goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"It was pretty nice. Now it's just me and my sidearm. D used to keep watch but..." No Delta AI anymore. When he failed to die, D got deleted. Suit protocols being what they are.

One more grave he needs to dig.

"How's the lock on the door?"

"I envied you that, you know. Delta. You and North. I was so excited for Epsilon. A partner." And look how that had turned out. If it had worked the Meta would probably have come after him though.

"Should be solid. Mine is."

"If they were what they thought they were? It would've worked out. You'd have gotten one." It's not Wash's fault- it's not anyone's but the Director's.

"Good. Kinda- I'll double check it." He hasn't lived this long by just taking those details at face value.

"I remember what they did to the Alpha. The Director. Sigma and Gamma. They worked together to rip it apart." And there were nights when he couldn't remember who exactly he was. Another good reason to have a bunk out of the way of the rest of the soldiers here.

"Alright. I wouldn't expect anything less."

"...D didn't remember but he had..." Can a fragment of a mind have PTSD? Yeah, yeah it could. "Echos. Nightmares."

Project Freelancer. The best and the supposed brightest. At the end all of them to the one was as broken as the AI the Director had been selling. Now it's him and Wash and it's all very...sad. Bittersweet. They lived.

No.

They survived. Very different. "Where is this bunk of yours?"

If a fragment can try to kill itself over and over, then yeah, a fragment can have PTSD. "I'm not surprised."

What he remembered was awful and it was burnt into his memory. No wonder the Alpha had shed logic first.

"Just over here," Wash says, gesturing a little way ahead to a cluster of smaller buildings. His bunk, York's, a secure building that houses Kimball's, another that keeps their records and computers for surveillance.

York slings his gear over his shoulder and follows along, waving at the kids that wander by. After one or two murmurs of 'i thought he'd be taller' he rolls his eyes.

"One John Spartan rolls up seven feet tall outside the armor and now we all gotta be huge. Jesus christ."

They seem a little more surprised to see Wash out of armour. He ignores them mostly, but snorts at what York says. "Yeah, damn those guys. Connie always said that a taller opponent just gave more leverage to bring them down."

"Watching her take down Maine repeatedly on the mats is proof enough of that." It had been a thing of beauty. She really had been the best of them. Carolina had just been the most loyal. He'd been...

The most foolish, really. Trying so hard to be what he wasn't. To have what he couldn't. Like it'd make up for everything else.

"I think he enjoyed it," Wash replies, a hint of a smile on his face. "He always just got up and let her do it again and again until she got a move perfect."

"Yeah, well-" And it's habit now to drop into a crouch and start working at the lock, not missing a beat. "He and Florida were always the most patient with you two. I was kind of a dick. Sorry."

Wash just watches when York drops to start picking the lock. He could open it but he thinks it's more of a security net than any real need to break in.

"They threw a group of disparate personalities with our own set of quirks into a team situation and just hoped it would work. It kind of did for a while."

"Till Tex and the other AI, yeah." A twist and a press and there's the first catch. After that it's easy as breathing, one two three, going by feel and route till he hears a click and the door swings open. "You need a better lock."

He wonders if York ever resents Tex. They'd teamed up, but does he ever think that maybe it would have been better if she'd never been brought onto the team? That maybe they'd still be a team?

He rolls his eyes. "I'll add one to the shopping list. You planning on breaking in often because I could just leave the door ajar instead."

"I'll rework it for you." Adding an encryption lock on the top of this is probably overkill.

But.

He does wanna be able to sleep. Really sleep, on a mattress that's not covered slab of debris. Promises of that have him slinging his bag over his shoulder and stepping inside, peering around.

"You don't have to do that." The biggest threat to this place is him, but he doesn't want York to think that. "If you want to though, I'd probably sleep better."

He goes to lean against the doorframe, watching as York pokes around. There's a bed and a locker in there, a couple of crates that double as a table. "This work for you?"

"Looking for the cat photos and the skateboard, honestly." One bed and that has him drawing up short. "I'm not taking your bunk, am I?"

"The- heh, haven't had one of those for a while." God, he'd nearly forgotten about it honestly. It seems an insignificant detail these days, like it belongs to someone else. The room is spartan honestly. It holds his kit and that's about all.

He shakes his head. "No. There's another room like this out the other side of the building. It was a storeroom. Got sectioned off a while back. If you prefer this one though, it'll take me all of five minutes to move. I don't have a whole lot of stuff."

"Combat hoverboards. Not a dumb idea- I don't care what Reggie said." It would've increased their mobility tenfold easily. "I'll take the other room. No need to make you move, yeah?"

"You know we would just have ended up using them for jousting matches down the hallways on the ship," Wash replies. It was a pretty hilarious image though.

"Sure. Whatever works. It's not exactly like I'm hugely invested in the homely atmosphere I've created here."

"I noticed." It feels less like a bunk and more like a cell. he'd had his turn in those- no thanks. "I'm gonna get set up over there and bunk down for the night. You need me, you know where to find me."

With that he gives Wash a clasp on the shoulder and heads out, looping around to the other room. he doesnt' have much. Can't carry anything too heavy but- he's got a few things. A worn book on string theory that helped D sleep that he sets on a crate next to the bed. Alarm Clock Florida gave him for his birthday. A few photos he tacks onto the walls of them in the project, of his unit beforehand. of his family. Bits here and there that make it less like a storage shed and more like his room back on the MoI, even with the stash of booze he never touches anymore.

Drinking the empty hole in his head away stopped working after the first month. Not a somewhere he wants to be right now.

Wash nods. "Yeah, I know. Sleep well York. Come get me if you need anything."

He doesn't go straight to bed. There's a perimeter check to do, rounds to make to make sure everything is secure.

Reports to send to Carolina. Yes, he can keep York busy here until they figure out what to do. No, he's really not going to be amenable to joining up with them. Kind of the opposite Wash expects. He's already adopted half the kids on the base and if he figures out what they're doing, he'll probably adopt the Feds as well. He could be a dangerous uniting force.

The answer is obvious. Set him up to get killed. It should be easy; they're in a warzone. He'd be a martyr to the cause.

Neither of them actually suggests that line of action, but he knows they're both thinking it. He's glad they don't suggest it. Maybe there's still a little humanity left in them somewhere. Maybe.

He eventually heads back to the base, walks past York's door and pauses outside for just a moment before heading to his own bed.

Sleep, when it comes, comes in fits and snatches. Even in a secure room. Even on a bed. Even with a sidearm on the table. There's a voice that should be there and isn't, a warmth that he used to press back against and can't. Nothing but him in his head and him in his bed and he's never felt like less of a person than when he's trying to count sheep and all he can count is lives he couldn't save.

Half an hour here, an hour there and- well- after remembering the firefight that cost him the suit and Delta he never gets any more sleep anyway. Rolls out. Suits up. Swings around for a perimeter walk after locking up behind him. does a personal inventory of supplies. Of men. of intel as they have it.

Not much. No aerial support, no ground support other than the rough infantry- a few jeeps with turrets but no tanks. No Phyliss.

He's worked with less and come out on top.

Hours left till the morning drill and he Drops by Kimball (getting a handgun to the face for picking the lock which he kind of earned) to let her know he's going scouting for a bit.

Wash- he considers bringing along. Remembers the room, the eyes, the everything before he just slips on by on his own. He could use the eyes- but he needs a to give the time to sleep and process. It's been a lot for both of them.

Wash sleeps. It isn't restful. It hasn't been for a long time. Maybe eventually his brain will have finished using every scrap of it to process another set of memories, Epsilon, Alpha, the Director, but he isn't holding out much hope. Tonight those merge with York, with Carolina and Connie and Maine. There's this horrible black thing trying to swallow him; it has Sigma's voice, glows green like Delta. Screams like Epsilon.

He watches as his own hands cut York down, watch him die. And he feels nothing.

Morning is a relief. He shouldn't have bothered trying.

York isn't around when he wakes. Out scouting apparently. Kimball tells him the rough direction and he heads out too, following trails that he knows by heart. Even if he doesn't find York, it serves a purpose.

He's found his way to an abandoned Fed base by the time Wash catches up. Everything's cleared out for the most part. No supplies, no transport, no weapons. Doesn't matter, it's not what he's looking at. Computers you can wipe but nothing short of an EMP can really purge the system. it's worth checking. When his motion tracker pings he flicks the surveillance system back on to check and- hey. Wash.

Using the intercom's a piece of cake. Has to be for civvies turned soldiers to use it. "Head for the central building. I'm inside."

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