Ustuck: Get Recruited by Troll Mafia [Closed RP]

Closed Homestuck RP. No-SBURB AU. Warnings for canon-typical violence and swears.

 

Your name is LUKASZ FEHRRE and you are fucking SWIMMING IN SWEATERS.

It is, as usual, your BELOVED LUSUS's fault. You swear, all she does between her CONSTANT MOTHERING and bringing home desiccated hoofbeast corpses for you to eat is knit the damn things. They drape every inch of your MODEST RESPITEBLOCK, and frankly it is getting annoying.

When you're not drowning in a sea of woolbeast shavings, you are usually watching movies some would call WELL PAST THEIR PRIME but you would call GRACEFULLY AGED. Sometimes you have been known to binge watch well past the point the BLISTERING ALTERNIAN SUN begins to poke its burning, carnelian fingers through the gaps in your fenestral hangings. This brings your lusus no end of worry, but again, this is pretty much BUSINESS AS USUAL.

You are also something of a dilettante in the art of INTERIOR DESIGN, which is harder than it sounds when you refuse to decorate with any sort of color. You will be the first to admit you have some SERIOUS CASTE ISSUES, which is why you prefer a NICE, HEMOANONYMOUS GRAY. Your strife specibus is MACEKIND, and you consider yourself an expert in the most ancient and noble art of swinging around a pointy stick until it hits something. You are a master of ALL THE CRAFTING ARTS (all of them), though you are not PROUD OF THIS FACT.

Your trolltag is sibilantZygaenid and you szpeak with a liszp on czertain szoundsz.

Your social life consists almost entirely of lurking about INTERNET CHATROOMS, but something about your attitude always seems to push people away. Keeping a PARANOID SECRET makes it hard to keep friends. But you can't do anything to fix that. What you can fix is these sweaters.

What do you do?

 

> Lukasz: Captchalogue sweaters.

You start with picking out the ones your darling, pushy, WELL-INTENTIONED lusus haven’t dyed the hideous color of your blood. You'd absolutely love to be rid of those, but frankly you cannot be caught dead with that sort of evidence.

You CAPTCHALOGUE the sweaters into your SYLLADEX, which is set to COCOON FETCH MODUS. There are worse moduses, you suppose, but it is not fun having to find a stick every time you want to carry something.

> Lukasz: Find stick.

There you are. All trucked up like a BONA FIDE BINDLESTIFF.

You swaddle up in your hoodie like a bug and get set to set out. You’ll need to move quick to reach the marketplace before the captchacoon hatches. You do not want to be around when the captchacoon hatches.

First, though, you have to fend off the doting of your lusus.

> ==>

You try to sneak out with an acrobatic fucking pirouette. Unfortunately, cocoon bindles were not designed for pirouettes, and your maneuver is neither sneaky nor acrobatic.

As you lie there on the floor, contemplating the life choices that brought you to this point, your lusus flutters down from the ceiling like a featherbeast’s down in a wafting breeze. That graceful bitch.

Why, hello, Bugmom. No, it’s okay, you’re fine. Not like this is the first time you’ve forgot about the cocoon. You close your eyes and prepare yourself to be assaulted with parenting.

> GRIEF!

Bugmom, quit it. You can get up on your own. You’re not a grub. Stop fussing with your hair! It’s fine. You like it like this. Yes, you’ve brushed your teeth. No, you do not need a sweater. Especially that one. Because it’s got your blood color all over it, do you have to keep saying it?!

But she has already shoved one new sweater in your hands. Then two. Then five. Also an extra bristlestick, just in case you need to brush your teeth on the way. And you can’t carry all this, the one captchacoon is heavy enough. You collapse on the floor again, this time pinned underneath a pile of your lusus’s affection.

You’re going to have to think fast if you want to get out of this one. You think fast, and have an idea. It’s a long shot, but it’s all you have. You take your bristlestick and, with a coordination born of desperation and plot necessity, hurl it at the switch for the incandescence prong at the end of the room.

The prong bathes the room in sudden light. Your lusus turns, entranced. She stops griefing and leaves you on the floor, drawn to the light like…like a…huh. There’s a metaphor for this sort of thing, you just know it. Ah, well. It’ll come to you.

You wriggle out of the affection pile and pick up your bindle. Your lusus is still staring at the prong—it’ll be tilts before she can snap herself out of it—so you don’t even bother being quiet when you open the door. Bye, Bugmom, you tell her giddily. You’d love to stay and chat, but you think you hear the captchacoon gestating! Don’t redecorate the respiteblock while you’re gone!!

Whew, you think as you set off. That could’ve gotten ugly.

> ==>

The marketplace isn’t that far from your hiveblock. You move as fast as you can without accidentally bumping into, tripping over, or making eye contact with anyone. If there’s anything you’ve learned over the sweeps, it’s that anonymity is your best and only friend.

You’re about halfway to the main square when your bindle starts wriggling. The captchacoon is getting antsy. If you don’t get rid of these sweaters soon, you’ll have to dump your whole modus in the middle of the square, and if that's not a good way to draw attention to yourself you don't know what is. You'll have to just pick the first shop you find and hope whoever’s there won’t ask too many questions.



You pick the wrong shop.

 

Your name is Kezria Maalme and you are a COLLECTOR.

Well, most people, including your moirail, just call you a HOARDER but you like to think you COLLECT COLLECTIONS.

For example, over there, on display are some bones you’ve found. That box contains bottle caps. This box and that book are for your fiduspawn cards. You don’t get to play as often as you’d like and you long ago gave up trying to COLLECT THEM ALL. Mostly. NOT REALLY. You have some FLARP books over there. And that BOX is actually filled with other little BOXES. You have a weakness for cute boxes. This book contains the sigil for every troll you’ve come across, along with hemocaste and lusus if the information’s available. You don't know what you want the information for, you just find it fun to collect it.

You also collect WEAPONS. You don’t necessarily know how to use them all, but you figure stabbing and bludgeoning work well with most weapons. Your strife specibus is ARMORYKIND. However, it's broken so it just spits out a weapon at you at random and you just kind of roll with it. You still don't know what to do with a fancy santa yet though.

You love computers and the internet. It's how you met a lot people after all! Your trollhandle is faithfulIntellect, and (you can get very {EXCITED} when you type sometimes)

Since you have so much STUFF, you also run a pawn shop in front of your hive for when you have extra stuff. You mostly barter, but sometimes you deal in favors.

Speaking of, there's someone new in your shop now!

You wave enthusiastically at the newcomer. "Hello! How are you? Welcome to my shop! What do you have there? Would you like to trade for something?"

 

> ==>

There is a shoptroll waving at you. At least, you think it's you she's waving at. You look around to see if there's anyone behind you. No. Dammit.

You have a sudden urge to shrink inside your hoodie. You are told this is how the great shellbeasts of the Alternian oceans survive the many predators that live to feast on their innards. But she did say something about trading, and that is what you came here to do. So, warily, you approach the troll.

"Um," you say, not quite able to look her in the eye. "Hi. Eh. Sweaters. Sure."

 

You completely fail to notice how uncomfortable the other troll is.

"Oh, sweaters, that's cool! Did you make them yourself?" Without waiting for them to answer, you just plow on. "What kinds of things were you looking for in return? I'm sure we can work out something! Geez, that looks heavy, did you have to walk very far? Do you want some help with that?" You go around the counter and start walking over to help.

 

> ==>

You move back a few steps, in a manner that you are sure looks very dignified and purposeful. This troll is certainly quite...assertive. You undo the captchacoon before she can get any closer, dumping sweaters in various shades of gray and black all over the floor.

"Ah, no, my lusus made them. She's always doing things like that. I just had to get rid of them." You pause, thinking. "Um, maybe if you had some food? I get tired of eating hoofbeast meat all the time. Or, furniture?" You're not sure if this shop sells that. Actually, you're not sure what this shop sells, really. It's kind of all over the place.

 

You finally catch the drift when the troll takes a few steps back as you were walking toward them. You stop and put your hands behind your back and smile without showing any teeth, trying to be non-threatening.

"Okay, cool! Hmm... I think I do have a bunch of canned veggies and meat and other non perishables over... there" You look around a bit and then point at the back right corner, behind the troll. "Or if you'd like I can see what I have in my thermal hull. Oh, by the way I don't think I got your name! I'm Kezria."

 

> ==>

"Uh. Lukasz." You start to reach forward to shake her hand, only remembering about halfway through that you don't really want to. So your hand is sort of hanging there awkwardly. You try to pass it off as a half-hearted wave. You think it works. "No, I don't need you to check. I can just grab stuff myself. Um, how much can I get for this?" you ask, pointing at the sweaters.

 

You look at the pile of sweaters. That is a lot of sweaters. You say this out loud. "That is a lot of sweaters. Uh..." You always hate it when people ask how much you want for something. You much prefer when they give you an offer and then you can haggle from there. You do some calculations in your head. "Since you have so many of them, one foodstuff per one or two sweaters. I don't think I have enough food to give you more than that anyway."

You go back behind the counter to get your transaction book and start writing things down. "Oh... By the way, I hope you don't mind me asking. But I kind of collect things and I was wondering what your hemocaste is? And maybe what kind of lusus you have? See, I have this book..." You trail off as you decaptchalogue the book in question. You know it's a weird question and that you honestly probably shouldn't even ask it but you can't help it, really. Information is interesting! It's not like you'd actually use it for anything. At least, not this information.

 

> Lukasz: Freeze in abject terror.

Done and done. You stare at the shoptroll's book. She has a book for hemocastes. Why does she have a book for hemocastes. What possible purpose could that--could she be--no, that's impossible. She couldn't. They couldn't.

You glance up at the shoptroll. She's staring at you with her bright, close-lipped smile. You hiss at her. You do that sometimes.

"Don't you know what 'hemoanonymous' means?" you ask her, your lisp acting up a lot more than usual. Your expression is angry and you are almost certainly drawing attention to yourself. But this Kezria troll has no business asking about your hemocaste. And your lusus is off-limits.

 

You sort of shrink back a little at the hiss. "Oh, I'm sorry, I..." You know hemoanonymous is a thing and you've had people react badly to you asking before, but Lukasz seems really upset and you don't like it when people are upset. You take a calming breath, and your demeanor gets more serious.

"I'm sorry I offended you. You don't have to answer. It's a silly hobby anyway." You run a hand through your hair and laugh. "My moirail is always scolding me for asking people like that. I really should learn better."

You smile again, smaller than before, though. "I've written the transaction down for my records, you can take your stuff when you'd like."

 

> ==>

You stare at Kezria. She...seems sorry, at least. Some people don't even apologize. You tug your hood down more over your face and shove your hands in your pockets. "I...yeah. Okay. I'll just go...grab that."

You've probably offended her. You do that, and now that the moment has passed you almost feel bad. But it's things like this that remind you why you live the way you do. Caste issues aside, people can't know what you are. It only complicates things.

She's got a nice selection of food, though, even if there really isn't a lot. That'll make meals easier for a while. Your lusus is a lot of things, but she is certainly no cook.

You start grabbing cans from the shelves. One tilt away from the hive, and already you've alienated the only troll to initiate conversation with you in the last sweep. Brilliant work, Lukasz. Can't wait to see who you piss off next.

 

The way kids freeze when you walk in a room, the antlerbeast-in-the-headlights look that goes up and up and up before darting away as fast as their eyes can move always gives you a warm little burst of satisfaction. An entirely undeserved one, admittedly. It is not exactly hard for an adult indigoblood to scare a roomful of children. And fear is easy, anyway. Respect, now that's something to be satisfied about.

You don't like it when people disrespect you.

"Kezria," you call to the proprietor with a polite smile, "I'd like a word." And without bothering to look at anyone else in the room, "Anyone who doesn't want to get involved in some trouble might want to leave now."

You step away from the doorway to make room for the exodus.

 

> Lukasz: Have a bad feeling about this.

You have a baaaaaaaad feeling about this.

It is a very good thing the adult isn't looking at you, because you are staring at him in a way that probably would not be considered very respectful at all. You've never been very good at respect. Fear? Now that you're good at. But when you're afraid of every single troll you've ever met, the fact that this highblood adult scares the living shit out of you is really nothing unusual.

What is unusual is the troll himself. A scary suspicious highblood troll in the middle of a lowblood marketplace is odd enough, but a scary suspicious highblood adult? They were supposed to have been sent off at Ascension to have swashbuckling romantic adventures in spaceships (it is possible that most of your information about Ascension comes from old movies). So what’s one doing here? And what sort of business could he have with that nosy shopkeep?

It’s a strange situation all around. Any troll would be naturally curious.

> Lukasz: Nope.

Yeah, no thanks. You have not stayed anonymous this long by giving in to curiosity. You have stayed anonymous through RAMPANT PARANOIA and the ability to sense incoming pointy objects. And right now both are telling you the safest place to be is absolutely anywhere but here.

So when the creep-ass adult troll gives you the chance to abscond, you leave without so much as a backwards glance. You don’t even care that you didn’t get all the food you would have gotten for the sweaters. The important thing is you got them out of the respiteblock without getting skewered.

Sucks for that shoptroll. You are so very glad this is not, and never will be, your problem.

 

You look up as The Kingpin comes through the door, as everyone else does. Your stomach instinctively tightens, like it does every time you see him. Not that you've seen him all that often--he usually sends one of his underlings--but the amount that you have is more than enough for you.

You flinch a little at the sound of your name, but then you just watch as your patrons file out and you don't say anything until they're gone. While you wait, your mind races. Trouble? You've kept up your end of the bargain haven't you? You wrack your thinkpan but you can't think of any reason for him to be here.

As soon as all the trolls are out, The Kingpin closes the door behind them.

You try a smile and ask, "Have I done something wrong, sir?"

 

"On the contrary." You help yourself to a seat on her desk, the only piece of furniture in the room that can fit you, and carefully smooth the embroidered fabric of your suit. "My organization is having a problem, and I can trust you to take care of it.

"Some trolls have set up shop in my territory - lusus-smuggling, rare lusus-parts sale, that sort of thing - and refused the usual agreement of join my organization or fuck off. I need a team to get rid of the problem. I don't care if you kill them, drive them off, or convince them to join up - well, all right, the latter would be best, they seem to be doing decent work and I'd like a cut, but I just don't think that's likely. Still, if anyone could manage it, you could."

You smile, putting some genuine friendliness in it. Not expecting, just encouraging. Good business takes good talent, and good talent takes development. Cultivation. Nudges in the right direction.

 

You take a step back when he helps himself to a seat. Relief sweeps through you when he says you're not in trouble.

You listen to him and then furrow your brow when he says he wants you to run these guys off. "Wait, what? Why me?" You think about it a second more and add, "Also, lusus-parts? That's terrible! Those poor lusii and their trolls!"

 

You shrug. "You know how to work people to keep things from blowing up too badly. Like I said, I'd prefer if this ended to everyone's benefit."

What you don't tell her is you've been having doubts about some of your in-house management. You're only pretty sure it's nothing related to this crap, but you are definitely sure that she isn't, so outside lead it is. And at least she isn't the backstabbing sort. Worst case scenario, she completely fucks up the mission, gets her ass killed, leaves the part-smugglers where they are, and you have to personally do cleanup duty. You've survived worse than that. Worse enough not to want to do it again.

"I'll be providing a few people to help you out. You're welcome to recruit your own, too, but be warned, these smuggler guys rabidly hate anyone higher than olive, and even that's pushing it."

 

You blush a little. You do pride yourself a little on descalating situations.

"Well, I guess I have to call in a few favors... No highbloods, you say? I don't know if I'm going to be able to convince them to join up with you, then. Uh, I'll do my best, though.

How am I going to meet up with your associates?"