Glasses in front of a pale little face
No problems here; you hold all the aces
But peek a little closer under bright white skin
And see all the secrets buried within
== Dave: Break In
Easier said than done. Your name is Dave Strider and you're currently hiding just outside the waterwheel that runs pretty much the whole kingdom with Karkat and John, a knight friend and your friend since you were a kid. Michael is guarding the outside (he's a knight too) and you think one of the rogues is on hand if anything goes really horribly wrong.
That's seeming more and more likely.
This place is full of guards, constantly circulating the entire building. Two knights and the heir to the gogdamn throne? Completely inconspicuous. As unnoticeable as the fucking castle flying around. As secretive as the home that is HQ glowing when Jade expands the rooms.
Okay, you might've made some of that up.
That's not really the point here. You basically need to break in, shut off the water supply, and seize control of the whole damn place, not necessarily in that order. Then you get your supporters to run the water so they can be in place when phase two comes in. This shouldn't be hard; most of the workers are already the type of people to be supporters. You are 99% sure that some of them already are.
"Split," Karkat hisses, and you turn left at the intersection of two narrow hallways. Karkat goes straight, and John turns right. John needs to create a diversion for the guards, while Karkat gathers the workers to get them to rebel. Your job is to get to the water wheel and shut it off.
It's not going to be easy.
You reach the next intersection and confidently turn right. You know exactly where you're going and what you're doing; why bother to be afraid?
At the next intersection, a guard is passing. You didn't expect that, and you consider briefly that someone (probably Vriska) made a mistake on the map. Or maybe the guards changed their schedule and you're all completely fucked. But everything else has been right, so you still don't waste any effort on fear. The guard in question looks angry, even feral, and he's holding his sword like Dirk, your older brother, used to right before he'd randomly duel you. So, on the offensive. Well, that's no good, you think. You've got a sword, too, of course, but you don't feel like tangling with this nut job of a guard. You've got a job to do and dammit, you will do it.
So, against all your developed aggressive instincts (thanks a ton, Bro), you press your back to the wall and hide. It's frustrating as fuck, but you know you have to. Keep a cool head, Strider.
The fucking crazy guy passes and you quietly tail him down the hall. Nearly all the guards guard the main water wheel, which looks like the ones in mills. Except the gears in this one power these pump things and bring water to other, small water wheels in villages that in turn pump water into three troughs: drinking, washing, and toilet. You are intimately familiar with this system because it was your main lesson in engineering from your tutor, Mrs. Florentine, before you became a knight.
There are at least ten guards around the water wheel and about twenty workers making repairs, pushing the colossal wheel so it spins faster, gathering supplies the wheel needs.
They look miserable.
It's dark, because it's around midnight, so you can pass unnoticed into the group of workers doing repairs. Your sword is hidden under your clothes such that you can pull it out and fight at any second.
Except for the creaking, the entire building is silent. You close your eyes for good measure, because your light-sensitive eyes can pick out even the tiniest of details in the dark with your dark glasses on. You've taken to calling them sunglasses recently; you might stick with that.
Anyways, you can tell when the moon hits one AM and the shift changes. The guards and workers all leave, except for one man. He's not looking at you, either. Poor guy's gonna loose his job. You ram him in the back of the head with the handle of your sword and he collapses on the ground. There's a weak spot you know to aim for on the back of the head, and it looks like you got it just right.
For a second, you worry you might not have enough time, but it's still just a bit past one. Keep a cool head, Strider, you think. Maybe you should just say cool. You're completely cool. Yeah, you like that. Fuck language constraints.
You search the room for something large and stick-shaped. If you can jam something about half the size of a log into the wheel the right way, the whole thing will shut down. You just need something…
Like a floor plank. You notice a loose one and pry it up, slowly but surely. There's a huge commotion, and you surmise John's pulled off his distraction. Karkat should be telling the workers about the rebellion about now. You sincerely hope that no one's fucked it up too bad yet.
The plank finally comes up after your whack at the thin nails with your sword for a bit. It's thick, not too rotten but not too heavy, and long enough that it can get caught in the river below and properly fuck this up. Just right.
You hoist the plank over your shoulder and maneuver it into place. Three…two…one… You let go of the wooden board and it slides through the water wheel's spokes and into the river below.
The water wheel stop completely with a series of horrible grinding noises. Mission accomplished.
You weren't expecting the guards to hear the awful sounds.
Fucking shit.
You can fight off guards; you are a knight. You draw your sword and prepare for the assault. Your brother trained you for this, too, when he gathered your siblings and squire friends to attack you all at once. You can fight off up to ten people at once; thank you, Bro.
Fifteen or so guards rush into the room and you hope you can beat them. As it turns out, Karkat runs in at the same time and he's almost as good as you are at this. He and you stand back-to-back, aiming only to knock out. You wish you had your dagger on you, but this sword will do. Not to mention that Karkat has an iron poker for knocking people out. You wonder briefly where the fuck he got it, there's no fireplaces around here. It crosses your mind that he must've thought ahead enough to bring it with him and his sword. You'd never say it aloud, but you admire that about your friend.
The first fifteen fall, but more take their places. If you're not careful, you'll have to start drawing blood soon. Already the guards are being more offensive, realizing that two versus twenty is no fair fight.
You wonder briefly if you could get away with absconding quickly. These guards haven't seen your faces; they cannot incriminate you. You are wearing the magical masks that conform to your face, so that's not an issue. You only hope the dark glasses don't give you away. You've got a sudden idea.
"KNIGHT OF MIND!" you scream. He's got to be able to hear that.
And indeed he must, because Michael Summers bursts into the room not five minutes later, his own sword drawn, and joins the two of you in the fight. He's better than either of you with the sword, because he is older, but Karkat's still beating everyone with the iron poker. Your weapon is a kind of sword that is impossible to hide under your clothes; this other one is awkward in your grip.
Michael's breathing hard, even though he's barely sweating as far as you can tell and he's been at this a lot shorter than you and Karkat. He does that a lot, breathes too hard when no one else is even sweating. You seem to remember hearing the word asthma somewhere before deciding to focus on the issue at hand.
A guard comes right at you, his sword raised the way you were taught. You parry the blow and strike for his sword arm. He blocks your strike, but he does not notice your fist swinging to meet his jaw. He drops the sword and it clatters to the ground. You hit him with the handle of you sword and he collapses on the ground.
You pick up the second sword and tuck it into your scabbard as you raise your right arm, ready to fight. But no one else is coming. John's diversion has come and gone; surely he is up at the palace by now. The only thing left is for the last of the guards to be taken care of so you can get some fucking sleep.
The door opens one more time and you brace yourself for another round of guards. But no; this time it is a man. A short man, granted. You think he'd probably Karkat's height, except that this man is so pale you can almost see the veins in his arms. His hair is the color of his skin and it's slicked close to his head. His eyes are dark, as dark as the night sky outside, and it's terrifying against his pale skin. His suit is white, linen white, except for the bright green shirt (a color brighter than you've ever seen before) underneath and a slightly darker green bowtie, closer to emerald. There is exactly one person it can be: Duke Scratch.
Shit.
Michael turns and takes a step so he's standing next to you. The three of you form a strong line of defense, of offense too. The duke nods, almost approvingly. You feel and elbow dig into your side and you remember what Rufioh said when he delivered the masks: they'll only last so long. When you feel melting on your face, that means the masks are coming off.
You feel the melting, and it's like cold, liquid candle wax dribbling down your cheeks. You don't have much time left. "Abscond," you hiss under your breath. Michael and Karkat nod. You brace your feet to run when Duke Scratch speaks.
"Strider. Vantas. And Pyrope. How nice to meet you," he says.
"And you, Scratch," Karkat shoots back, sarcasm dripping like rain from his voice.
"I suppose you must go," Scratch says politely. "Well done."
Puzzled, you decide that the best choice is to dramatically turn on your heel, letting your cape whip behind you, and leave the room with Karkat and Michael.
The three of you get out of the room and see the cart that's waiting for you. Rufioh's driving it, of course, and he motions for you to get on, fast, before someone sees. He brings you back to the palace and you go back to your room, leaving only room for wonder and (okay, you'll confess to it this time) worry.
How did he know your names?
You seem to remember something a few days ago about Roxy being known, which is a huge fucking problem, because if the rogues can't sneak somewhere, who can? The whole thing has you more unnerved than should be allowed for someone with your level of coolness (that's a word now, too, you decide).
Hell, you might as well just keep on going.
The plan is to use the next week to recruit workers to your side, but that's not your job specifically. Your job basically to not get blown up.
Once again, easier said than done.
You're practicing with cannons today and you are doing your best not to spill gunpowder, because literally blowing up would be (once again) a huge fucking problem. Plus, when you go home, you have to be careful not to leave any traces of anything knightly on your clothes. Including gunpowder.
Of course John ends up singed by the fires. He's just strolling by, too, because as the heir his job is to go to lessons with his crazy tutor Mr. Urbano and learn to rule, not to fight.
He's also the clumsiest person you have ever met, save maybe your older sister Roxy when she's drunk.
So it's no surprise that he gets grazed by a cannonball. At least it's not one of yours. He yelps and runs across the rest of the field as fast as the wind, the elbow of his shirt smoking.
Everything's going as normal until a short man with pale skin and light hair and dark, dark eyes shows up. You instantly recognize him as Scratch and push your sunglasses up your nose. Your face is stoic, but your mind is screaming. You will not be responsible for the failure of the plan.
Scratch walks straight through the practice field, miraculously not getting hit by a single cannonball. You wonder briefly at this before shrugging it off because anyone can see that this guy's bizarre. Something's up and you're going to leave it to the heirs or someone to figure out what because dammit, you're busy.
The duke approaches you and he's right next to your face. He's examining you, as if he knows who you are. For all you know, he does.
That would spell the end of the plan.
The duke finally leaves, evidently deciding that he has not seen you before. He does the same to a few other knights, including Michael and Karkat. But you've got a bad feeling about this, and it is confirmed the second he pauses by your cannon. The piece of paper the color of his skin (and yours too) reads, "I will not be made a fool of, Dave Strider."