Agent York | Taylor Murray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goddamngrenades) wrote2015-04-15 03:46 pm
goddamngrenades) wrote2015-04-15 03:46 pm
Entry tags:
RP Open Post
Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything.
PFL era,
Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with
Tag and go, baby!
Schoolteacher AU
There was a new librarian behind the desk—not the person who had been there the week before. He approached with a little smile. "Hey there."
Schoolteacher AU
This is a terrible idea and can only end badly but until that happens he's just gonna do as best he can. Sit behind the desk, keep his bad eye to the wall so it doesn't bug the kids and the kids don't startle him, check in books, check out books. Easy peasy. Hell they even let him listen to music when it's slow, which it isn't since they've got a class coming in. Martha's out sick so he's at the front today away from his little nook and his wall and he's open on all sides and hello tall drink of water. The reflex to flirt kicked past the instinct to panic and he responds with a wide smile. "Hey yourself. Having fun with the herd?"
Schoolteacher AU
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Fuck.
He was onto a good thing here, and then those goddam Sim Troopers had to show up. A couple of the others might think it was fun, but Wash would much rather have the job go smoothly, and while it was something that should be easy to deal with, it set him on edge. Why here? Why now?
And that one soldier in the tan armour... nah, couldn't be. Some idiot had just picked up whatever had been left over. Sold it on the black market. There was a lot of that going around these days, Freelancer and alien tech. It was someone playing at being a Freelancer and Wash would see them pay for picking it up like it was an identity they could just take.
They were still stuck in that canyon for now at least. Easy pickings if necessary. Time to do some recon.
He sent the soldiers back to base, preferring to do this himself. The scope of his rifle gave him a good look down to where the ship had crashed, and where the impostor was hiding, like he had any right in the world to that armour.
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But above all else York's a survivor. He's not gonna give up- he hums the rest of that old, old, old ass earth pop song to himself as he checks his sight lines again. Crashing had not been the plan but- hey. There's air here. There's water. There's no real UNSC presence which was really fucking great for him. For the first time in years he could crack his helmet and breathe. so that's what he does. pops the sea on his helmet and sets it aside, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air.
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He tracks the guy's movements through the scope anyway, finger on the trigger, even if he's not supposed to make them a target. Control wants them alive. Wants to use them. Which is a bullshit plan in Wash's opinion but hey, he gets paid either way. Let Control hang themselves with it.
There's something about the way the guy moves that sets him on edge. A prickling sense of familiarity that he quashes ruthlessly. Even so, he zooms in when he sees him reach up to remove his helmet.
That scar, the eye. It's been years and yet he'd recognise him anywhere. Of course he would. He can't forget.
"York."
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He sets his helmet down and scrubs a hand through his hair, tugging on the tail tucked at the nape of is neck. Haircuts aren't exactly something he's got time to do anymore. Water that scans as clean's nearby so a good scrub down sounds like a good place to start.
Then there's something. A click, a word, some noise- he drops down and rolls to the closest cover, snagging his helmet on the way. The wind doesn't just whisper "York."
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York + Carolina - Summoned Demon AU
Talons tapped lightly across the floor as the demon explored her summoner's home in the dark.
It wasn't particularly impressive apartment and hadn't taken her long to map out in detail even in the dark. While he was in possession of several rooms, the central area was slovenly and joined with the kitchen, and the sleeping chamber was small and dark, with an attached bathing room.
From how he'd described it, his dwelling was within a greater tower, high up within a city who's name she hadn't bothered to memorize. She would have to correct that, if she was to reside here for any length of time.
She paused by the couch, tail flicking as she eyed the Book where it was presently doubling as a drinks matt for several empty beer cans on the floor. The demonicon had yet to be burned, but there was still time for that. She smirked to herself a moment, barring fangs. Her aforementioned summoner was presently snoring away and in spite of sealing their pact over beer, and she rather doubted he expected her to be here come morning.
She wasn't entirely sure what sort of binding effect ketchup would have compared to blood, either. But, she could wait. For now, she wasn't going anywhere. And he was interesting enough that she didn't particularly want to.
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And then the dream about summoning a demon. Which. Was weird as shit but okay, he's had weirder in the war. The red hair and eyes kinda helped in that they didn't help at all. Names he'd rather forget.
SLeep never kept on that long, he twitches out of it soon enough, locking up tight for all of five seconds until he remembers where he is and what was goin on. The lack of a demon in front of him seemed to help. Just a dream. Ok. "Need to stop drink'n the cheap tequila, York."
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For all that she'd been given free rein of the place, she wasn't inclined to barge into his chambers just to ask him questions about new technology. It had advanced considerably since the last time she'd been summoned, and she wanted to know exactly what this new version of a camera could do.
That didn't meant she enjoyed being patient, however. She extended and rewrapped her wings for comfort before settling back on the couch. Forked tail flicked sharply, knocking over a couple of bottles and beer cans in its wake while she examined her talons.
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"...shit-" he grabs the bat he leaves stowed by the door and inches out, calling ahead of him. "Look if you want money I'm broke, if you want anything valuable I don't have anything so just save yourself the beating and get the hell out before I...um. You. Aren't. A burgler."
No. No she's a demon.
On his sofa.
"...wasn't a dream."
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Bodyguard/Popstar AU
"One day, one night. Double your usual rate. Please call me back."
That he was family, albeit a half-brother, wouldn't normally have swayed her either, but 'Delta' never asked anyone for anything if he could help ir - and he had to have been desperate if he was asking her for help. And Carolina had to admit, she was rather curious to meet a guy who could drive someone as unflappable as D to such distraction. Or to need someone with her particular set of skills.
Hence why she was waiting in a hotel conference room for Delta to finish wrangling his latest 'rising star' for this particular meet and greet. He'd at least left her a copy of the intended itinerary as well as the floor plan for tonight's performance, and she had made a point to study it, looking up only once the door to the suite opened.
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Dude he has to keep his figure somehow.
So. New Guard because 'creepy letters are a thing to be worried about York' and 'remember your eye york' and 'No stop please my blood pressure york' are a thing. He worries about D sometimes. He should send him on vacation when this wraps up. He pops the door open and double takes at the woman there. "Um. Hi. Modeling agency is actually-"
He leans out to point further down the hall. "Two, three rooms down I think?"
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Or, rather, the familiar shadow at his back. Before rising to her feet. If Delta is here, then.. "So you must be Murray."
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Because he looks good enough to be on magazines right? right. Supplement that income. He cracks a wide smile and steps back, if she's supposed to be here D will say something. If not- well she's pretty. "The big T, that's me."
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*INSERT PACRIM THEME HERE*
The potential pilots turn, like practicing ballet, twirling their sticks and landing in a graceful attack pose. Or it should be graceful. Apparently some of these wannabe rockstars haven't kept up their training. Malcolm makes a few noncommittal marks on on his clipboard and orders them: "Again."
The twentieth time must be the charm, right?
"All right, pack it up," he says sternly, though a sigh still escapes him. "Let's let someone else take some time on the mat. And they might be able to show you how it's really done. Remember: your partner will be on your level in more ways than you know. Do you want to go out there looking sloppy and getting yourselves killed, or do you want to be honed and focused and kill some kaiju?"
He used to be like them. Eager and fresh and impatiently waiting his turn in a jaeger. But it's not for everyone. It is, in fact, for a very small sliver of people. Maybe that'll be his next lesson.
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At least he had the sense to not have that one day a month right before he's supposed to hit the mat again. He's done it before in private, with Drew or Connie or David but it's not the same when it's out in public like this. Where the recruits are watching, are whispering as he shrugs out of his hoodie, scarring all along his left eye and side marking him as a survivor.
And as a failure- but they think he can't hear that.
"So. What forms?" This guy's not new- he's just been stationed elsewhere. This place is new- new faces, new procedures, new jeagers. New memories. Nothing to remind him of her. Of falling.
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"That depends, Mr. Murray," he says formally, "on what you're already trained in. We could start with something new, or we could brush you up on the basics of what suited you best before."
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YOU'RE ALIVE au - chorus reunion edition
The security personnel weren't much of a concern. Not with her life experience and skillsets. But in this specific case, that would only get them so far -- her skills with locks were rudimentary at best and while Epsilon's occasional knack for sneaking past certain encryption levels was an increasingly useful blessing in disguise, he didn't have any other AI here that he could influence to lend them a hand. (That she knew of, anyway..)
And whoever owned this particular location certainly hadn't skimped on buying the best of what little was still available in this neglected neck of the universe. Better than, even. But the data trail indicated that the likeliest armor piece held here was the healing unit...And she couldn't leave it here.
So. Carolina did what any other mercenary did at a time like this: touched base with contacts of varying disrepute in the local black market. Chief amongst those on the southern continent was an almost unnnervingly cheerfully individual called 'Vic Jr.'.
Who, allegedly, knew someone who met her skill needs exactly.
In spite of Vic's claims, however, she wasn't about to hire just anyone without some form of interview first. Leaving Epsilon in a separate safe location in case they'd been double-crossed, the former Freelancer had settled her self at one of the rear booth tables in one of the somewhat less seedy dives in the nearest city.
For now, the mark-VI armor and its ridiculous helmet remained in place, active chameleon unit painting it an unobtrusive brown with grey stripes rather than its more memorable cyan shade. The bored tilt of her helmet hides the fact she's paying close attention to anyone coming and going through the establishment's doors.. ]
Whoops shoulda left a note
Adapted. Found somewhere to stay that wasn't so damn obvious. Did odd jobs. Even without Delta he's damn good at what he does, encryption, decryption. The lovetap that Reggie gave him is more than enough reason for him to not do any actual field work though. Mostly he just creates a bump key and sends it along- or has them send the drive to a dead drop, decryption it, and sends it back. Payment's never done in person. He's always been paranoid as hell.
He's got more reason to try to keep out of the way. But this?
Vic promised a huge payout. A huge fucking payout. For cracking a door that'd be relatively easy for him and seems 'right up his alley'. Vic doesn't know much about him other than his skills. He tries to keep it that way.
Still. Meeting the employer in person? Not something he's done in awhile. He doesn't wear armor. Doesn't have to. Doesn't HAVE any to wear and that does peg him as a civilian faster than anything else. And he kind of needs that distinction. Don't mind him, he's just grabbing a drink. It seems normal till he sees that armor in THAT color combination. Gives him pause.
No way for him to know and he's not about to try to ask. He just swaggers over to the booth and slides across, trusting his grown out hair, his beard, and his sunglasses to hide his face enough. The fairly decent imitation of Reggie's accent helps with the rest. ]
Don't suppose you have a light, mate? [ Smoking to sooth his nerves is one thing, but it's always a good way to make sure the other person doesn't have a gun in their hand under the table. ]
Re: Whoops shoulda left a note
There's an almost mechanical turn of her head, raptor-like cant offered as hidden green gaze watches the man slides into the booth, seating himself opposite and opening negotiations with a casual glibness that would have earned him a cool look and perhaps a swift kick under the table in another lifetime.
In this one, the question earns him silence to start, the hiring mercenary appearing to be sizing him up as Carolina's skin prickles at the sound of his voice. The accent is dreadful. And not familiar. Not really. It's like a poor man's imitation of Wyoming, and she's not at all intimidated. Not by this..this civvy, who looks nothing like someone who could handle the sort of locks she needs cracking.
Which might mean he's exactly what she needs. Maybe.
And yet something sets her head whirling, a cold finger tracing a path up her spine.
She's glad, suddenly, that Epsilon had been messing with the filter settings within her helmet, the meddlings of his boredom resulting in a disguise for her true voice: her words are pitched higher, spoken with a lilt more akin to a newscaster from Tribute than the ducet tones of Agent Carolina. ]
No, 'fraid not. [smoothly, her hands move to rest palm up on the table, briefly revealing the datapad beneath one arm] Not a good habit to have in my line of work.
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York gets Captured thread split
It's what York's good at too, he just needs a reminder. He'll see how good Charon can be, even if it means letting them put a collar on you.
He approaches York, stays out of reach though, makes it awkward for him to get a shot in, and then decloaks.
"You should have stayed away." And there's nothing there, his voice cold and empty of emotion. He can't afford to care if he wants to get this done, so it's the mercenary who faces York.
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
The fact that it's old lockdown paint and not actual rounds probably doesn't help either but- he knew he'd want to kill Wash. Knew his anger might get the better of him and it's- easier to give himself that handicap. To go at it like he's pissed and they're on the trainingroom floor, that they can clean up and reset, rinse and repeat like they used to. Easier to take that angle than to actually think about putting a bullet in someone that said they loved him.
He was so fucking tired of shooting people that were supposed to care about him.
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
He gives a breathless laugh, pitiful really. "You should have stayed with the rebels, York."
And then there's the click behind York, and a gun pressed against the back of his helmet.
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
Re: York gets Captured thread split (point of divergance)
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