revenance_comms | Jail Break! (Action/Video)

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Jail Break! (Action/Video)

[So, with Ziva gone, Fluffy and Abby have been in Wash's care. But, that doesn't mean the behave. They break out at least once a day to try to find Ziva. ~~Why no, she totally didn't teach them how to pick locks.~~ This time is slightly different though.

They brought Ziva's comm with them.

It's currently in Fluffy's possession, and he's in flight somewhere in Traverse Town. Every once in a while, Abby can be seen on the ground in the lens of the comm. They're talking back and forth to each other, mostly Where haven't we looked? and Hey! Over there!.

Then, there's the sound of gunfire off in the distance. Their person had a gun! And it sounded kind of like that sometimes. So, immediate direction change and off they go that way. The comm is tossed down to Abby and she catches it as he lands on her head, taking a break from flying for a moment.

The camera shows a glimpse of someone, in armor...some not-so-blue shade of blue, but not enough to show who it may be. Just...it's not who they were looking for.]

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[ This is not okay. This is not okay at all. ]

Nice try.

[ Her voice is flat, as unwavering as the grip on her guns as they remain leveled at York. Her head inclines very slightly, the lack of translucency in her visor both a blessing and a curse. It leaves only body language to give things away; the stiffness of neck and shoulders, the flex of fingers resting against her weapons.

She is saner now. (..Well, debatably.) The only voice in her head is her own once more. Magical multicoloured monsters is one thing, but she isn't about to be fooled by this....this whatever it is. Bitterness seeps into her words. ]

I should have expected him to do something like this.

Edited 2013-05-20 01:03 (UTC)

[Delta appears next to York. Hopefully they can convince her without getting York shot. It seems like she must be from after he died, and York's heart aches for her. He can't imagine what it must have been like for Carolina, to realize what the Director was really like.]

Agent Carolina, please stand down. We do not intend you any harm.

[ ...Oh.

She inhales sharply, in spite of herself.

Of course he would have Delta. It wouldn't be a convincing act without the AI fragment, would it? It had been one thing, when it had just been Epsilon and her, alone on that abandoned island, but this.. There's a hiss of breath sucked through her teeth. ]

I don't know what you think assisting in the Director's mind games will achieve. But you're almost three years too late to think you can make a fool of me this way.

[ There's a Look, the sharpest slant of her helmet indicating her unseen glare. Three sharp strides forward follow, closing some of the gap, but the guns aren't lowered. If anything, the spark of plasma energy remains a constant threat. ]

You have one minute to strip that armor and get the Hell out of here.

Edited 2013-05-20 01:53 (UTC)

[York isn't going to strip off the armor but he takes off his helmet.]

You can trust me but I can't trust you? Carolina, we met at Club Errera. You grabbed my lighter out of my hand. When the Mother of Invention crashed, you gave it back to me after kicking the stuffing out of me.

[He's trying to think, but if seeing his face and his saying that doesn't work, he's not sure what will. He can only think of one thing, and it makes him give a weak laugh. No one else would risk it with her, though, because it's stupid and crazy. Delta is flickering with anxiety and uncertainty, and it's not a good look on him, so York forges ahead.]

Don't put out my good eye, but...if I said I liked your armor, would you hold it against me?

[ Beneath the helmet, Carolina's jaw aches, muscles beginning to sieze up from the way she's gritting her teeth.

Then. The guns dip. Arms lock straight immediately, preventing Carolina from lowering them further, but she's never been gladder than now that he can't see her face as she feels all colour retreat. There's only so much that surgery or makeup can manage, and with the light cast by Delta reflecting off his features, the female freelancer is faced with a conflict of truths standing right before her.

You're looking very lively for a dead man, Agent New York. ]

I don't--

[ Few things remain clear in her memory of the events leading to the crash on Sidewinder, but this, this much she remembers.

'You can trust me!'
'Maybe. But you can't trust me.'

(And he hadn't. And maybe he'd been right not to. Or maybe he'd been wrong - even with her psyche in tatters, she'd known right from wrong, even with the Director's filter so firmly in place. She wasn't the one who'd turned their back on the UNSC and the war and the team (and her) to follow--) ]

I don't understand.

[ ...And then he manages to further derail her train of thought. Later, the redhead will genuinely wonder why she was so surprised by what he had to say. It's not like she hadn't had forewarning on the subject, after all.

Her next words are a sudden, sharp bark. ]

Damn it, York!

[ Left hand swings, a sharp jerk of motion that settles one plasma gun on her hip, before it dips behind her. Then, something rusted silver and square shaped snaps free and forward: if he doesn't dodge, or at least try and block it, it'll certainly collide with his forehead. A little bit lower, and it could well poke out that eye he's so worried about. ]

[York ducks and hears whatever it is thunk to the ground behind him. It takes his mind a moment to process what it had to be; he'd had it on him when he died, after all, so that meant...that meant that she'd gone to see his body.]

[Shit.]

I'm sorry.

[He's sorry and if he started to list all the things he's sorry for he's not sure if he'd ever come to the end. He failed her, he messed up, he said all the wrong things, and then he'd never been able to find her and now he was dead and she wasn't and it wasn't comforting at all any longer.]

For everything.

[ Now empty, the left hand clenches, black material creaking a little with the strain of fingers against fabric, but better to form a fist than let herself shake.

She's supposed to be happy to see you, not confused and hurt. Not suddenly numb.

Helm tips down slightly, chin pulling in. He's sorry. At some point, the plasma rifle in her right hand stops pointing at the tan coloured freelancer, angled more towards the floor. He's sorry.

He should be.

...She doesn't want him to be. ]

[her voice is low; don't mistake that for control.] There's only one person should be sorry, York.

...Delta. How are you and York here.

[ If we must trust in something said, let it be spoken by the voice of logic. ]

[Everyone should be at least a bit sorry. It took a village to make a clusterfuck as bad as what happened to the project, even if the Director had started it all on his own and kept running with it past the point where any sane person would have stopped.]

[York stays quiet; if she wants Delta to do the talking, he's okay with that.]

This location is known as the Realm of Sleep. As far as can be determined, most people were transported here when they reached a state of unconsciousness. The world's physical laws differ from that which we are used to; for example, magic appears to function here. Based on certain events, it seems likely that someone or something has brought us here, but the reasoning and purpose behind that action is uncertain. People have arrived here from different points on their personal timelines; Agent North's more recent memories still place him on the Mother of Invention prior to the events that would cause it to crash.

[ As if a little something like common sense ever stopped Carolina from taking the woes of their twisted, unfair world on her shoulders.

Delta's voice is soothing to hear, in its own fashion. Bias, perhaps, given she's had to put up with Church so much lately, and Carolina certainly doesn't have the green AI fragment in her head all the time. There's silence as she listens, head tilted away to one side.

But her gaze never once moves from York and his AI, regardless of whatever impression she might otherwise be attempting to give. It'd be more awkward were Delta's words not here to fill the space between -- even if everything thus far sounds the complete opposite of logical. There's even a faint '/What/' at the mention of timelines and -- North? Here?

There's no missing the way she stiffens at the mention of the crash. It adds steel to her voice she might otherwise not want present. ]

And what of your last memories?

Edited 2013-05-20 22:54 (UTC)

York was shot by Agent Wyoming and blacked out. The wound was not one he was likely to survive.

[York flinches at that. Sure he knows, and the other people here know. It's different to say it to Carolina, even if she should know this as well. He doesn't want to be dead to her.]

Edited 2013-05-20 22:57 (UTC)

[ Trust the AI to be so direct, regardless of the discomfort it might cause the two human parties present. ]

...Thank you, Delta.

[ Her voice is quiet, before Carolina finally turns away from them both, right hand and weapon falling to hang loosely at her side. Her left hand remains balled in a fist, though looser than earlier. ]

[It's like ripping a bandage off. Get the truth out of the way so you can deal with it.]

[York speaks up, finally.]

What about you? When are you from?

[ Epsilon talked with her about chasing ghosts... Isn't this one of those things people should be encouraging her to let go of? ]

After that. A long time, after that.

[ ...I'm sorry, York.

She's quiet. Almost too quiet, before her weight shifts from foot to foot.]

I found Epsilon, with some..help. [for a given value of 'help'.] He and I had finally found what -- who -- we'd been looking for.

He said. He told me that he'd seen you. Church and Wash don't seem to get along too well, though.

[And suddenly it's weird calling him Church when it never was before because that's her name too, and it sounds awkward calling him that in front of her.]

Hey...I can tell you've had a long [day. Week. Decade.] a long day. Wanna come to the hotel? Just decompress a bit?

They were a little prickly some time ago, but, mostly because Wash replaced him in his team. Church has reasons enough to feel how he does.

[ Strangely enough, she doesn't appear to have issues with referring to Epsilon by his name of choice. Go figure, right?

That name isn't one she'll be reclaiming for herself any time soon. Carolina's grown comfortable with her callsign -- and she'd probably hit York if she knew he was concerned about calling her that name as it was. ]

..A hotel?

[ For a moment, she can't decide if she's meant to be giving him a withering look or not. Is now really the time for lines like that, York?]

Yeah, no, they're not getting along that well right now. A little prickly is like saying the sun is a little warm.

[York laughs.]

When was the last time you had a decent eight hours?

[ Something curls inside her stomach at York's reply. She's really missed that laugh.

Her head tilts to one side again. ]

Probably before I joined the UNSC. I doubt I'll be starting now.

[ But if he plans on leading, just this once, Carolina might follow. ]

[His voice is coaxing now.]

Come on. Get some sleep and I'll explain how weird this place is in the morning. Or whenever you wake up.

[ Arms fold. ]

Technically, if this is a dream [sorry Delta, she still sounds a bit skeptical], aren't I already sleeping?

[York shrugs.]

Things don't exactly make sense here, Boss.

Apparently not.

[ A sigh, before arms uncross, and she's moving. Close, closer, closest - but not actually touching York, stepping alongside to pass him.

She then ducks down to retrieve the much-abused but ever so hardy lighter. If this is, indeed, a dream, she's not sure what might trigger waking up. ]

[York sighs and shoves his helmet back on.]

Gotta warn you; Wash is...kind of jumpy.

[ Gloved thumb strokes the side of the lighter, displacing dirt from the scratched logo of the long gone nightclub. Then, lid clinks shut and the item is stowed away.

Rising, Carolina's head tilts quizzically. ]

How so?

His PTSD is pretty bad, and like the rest of us, he has a hard time asking for help.

[And at least they're safely talking about Wash rather than either of them.]

[ Carolina really isn't in any position to talk about anyone's PTSD. (And as for asking for help? ...Yeah, let's not even compare pots and kettles there.)

Still...that runs so contrary to what she remembers of Wash's behaviour from the past few weeks, their parting notwithstanding. And whatever else she might feel, they had been a team, once. ]

How so?

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