Welcome to Coolsville, the best little small town in Ohio.
…except for right now, but that’s not really FREDDIE LARK’S (BRIGETTE LUNDY-PAINE) fault, is it? Known as the ENIGMA around town, THEY are just your friendly neighborhood SOFTWARE DEVELOPER. Sure they can be RECLUSIVE and IRREVERENT, but they can also be DETERMINED and RESOURCEFUL just like any other 24 year old. That doesn’t mean they have anything to do with our string of recent chilling events, though… right?
Basics
Name: Freddie Lark
Age: 24
DOB: Feb 6, 1998
Sign: Aquarius (Gemini Moon)
Gender: Nonbinary
Sexuality: Bisexual
Occupation: Software Developer
Sleep Habits: Semi Nocturnal
Family: Presumably they have some, somewhere.
Height: 5′9
Build: Lanky
Some Details
Freddie appeared in Coolsville about two years ago, though it probably took around six months for anyone besides their landlord to notice they were there.
They never bothered to explain why they’d moved or chosen Coolsville in particular. They actually seem to make every effort to avoid doing so, artfully deflecting or downright denying questions when someone actually gets the chance to ask. The nearest offices for their company are in Cincinnati, but Freddie almost exclusively works from home. All they need is their computer and an internet connection, after all.
Freddie is a software developer. They are not, they will assure you, a hacker. They are, however, an amateur digital forensics expert. They’ve always had a mind for puzzles and mysteries - observant, logical, and diligent. It started with an elective Freshman year and quickly spread out into a full minor alongside their computer science major. If you really get them talking, they’ll tell you they thought about going into it professionally or going back for another, more focused degree. They won’t tell you why they changed their mind.
It’s unusual to see them out before seven, and even when they do leave the house, they mostly keep to themself. They’re not unfriendly if you speak to them, though their sense of humor can be a bit dark and they seem to have a knack for dodging questions. Still, they’re a clever and attentive conversation partner, if you can get them to look up from whatever comic or book they’ve brought along for company.
Freddie’s approach to dealing with anything is a combination of wit, perseverance, and their somewhat kilter sense of humor. It’s not mean, but it does tend toward a little dark, a little deadpan, and irreverent to a fault. If they’ve got something to say, with rare exception, they’ll say it.
Freddie is not a put together person. They always look vaguely disheveled and pretty tired. They like to think it’s part of their charm.
Background
You must be a level four friend to unlock this backstory.
Aesthetic
Worn grey sweatshirts, cold fingers, rubber duck debugging, the sound of a rubber duck hitting a wall very hard, the sound of someone apologizing to a rubber duck, clenched jaws breaking way to brilliant smiles, you did not just say that, fourth cup of coffee and counting, playing brahms to focus on a project, furious typing, cranking up the fall out boy to finish the goddamn project, terrible jokes, perfectly poorly timed sarcasm, running off to prove a sudden break through, one second one second, okay look-, tired, knowing eyes, mac n cheese and chocolate milk, sitting upside down on a couch, standing with your face tilted to catch the rain
“In like angry sharpie? Like someone has it out for us?” Tommy asked, the teasing obvious in his tone. Seemed like something straight out of Saint’s Row, to be honest. Would they get to wear the cool animal masks? Probably not.
He nods at Freddie, smirk on his face. “Hell yeah. Might as well bring the game life to the real life, right? Cause real life came to the game life.”
That made more sense in his head. “But whatchu got against the fried goodies here? Even I make exceptions for them.”
“Oh man, I wish. That would be sick.” They chuckle and start leading away back toward the brightly lit stalls. “Exactly! I’m just hoping my aim carries over.” They lift a finger fun out in front of them, looking down the length of their arm with one eye.
“Oh, absolutely nothing. I adore them. They’re glorious abominations, but still abominations. Sugar soaked monuments to our own hubris. I mean-” they swing their aim to indicate a poster showing a crispy pile of who-knows-what, drenched in whip cream and chocolate sauce. “What is that? How did they even accomplish that? What even inspired them to try?”
Though she’d gone and slipped on the heels this morning, Valentina still looks down as if inspecting the footwear for the first time. A more comfortable pair of pumps that were as ergonomic as they were stylish— fashion and functionality should’ve always gone hand in hand. “Well I haven’t tripped over any festival debris yet,” and that, like many of these Valentina-isms, came with practice, “though I’m not trying to get on the gavitron or anything, so I wouldn’t know if they’d turn me away.”
She hadn’t spent much time around the rides, and she didn’t plan to but it would be a fun little experiment, if she had nothing better to do, that is. Alas, Freddie and their questions had her undivided attention at this moment.
“Yeah, for the most part,” though she didn’t know much about the person asking, “but it comes with the territory and all.” While she didn’t necessarily parade around the title these days, she was every bit that girl and she still kept tabs on the citizens of the town ( sometimes it was through the grape vine and others it was through her mother’s own ‘family newsletter,’ but either way, she kept herself well informed ).
Freddie laughs at that idea. “You know, I think the gravitron would actually be the most daunting of all of the options.” They grin. “Can’t say the same about the festival debris, though - had a close call with a spilled snowcone earlier.” And they’re wearing sneakers.
They nod. “That’s good - probably especially right now. Definitely seems like there’s some group dynamics that just like- whoosh, right over my head y’know?” It’s not something that bothers them, really. Not much. “Like uh, like Jasper, for example.” The heart of the issue. “No one seems too thrilled he’s around all of a sudden.”
“For a minor internet celebrity, you think he’d have more fans at home.” They’ve gathered bits and pieces of why - it’s what’s got them on edge too. A cursory glance at his content and his headlines showed someone living for the limelight and the idea of that jumping into the middle of this- it doesn’t sit well with them. Not from a logistical or an ethical perspective And from a personal one- well, they’ve spent two years dodging the town rumor mill - the last thing they need is to be working with it.
“I mean, what’s your take- do you trust him?” Freddie’s face is uncharacteristically serious.
Cam knows technology. She’s not the best or the brightest in their group. Hell, she has no doubt that Freddie knows ten times as much as her about computers. But, breaking and entering virtually is a skill that she knows she possesses. And, now it’s more important than it’s ever been. This is no grade change or stupid senior prank. This is real and important.
With the phone screen displayed on Freddie’s screen, Cam’s suddenly struck with just how horrific this all is. This is her best friend’s little sister. Her phone looks like any other teenage girl’s. Social media apps with 100s of unread notifications, a picture of the cheer squad in the background, her little widgets of calendars and other photos with friends on the homepage. It sends a chill down her spine to think about the fact that this same girl is out there, somewhere, possibly facing inexplicable horrors when she should be prepping for homecoming cheer routines and waiting for her undoubtable pile of college acceptance letters.
Snapping herself out of it, Cam steels herself, and nods, curtly. “We will.” She sits in the offered chair, pulling herself into the desk as she begins to survey the home screen first. “Well, I say we start in plain sight and see if she’s password protected any of these texts.” The screen shifts as Cam clicks on the home made text icon at the bottom of the screen.
Taking her bottom lip between her teeth Cam starts to scroll past all the unopened text messages of people sending their love to Dani, wishing her well, asking her to come home. It’s a little morbid, if she’s to be honest with herself, but she does her best to ignore the pang it leaves behind.
With parents as overbearing as the Logan’s, Cam decides to start at her ex’s contact first, Chase’s name leaving a sour taste in her mouth. But, lo and behold, Cam’s not far off, being prompted with a four digit passcode. “Now’s the fun part,” She mutters, “What’s her regular passcode? Could be an offshoot of that.”
Freddie actually winces as Cam starts scrolling past all the messages at the sudden revelation of Dani’s sheer, well, person-ness. They’d been carefully keeping the situation at arm’s length - easier to stay objective and logical that way. And it’s not like they knew her. No, Dani Logan was, for the most part just another missing person.
And now she isn’t. Or she won’t be.
The problem with Digital Forensics is that you end up treating technology as both crime scene and corpse. Trying to find evidence, yes, but also, often, trying to build a picture, an understanding of the person who left it behind.
Felonies aside, there’s really no going back after this.
A forest. A path with now two sets of footprints.
They shake out their hair and tune back into what Cam’s saying. “Oh, yeah- Buttercup? Danny said it was uh, the family dog when they were little.” Freddie drums lightly on the edge of the desk. “Can’t think of any direct offshoots, but pet name’s a classic so for four digits...significant dates? Years?”
They hope it’s so simple, and thank whatever’s listening for bad password habits -- although if that were entirely the case, Dani wouldn’t have double locked this, so-
“Although probably not one Danny or her parents would guess. Maybe specific to- that’s the boyfriend, right? Ex-boyfriend.”
“Heels at the fairgrounds. That is truly impressive.” There is no sarcasm to their tone. Freddie’s daunted by heels as it is, but on this surface - uneven, slightly soft, strewn with sticky and savory treats... No, they are sincerely, deeply in awe of Valentina at this moment. “Do they you on the rides with those?”
Listen, it’s a genuine question.
They have a couple questions for Valentina, actually. It’s why they wandered over this way in the first place. Well, that and the kettle corn.
“You...sort of know everyone, right? As Queen of Coolsville, you have a feel for all the goings on?” Freddie decidedly doesn’t. And that’s got them a bit on edge with everything happening lately. Well, that and the arrival of the press.
“I think I saw a couple water guns with our names on them back down the game alley,” Freddie grins, their hands shoved in their pockets to hide the way their fingers keep tapping nothing. Sugar or nerves? Hard to say. Stuff’s been weird lately: Mr. Clickbait makes them nervous --the last thing they want is to be a headline. And teaming up the deputy sheriff after having just committed a felony feels like hubris. They all want the same thing, though, don’t they?
Right now, Freddie just wants to burn off some of this extra energy.
“How you feel about a live action shooty call? I’ll bet you a... deep fried abomination of your choice?”
Clapping her hands together, Cam shrugs off the thread bare button down she refuses to part with, and tosses it on the nearest solid surface. “Operation invade Dani’s privacy is a go.
Guilt would eat Cameron alive one day, of that she was certain. Everyone in her life could insist until they were blue in the face that Cameron had no reason to feel guilty. That there was no reason to apologize. She had been wronged or targeted or whatever other placating excuse they wanted to give her. The fact of the matter was Cam would never be able to forgive herself for what her choices had brought about.
There was nothing she could do to free Danny from this new torment, which made it all that much worse. So, it suddenly felt like even more of her duty to help find his Sister. It was always her job to be there as a best friend, but maybe finding Dani alive and in one piece could make up for all the rest of it. There was no one Danny loved more than his Sister after all.
That’s why it’s such a relief the phone is in their possession. Or, at least, a version of it. Cam can’t offer much in the way of skills, but technology and hacking? That much she can manage.
“Hopefully it’s not a waste of time.” That’s something they’re running out of.
@late-night-lark
“Oh man, when you say it like that...” Freddie chuckles, slouching as if to fall into their desk chair before seemingly deciding against it. Their sudden adjustment sends the chair wheeling away, but it doesn’t get far before they catch it and pivot it around to offer to Cameron.
“Nah, it won’t be. There’s gotta be something in there to make use of.” There’s no question in their tone as they drag their laundry hamper over to perch on. “And we are going to find it.”
With a flourish of typing, the dual monitor display lights to life. Freddie’s desktop is surprisingly clean offering an uninterrupted view of their stained glass background which is quickly covered by a mirror of the phone screen. “Where do you wanna start?”
They’re not oblivious to Cameron’s urgency, despite their own carefully relaxed demeanor. Freddie doesn’t know what happened -- aside from the phone and the jail and the all of that. They’ll ask about it later, but for now they’re happy enough to let Cam take the lead if it’ll help. Besides, they’re not actually great at breaking into things- just pulling them apart once they’re open.
“Danny had the phone passcode, which is what I needed to clone it, but beyond that I don’t have anything. And I mean, if my brother had my general passcode...I’m guessing there’s gonna be some tighter security around the actually interesting parts.” They nudge the keyboard in her direction.
“Alright,” A Big Cs bag hits the counter followed by a glass bottle, placed with just a bit more care. “I’ve got three flavors of Gatorade and lower-midshelf tequila. To give this a fighting chance.” They grin conspiratorially. They thought it would work. Mostly. Maybe. Theoretically.
Okay, maybe they were just in this for the meme. And the bonding opportunity. They definitely felt a bit the odd one out in the group, and, surprisingly, they kind of wanted to fix that.
Freddie took a second to look around the space. They’d never been to Danny’s place before; they’d only really just met after all. But he’d wanted the utmost secrecy, so this really seemed like the only place to do it. Besides it was only fair, given how much time he spent over at theirs. Not that Freddie ever spent too much time in the shared spaces, but like, in principal.
“So, if they’re good, you’ll add the Gatorita to the pub’s menu, right?” They may be teasing, but their enthusiasm is genuine. “You could do like, a whole rainbow flight!”
There’s the obvious, of course. Spiders, slow deaths, bizarre freak accidents, serial killers.
The deeper ones, the ones that twist your soul, well, maybe they used to know what they were but it’s a little hard to say now. Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe they should have. Maybe they would have-
Anyway.
It’s hard to say, now, if those fears would be the same. They’ve been a little too numb for a little too long to know if it’s still the old ones or if new ones have moved in. Or so they like to tell themself.
They do, however, have a recurring nightmare.
It goes like this:
They’re running down a dirt road, through a vaguely wooded area. It’s hard to make out the exact surroundings – they aren’t focused on them. They’re just focused on the road, on going as fast as they possibly can. Their lungs are already burning, their legs already aching, but they don’t stop. They can’t stop.
It’s a race, after all.
But there’s no one else around them. Or behind them. No evidence of any other competitors, except for the foot prints ahead of them that they follow. The other runner isn’t visible, but it’s still a race. They still have to run, they still have to try. If they’re fast enough, maybe, maybe...
The finish lines comes into view, a stereotypical red ribbon stretched across the path, the ends stretching off into the distance. And they’re almost there, they’re sure they’re almost there, and they reach for it, and
It crumbles away. Like ash. And falls to nothing. And they find themself standing on the last of the footprints.
They can feel the spectators, then, as they start whispering. It’s really too bad. They did their best. Really stuck it out. Maybe if they’d just gotten started a little faster. Such a shame.
Such a shame.
Such a shame.
And through all that, there’s a cold but gentle hand on their shoulder. “It’s alright, Fri. You’ll get it next time.”
It wasn’t often that Freddie found themself in the little local coffee shop. But they were actually outside early enough that it was open and cam wasn’t on shift at Big Cs, so oat milk-praline-iced latte here they come.
What? It was a special treat.
They were hanging around the counter, waiting to hear their name (or Frankie. It usually came out Frankie), when they spotted a...somewhat familiar face. They’d seen her at the meeting, at least. Ordinarily, they wouldn’t have said anything, but it seemed like a good idea to maybe get to know these people. “Oh, hey! Val...entina, right?” Probably not a great idea to start shortening names right away. They indicated themself with a lifted hand. “Freddie – I was also at the meeting. Danny’s meeting.”
It had been her, right? If it hadn’t they’d just go home and never leave before 11pm ever again. But no, she was distinctive. Exceptionally well put together, for one thing, with a sense of...importance in the way she carried herself. Had Cameron mentioned anything about her? Freddie wracked their mind.
“So,” Freddie taps their nails along the edge of the large cork board, “do we want this one on the easel and the white board on the wall? Or do we think the pinning things to it will knock it over, so we want this one on the wall and the whiteboard on the easel?” There’s a stack of boxes behind them with sharpies and color sorted push pins alongside some balls of yarn – red, of course, but there are some other options as well. For Optimal Color-coding at Darcy’s insistance. Not that Freddie disagrees -- they spend enough time staring at walls of code to know the value of visual organization, at least when they’re trying to think. The rest of the time, they stick to “organized chaos.”
“I think the classic layout would be like...a spiderweb? With Dani in the middle. But that honestly seems sort of space inefficient.” Is this the most time they’ve ever spent doing something with their roommate? Their arrangement works, but with the groupchat running, it suddenly feels like maybe they’re missing out on like...people. They should reach out more. “What do you usually think about in here, anyway?”
“It is! Okay, so this is fucking weird, but I know you.” Tommy spoke slowly, as if he was ennunciating it to his own brain at the same time. He kind of expected to see Freddies avatar standing right there, but he was plesantly surprised with what he saw, regardless. Definitely not what he expected from them, though, but he wasn’t quite sure what his expectations were.
“Yeah! I’m Tommy. Aka Tomster1031. We play together!” Not that they had been much lately, too busy with Dani’s going missing to sit down and enjoy a good gaming session. “Dude, how have we been in the same town this entire time and never met?”
“Yeah,” Nodding as he said he knew them, Freddie had come to the same conclusion, the pieces clicking together finally. “Tomster1031!” Their voice matches up with his as he says. “Dude, no way! That’s so wild.” They chuckled in disbelief.
“Freddie Lark, hence, foralark773,” they reintroduced themself. Tommy, on closer inspection, actually looked pretty much exactly how Freddie would have guessed. Which wasn’t at all a bad thing, just kinda funny. “Well, I mean, probably not ‘the entire time.’ I’ve only lived here like...two years?” Could they still say only? Oh well. “And I only really come out at night, so.” That last admission came with a sheepish shrug.
Cameron stifles a laugh at that. This isn’t exactly the place for laughs, but it feels so much lighter than all the energy in the room. “Yeah, well, I’m flattered. I know how hard it can be to find time in your schedule for nothing.” Freddie’s newness is a blessing for Cam in a lot of ways. They have no preconceived notions of her, no history of her descent into the town pariah status. The most that she’s openly disclosed to them is the fact that she’s taught herself the inner workings of computers, and that she doesn’t spend an awful lot of her time with the other people in town.
Whatever else they had possibly learned was beyond her, but Cam preferred to stay ignorant as long Freddie seemed unaffected by her presence. “I know Danny will appreciate all the help he can get. It’s been a rough couple of weeks for him, so the more brains we can put together, the better.” She wouldn’t say it so long as Danny was in earshot but it was more like a long shot than anything. But, it was better than giving up, so they might as well give it the old college try.
“Yeah, I can imagine. It’s...sort of horrible. Well, not sort of. Horrible. It’s horrible. I feel for him.” Freddie finishes awkwardly, one hand coming up to rub at the back of their hair. Missing for two weeks, fourteen days...they shake their head. Hell. That would have been hell. The only question is whether what they find is a lower circle of it.
Hopefully not.
Personally, Freddie chooses to believe Dani is alive until proven otherwise. No points giving up hope until its taken from you, right? “Seems like a solid amount of brain power in this room for sure.” At least among the people they recognize -- Cam’s smart and they think they saw Darcy walk in. “At least as far as I can tell. I recognize like, three people so far.” They probably should have asked Cameron a bit more about what and who to expect before arriving. Wouldn’t have changed their mind, but they suddenly feel pretty solidly unprepared. “Anyone I should be particularly afraid of?”
Same old town, same old people. She had slipped right back into her old ways from before she’d left for college. And part of her didn’t mind it so much, it was comfortable and familiar at first, but it had only taken about a week until it felt like her own skin was crawling with the need to leave again.
One week into her break the town descended into chaos as one of their own had disappeared. For a brief moment it seemed she had her parents attention, were they perhaps worried for her? But that attention quickly shifted to the search parties, vigils and fliers. She felt incredibly guilty for wishing their attention was hers instead, so she doubled down on being that high achieving, well behaved daughter. Passing the collection plate in church, taking freshly baked goods to the Logan’s, handing out fliers. Anything she was asked, she did. So when she was asked to meet at the community centre she didn’t hesitate.
Sitting on one of the chairs crisscross applesauce, a well worn notebook in her lap, Kat was scribbling down notes that she hadn’t yet had a chance to add from the end of her shift at the Sheriffs office. She’d overheard two of the officers talking about someone they needed to ask some questions to, but hadn’t managed to get a name, they weren’t a suspect, just someone they wanted to talk to. Her little notebook was filled with chicken scratch notes about parts of the case she had overheard, wild theories people had thrown back and forth over the isles in the grocery store and even one or two speculative of her own. She was so engrossed in the task at hand that she hadn’t noticed someone else come in until they were right there beside her, “Jesus, you’ll give someone a heart attack sneaking around like that!” She had half a mind to wallop them with her book. “Uh, why were you sneaking around anyways?”
Had they been sneaking? Oops. They hadn’t meant to be. They rarely meant to be. This was not the first time they’d gotten that exact complaint, to be honest. Their parents always said they stepped too quietly, waited too long to announce themself. It was part of why they fell so well into the role of shadow...
Anyway.
Apologies were in order.
“Ah, well it’s a necessary part of my mystique, y’see,” their smile was somewhere between playful and sheepish. “Didn’t mean to scare you though. Sorry.”
Freddie wasn’t sure they’d seen this one before, not that that told them much -- it seemed to be the case more often than not. And two years was probably a little too long for them to be chalking it up to being ‘new in town.’ They really needed to get out more.
“Freddie Lark, Nice to meet you.” They lifted a hand in a sort of wave, sort of like they were lazily raising it for an attendance call.
“I don’t mean to be nosy,” but they were going to be anyway, “but that’s an awful lot of notes for a meeting that hasn’t started yet.” Freddie’s gaze flickered briefly to the notebook in her lap before back up to her face, curiosity evident but not pointed. They hadn’t read any of the notes, of course, couldn’t from here anyway, but the persistent sound of the pen moving rapidly across the paper was hard to miss.
