goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"All I've done is crash." not like that stopped anyone from shooting at him anyway- and the fact that Wash took a potshot at him over something 'personal'? This was probably not his best idea. Not his worst just yet, but not a good one. Whoever he's reporting back to better have a good line on hand or he's just gonna take the first rocket off this damn place, old friend or no.

Car full and ready to go he sets the jerry can in the back with the rest of the crates and swings back into the driver's seat. "Waiting on you."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem," Wash replies, and he's pretty proud that he manages to sound like it really is that simple, when it isn't simple at all.They are so far past simple right now that simple might as well be on the dark side of the moon. The moon back on Earth, not on Chorus.

"I"m coming." He double checks the security, just in case, and then climbs back up into the car. "Shouldn't be too long before we get to base."

"Gimme a navpoint and an ETA. I'd rather not surprise someone." Surprises meant getting shot and he really, really doesn't like getting shot. he's had his fill, please and thank you.

Really, York was giving the rebels too much credit. Probably giving most of the Feds too much credit honestly by what he'd seen of them. Backwater planet, most of the people just weren't ready for the kind of life they were living now.

He gives York the navpoint. "And it should be... twelve minutes. There's an entrance to a cavern we're using as a base. Pretty extensive tunnel system around here. It's useful."

"Convenient." He follows the directions as offered, frowning a little at their surroundings. For a planet in the middle of a civil war it's- quiet.

disturbingly so.

"It makes our lives easier. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that crap."

As they get nearer, the spot signs of life. Buildings cobbled together, bunkers built into the rock. People. With weapons.

"Hey, pull over."

"We don't get gift horses, Wash. We get Trojans." But sure, driving to the cave system. till he hears people.

"...they yours?"

"And here I thought I was the pessimistic one."

It's the rebels. It wouldn't be anyone else, not down here. They've not arranged for any combat to happen until this is sorted out so... "Yeah, they're mine."

"...they really don't look like much." A beat. "I always did like rooting for the underdog."

"WHy do you think they hired me?" Wash replies. There's a smirk when he hears York say that. Probably best he had been picked up by Wash. Rooting for the underdog made this an easier prospect to sell at least.

"They're... not brilliantly trained, not really soldiers most of them. But they believe in what they're doing. They want to make a better life for themselves, apart from the oppressive government regime."

"And they didn't think to ping the UNSC for assistance...why? There are avenues for colonists. Shit, this'd probably be right up their alley since they're trying to get some good PR back in the aftermath of the...everything of their super soldier projects coming to light." Planet wide radio jam? that takes tech, power, know how- and resources a planet in the middle of a civil war shouldn't be able to swing easily.

Sure it's the first thing they'd do but- handling it on their own? Not tactically sound. From either side.

Bring in a Freelancer and-

well you're asking for explosions and new reasons for PTSD panic attacks. Not really fights won.

"They can't. They tried. Everyone tried. Don't know if it's been set up by the feds or if it's something to do with the alien tech but signal out here is... patchy at best. Non-existant for the most part." He shrugs and hops out of the car, waving to the couple of rebels who rush up. They stare at York warily, but for Wash there's nothing but enthusiasm and something near reverence.

"Hey, is Kimball around? Got someone she needs to meet."

"Unless it all got trashed in the war, shouldn't be like that." But then a lot of shit got trashed during the war. Not a lot of it ever got fixed. Still there's gotta be some way to boost a signal and god what he wouldn't give for Delta right now. He could run the numbers, point York in the right direction. Tell him what wires needed twisting and what lock needed cracking.

All he gets now is a migraine.

The reaction to wash, well. He's laughing a little inside his helmet but otherwise does his best to look unintimidating. "Hey guys. Just an old friend of Wash's here from back in the day. Heard you could use a hand."

Not mentioning the getting shot at thing. nope.

Wash gives a helpless shrug. "No idea. It's been like this since I got here."

They're good kids. It's kind of a shame what's going to happen to them, but if they want to lose their lives to a cause... who is Wash to stop them? York gets the same kind of reverent stare when he introduces himself, and the mutters about another Freelancer being there are clearly audible.

After a few moments they get waved through the checkpoint, deeper into the caves which are a hive of activity.

"Park up somewhere. I'll take you to see Kimball. She's the boss round here."

"Why is it always women? Wait, no, I know. men charge up front and get themselves shot. Women plan." At least the smart ones did. Smart men...still charged in and got shot. he'd know. He swings back into the car and pulls into a nondescript part of the cave, tugging out the camo netting he'd hauled along with him. Enough fuel to get him back to the site for another round of supplies if needed.

or to get him the hell out of dodge if shit went south.

Who is he kidding, he knows his luck. It's not an if, it's a when.

"What can I say? I like the continuity. She's not Carolina but she's pretty good at what she does." She'd survived longer than her predecessors had. Wash could respect that.

"I'd say I'd give you the tour, but there's not a huge amount to see. It's... they're always strapped for supplies, for everything really. I do what I can to make sure they have enough to keep going. I'm like you," he adds more quietly. "Can't help but root for the underdog."

There's the smallest twitch at that. Carolina.

He'd seen Maine drop her and- had to get the hell out of there after. For a long while he'd thought she'd made it. he and Delta kept tabs on everything but- Texas. Texas survived, of fucking course SHE did, and Carolina was still assumed KIA.

There's no small part of him that carries around a weight of guilt for that.

"That's cuz you've always been the underdog, rookie." He nudges Wash with his elbow. "Gimme time to rest up and I'll swing back, pick up what's left of the supplies."

He catches the twitch and feels a flush of slow guilt. He knows that York is cut up about it and wishes that he could tell him. He wishes this whole charade was over. Why does on person make everything suddenly so much more difficult? He licks his lips. "Hey York? About Carolina..." He could tell him. He could make York's goddam decade. And that would probably destroy the job and bring Carolina and Charon down on him. "I'm sorry."

He means it but it isn't what he wishes he could say.

"Wow thanks for your unflagging support there York," he says dryly.

"Yeah?" God they didn't even get a funeral. None of them. Even the assholes on the front lines, all the canonfodder and drop ships that crashed, every massive swath of debris in space- they got memorials. They got to be remembered.

What's he got? A busted up lighter and a hole in the back of his head where his best friend used to be. Scars on his chest from where he'd been put down and unable to stay down.

if he'd died shit would be so much simpler.

He shakes his head at Wash's apology. "Not your fault."

it's his. If he'd just told her. If he'd just- tried to explain. Showed her what he'd found. Worked her into the plan. Maybe-

No. That's not gonna help.

"You know me. Always supportive."

"She was my friend and my CO and I miss her. Yes I'm sorry." And all of that is true. He still misses her because sometimes he's not sure that's she's actually there anymore. "I wish I could have done something."

But he'd barely been sane then, let alone in a position to help.

"No real time to plan. No plan to plan. Should've remembered that the second time around Tex asked me for help. You think a guy would learn." It'd been five years and still to goddamn soon but- helping put an end to it. Spitting back in their eye, trying for her sake. Cut them as deep as they'd cut him.

It wasn't smart. It wasn't planned. it was barely salvageable.

"You were always too noble for your own good." No matter what York may claim, no matter what his background. York is a good guy and he doesn't deserve the crap he's been put through.

Christ, why did he have to crash on this goddam rock?

"Come on. Let's get you set up. Kimball's over this way."

"In the war they called it be'n stupid." At least his former squad had up till they weren't a thing anymore. He should've stayed on. Fought in the front lines. Died like the rest of them.

instead he let a redhead with more skills than sentiment drag him into PFA for- what? Lancelot he isn't.

York pushes away from the jeep and motions for Wash to lead on. "Right behind you, bud."

"They called a lot of things stupid. Now it's the stuff they all want to claim is the best of humanity," Wash replies, that bitterness back in his voice. Suddenly qualities you wanted in a soldier just weren't what you wanted in a neighbour or hell, anywhere near you honestly.

Kimball is waiting and she looks relieved when he returns.

"Hey. Brought someone to see you. Old friend of mine. Agent York."

"Another Freelancer? Is he-"

She sounds so hopeful.

"Here to help? Sure." He pops the seal on his helmet for a chance to breathe, and a chance to smile at a pretty commanding lady that's also likely to be pretty.

What, a guy can hope.

"I'm an infiltration and stealth specialist, did a lot of work on intel runs, scouting, that kinda stuff. If you need to know how good I am at keeping under the radar, this guy thought I was dead till about an hour ago." He jerks a thumb at Wash, grinning. "So I'm pretty good."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject