goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"I don't really remember? I was kind of in shock what with having been betrayed. Again. Guess I got one of those faces?" Something in how he says the word takes some of the sting out of it, makes it a joke instead of a barb.

Carolina glowers, eyes snapping over to Wash. "The Feds and the New Republic have decided to set aside their differences and work together."

York's stillness comes from Delta locking down any possible reaction rather than genuine skill. "Why do I get the feeling you had something to do with that, York?"

"They have?" He'd thought that was impossible, even before they'd arrived to fuck things up worse. But York had managed it. He'd somehow managed to make it work, and for all that it's bad, so bad for them, he can't help but feel relief, and a little bit of pride for what York had managed.

"So they managed to talk to each other. That's not an insurmountable obstacle," he continues, wanting to deflect Carolina from York.

"It's a complication. The remaining New Republic forces have fallen back to Armonia." An aerial assault would be next to impossible without risking the reactor and the stockpile of alien weaponry hoarded in the capital. They'll need a new angle to work now that the cleanest sweep is no longer an option.

York blinks once, twice, and looks at Wash. "Am I a particularly compelling person or am I an asshole? Because I"m pretty sure I can't do shit like make people set aside their differences long enough to work together. If that was the case I'd have been a diplomat, not a soldier."

Armonia is heavily fortified, difficult to get into. It's a fair setback for them. But part of him is pleased. Kimball's a smart woman. "We've dealt with complications before."

He meets York's gaze for a brief moment then looks sharply away, back at Carolina. "You know he's never been good at organising stuff like that. What would he have done?"

"The also have found simulation troopers, some sort of group of great heroes." Here York snorts a soft laugh.

"Oh christ, those guys? I passed their camp weeks ago and they are NOT heroes. They're idiots." Idiots that apparently killed The Meta and managed to not get killed by Charon's forces just yet- but the more he can downplay them the better. If they aren't a valid threat, Carolina won't focus on them.

"I don't know WHAT he did, but he did something. What else would prompt the move?" Carolina takes another step forward, shoulder to shoulder with wash, glaring down at York on the bed.

"Someone played a funny voicemail? I dunno, Clair- hgk!"

That's a name he doesn't get to say- her hand's around his throat in a heartbeat, squeezing. "Do NOT Call me that!"

"Yeah, I remember. I scoped them out ages ago, Carolina. Dismissed them as not being a threat." They'd looked incapable of forming even a reasonable camp. He'd just been going to leave them to die, maybe pick them off if he wanted some entertainment.

Carolina steps up next to him, and he feels dwarfed next to her, weak and childish. She's the one who deals with Control. She's the one who hands down orders and punishments.

He still doesn't expect her to grab York and he turns to her, rests a hand on her arm. "Carolina, you can't damage him. Control wants him. He's part of the boss's collection."

"He wants York compliant. I think we've been giving him too much for too little in return." She hauls York up onto his knees on the bed, other hand sneaking back to rest on Delta's chip. "Talk or you lose your friend."

"Take him and you got nothing to keep me in this room." There's no blood on his teeth when he smiles, but it's just as vicious as her voice. "Next time I get out? I'm blow'n something up. So think REAL hard if that's worth it."

"You can't do that, Carolina," Wash says, his grip tightening on her shoulder. "You don't want to. You of everyone... you'd know what it's like to have your AI ripped out. You're not the Meta. You're not the- the monster they want to create."

"No, I'm a soldier and I follow orders! I am ORDERING you to talk!" SHe gives York a shake, like that'll rattle the truth out of him.

She doesn't expect his hands to slip from her wrist to the caches on her helmet. Doesn't have time to stop him from pulling it off.

Definitely doesn't have time to think about what he's planning when he pulls her in and-

Rests his forehead against hers.

"You don't have to be a soldier all the time, Carolina."

"There's better ways to do this!" Wash says, trying to pull her arm away. But she's wearing armour and once it's locked, there's no way he can get her to move while he's not wearing his.

York is obviously insane. Wash glares at him, because it feels wrong to have someone drag her helmet off, feels like a violation. And then he's touching her, resting his head against hers.

"What are you doing?" This doesn't- this isn't- he shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't. It doesn't make SENSE. Her hand is on his throat, her fingers on Delta's chip and his hands are on her face. Holding her like she held him yesterday.

"Making a point? Winging it." He shrugs and the tendons under her palm creak- she legs go of his throat, pushes herself away, eyes wide. That isn't-

"Suit up. Report to Control." To Wash. Orders. She can give orders. "We'll discuss your indiscretion later."

He knows her pretty well by now and he doesn't think he's ever seen her this unsettled. Not while they've been working together for Charon anyway.

And then the moment is gone. "Carolina..." The sharp bite of her words strikes like a whip, and he has to be a soldier again. "Yes sir," he agrees, giving York the barest flicker of a look. "I understand. What do you want me to tell Control?"

"That you were fraternizing and need a reminder of your place. Our place. Dismissed." She'll wait for Wash to leave first, giving York no room to move, no room to talk.

He's done enough damage.

He squeezes his eyes shut for one long moment, forcing down the fear churning in his gut. "Yes sir. I'll comply and accept whatever punishment I'm given."

He carefully doesn't look at York as he leaves the room.

"...it's on you. What they'll do to him. It's all on you." Before he has a chance to say much of anything, she turns on her heel and stalks out.

Well.

That...could've gone better. Shit.

He lingers outside until Carolina emerges, gaze downcast. "C- Boss?" Facing her is bad enough, but if it buys him time before he sees Control, it's worth doing.

"What?" She's in no mood for deviations. Wash is a good soldier- he's all she has left. IF he's losing confidence in the mission he becomes a liability to Charon and to himself.

She can't allow that to happen.

He doesn't flinch, just looks up at her, lets her see how tired he is, how sick feeling and scared her is. He can't hide it, not now. "What do you think they'll want to do to me? I want to be prepared."

"They'll remind you of your orders." Firm. She has to be firm, for both of them. But it doesn't stop her from reaching out to curl her fingers around his shoulder, tips brushing the scar tissue around his neural implant. "In the best way they can think of."

There's no flinch when she touches him. He knows her touch by now. His mouth has still gone dry with apprehension. No, it's terror, straight up. "I understand. I'll do better in future."

"Do NOT let him shake your focus. He wasn't there for us. He left us. He will always leave us." Because that's what York does. He runs. He covers his own skin. He doesn't stand and he doesn't care.

"I know. I know. He left us and we were saved by Charon. We owe the Chairman everything." But York was convincing and it was easy to forget that around him and he doesn't want to think of Kimball and the kids getting slaughtered.

"Remember that. Go. I have my orders, you have yours." Armonia needed to be scouted out. To see how much they know, what they can do with with their forces combined. With the right nudge? They'll go back to tearing each other apart.

"Yes sir," Wash says. He clasps her hand for a moment before ducking out of her grasp. Needs to get suited up before reporting to Control. "I've got my orders."

Control was not happy with him. There was guilt engrained in him, trained into him as a reaction to Control's displeasure. It was his own fault. He should never have done this, he should never have gone against them. All he could do was take his punishment and do better.

He's stripped down to his undersuit when he enters the room, nothing to get in the way. It was a small room, a padded cell really, except for the machine set by one wall. It looked a lot like one of the machines they'd used on the MoI to implant AIs.

"Agent Washington." Control's voice. "Sit down."

He obeyed, settling himself in the heavy seat in the middle of the room, starting to fasten the restraints without prompting.

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)