goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

Only boss I ever liked, Clair.

[ Which is true in so many ways- but then he wasn't hired all that often, Vic wasn't a boss so much as a partner and the whole cracking locks and encryption from the safety of his apartment was...well. Ignoble. It felt shady because it was shady and he'd kinda gotten used to it. But working with Carolina? Had always been twisted with a strong line of Duty and an undercurrent of the right thing to do. They were the good guys.

Until they weren't.

He tugs one of the burritos over to nibble on, checking his stomach's readiness to actually settle before taking a bigger bite. That he almost chokes on when she says she walked away. Just. Away? Away.

Part of him is stupidly proud for her. Part of him is knotted up in everything that had been, everything they'd lost, everything that went wrong. Swallowing it is harder than swallowing the chicken. ]

...I'm sorry. For your. Loss. It is a loss, isn't it?

"Y'know what? Even with the civil war and the shooting me on sight thing and...everything?" He rubs their noses together, smile small but real. Honest in a way he hasn't felt since before the Project. "Me too."

It's a pretty ridiculous gesture, and he loves it. It makes his smile more genuine. "I am sorry I dragged you into this. But... you reminded me what I should be." What being human was. And even knowing that York won't feel this way after tomorrow... it's good to hear.

"We all need them now and then." He's shut the water off, leaving just- them breathing and hanging on to each other in the dark showers. The run back is chilly and slippery and full of laughter but they manage to make it to his room without incident.

Well.

Without MUCH incident. One sentry may have gotten an eyefull. There also might've been whistling. Didn't matter. He had a warm bed, he had David, and he had a plan for the morning. He's all too happy to drag him into the covers and curl up around him, dropping off to sleep quickly and deeply for the first time in years. Dead to the world, is York.

He sleeps a little. Not much. Prefers to spend it awake, enjoying the feeling of York's arms around him, body pressed up against him. Because this is it. He wants to delay. He wants nothing more than to sleep out the rest of the night, and wake up with him and go on the mission with him. And he can't. Delaying any longer is going to bring Carolina down on him and he can't risk that.

He extracts himself carefully from York's arms and then slips his dogtags and the hidden memory chip off and presses them into York's palm, closing his fingers around it. He'll need that intel.

He leans in to kiss him gently, strokes his cheek. "I love you. I'm sorry."

His armour is waiting for him, and the weapons that he'd gathered up. Clears out his room of everything, activates the camo unit and then slips away before light even starts to touch the sky.

[ There's not much she can say to that. There's a curve of a smile to her eyes, tired though she is, and a lump forms in her throat. But no tears. Not right now. She's simply too tired for that.

She nibbles more slowly on her second burrito while he processes what she's told him. There were probably less dramatic ways to drop that on his lap. But right now, she really can't think of any.

At his tentative question, she licks her lips, then sets her food down as she shakes her head. ]

No. no, not really. It was the loss of everything, everyone else that was worth mourning. Revenge wouldn't bring you--all of you back.

The person he used to be was lost a long time ago. It just took me a while to realise it. [the smile that forms is mirthless, lopsided and brief] Nothing I could have done to the person I found would have been worse than what he did to himself. And I wasn't going to let him drag me any further down with him.

[He was a coward. And she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of dictating her actions any more, even at his end.]

York sleeps like the dead- sleeps through Wash leaving. Only mumbles, mostly asleep and muzzy 'five more min-' when wash strokes his cheek. He's out for at least another hour, maybe two before the cold bed rouses him.

Before he blinks to where Wash had been and starts to worry until the tags in his hand click and-

No.

Not again, not another fucking message left behind after-

After.

Wash is in trouble. He doesn't know how or what or why this is happening but too much felt just off enough to be worrying and now he's sitting with the pieces again and the kid is gonna get him killed and-

He pops the chip in his tablet, grinding his hand against his good eye. Tries to wake up. To pay attention to what the kid's been trying to tell him.

There's a video file on the chip, the first thing that pops up, automatically when the chip is inserted. It's in York's room, on the bed the previous day. He looks pensive, a little ill, exhausted and sad.

"Hey York. Taylor. I- If you're seeing this message it means I've gone. And I'm sorry about that. I really am, but there's some stuff I need to take care of and it's better if you aren't there."

He scrubs a hand down over his face. "On this chip are all of my files. Everything I know about Charon Industries and a man called Malcolm Hargrove. But, I should probably start at the beginning.

After things went bad in the project I- I was stuck there. They declared me Article 12 which means that they could hold me indefinitely. The Director suspected that I knew about what he'd done to the Alpha. Epsilon left me a whole lot of information. And they tried everything to get at it. Succeeded too. If I hadn't already been declared insane, I probably would have then.

I got an offer. Hargrove is head of the Oversight Committee. He offered me a deal. If I worked for him, gave the information to bring down the Director, he'd get me out. Clear my record. Make it possible for me to have a life."

He ducks his head, staring down at the bed for a long moment before back at the camera. "I took it. It wasn't really a choice. And I got out. It was... easy jobs at first. The same kind of stuff we'd been doing anyway. And then the jobs got... riskier. Nastier. Mercenary work. Assassinations. And I went along with it. At first because I- I didn't have much of a choice. And then because I guess I'd reached a point where... I was dead. Why pretend I was anything other than a killer?

And then this mission. Chorus has a lot of alien tech. Things humans can't even imagine yet. And Charon wants it. The trouble is the population. So me and another merc in much the same position as me were sent here. They were already in a civil war. Our orders were just to... keep it going. Until there's no-one left. No-one to blame if the population killed themselves right? And he can sweep in and claim the tech."

He looks straight up at the camera. "And then you show up and... I remembered what I was supposed to be.

So I'm going to do what I can. Get the communications running at least."

He reaches out to switch off the camera and then pauses.

"The other merc with me... it's Carolina. She's... different. I don't know what happened to her but... be careful. She wanted me to bring you in. Don't know what she's got planned."

Another long pause, the camera just lingering on him. "I'm sorry. I told you I was a monster. And... I love you."

The camera switches off.

Edited 2015-09-04 15:04 (UTC)

Considerate, or planned? She is, after all, a demon. They aren't exactly known for compassion.

Then again, what do books written by mortals really know?

"I can use it, if required." Her tone indicates some disinterest, however, as her hand lifts and drags her fingers before her face. A face that. Vanishes. Along with the rest of her. Maxine the cat floats above the couch on her invisible lap curl-perch.

Then she returns with a shimmer and a faint whaft of smoke that's gone as soon as it arrives. "Or I can veil myself."

"Not the educational experience you signed up for," she utters dryly, shaking herself mentally loose from the edge, before turning her back to the window, arms folding as she leans against the wall and watches York, listen to what he has to say. Makes sense, if a funny sort of way. Be the change you want. Sounds like a challenge. (The sort she could get behind..?) "So how did you meet Delta?"

Aw. You wanted to avenge me.

[ He has to snort a soft laugh at that. He didn't think there was anyone that thought he was worth avenging left alive- and with how the last time he'd seen Carolina in person gone he didn't think she'd have wanted to do that either. And yet she'd had that urge and moved past it.

Good for her. They've lost enough of themselves, carved them out and set before the altar of The Director's obsession. It's good that she's moved on. That they've moved on. Took him years and then almost dying and losing Delta to move on but- he'd had to.

The alternative was to hang on to the thing that nearly killed him twice.

He hooks his ankle around hers- a casual point of contact he's not all that sure he's got permission to have anymore, and finishes his burrito. ]

Nowhere to go but up now, huh?

Okay that. That was cool. That had him blinking at the space where she was for a long moment and-

Pouting?

pouting.

"I could go to my classes and not get bothered if I could do that." Sitting in the back with a hood up helped a little, but people STILL wanted to talk to him. About his eye and shit. Christ.

"Casbah." He didn't talk about casbah beyond the bare bones for a reason. "A lot of booze, a lot of sugar- a mountain of jello, a dare, fireworks, a pvc nurse outfit, and a scooter. That's all I'm allowed to say."

He has to play the recording twice more- the first bit about the project has his ears ringing and all he can see, all he can hear is how it's still fucking everything up. How it's STILL twisting up the lives of those that survived it. How it's still got it's claws deep in people that should be able to go home.

The second time all he can hear is he got duped. Again. By someone he trusted- those times David had been on his own, 'calling in?' Wasn't calling Kimball. He'd been playing this angle and of fucking course he'd been shooting to kill. Of fucking course he wasn't teaching the kids to fight properly. Of course he'd been anxious about him actually managing to teach them something, about humanizing them about BEING here.

He loses a little time, then. Staring at the last image of Wash, tired and calm and resigned. Considers the data that he's got left on the chip. Remembers the last time someone he cared about, someone he trusted pulled this shit and-

it's exhausting. it's frustrating. Everything he worked for, everything he put behind him and put to rest shoots up through him like sparks to old embers and all he can do is cling to the tablet with trembling hands, white knuckled and jaw locked as he listens one last time. And plans.

Suits up. Reports to Kimball. Requests Wash be left to him. They know where the Fed commander is- the capitol. And if anyone can get in, can get WORD to him, can prove this shit? it's York. That makes it a solo op. Wash can handle his shit on his own for the moment- the radio tower is the second stop. Doesn't think about Carolina alive. Doesn't think about Wash falling out because of- what? Three days? A few good nights in the sack? A fucking sentiment that didn't mean a goddamn thing when he'd been rolling right along with a plan to wipe out an entire FUCKING planet? Anger runs hot and gives him focus. Getting into Armonia doesn't take near as long as expected.

Getting to Doyle to provide a copy of the data Wash left him? Cake. Waking him up after he faints- well. That takes a bit.

Data offered, diplomacy extended, a truce- a shakey one kept way, WAY the fuck on the down low and god help him if Kimball goes back on it and kills the man, all of that squared away- he grabs a pelican from Armonia and flies his ass to the radio tower. Because he's got an appointment with two old friends. And for once he's not going to go in expecting things to end well.

Yes. I did.

[ His tone jokes, but it was no laughing matter for Carolina, not then, and not now. Not if the quiet delivery of her confirmation was any judge.

She had had enough regrets bound up in that burning desire, that all consuming revenge. But choosing to live? That seemed an even better way to accomplish it. She picks up the remains of her second burrito and resumes eating just in time for him to hook his foot with hers, and it takes a moment for her not to freeze up. Their friendship had fallen apart so spectacularly and it had been..not all of her own fault, admittedly. But it had taken her such a long time to realise how toxic and twisted things had become, to realise how both of their flaws had been used against them.

She could try not to read anything into it. And yet, there's something more than just casual contact with the gesture, she recognises it for what it is - a tentative check for what boundaries now lie between them. which is why, once he's settled, she turns hers very slightly, curls her big toe upwards to lightly brush his ankle. Her feet aren't quite so long that she can hook the back of his foot in turn, but this would do for now. Right? Right.

Second burrito is finished.]

When you've fallen down far enough. [there's a hint of humour to her voice.] And I wasn't alone 'down there', which proved to be more help than hindrance in the end.

"You are human." Which is not to say invisibility will be beyond him some day - just probably not in time for graduation. "Are your peers truly so bothersome? Or need you to find better company?"

"That's fine. I'm not entirely sure I want to know." Pop stars. Oi vey.

The pirates hadn't stood a chance. They were lazy, arrogant. Never expected an attack to come, especially not from one of their own. Gotta hand it to the cloaking tech, it makes things a damn sight easier. They're dead, black armoured figured scattered around the radio tower, all taken out with knives to keep things quieter. No sense drawing trouble to himself before he has to. He wants to avoid this confrontation for as long as he can. He can't win against Carolina. He can't win at all.

He has the casing of the signal jammer open, setting charges. Still camouflaged because it buys him a little time if anyone does show up. The charges are on a short timer. He's not taking any chances with these being deactivated. As soon as it's over, he'll broadcast the information, make sure that everyone sees it. The whole damn planet.

He pauses when he hears something. Is that... is that a Pelican?

Oh god. He finishes setting the last charge, seals it as best he can to make it a pain to get at, and starts moving in that direction, setting up with his rifle as the pelican lands.

Landing's easy- after all the yelling Niner used to do about how he'd crash the sims, he figured out how. He's expecting a fight not...a bunch of dead pirates with knives in them. Huh. Wash got to work. Figures he never forgot what Connie taught him. No signs of snapped necks or gunshots, he'd been keeping it quiet. York slips out and starts wandering- trying to find whoever was alive or the command console. Whichever came first.

It reminds him of that day, only a couple of weeks ago. Watching York in the canyon. Should've used the camo unit then. Should never have got involved. It was easier to be dead, to not care and just follow orders whenever his leash was tugged. He could probably still fix things now. Shoot York here, to kill or to incapacitate him. Hand him over. He's sure Control would just love having another Freelancer in his hands.

He can't do it. He can't.

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.

"It was Reggie's fault."

"The ones in my classes, yeah." It's irritating. "Guys at the library, not so much. And there's some girls I jog with so other dudes don't bug 'em, they're sweet."

[ She locks up and he almost takes his foot away. Gives her the space she might want- and it's almost nothing. It's tentative and light and he barely felt it- but it's something. Contact. Closing a circuit. They aren't what they were in the Project, aren't what they were when they met but-

they can be better. They can DO better.

And it's gonna have to start now. ]

...If you got room on the ladder for one more, I'm with you.

[ It wasn't no forever, back in the cave. it was no for right then. He couldn't- he WOULDN'T be a liability for her. Distract her. Slow her down. He couldn't take it after all these years, the idea of holding her back just by being him. To keep up, to have her back like he always wanted, like he meant to? he'd need a suit. Calling in favors to make that happen isn't so big a deal. ]

Gimme another two days and I'll be ready.

"Don't. Want. To know."

Except, well: "Who the hell is Reggie, though?"

"Then why are you telling them the truth?" Assuming he says anything at all. "Tell false tales and let them fall over themselves to determine which one is real."

Then a frown. "It sounds like few things change across centuries." Tsk, harassment. Perhaps it IS a good thing she's apartment-bound.

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