[psl] Time Travel Twins PSL

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.

Wash's eyes go to South, though his helmet doesn't move. She needs to either shut up or go somewhere else, because if she keeps doing this--

North replies, and Wash drags his attention back to him.

"Something went wrong with him and Sigma..." The small pause that follows is almost deafening, and Wash tastes something sour.

"Something different to what I experienced. Maine is gone, completely. What's left is twisted, and it only wants one thing: to consume the AI fragments left over from Project Freelancer."

Oh. Oh. North suddenly feels several pieces falling into place that he hadn't been able to find homes for before.

"And the Meta won't stop until he's killed me and taken Theta," he surmises. "Yeah. Okay. I know South may not want to join us—" He glances over at her. "—but I think you're right. We need to make a stand, bring this to an end."

South bristles, her teeth grinding together.

She doesn't want to do this. She doesn't want to put her life on the line fighting this thing that used to be Maine. She just wants to get out of here with her brother, even if he has to bring the stupid AI with them because he won't give him up.

But of course North wants to do the noble thing. Of course he fucking does.

And she can't just leave him to pull this dumb shit on his own.

"...nice to know you think so lowly of me you think I'd fucking abandon you, asshole. No, we shouldn't be doing this bullshit, but if you're gonna fucking insist on being an idiot then..."

She groans, throws her eyes aside. She hates this. But he won't listen to her. Like he never fucking listens to her.

Wash's helmet turns towards her, and he can feel every reaction he could possibly give rising up in him like a wave. He forces it back before it can distract him too much, but if he had the time here and now to react--

--it's too much. Maybe it's for the best that there isn't time.

"Right," Wash says, turning back to North as though South's interlude hadn't happened, voice a little strained. He shakes himself internally, pushing her from his mind.

"If we're going to take this thing on, we need to start by luring it into an trap. Chances are we'll still have our work cut out, but if we can damage its armor enhancements or injure it, then that'll improve our chances tenfold."

South takes only a second to grumble to herself, refusing to look at either of them, before she straightens her spine and shakes it off. She may not want to do this, but if she has to, she's sure as fuck going to do whatever she can to make sure they survive.

Well, her and North, at least. Wash is at the bottom of the priority list right now.

"Please tell me busting its enhancements isn't the only weakness this 'source' of yours has figured out," she says, mostly to be an ass but also because seriously? Is that it? "Do you even know what enhancements the damn thing has? And, speaking of—North, you and Theta can at least cover us with your dome shield, right? We've got at least that in our favour?"

She'd rather be able to throw up her own, but that's not going to happen without an AI. So, whatever.

"Yes, we do," he says, and then looks to Wash for the answer to her other question. "We need to make quick work of this. And you believe that there's no way to rescue Maine from being what he's become?"

One shot, through her helmet. Spiderwebs of cracks on the visor. The way she dropped like a cut-loose puppet. Wash holds the image in his mind for a moment, probing at it like a not-quite-loose tooth.

North answers her, then turns to him. "No," Wash replies shortly, laying the word like he's laying a tombstone: with finality, like it could cut a life short in that action alone. "He's completely and absolutely gone."

The only way to move on from here is to answer South, and it's like having the only escape route be filled with a foul odor.

He looks to her anyway. "I do know, and no. What kind of a--"

Breath, he can't get worked up.

"... Saying he'll be weak if you damage his strengths isn't listing a weakness," Wash bites out. (Partial success. At least he sounds calmer.) "Telling you that his suit doesn't have the power to fuel all the mods, on the other hand..."

Oh, she would kill to punch him right now. Nice and hard across the jaw. Hurts the fist but it’s worth it to leave a nice bruise and maybe knock someone out. Shame he’s wearing his helmet. Maybe she could just go for a throat chop instead...

“See, that’s useful information,” she says, choosing not to acknowledge his heavy implication she’s an idiot. “So, what, we trap it somewhere we have better odds, try damage the units, maybe try and trick it into wearing down its power supply?”

She doesn’t acknowledge the Maine thing, either. The mushy stuff’s North’s area. Shame the big guy’s basically brain dead, but no point dwelling on something already over when they’ve got their own lives to save from the AI-powered zombie he’s become.

North nods, considering, waiting until the other two have stopped talking to respond.

"I don't know how you could know that, definitively," North says finally. "If Sigma's in control then Maine could be in there trying to find some way to escape. Personally, I only want to have to kill Maine as a last resort. I think we should try to rescue him and see if he's okay underneath everything."

On the other hand...

"But if Sigma's gone and he goes after Theta anyway, he's toast."

South groans, fingers splaying out over her visor as she drops her head into her hand. Give her fucking strength.

“North. Dearest brother of mine.” If snark was a power source, they’d be able to run one of their units on hers alone. “I know you have enough heart for the both of us, but how the fuck do you think trying to take even a single fucking AI off the suped up team tank is gonna go? I’ll tell you: we’d fucking die. Washington’s already painting this fight as getting out in as few pieces as possible!”

Wash swallows hard, fighting the silent snarl threatening to take over his face. Where was that care when Wash was laid up in the medical wing? It doesn't matter. Wash has had years to put this behind him, so he's long since stopped caring.

(Except... no. He's finding that he does care, more than he'll admit. Rather than acknowledge it, he pushes it back with everything else in that pressure-cooker section of his mind. Good thing that he still has a ways to go before it boils over.)

"I wasn't expecting to say this, but South is right," Wash cuts in flatly. "We don't have the resources to hold him, or to take out Sigma without injuring him. Unless the two of you have something gamechanging hidden in your back pockets, of course."

He doubts it. Something that could make an EMP less lethal? Something that could rip it from his mind without flash-frying the circuits? The twins are on the run, there's no way they have anything like that.

North pauses, then shakes his head.

"I hate the idea that he's trapped in there without being able to fight back, but...there's only so much we can do, I suppose. Better to make that plan B. Taking him out will be plan A."

With that, it's time to get down to the nitty-gritty.

"If we lure him in here, it should give us a good chance to ambush him. It's protected on three sides."

'Plan B', sure. South rolls her eyes since he can't see through the visor, but ugh, at least he's seen enough sense to not keep harping on it.

"And we're already here, trying to find somewhere else would just complicate shit. Especially if the damn thing's close enough Washington's being all dramatic about how," she does what can only be described as mocking, dramatic jazz hands, "two of us would be dead by this time tomorrow without his gracious assistance."

Okay, maybe she should stop antagonising Washington, but that doesn't mean she's going to.

"Seems to me like the important question is how much time we have to prepare. Not that we have a lot of fucking gear to prepare anyway." Ugh, being on the run.

North pauses, then relents, and Wash's shoulders lower very slightly. It's been a long time since he's thought about North at all, but this moment of reason reminds him faintly of the better times--the ones when they'd worked as a team, all aiming in the same direction.

South goes on to reply, but aside from a helmet-tilt as Wash sends her a look, Wash doesn't outwardly react. (If Washington were still sensitive to digs about him being 'dramatic', he'd have killed the Reds and Blues a long time ago.)

"No more than a few hours," Wash answers first, then lifts his visor to their surroundings. "This area's protected on three sides, but if we're not careful, he'll use the cover to break our lines of sight on his holograms. And we'd better not assume any of these walls are actually solid enough to stop him, assuming he wants to get through."

A few hours. Fuck. Can it really be that close by? Without her knowing? If they’d stayed here tonight and it had found them, when she didn’t even have a clue it was near… that wouldn’t have given her much time to prepare.

For a moment she almost wonders if it’s a good thing Washington turned up, but she shoves that aside. No. She’d have figured something out. She’d have—

And then he says holograms and she’s jolts, slightly. “Wait, holograms? But that was— who else—” She catches herself, composes herself, and coughs. “We have to deal with holograms? Great. Just— great.”

(That’s Connie’s unit. That was always Connie’s unit. Fuck. Like she needed to be reminded of anything else that sucks today.)

She groans dramatically, turns 360 on the spot again. “Alright, okay, whatever. We have the dome shield. We know it can’t get through that at least.”

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