice knowing you terezi
GOODBY3, 4G3NT STR1D3R
She wets her fingers in the blood dripping down your arm and gives you the best fucking kiss of your life, and she's the one who breaks away, in the end. You don't realize you're clinging to her uniform jacket until she plucks your uninjured hand off of her and points toward the door.
> GO TO THE BATHROOM
The window is unlocked, and you're only on the first floor. You grab a towel to wrap around your arm and run, fast and far as you can. You don't look back: not at the blood you're trailing, not at Terezi Pyropova's empty eyes boring holes in your back as you go.