hexaflexagons | [psl] Time Travel Twins PSL

"No," Wash replies shortly. "... Tex is gone."

He makes no sudden movements as he lowers his own gun, returning it to its clip. If his helmet tilts towards South in the process, well. It's her move, now.

"The thing coming after you is completely different. It's strong, and it has at least four AIs and their freelancer's armor enhancements. I know none of you have any reason to trust me," He lifts a quelling hand. "But the last thing I want is for that thing to get any stronger."

"Same here," he says, and looks at South, then gestures for her to put her gun down. "We've always known that the Project isn't the worst threat we have after us, but we don't know enough about how to deal with it, or even what it is."

She really doesn't want to lower her gun.

But now North is waving her down and if she keeps it up, she's just going to get shit for it, so with a violent huff she lowers it, but doesn't put it back onto her back. If she can't have it trained on him, she's at least keeping it in her hands. Fuck you both.

"What he said," she grumbles, knowing full well Wash probably knows it's a bald-faced lie.

Wash's helmet shifts, and the look he's sending her is lost behind the cover of his visor. (Yeah. He's sure she's real lost.)

"Well," he says, shrugging it away deliberately. "I might know a thing or two. But how much I share and why is going to depend on what exactly you both plan to do after."

He's looking at North while he talks, but now his helmet tilts towards South.

"What we should plan to do is get the hell out of here," South says, and for the first time she risks taking her eyes off Washington to give her brother a very pointed look. "If this thing's really taken that many AI, the hell else are we supposed to do? So long as you insist on keeping Theta on us, it'll keep coming. No amount of information is gonna change that."

It's cheap, coming from her, even if the others don't know it—her own plan very much involved fighting the damn thing. But call it a last ditch effort to drill sense into her stupid brother's brain. He won't give up Theta, fine, but they can't just keep running in place hoping it won't catch up to them. They need off this stupid planet, somehow.

He won't agree. She knows he won't agree. But it's what she thinks they should do, anyway.

Edited (bit of wording) 2021-08-13 23:57 (UTC)

"I'm not abandoning Theta, South," he says. Really, that she would suggest such a thing now just reinforces everything he learned about her during the breakdown of the Project, things he wishes he didn't have to know about her. Things that, sooner or later, could lead to one of them being killed.

He turns toward Wash. Wash seems to be talking about making a bargain. North wonders what kind of trouble he's gotten himself into. "What do you need out of it?"

"I wasn't—" she starts, but cuts herself off with a frustrated grunt, tearing her eyes away from him to focus back on goddamned Washington. Protesting the misinterpretation is pointless. She's told him to give Theta up too many times in the past for him to believe her.

Maybe she should just leave on her own, anyway. Turn on her heel and leave him and Washington to whatever plan she's becoming sure the latter is here to drag them into.

Yeah. She should leave.

She doesn't leave.

Watching them fight is a little like knowing they're standing on train tracks and seeing a light in the distance. The only comfort is that it's too far off to be an immediate problem, at least for now.

North turns to him, and Wash returns the favor, ignoring South's bitten off protest. (What does Wash get out of this? It looks suspicious for Wash to want something with no strings attached, but the strings here aren't ones Wash wants to trace.)

"Let's just say we take this thing out, you keep your AI on you and protected, and we never speak of this again. How's that sound?"

His eyes slide towards South without his helmet moving.

North doesn't trust like that, at least not anymore. Wash is still the person they know is working for Command. He's still the one they left behind when they defected.

"Sounds too good to be true," he replies. But his desire to be friends again with Wash takes him over enough to cause him to take another step in Wash's direction. "Tell me why you'd help us without getting anything in return."

Outwardly, Wash doesn't immediately react. Inwardly, Wash is cursing as he scrambles for a response. Can't let it happen again, can't get there too late to make things right, he can't do this alone--

"I'm Recovery One," Wash snaps, more testily than intended. "And I can't recover any of you later if the Meta's gotten to you first."

Damn. That wasn't a great one, but he's gone and said it now, and he has to run with it.

Wash slices a hand through the air. "Once it's done with its targets, there's nothing left. How do you think it reflects on my record when every time I'm too late?"

The words taste sour and bitter, and for a moment Wash holds his breath, wondering if he's just lost both of them.

Oh, my god, he’s a fucking idiot, is her first thought. It’s the first thing about this encounter that almost makes her want to laugh instead of scream.

“Dude. How the fuck is that supposed to reassure us that you’ll let us go and we’ll ‘never speak of this again’, huh? Not gonna look great on your record if we bail with the lightbulb when everything’s said and done either, is it?”

(And it won’t look great on her record if Washington reports back that she’s with North. Much as she hates to say it, it’s becoming clear the best case scenario for her here is a deal with this asshole where they agree not to say a word, but that was a piss poor attempt at assurance.)

North had been giving too many concessions, he realizes, stepping closer and lowering his gun the way he had. He reaches for the gun again, but doesn't pull it out.

"Sounds like the kind of situation where it would look better if you could bring us in unharmed, doesn't it?"

Shit. He's messed up: his argument was the kind of thing that might've worked with the Sim Soldiers, once, but it definitely doesn't fly here. And now... Wash mentally takes stock of his own weapons, looking from twin to twin. He doesn't reach for any, but he's too still to be casual.

"Command doesn't even know I'm here," he tries again. "They can't count it against me if no one says anything, and--calm down." He raises a hand towards North, trying to think Freelancer. How can he gain their trust, like they're back in--

... He really is an idiot. Since when were they were ever truly a team?

"Look." He'd better not screw up this time. Otherwise he'll be facing the Meta alone. "We don't trust each other, but if we can't come to some kind of truce, the Meta is going to destroy everything. We can't face it by ourselves, not when it's growing stronger with each Freelancer it kills!"

“Destroy what, Washington? The fuck is there even left to destroy? Yeah, okay, it’ll come after us for Theta—but if we can get far enough away,” she glares over at her brother again, “then why the fuck would we risk our asses in a fight? If it has as many AI and units as you say it does then the fuck guarantee do we have even three of us is enough?”

Cheap, again. She still very much planned to fight it, but her plan was never to win, it was just to survive. To get out of there. With Theta in its grasp, it wouldn’t follow them anymore.

This is different. It sounds like Washington is talking about defeating the damn thing outright.

“Pretty weak argument, if you ask me.”

"As weak as saying you'll run when I've already proven to you that you're easy to find?" Wash's fists are clenched at his sides, and he really, really wants to shoot her.

"If it wasn't for me, two of you would be dead by this time tomorrow. You can't run forever, and if the Meta's strong now, then he's only going to be unstoppable in the future."

She takes a little bit of satisfaction that she's riling him up. Not that it's that much of an achievement, working up the guy they only struck Article Twelve off the record of because they needed the manpower.

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Washington." She turns back to North again, gesturing vaguely at Wash. "North. C'mon. Please tell me you see how insane this is, too."

In other words: please, for the love of god, back me up on this one.

North is standing still and tall. He's rolling their arguments through his mind, discussing them with Theta.

"Theta wants to know if you have evidence," he says. "That what you're saying is true."

"Evidence of what part?" Washington shoots back, then pulls up short: one, half of what he's saying has no evidence because it's from the future. Two, it doesn't matter what he has or doesn't have, if he loses them now then it's all over.

"I have the case files for the last four recovery beacons," Wash immediately follows, spreading his hands. "The fact that I'm here is evidence enough that you're not as stealthy as you think you are. As for the Meta..."

He's so far in over his head, and he's still digging. "I have information on its strengths and weaknesses. But I can't share any sources for those without compromising them in the process."

Lies, more or less. Well--at least it's nothing new from being back in this time, is it?

"The Meta?" North says. This is not the first Wash has given a name to their threat, but it's time to ask more about it. "So you know what's following us."

He steps up closer to Wash's side. "Show me the case files."

He doesn't necessarily want to do what Wash is suggesting they do, but he also doesn't want to get killed.

Edited (whoops) 2021-08-15 19:20 (UTC)

"I— seriously, North? Fucking— you've got to be fucking kidding me with this shit."

She groans, turns on the spot for a second as if she's going to storm off but does a 360 instead, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

"He's expecting us not to just trust his fucking word, but the word of some nameless fucking source about what this thing's weaknesses are! This is bullshit!"

That's--that's an acceptance, right? South is certainly acting like it is.

Wash touches the side of his helmet, navigating quickly to his own folder history. It's short work to make copies and scan for local receiving addresses. There's two near him, and they're both familiar. Sending complete.

"I know enough to kill it." A beat. "This won't be pretty, but I definitely think we'll have the firepower together to get out of this in relatively few pieces."

North pages through the files. South's exaggerated unacceptance is unsurprising, so he's basically ignoring that for now.

"Who or what is the Meta?" North asks, flipping down to the end of the last file. "You didn't answer that." Wash's assurances are pretty thin.

He didn't answer it, and if he's being honest he was hoping to put it off. (Which is unfortunately probably why North honed right in on it.)

A second passes, and then another.

"What do you know about what happened to Maine?"

She almost feels bad for him, having to explain this shit. Almost.

It's callous, probably, but the idea of killing an old teammate isn't the part of this whole mess that bothers her. Sometimes, it's kill or be killed, and South knows damn well which she'd prefer, so that's whatever.

The problem right this second, though? Is making sure North doesn't clock that she kinda already knows this.

So she puts on surprise. She turns slowly to look at them both, visor angled at Wash but her eyes on her brother. Wash knows damn well she's faking but it's not the worst act, it's a decent approximation of slow dawning realisation. "...now you really better be fucking kidding us."

His helmet tilts toward South for an instant, but then his attention goes to Wash again.

"Very little," he says.

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