goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

Plate after plate locks into place, the last thing to go on is the helmet. The HUD flares up bright, pinging motion on his left before he turns his attention to Wash. "Come on then, I'll borrow a mongoose, we can double up on that."

And just like that, it sort of feels like last night never happened. He hates the feeling. But it's easier to hide when his helmet is on, when there's nothing but grey armour between him and the world.

"Alright boss. Let's go."

"Don't call me boss, I might get a big head." He snorts, reaching over to nudge Wash in the shoulder on his way out the door. There is some catcalling from the passing formation of LTs, swiftly silenced by Smith's well placed glare.

"Too late," Wash says, and the smirk is obvious in his voice.

He's still not entirely inclined to be outright friendly to anyone on base. It comes with too much risk, so he follows York's lead, ignores the Rebels for the most part except as he needs to as they cross the base.

"Kimball knows I"m go'n, so we got about a four hour grace period before I need to radio in." He packs up what he thinks he'll need from the armory, sets a tracker on the mongoose (just in case) and swings a leg over. "C'mon, Wash."

"Sounds good." Four hours gave them time to get stuff done and have something to report on. Wash picks up his own rifle and the wicked set of knives that are pretty much the nicest things that he owns, custom made and balanced for his hand.

He swings himself up onto the back of the mongoose, leans over to squeeze York's shoulder. "Ready."

"Autobots, roll out." He crackles over their frequency, rolling through the caves till they hit the path he'd plotted out for himself earlier. It's quiet, devoid of the usual chatter or beatboxing York would do during ops while with the project. He's learned to be more careful.

It's weird once they're underway. He's used to York talking near constantly except when it's explicitly radio silence. Something like this? He should have been rambling. And he's just... silent. Just reminds him that while he might be alive, the Project was a long time ago. They've both changed so much.

He misses the chatter.

"Sometimes I realise that how we are now is probably what the Project wanted us to be and it pisses me off."

"Overly paranoid, gimped up, chock full of PTSD and barely hanging on to what it means to be a human NOT embroiled in intergalactic conflict?" He could've just asked Wash to shush but- there's no one around. It's safe to talk.

"Pretty much," Wash replied, and gave a short, harsh laugh. Spot on really. "They teach you all the skills you need for war, tell you you'll be heroes, then call you monsters for doing what they taught you. No-one likes a killer in peacetime." Except exceptionally shady individuals.

"The VA exists for a reason. We're just a little more fucked up than your average vet. It's one thing to go out to war and protect humanity- another entirely to have your whole moral compass spun for a loop because someone couldn't complete the grieving process in a healthy time frame." All the muttering, but it keeps the ride from being dull.

"Not sure the VA is really equipped to deal with former Freelancers. Or others. Too many fucked up projects in the war for them to cope with." The ones who really couldn't cope with any other life. Just let you burn out and hope the collateral from it wasn't too high.

He takes a breath. " I remember that too," he admits. "Flashes of it. Feelings sometimes. How he felt for her. How Alpha felt for Tex." he can't say Her name though. It still makes him hurt.

"Allison." Carolina's mother. To the AI she was an open wound, to the Director some unachievable goal. To Carolina a shade, to Tex? A weight. Delta's gone, has been gone, and he's had a long time to sort out how he felt about that woman. The sad smile, the voice that convinced him what he chose was the right thing.

It hadn't been worth it, but at the time? It felt right.

There's a flinch, a hiss of breath, Wash's hands tightening his grip on the Mongoose. For a moment he hears the shade of Epsilon's voice, screaming as he unravels again and again, crying for her. "Yeah," Wash agrees. "I think... I think she would have hated what happened."

"She'da punched him right in the throat." She didn't look like a woman that suffered fools gladly- or at all. And if tex was in any way shaped from her? Yeah. Right in the throat.

The path narrows a bit the further they go, taking a little creative maneuvering to get them from the caves to the covered paths just outside the town. Village? It's a tiny ass group of buildings where people used to live till they didn't.

"Sounds about right. And for what happened to Carolina." He knows that she would be vicious angry.

The place might have been nice once. Pretty enough. It's abandoned now, the rot starting to set in.

"You mind checking the west perimeter? I'll do east, we'll meet up at the north point and come down the middle together. Make sure no one left surprises." I's probably a little dishonest to check the place over before bringing his trainees but- he wants it to be safe. Risk free. They don't need to know he did that, though.

"Got it," Wash says with a nod. He hops down off the mongoose, checks his gear. "Watch your six," he said with a hint of amusement.

"You watch YOUR six, jackass." He snorts a soft laugh, taking the eastern path in a long, slow sweep. A whole lot of nothing, but it gives him time to set up motion trackers and cameras- establish a secure perimeter.

It makes him grin, and he waves a lazy salute as he heads off, sweeping the Western perimeter. It's familiar work, stuff he does automatically, especially when the mercs don't want to get found out here. Bad to be stumbled upon.

He was wary though. Just in case. York arriving had left Carolina on edge, same with the rest of the mercs. Would suck for them to show up now and tip York off before Wash could do what needed to be done.

The sweep shows a whole lot of nothing. Mostly empty houses, a few ransacked shops, the teeny, tiny library and the possible bonus of mechanical parts from the lone police station and impound. A man could dream. York settles at the northmost point on his Mongoose and starts flipping through frequencies idly, trying to key into that encryption he'd poked at in the other base.

Maybe something would come through. Who knew?

It's a depressing sight. Might have been a nice village once, a quiet place to raise a family. Abandoned. Starting to crumble.

There's a message for him. Carolina.

/Bring him in./

No. Oh no.

He'd hoped the bureaucracy would keep things on hold for longer. Feels like there's a block of ice in his gut.

"I think it's a bad idea," he sends back. Short and simple. Gives him time to come up with more reasons.

He heads to the rendevous, waves at York. "Find anything?"

Edited 2015-07-27 12:47 (UTC)

Now what was that? Something, a flicker of something on one of the frequencies. He tries to chase it down but finds a whole lot of nothing and there should be something, SOMEWHERE on one of these! Number stations, chatter, mindless bullshit, SOS's that HE set up awhile ago on auto broadcast when he first crashed but, nothing.

What the hell is going on with this planet?

"Nothing the kids can't handle." He sits up and waves Wash over. "You?"

Wash heads over to him and it's harder now that he's made out like he's fine, to keep pretending that nothing is wrong. He crouches down next to York. "Yeah, it'll be a good run for them I think. Good practice." He glances around. "I got nothing. Can't exactly imagine this place was that important."

"...What's up?" there's a tension to David's shoulders that's familiar. Not in David, which was weird, but in North. Something was out of place. Or maybe he'd seen something upsetting. Who knows?

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