goddamngrenades | Voicemail

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...okay that's new. Got a preference for where or dealer's choice?

Coming to your place. I'm a five-minute walk away.

[ And further messages won't receive any response. Instead York knocks at the resident York's door, as promised, about five minutes later. ]

What? No! Don't come here I am NOT shooting you in my own house-

[ And he's hung up on him. FINE. Just fine. York slides out rather than inviting himself in, eyes narrowed. ]

Not here. Theta's inside- hell North's probably still home and-

Not here, okay?

Edited 2014-12-29 04:53 (UTC)

[ He lets out a small snort. ]

I know you have transportation, man, that's the only reason I came here. Take me out in one of these fields or something.

[ With that he gestures toward the street with his head and turns to start leading the way in that direction. He's been suffering with more than the urps in the last hour or so. That's only how it started. But since then he's been sweating, and he's not sure if that's from some kind of nervousness or if it's a symptom, but the sheen of it on his skin seems to be emitting a smell like a meadow-scented cleaner—kind of a harsh chemical smell that's trying to disguise itself as something more pleasant and failing.

He turns again once he reaches the street and crosses his arms. ]

All right, give me the rundown. You give me an overdose and what, drop me in a hole?

Fine, I'll take you on Fillis.

[ He has to duck around the side to get the bike and snag an extra helmet, but other than that he's ready with a chem cube and a gun in case the chems don't take. Not that he figures he'll need to. He pulls the bike out onto the road and offers the other helmet to himself, wincing at the smell. Jesus. ]

Forest is pretty unoccupied. I'll take you out there, get it done, and wait for you to dissolve.

Nice ride. Named her after FILSS, huh?

[ Well, it's amusing. And not unlike something he would do himself. Imagine that. He takes the proffered helmet and perches it on his head, then straddles the back end of the bike as he'd just done the other day when Carolina took him out for a ride. He can't help a certain fatalistic humor from coloring everything that's happening, because god knew that otherwise he'd probably crack. So he looks out ahead of them on the street and speaks with a touch of drama. ]

Take me to my final destination.

I'm a little sentimental, what can I say?

[ If he had to pick under the dome where he'd wanna go, the last thing he'd see- where would it be? He nods to himself and reaches back to pat his own thigh before leaning forward and revving the engine. ]

Hang on tight.

[ Because this? Is gonna be five kinds of illegal. That's what happens when your bike tops out at two fifty flat out and you have no reason to not. They shoot down the street, taking the corners tight and bank down the dirt roads, barreling for the forest. He may as well give himself a wild ride. ]

[ If anyone can outdo Carolina in the reckless driving department, it seems, he can. His grip goes tight around the other York's waist and he hoots senselessly as they tear around the first turn. Might as well keep yelling after that, he figures, and by the time they reach their destination his throat is just a bit hoarse. As the bike glides to a stop he laughs, throwing his head back a bit. ]

You know how to help a guy go out in style.

I do aim to please.

[ He's pulled them up to a small grove of trees- there's a pond at the far end for water filtration, clean and pure and chilly in this weather. It's not home- it'll never be home but it's a slice that's a little less dome and a little more earth. It's why he loves D2 so much, finding places like these. ]

Figure you'd want a last meal too so- check the saddlebag.

[ Best beer under the dome in a 40oz, a big meaty burger and curly fries. There may or may not be pie for afterwards. ]

[ The food's not perfectly fresh—he kind of wonders how far ahead this other York had planned—but that really doesn't matter. It's here, and it smells and looks great, even if it's not piping hot.

Though in a way, that makes it worse. Because that only means this other York was right about him, and was completely assured in the fact that he was right. ]

Been waiting for me to call you up, huh.

[ He dismounts the bike before he pulls the items out, lining them up as he curls an arm around them, so he can carry all of them at once over to the rocks at the edge of the pond. Once he's settled in sitting on one of them he quirks an eyebrow at the other York. ]

You know having a stomach full of food will just make the drugs take longer to kick in.

Not really. Figured it'd either be you or South.

[ Not that a full stomach makes a bullet to the face any easier, but it's a comfort she should be offered none the less. He'd been hoping to get no calls today but-

It is what it is. He hunkers down next to York, peels off his shoes and slides his feet into the chilly water. ]

It'll make it more like falling asleep.

[ He nods a little bit as he works on the first bite of food, then takes a broad swig of the beer. ]

It's big of you, man. Doing this. You didn't have to. It can't be easy.

Not really. But- It's gotta be done and it should be done right, you know? We didn't know what was happening last time. I couldn't do anything but- it was quick but it wasn't clean. You guys deserve better.

I tend to agree.

[ He takes a bite of his french fries, takes another drink of his beer, enjoying the food a bit methodically. It's the last thing he'll ever do, so he may as well make sure to do it right. ]

So. [ He pauses, takes a moment to squint up at the sky. ] Tell me about it, man. About something. Just...whatever. Just talk.

I stole Fillis from a drunk district one asshole that didn't know how to engage the saftey override and stole his wallet at the same time. Whenever I use his credit card I make sure whatever I use it for is written off as a charitable donation to whatever cause will give him the biggest conniption fit.

[ That brings out a grin and he laughs, holding his beer out at his hip. ]

And the fucker hasn't bothered to have the thing cut off? What an idiot.

Fucker didn't TIP at the bar either. What kind of asshole rolling in dough doesn't even tip? Every now and then I order a strapon or a chastity belt or whatever evil thing I can think of at three in the morning. It's hilarious.

[ It's so weird, hearing his voice in response to his own words, hearing his laughter doubled in reply. He shakes his head after another chuckle and sighs. ]

I envy you. I really do. Half the bullshit you said in that text conversation we had sounded crazy, but better crazy than dead, I figure.

It won't be so bad. I mean it's like falling asleep.

[ Without dreaming, honestly. but that's about all he can say about it. ]

People pop up all the time. Maybe you'll wake up here in a couple of months and we'll get to do this all over again. Without the sad ending.

[ His lips thin into a line briefly before he relaxes his expression. Because it's not like that's the same thing. He's still a clone, he's still going to die, and if that happens it will be long after he's dead. ]

Well, I hope if there's another York for you to have to deal with that he doesn't turn out to be a clone that time. [ He picks at his fries for a moment before picking out a couple of long, thick ones and biting them in half. Maybe it helps the other York to know his death means little because of his clone status but for himself, it doesn't calm him from knowing his death is imminent. ]

You never know. [ A beat, he pulls one of the bottles of beer, marked with a sharpie subtly on the label, and pops the top. ] Eat up, yeah? Plenty for you.

He cocks an eyebrow at York. "Don't push me, man. I'm eating at my own pace." He's going to enjoy it, drag it out as much as he can without the food going chilled. A good long drink of his beer seems to calm him, however, and he rubs his forehead after he sets the bottle down. "Don't mean to snap at you, this is just kind of stressful."

"I promised painless." And he meant it. "It's fine. You got a right to be stressed. DOn't worry about it."

Honestly it'd be weird if he wasn't a little wound up about this. Some part of him felt guilty, the rest just wanted it over. As soon as it was over he could deal with his own knotted up feelings about easing himself into the grave.

There's no other option. It's not the same unholy mess that was Connie- but it doesn't sit right. He's a soldier, not a murderer.

"I won't." He wouldn't, fuck this guy. He takes another bite of his burger and slouches forward, setting his hand in his lap. "Listen," he says after a long moment. As he speaks he pauses a lot, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out what his point even is. "It's pretty obvious that our timelines have a lot of differences. I learned some things, talking to you and to Carolina and to Delta. I couldn't...really bring myself to talk much to Maine or Tex or Church. It doesn't have anything to do with your guys's timeline so it wouldn't have done much good or made much of a difference." He frowns. "Just tell me...when we were messaging, you kept talking about death. Saying 'we' always die. What's that mean?"

"The project ends. We end it with Tex and North. Carolina gets dropped off a cliff but survives, Maine goes AWOL, everyone goes to ground. I help Tex five years later with trying to track down and kill Omega, her AI. We get shot. I've seen six or seven alternate realities here and they all end with us dying." He takes another sip of his beer, staring across the pond. "We die. That's what I meant. I woke up here after bleeding out back home. THis is it."

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