WHO: Alpha Team WHERE: Oros ; en route to and outside the Trilk base WHEN: Jan 12 - 20 WHAT: miscellaneous ass kicking WARNINGS: violence? will update with anything else
( pick a day, pick a fight you want to thread out, header it up and go! )
[ it had only been a matter of time before the mission had turned into a shitshow and carolina had accepted that from the beginning, but she's still a little pissed that it had turned into her showing up late to the fight. not too late to make a difference, but damn, she hates feeling slow. once she has the rest of beta team handed over to lee, carolina does a quick recap and assignment with kay-tu and sam, then heads off to find the rest of her team.
selfishly, it's not all of alpha team she wants to see right now, once she knows they're all still alive. no, she wants to check on her team, which means that at some point in a fight outside a guard station, there's the sounds of a scuffle on a wall over head, then a trilk body lands to one side of maine. carolina lands in a crouch on his other side, between him and wash, a moment later. ]
[ As he expected, the mission's been a shitshow and it's still not over. Wash is tired, fed up, and getting really tired of these Trilk assholes. They don't really look like Sangheili, but they're reptilian enough that they kind of do and he's having visions of Kholo.
He's done.
Which is why he doesn't flinch when a Trilk body comes flying by seconds before Carolina appears. ]
I don't think we're gonna run out! [ Almost absently, he sights another one of the things and puts a bullet through its eye, dropping it before it can approach. ] You're late, by the way.
[ This is exactly why the inexperienced shouldn't be on missions. Everything got fucked up along the way and it's annoying. Not that he minds carrying the weight of the team, but when half is lost to fuck knows where, shit gets annoying and aggravating quick.
Now, after everything, he doesn't like getting that angry. It reminds him of things he's trying not to think about and he doesn't want to lose control. It would be so easy to lose control, too. He feels it in every punch he lands against the Trilk. In every bullet that explodes the sacks on the Fek. In every explosion they manage by turning their own weapons against them. But, Maine doesn't want to be in a blind rage.
Which is why he's sticking close to Wash. He doesn't need to, they both know that. But it's the familiarity of years spent together on missions, in the training room and other. It's easy because they know the routine, they know how and where to move without having to say anything. Freelancers were made that way. A cohesive unit. Wash is a balm Maine sorely needs right now to keep himself grounded on this piss-poor mission.
Which gets a little better when he hears Carolina make her grand re-entry to the scene. Maine huffs a sound that's close to amusement—or as close as he can get. Now maybe they can show these chucklefucks how it's done. Maine makes a noise, a grumbling sound that means mostly nothing. Except for the fact he looks at both Wash and Carolina with a silent challenge issued behind his helmet.
Why not see who can take the most down to clear the area??? ]
[ things are infinitely better than they have been in days, just like that. whatever beta team is doing or not doing inside that base isn't her concern, because she got them that far and all that matters now is keeping this wall clear. eliminating waves of any sort of enemy is something that might as well be easy for freelancers, as far as she's concerned. especially when she has two of the best on either side of her. ]
You guys wouldn't have been early if you'd taken the scenic route with us. [ a little quip for wash, even as she draws her handgun with a tilted nod of her head for maine. she's long since lost the eluvio-issued laser gun and the trilk plasma weapon on her back looks like it's a different one from the one she salvaged earlier on in their journey, but that's about par for the course with her.
the handgun isn't going to get much use right now anyway, because as soon as she's sure that wash is in on maine's challenge too, she's moving to meet the little pack of trilk guards coming their way, apparently more determined than the last bunch. she gets two shots off before the first one intercepts her and she defaults to what she does best- forgetting she's even holding a gun in favour of just kicking the damn thing's ass with just her and her armour. ]
[ It's childish, but Wash finds himself grinning behind his visor anyway. Hell yeah, he's taking that challenge. He's older now, better trained, with considerably more experience under his belt than the last time they've done something like this. It's unlikely he'd ever actually beat Carolina's score, but he knows it'll be a fun challenge to try.
And he's not a sore loser. What's important is that he's back with his family. Who's the better fighter doesn't really matter to him. Never has. As long as everyone makes it home, that's all that truly matters. There's a reason he mostly stayed in sixth place back in the Project. ]
Yeah, yeah. Excuses.
[ More teasing. He knows the mission got fucked and he's not blaming anyone for that. It isn't their fault.
A low grunt of acknowledgement to both Carolina and Maine and he's off too. Wash isn't as physical a combatant as Carolina, not unless he has to be, but he can get a little up close and personal when the situation calls for it. Right now, he's after a knot of Trilk coming out of a... guard... thing. Hut? Cave? Mud blob? Something.
Maybe he'll get lucky and pick up some neat alien weaponry while he's at it. Taking out one of the aliens through a clean shot in the eye, he calls out the tally over their suit comms. ]
[ It's barely even a half a second after the affirmation comes from both of them that Maine takes off. Now, he's never been the fastest of anyone in the Project, but he's fast enough. His bulk lends to his collisions well enough that when he hits his own group of Trilk, they scatter like bowling pins. It barely even jars him. He's moving on muscle memory and there's just something about it that seems almost calming.
Maybe this is just what he needed. Excess violence with his family again. They might be working separately to out-do each other, but they're working in-sync. Later, he'll realize how much he needed this to feel normal again.
He incapacitates one with just his hands, because there's just something inherently barbaric about it that gives him a pleasing sense of power. He's been honed to be this kind of soldier. He's going to use that skill when he can. He takes out two more with the plasma guns the first one dropped. The fourth gets suplexed. This is almost a cakewalk compared to some of the missions they've been on.
An amused sort of sound crackles over their comms. Four. Heading for five. ]
Damnit. [ one glance at carolina (or even just a guess about her status) says that she's not swearing over being in a jam. she just doesn't like that maine's beating her right off the bat. some things don't change when it comes to people as stubborn as the freelancers all were and boy does it show right now. she always wants to win.
she has three enemies down when one manages to catch her off guard from behind, tackling her to the ground and making her handgun drop and skitter away from her. the trilk's size does her a favour, though, giving her space to roll onto her back and ram one knee up into its comparatively soft stomach. despite its grunt of pain and/or protest, the alien's fellows ignore any warnings in favour of dogpiling carolina, which really just makes them easier to pick off. she uses her other knee to re-aim the plasma weapon on the back of the first trilk, then elbows its head out of her way so she can reach down and fire it directly in the face of the next nearest trilk. four. she pulls the gun from its holster and fires it again, taking out another (five) and scorching the back of the one doing its best to pin her to the ground. wounded, it's not as focused on keeping her down and she uses her legs for the strength to flip it over her head, aiming up to catch it clean in the face before it even hits the ground.
triumphant, carolina rolls back on her shoulders and then hops to her feet, ready for the next scrap. ]
Six! [ the running tally between them may very well be the best motivation to do anything she's found all mission. it feels good. it feels right. ]
[ Of course he's already in last place. Of course he is. It's not in Wash's nature to just dive into a group of hostiles and start killing them with his bare hands. He probably could if he had the right kind of motivation, but a game doesn't qualify as such.
He huffs a little in feigned annoyance as Maine radios in with his tally. It turns into a snort as Carolina does the same. One is a pretty paltry number compared to five and six.
When a group of three Trilk come through some tunnel, Wash moves to intercept. He could make it flashy, maybe get one of those bombs and blow the aliens to hell, but at the last second he opts to do it his way. Three clean shoots to the eyes. All three drop before they can reach him. Or any of the other Alpha team members. ]
[ Because Carolina is the way she is, because Maine is the way he is, there's going to be a heavy competition between them. Maine doubts she's let go of trying to be The Best™ and he just doesn't like anything getting the better of him. Because Wash is the way he is, he'll be calculating and steady. Maine and Carolina's numbers might be higher in the end, but Wash's kills will be far more precise.
It's why they're a team. One weakness is made up for by another's strength.
Of course, that doesn't mean Maine is just going to sit back and not pump up his own number. He tears through a pack of three, getting some explosives off them before they have a chance to detonate. He keeps three, launches two into another on-coming larger pack and hurls one into a guardhouse. The resulting explosions are satisfying and ups his number exponentially.
[ engaging with another wave of angry trilk guards, carolina's forgoing easy kills for satisfying ones, stretching her muscles, proving to herself that she can handle these enemies in bulk just as well as any other. the high kick to the head of the nearest trilk turns into a convent motion to pivot and check the direction of those most recent explosions. maine, of course. wash isn't cornered enough for that yet.
there's a garbled sound over the comms that's either interference or one of carolina's disgusted, hating-to-lose noises. take your guesses, guys.
not to be outdone, she quickly dispatches the current crowd around her, toying with one until she sees more enemies on the horizon. then she sidesteps, avoiding the impact from one of their plasma guns, and grabs one of the grenades she's been saving on her hip, waiting for the trilk in front of her to open its mouth in some sort of battle cry so she can shove it down the alien's throat and give it one hard kick back into its oncoming backup. they all go down and she's covered in guts in the process, but it's more than worth it. ]
[ Since Maine and Carolina are engaged in pulling in the impressive numbers, Wash concentrates on picking off the stragglers. He's never going to beat them anyway. And one hostile with good aim is just as dangerous as a group of them rampaging across the ground.
There's nothing remarkable about it. A shot here. A shot there. An explosion that collapses a section of the ground right out from under a pack of the aliens.
When Wash reaches a point of higher elevation, he scans the area with his eyes and his armor's scanners. ]
Are we done yet? How many of these fucking things can there be?
[ At this point, as fun as it is to cut loose and kill endless waves of these aliens, he's also getting a little tired of killing endless waves of aliens. Beta team should be getting that Relic any moment now ( at least, according to Maine's timeline; then again, he's used to competent people getting in and getting out so it takes minutes not hours ) and they haven't heard a peep yet. It's making him antsy working with so many people who don't have a fucking clue what's going on.
His area is cleared and he doesn't see anything alerting on his HUD so he turns his attention toward where he last saw Wash to pick him out and scan to make sure no sniper is lurking somewhere.
He makes another sound, impatient. What the fuck is going on? ]
We're not done until Beta's done. [ it's almost an appropriately diplomatic answer for a team lead. the wording is, at least, but so long as she's not on a public channel, carolina doesn't bother to keep the heavy judgement out of her voice. wash and maine will know what that really means. carolina doesn't think beta's pulling their weight. and that's always a stipulation of carolina's missions (not to mention her ego): she's got to be the best, but everyone on the team has to be able to keep up.
and damn does she ever miss infiltrators who could meet her standards right now.
maine's rumble catches her attention, though, carolina's attention lingering on her most recent kills a moment to make sure none of them are moving before she turns to catch sight of him. and then wash, of course. always checking on them. ]
[Recovery from a severe sandstorm. Not every day April can add something new to her list of #shitisurvived. But the comms are back on when they're all beginning to group up again and none too soon.
The trilk base is starting to rustle in activity and their job was made clear: Remain outside and keep them from getting to the Beta team.]
If anyone can read me I could use a hand at my coordinates. Things are going to get hairy.
[Her wrist comm picks up both her voice and the sounds of her loading up her rpg as well as loading a magazine into her handgun. When they start coming out she is going to be ready.
April also has an ace up her sleeve. She's focusing her telepathy on anyone not from the assigned teams coming from the walls of the homebase.]
[ the alpha team lead had been with the late group to arrive, but carolina's been in comm contact with the rest of her alphas as she flits around the perimeter, staying to fight with her friends for a while before moving wherever she's needed. and right now, she knows where she seems to be needed. ]
Copy, April. On my way.
[ and by on her way, carolina means she's going to show up in a blur of blue armour, moving considerably faster than she should be able to (or would be able to, without her favourite speed enhancement equipment running in her armour) as she passes april to head off the incoming trilk. she has a long piece of pipe in one hand, scrap from one of the guard posts, and she uses the momentum from swinging it out in front of her to stop. as a bonus, she knocks a handful of enemies back and off-balance, should april need a breather. ]
yes good. idk why but i thought of this: http://i.imgur.com/d8XraUW.png
[Before she can even aim the rocket launcher on her shoulder Carolina's swift run past has her red hair flying about. Damn. Only mutants or aliens have shown that kind of power and speed in April's experience.
But she's shaken out of her brief staring at the blue armored leader when her psychic sense bring her attention ahead to the trilk following the main line.
The ones that actually have weapons.]
They're armed!
[April quickly adjusts her aim and a trail of smoke follows her rocket. Before hitting its mark, one of the firing special forces get a good shot in and April's rpg literally disintegrates from the plasma.
Luckily her reflexes are fast enough for her to see it coming and drop the weapon before it's fully gone.]
REALLY ARMED!
[She takes out her hard light knife and handgun from sheath and holster while leaping remarkably far to land near Carolina.]
'Atta girl. [ it's about as supportive as she gets, but there's no denying that april has impressed her on this mission. she's no special ops, but there's clearly a lot of fight to her, and those tricks she keeps pulling out? very impressive.
carolina half-turns to check in with april visually, making sure she doesn't have any obvious damage to her gear outside of missing her rocket launcher, but then she's got her attention back to the incoming trilk, giving her pipe a twirl in her hands as one of the less armed trilk gets back to its feet to retaliate. ]
If I get you one of their guns, think you can do some extra damage with it?
[Beaming at Carolina in the middle of open battle? On the cocky side, even if unintentionally so. That doesn't keep her from capitalizing on an opportunity. She fires a round at the trilk's foot, using one opening to make another for Carolina.
Marksman. She can put that on a resume somewhere, right?]
I'd say it's a safe bet. Plus it'll save me ammo for this and my ray gun.
[The one that's definitely going to fritz on her according to K-2SO's calculations.]
If you want to go in I think I can give you enough cover until you secure one.
[ because as soon as she kills the two nearest trilk, her focus goes to getting her armour's adaptive camouflage running. she didn't make use of her suit most of the hike here, but now that there's serious action, carolina's letting herself stretch her legs, so to speak. she's clearly in her element here.
she doesn't go invisible, just really hard to follow, her armour morphing from the beacon-like cyan to a mottled brown, matching the ground around them. the trilk may be smarter than they look, but like this she can disorient them long enough to get behind their loose formation, taking out two from behind before she jumps on the back of the nearest one mounted with one of those plasma guns, kicking the top of its head hard enough to stun it momentarily. which is all she needs, evidently, to undo the mounting and follow up with a killing blast from its own weapon. that's fair, probably. and then it's just a matter of taking out the rest of the crowd and getting back to april's side, which is practically a cakewalk. ]
[ There's something to be said about getting too comfortable. Both teams reunited and everything is back on track. Maine still doesn't feel overly confident they're going to finish this, but they may get out alive.
Probably.
Maybe.
Honestly he only really cares about two people making it back to the ship.
There's a lull now. Bodies litter the field and it looks like a slaughter. It doesn't really bother Maine. The lull does. It's silent. Too silent. And that makes him feel like trouble is brewing. Because the Trilk can't have given up and Maine doesn't think they've wiped out the species completely. He remains heavily on guard as he finishes the last leg of his patrol area to join back up with Wash.
Which is, of course, when things fall apart all over again. Time seems to slow and yet it happens so fast that Maine can't even prevent it from happening. That finely crafted control he's been keeping on himself snaps the instant he sees Wash go down. All bets are off now and anyone will be lucky to get off the planet in tact. ]
[ Maybe he's getting old and tired. Or maybe it's the lingering sense of invincibility he feels at being back with his team—his real team—that makes him overconfident. Either way, Wash isn't paying attention in the right direction when the unexpected lull in battle erupts into a flurry of camouflaged Trilks bursting out of their hiding place off to his left.
He lunges to the side, bringing up his rifle with its dwindling supply of ammunition and starts firing. But it's a few seconds too late to prevent one of the creatures from getting off a shot from its plasma gun.
It hits his leg and sheers through the armor like it's fucking tissue paper. It's not the first time he's gotten a plasma burn, but it's never pleasant. His lower leg lights up into agony and stops supporting him. He goes down with a grunt, trying to roll out of the way of the nearest Trilk's sight. Which is all well and good until he finds himself struggling to breathe.
With embarrassing slowness, he realizes it's the atmosphere leaking in through the damaged armor. Structural integrity's comprised. Fuck. And there's a big goddamn Trilk about to murder him.
[ There's still a small part of Maine's mind that tries to regain control. It reminds him this isn't the worst thing that could have happened. It's not the worst thing that's ever happened to them on a mission. But it's so small. So, so small. He doesn't want to see any of his teammates get hurt ( which is rather ironic, he knows, but he's trying so hard to be different now ). He hated it back then—before Sigma, anyway—and it's the last thing he wants to see now.
Maine reacts on instinct and muscle memory. He moves without really thinking about it, running as fast as he can, activating his camo and barreling into the Trilk about to trample Wash while he's down. The alien doesn't see him coming and has no time to defend. It goes flying and skids in the sand, dazed for the moment. Which is good because there are two more heading toward Maine and he dodges, feints and catches one around the neck, throwing its weight into the other. He doesn't hesitate to further break its neck before he lets go and launches himself at the other. He's brutal in his attack, not really caring what happens just as long as it dies. Ripping one apart with his hands. Stabbing one repeatedly in the throat so it bleeds out, painting the sand a putrid color. Jamming a grenade down another's throat and launching it into a bevy of them.
It feels like hours before the rush of them stops, but it's only been minutes. Carcasses litter the space around them like some sort of morbid halo. For a moment Maine is lost inside his own head as to why he went berserk, but then sees Wash there and it all comes rushing back. He kind of wants to kill all these motherfuckers all over again. At Wash's side, he drops down to his knees, assessing the damage with the bioscan without bothering to ask. That's just wasting even more time.
There's a leak. There's a fucking leak and Maine doesn't know how to fix it just yet. But he can't waste any more time. And they can't stay here. An idea strikes him and he yanks out a cannister of biofoam and injects it into the armor. It's not going to hold forever and it's going to be a shitty seal, but it'll give Wash some proper air for a few minutes. A second later, he's scooping Wash up into his arms and running for some cover. There's a cave nearby that will hopefully provide some cover while he figures out what to do.
There's a low, rumbling sound; he runs faster. Still with me? ]
[ As much as a part of him has always enjoyed watching Maine when he cuts loose, Wash isn't in any position to appreciate the show now. It's just too fucking hard to breathe. And the burn in his leg isn't making it easy to think.
Once Maine's there, the Trilk are distracted away from Wash. That reprieve allows him the opportunity to drag himself out of the way of getting trampled, though he isn't quick about it. He'd like to be, but he can't move too quickly. If he does, he'll use up whatever small reserves of air are left in the helmet.
And there isn't a lot of that.
Goddamn it. Should've brought some sealant. Hindsight is always 20/20, though, and Wash can't do anything except kick himself for an eventuality he hadn't foreseen. Thankfully, Maine gets there before he can get too deep into the self-recrimination. At first, he doesn't know what he's doing, but then the familiar, awful sting of biofoam touches his open skin and he figures it out.
A groan's all that escapes him before the world spins and he's jolting along in Maine's arms like a child. In some respects, it's humiliating. Not just getting injured but being carted around like a sack of potatoes. ]
Yeah. Still here. [ A note of bitterness enters his breathless voice. ] Making stupid fucking mistakes. Sorry about that.
[ Whatever. Now isn't the time to feel humiliation over something like this. And Wash is going to get chided for it once Maine figures out how to fucking fix this. They don't have time to hobble along at a slow pace for Wash to preserve his oxygen. They just don't. He'd be dead within minutes. Not only does Maine not want that to happen for purely selfish reasons, but he doesn't want to have to be the one to tell Carolina that he let Wash die.
Maine doesn't really say much, just makes a low noise of acknowledgement. He's not accepting that apology. He's just not. Wash should know better than that. Ridiculous idiot.
They reach the cave and Maine sets him down, immediately going for his leg. There's no sealant—they're both idiots in that regard—and he's not sure what to do. The metal is corroded all the way through to the undersuit. The bioscan on his HUD lets him know just how much time he has left before Wash runs out of oxygen. It's not a pleasant number to look at.
Then, like it's a gift from some otherworldly being, Maine gets an idea. Reaching up, he begins to remove the left arm of his armor. It'll be easier to just take the damn thing off than to struggle from an odd angle. It's stripped off quick enough and then he's pulling on the brown pauldron piece. It won't compromise his own—they've been blown off in fights before—as they're just additional protection. It takes some effort and for a few moments he wonders if he's going to be able to pull it off. Eventually, though, it comes off with a sound of metal scraping on metal.
Quickly, he reattaches the armor because he's going to need the strength boost for both hands. Maine moves over closer to Wash's leg and kneels there beside it. He rumbles a little something—This is going to hurt—because it's going to with this skin exposed. The biofoam should help a little, but... He finds the best angle to cover the breach and begins bending the metal around it to seal up Wash's armor again. ]
[ This is a mess. A huge fucking mess and whether Maine accepts the apology or not, Wash is going to kick himself for being the weak link. He's better than this. He's sharper than this. He should have seen it coming and avoided it.
Maine sets him down and Wash stares up at his helmet, watching the read-out on his own HUD ticking his life away. He's going to die. They don't have sealant. They don't have replacement pieces for the armor. They don't have backup air sources. And their evac is too far away. That's it. This is where his real service record ends.
There are so many things he needs to say to Maine before he runs out of air. Maine's not going to want to hear it and Wash doesn't want to say some of it, but they've had another chance here and this time, he's going to say what he needs to and he's going to get to say goodbye. ]
Listen... [ Except Maine's yanking off his armor and not listening. ] What are—Oh no.
[ It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's going to do with that. Just like Wash already knows it's going to feel like hell. ]
Yeah. Yeah, I know. Go on.
[ Reaching down, Wash digs his hands into the dirt. It's nothing to really hold on to, but he needs something to do with them that isn't thrash around. Because it does hurt. It hurts a fucking lot. The pain manifests in a wordless, muffled groan, Wash too stubborn to yell about it, and a growled; ]
Hurry up. [ He just wants it over with. ] I can take it.
[ What Wash should stop doing is blaming himself. This shit happens. Everyone gets caught off-guard sometimes. It happens. Maine isn't pissed about it. ...Well, he's pissed, but not at Wash. He wants to raze the whole fucking planet to ashes for this.
But, he's got to be calm for this so he doesn't fuck it up and ruin what he's doing. This can literally make or break what happens. He's trying to make this as easy as possible, but also be quick about it and there's some weird mix going on here that have it feel like it's taking way too fucking long and it's the hardest thing he's ever done. He pushes down hard, knowing it's probably making Wash's skin even worse. But, they're both so littered with scars that he assumes another one won't really matter. He'll be alive to complain about it later, that's the important part.
He gets one side down and bends metal into metal. It's not the easiest task because these suits were designed to take a beating and though Maine is vastly stronger in his suit, he's not invincible. He fucking wishes he was. He rumbles a low noise, not really meaning much other than asking how he's doing, while he works on getting the other side down, too. ]
[ It doesn't matter to him at all. What's one more scar? He's not looking to win any beauty pageants and he doesn't have anyone to impress. Which is a damn good thing, since there isn't a whole lot that's impressive about him in the first place. One ugly blotch on his leg isn't going to make or break anything.
It fucking hurts, though.
Wash clenches his teeth so tightly that his jaw aches. And when that doesn't distract him from it, he bangs his head back against the ground, which doesn't help either. ]
Motherfucking... [ It's a low growl that's directed nowhere. He isn't talking to Maine, just doing something in the hopes that expending energy will spend the pain. ] Christ. [ He sucks in a deep breath, thankful that he can do that at all. ] It's fine. I'm fine. It's okay.
[ It's not okay. Maine isn't stupid. He knows what Wash is doing, but it's not really covering up what's going on here. He doesn't want to hurt this even more, but he's going to. Because even after he gets the other side down, he still has to make sure it's sealed and air-tight. He does try to work quicker though.
Even with the temperature regulation in his suit, he's sweating. This is too close for comfort and he doesn't want to lose Wash now that he's finally gotten him back. That'd just be ironic, though. Poetic fucking justice after everything that's happened.
He works faster, his arms shaking a bit with the effort of pushing the metal down. His body is tired, he can feel it, but he's got to get this done. Which he does moment later with a hard jerk as his hands slip slightly. There's a low noise of apology, but he doesn't stop. If he does, it'll only make it harder on Wash. So, he shifts a little, to get a better hold on Wash's leg and digs out a few tools from his pack. He uses a chisel to get around the edges to hopefully seal it up enough to carry Wash through the rest of this mission. Or at least until he can check with Carolina to see if she has any sealant with her. Otherwise, they're going to have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing happens.
Seemingly hours-long minutes later, he thinks he's done and he sends the question out there, What's the read out? ]
[ Just for a second, he thinks he's going to pass out. The pain flares up so sharp and blinding that he can't even make a sound. He can't breathe, he can't move, he's just hung suspended in this agonized moment that seems like it won't ever end. Then it snaps and he can breathe again. He can move.
He almost screams.
Through some miracle, dignity prevails and he takes it like a goddamn soldier. A hissing breath. A low humming groan. And it's done. Maine's done and the pain levels out. It doesn't stop: his leg's burned and there's metal digging into it. It's not going to stop until he gets the armor off and the leg treated properly. For now, though, it'll do. ]
Uh... [ He focuses on the HUD's readout. ] Oxygen rising. Levels stabilizing. [ He takes a deep breath. ] It's good. [ His head thunks back to the ground. ] Thank you.
[ There's a tense moment while Wash figures out what the scans are telling him. Maine thinks he might just go cataclysmic if something goes wrong. Without proper supplies, there's little that can be done. But, finally, Wash says everything is stabilizing and Maine can do little more than let out the breath he was holding and falls back off his haunches to sit.
He doesn't say anything—not that it's much of a surprise since he doesn't often talk a lot—and just sits there staring at the ground. It's discolored from Wash's blood and the leaking biofoam and fuck knows what else. Alien blood, maybe. Plasma remnants. Another few tense moments pass when all Maine can see is red and hear the swooshing of his blood in his ears.
He needs to get a grip.
Forcing himself to look away and get up just so he can't see that anymore, Maine rises and begins to pace. Then, thinks better of it and goes to stand watch, his suit flickering for a second before melting into nothingness. The bright white ( or dirty, as it were ) is too obvious in the browns and reds of the desert. Just easier this way.
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closed to freelancers
selfishly, it's not all of alpha team she wants to see right now, once she knows they're all still alive. no, she wants to check on her team, which means that at some point in a fight outside a guard station, there's the sounds of a scuffle on a wall over head, then a trilk body lands to one side of maine. carolina lands in a crouch on his other side, between him and wash, a moment later. ]
I can't believe you started without me.
[ did you miss her? ]
no subject
He's done.
Which is why he doesn't flinch when a Trilk body comes flying by seconds before Carolina appears. ]
I don't think we're gonna run out! [ Almost absently, he sights another one of the things and puts a bullet through its eye, dropping it before it can approach. ] You're late, by the way.
[ That's a joke. By this point, so are they. ]
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Now, after everything, he doesn't like getting that angry. It reminds him of things he's trying not to think about and he doesn't want to lose control. It would be so easy to lose control, too. He feels it in every punch he lands against the Trilk. In every bullet that explodes the sacks on the Fek. In every explosion they manage by turning their own weapons against them. But, Maine doesn't want to be in a blind rage.
Which is why he's sticking close to Wash. He doesn't need to, they both know that. But it's the familiarity of years spent together on missions, in the training room and other. It's easy because they know the routine, they know how and where to move without having to say anything. Freelancers were made that way. A cohesive unit. Wash is a balm Maine sorely needs right now to keep himself grounded on this piss-poor mission.
Which gets a little better when he hears Carolina make her grand re-entry to the scene. Maine huffs a sound that's close to amusement—or as close as he can get. Now maybe they can show these chucklefucks how it's done. Maine makes a noise, a grumbling sound that means mostly nothing. Except for the fact he looks at both Wash and Carolina with a silent challenge issued behind his helmet.
Why not see who can take the most down to clear the area??? ]
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You guys wouldn't have been early if you'd taken the scenic route with us. [ a little quip for wash, even as she draws her handgun with a tilted nod of her head for maine. she's long since lost the eluvio-issued laser gun and the trilk plasma weapon on her back looks like it's a different one from the one she salvaged earlier on in their journey, but that's about par for the course with her.
the handgun isn't going to get much use right now anyway, because as soon as she's sure that wash is in on maine's challenge too, she's moving to meet the little pack of trilk guards coming their way, apparently more determined than the last bunch. she gets two shots off before the first one intercepts her and she defaults to what she does best- forgetting she's even holding a gun in favour of just kicking the damn thing's ass with just her and her armour. ]
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And he's not a sore loser. What's important is that he's back with his family. Who's the better fighter doesn't really matter to him. Never has. As long as everyone makes it home, that's all that truly matters. There's a reason he mostly stayed in sixth place back in the Project. ]
Yeah, yeah. Excuses.
[ More teasing. He knows the mission got fucked and he's not blaming anyone for that. It isn't their fault.
A low grunt of acknowledgement to both Carolina and Maine and he's off too. Wash isn't as physical a combatant as Carolina, not unless he has to be, but he can get a little up close and personal when the situation calls for it. Right now, he's after a knot of Trilk coming out of a... guard... thing. Hut? Cave? Mud blob? Something.
Maybe he'll get lucky and pick up some neat alien weaponry while he's at it. Taking out one of the aliens through a clean shot in the eye, he calls out the tally over their suit comms. ]
One!
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Maybe this is just what he needed. Excess violence with his family again. They might be working separately to out-do each other, but they're working in-sync. Later, he'll realize how much he needed this to feel normal again.
He incapacitates one with just his hands, because there's just something inherently barbaric about it that gives him a pleasing sense of power. He's been honed to be this kind of soldier. He's going to use that skill when he can. He takes out two more with the plasma guns the first one dropped. The fourth gets suplexed. This is almost a cakewalk compared to some of the missions they've been on.
An amused sort of sound crackles over their comms. Four. Heading for five. ]
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she has three enemies down when one manages to catch her off guard from behind, tackling her to the ground and making her handgun drop and skitter away from her. the trilk's size does her a favour, though, giving her space to roll onto her back and ram one knee up into its comparatively soft stomach. despite its grunt of pain and/or protest, the alien's fellows ignore any warnings in favour of dogpiling carolina, which really just makes them easier to pick off. she uses her other knee to re-aim the plasma weapon on the back of the first trilk, then elbows its head out of her way so she can reach down and fire it directly in the face of the next nearest trilk. four. she pulls the gun from its holster and fires it again, taking out another (five) and scorching the back of the one doing its best to pin her to the ground. wounded, it's not as focused on keeping her down and she uses her legs for the strength to flip it over her head, aiming up to catch it clean in the face before it even hits the ground.
triumphant, carolina rolls back on her shoulders and then hops to her feet, ready for the next scrap. ]
Six! [ the running tally between them may very well be the best motivation to do anything she's found all mission. it feels good. it feels right. ]
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He huffs a little in feigned annoyance as Maine radios in with his tally. It turns into a snort as Carolina does the same. One is a pretty paltry number compared to five and six.
When a group of three Trilk come through some tunnel, Wash moves to intercept. He could make it flashy, maybe get one of those bombs and blow the aliens to hell, but at the last second he opts to do it his way. Three clean shoots to the eyes. All three drop before they can reach him. Or any of the other Alpha team members. ]
That's three more.
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It's why they're a team. One weakness is made up for by another's strength.
Of course, that doesn't mean Maine is just going to sit back and not pump up his own number. He tears through a pack of three, getting some explosives off them before they have a chance to detonate. He keeps three, launches two into another on-coming larger pack and hurls one into a guardhouse. The resulting explosions are satisfying and ups his number exponentially.
Does he really have to say that?? ]
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there's a garbled sound over the comms that's either interference or one of carolina's disgusted, hating-to-lose noises. take your guesses, guys.
not to be outdone, she quickly dispatches the current crowd around her, toying with one until she sees more enemies on the horizon. then she sidesteps, avoiding the impact from one of their plasma guns, and grabs one of the grenades she's been saving on her hip, waiting for the trilk in front of her to open its mouth in some sort of battle cry so she can shove it down the alien's throat and give it one hard kick back into its oncoming backup. they all go down and she's covered in guts in the process, but it's more than worth it. ]
There we go.
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There's nothing remarkable about it. A shot here. A shot there. An explosion that collapses a section of the ground right out from under a pack of the aliens.
When Wash reaches a point of higher elevation, he scans the area with his eyes and his armor's scanners. ]
Are we done yet? How many of these fucking things can there be?
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His area is cleared and he doesn't see anything alerting on his HUD so he turns his attention toward where he last saw Wash to pick him out and scan to make sure no sniper is lurking somewhere.
He makes another sound, impatient. What the fuck is going on? ]
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and damn does she ever miss infiltrators who could meet her standards right now.
maine's rumble catches her attention, though, carolina's attention lingering on her most recent kills a moment to make sure none of them are moving before she turns to catch sight of him. and then wash, of course. always checking on them. ]
Everything good up there?
Open
The trilk base is starting to rustle in activity and their job was made clear: Remain outside and keep them from getting to the Beta team.]
If anyone can read me I could use a hand at my coordinates. Things are going to get hairy.
[Her wrist comm picks up both her voice and the sounds of her loading up her rpg as well as loading a magazine into her handgun. When they start coming out she is going to be ready.
April also has an ace up her sleeve. She's focusing her telepathy on anyone not from the assigned teams coming from the walls of the homebase.]
redheads gotta stick together
Copy, April. On my way.
[ and by on her way, carolina means she's going to show up in a blur of blue armour, moving considerably faster than she should be able to (or would be able to, without her favourite speed enhancement equipment running in her armour) as she passes april to head off the incoming trilk. she has a long piece of pipe in one hand, scrap from one of the guard posts, and she uses the momentum from swinging it out in front of her to stop. as a bonus, she knocks a handful of enemies back and off-balance, should april need a breather. ]
yes good. idk why but i thought of this: http://i.imgur.com/d8XraUW.png
[Before she can even aim the rocket launcher on her shoulder Carolina's swift run past has her red hair flying about. Damn. Only mutants or aliens have shown that kind of power and speed in April's experience.
But she's shaken out of her brief staring at the blue armored leader when her psychic sense bring her attention ahead to the trilk following the main line.
The ones that actually have weapons.]
They're armed!
[April quickly adjusts her aim and a trail of smoke follows her rocket. Before hitting its mark, one of the firing special forces get a good shot in and April's rpg literally disintegrates from the plasma.
Luckily her reflexes are fast enough for her to see it coming and drop the weapon before it's fully gone.]
REALLY ARMED!
[She takes out her hard light knife and handgun from sheath and holster while leaping remarkably far to land near Carolina.]
Let's buy Beta some more time.
it's them!
carolina half-turns to check in with april visually, making sure she doesn't have any obvious damage to her gear outside of missing her rocket launcher, but then she's got her attention back to the incoming trilk, giving her pipe a twirl in her hands as one of the less armed trilk gets back to its feet to retaliate. ]
If I get you one of their guns, think you can do some extra damage with it?
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Marksman. She can put that on a resume somewhere, right?]
I'd say it's a safe bet. Plus it'll save me ammo for this and my ray gun.
[The one that's definitely going to fritz on her according to K-2SO's calculations.]
If you want to go in I think I can give you enough cover until you secure one.
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[ because as soon as she kills the two nearest trilk, her focus goes to getting her armour's adaptive camouflage running. she didn't make use of her suit most of the hike here, but now that there's serious action, carolina's letting herself stretch her legs, so to speak. she's clearly in her element here.
she doesn't go invisible, just really hard to follow, her armour morphing from the beacon-like cyan to a mottled brown, matching the ground around them. the trilk may be smarter than they look, but like this she can disorient them long enough to get behind their loose formation, taking out two from behind before she jumps on the back of the nearest one mounted with one of those plasma guns, kicking the top of its head hard enough to stun it momentarily. which is all she needs, evidently, to undo the mounting and follow up with a killing blast from its own weapon. that's fair, probably. and then it's just a matter of taking out the rest of the crowd and getting back to april's side, which is practically a cakewalk. ]
( closed to washingtub )
Probably.
Maybe.
Honestly he only really cares about two people making it back to the ship.
There's a lull now. Bodies litter the field and it looks like a slaughter. It doesn't really bother Maine. The lull does. It's silent. Too silent. And that makes him feel like trouble is brewing. Because the Trilk can't have given up and Maine doesn't think they've wiped out the species completely. He remains heavily on guard as he finishes the last leg of his patrol area to join back up with Wash.
Which is, of course, when things fall apart all over again. Time seems to slow and yet it happens so fast that Maine can't even prevent it from happening. That finely crafted control he's been keeping on himself snaps the instant he sees Wash go down. All bets are off now and anyone will be lucky to get off the planet in tact. ]
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He lunges to the side, bringing up his rifle with its dwindling supply of ammunition and starts firing. But it's a few seconds too late to prevent one of the creatures from getting off a shot from its plasma gun.
It hits his leg and sheers through the armor like it's fucking tissue paper. It's not the first time he's gotten a plasma burn, but it's never pleasant. His lower leg lights up into agony and stops supporting him. He goes down with a grunt, trying to roll out of the way of the nearest Trilk's sight. Which is all well and good until he finds himself struggling to breathe.
With embarrassing slowness, he realizes it's the atmosphere leaking in through the damaged armor. Structural integrity's comprised. Fuck. And there's a big goddamn Trilk about to murder him.
It just isn't his day. ]
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Maine reacts on instinct and muscle memory. He moves without really thinking about it, running as fast as he can, activating his camo and barreling into the Trilk about to trample Wash while he's down. The alien doesn't see him coming and has no time to defend. It goes flying and skids in the sand, dazed for the moment. Which is good because there are two more heading toward Maine and he dodges, feints and catches one around the neck, throwing its weight into the other. He doesn't hesitate to further break its neck before he lets go and launches himself at the other. He's brutal in his attack, not really caring what happens just as long as it dies. Ripping one apart with his hands. Stabbing one repeatedly in the throat so it bleeds out, painting the sand a putrid color. Jamming a grenade down another's throat and launching it into a bevy of them.
It feels like hours before the rush of them stops, but it's only been minutes. Carcasses litter the space around them like some sort of morbid halo. For a moment Maine is lost inside his own head as to why he went berserk, but then sees Wash there and it all comes rushing back. He kind of wants to kill all these motherfuckers all over again. At Wash's side, he drops down to his knees, assessing the damage with the bioscan without bothering to ask. That's just wasting even more time.
There's a leak. There's a fucking leak and Maine doesn't know how to fix it just yet. But he can't waste any more time. And they can't stay here. An idea strikes him and he yanks out a cannister of biofoam and injects it into the armor. It's not going to hold forever and it's going to be a shitty seal, but it'll give Wash some proper air for a few minutes. A second later, he's scooping Wash up into his arms and running for some cover. There's a cave nearby that will hopefully provide some cover while he figures out what to do.
There's a low, rumbling sound; he runs faster. Still with me? ]
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Once Maine's there, the Trilk are distracted away from Wash. That reprieve allows him the opportunity to drag himself out of the way of getting trampled, though he isn't quick about it. He'd like to be, but he can't move too quickly. If he does, he'll use up whatever small reserves of air are left in the helmet.
And there isn't a lot of that.
Goddamn it. Should've brought some sealant. Hindsight is always 20/20, though, and Wash can't do anything except kick himself for an eventuality he hadn't foreseen. Thankfully, Maine gets there before he can get too deep into the self-recrimination. At first, he doesn't know what he's doing, but then the familiar, awful sting of biofoam touches his open skin and he figures it out.
A groan's all that escapes him before the world spins and he's jolting along in Maine's arms like a child. In some respects, it's humiliating. Not just getting injured but being carted around like a sack of potatoes. ]
Yeah. Still here. [ A note of bitterness enters his breathless voice. ] Making stupid fucking mistakes. Sorry about that.
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Maine doesn't really say much, just makes a low noise of acknowledgement. He's not accepting that apology. He's just not. Wash should know better than that. Ridiculous idiot.
They reach the cave and Maine sets him down, immediately going for his leg. There's no sealant—they're both idiots in that regard—and he's not sure what to do. The metal is corroded all the way through to the undersuit. The bioscan on his HUD lets him know just how much time he has left before Wash runs out of oxygen. It's not a pleasant number to look at.
Then, like it's a gift from some otherworldly being, Maine gets an idea. Reaching up, he begins to remove the left arm of his armor. It'll be easier to just take the damn thing off than to struggle from an odd angle. It's stripped off quick enough and then he's pulling on the brown pauldron piece. It won't compromise his own—they've been blown off in fights before—as they're just additional protection. It takes some effort and for a few moments he wonders if he's going to be able to pull it off. Eventually, though, it comes off with a sound of metal scraping on metal.
Quickly, he reattaches the armor because he's going to need the strength boost for both hands. Maine moves over closer to Wash's leg and kneels there beside it. He rumbles a little something—This is going to hurt—because it's going to with this skin exposed. The biofoam should help a little, but... He finds the best angle to cover the breach and begins bending the metal around it to seal up Wash's armor again. ]
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Maine sets him down and Wash stares up at his helmet, watching the read-out on his own HUD ticking his life away. He's going to die. They don't have sealant. They don't have replacement pieces for the armor. They don't have backup air sources. And their evac is too far away. That's it. This is where his real service record ends.
There are so many things he needs to say to Maine before he runs out of air. Maine's not going to want to hear it and Wash doesn't want to say some of it, but they've had another chance here and this time, he's going to say what he needs to and he's going to get to say goodbye. ]
Listen... [ Except Maine's yanking off his armor and not listening. ] What are—Oh no.
[ It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's going to do with that. Just like Wash already knows it's going to feel like hell. ]
Yeah. Yeah, I know. Go on.
[ Reaching down, Wash digs his hands into the dirt. It's nothing to really hold on to, but he needs something to do with them that isn't thrash around. Because it does hurt. It hurts a fucking lot. The pain manifests in a wordless, muffled groan, Wash too stubborn to yell about it, and a growled; ]
Hurry up. [ He just wants it over with. ] I can take it.
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But, he's got to be calm for this so he doesn't fuck it up and ruin what he's doing. This can literally make or break what happens. He's trying to make this as easy as possible, but also be quick about it and there's some weird mix going on here that have it feel like it's taking way too fucking long and it's the hardest thing he's ever done. He pushes down hard, knowing it's probably making Wash's skin even worse. But, they're both so littered with scars that he assumes another one won't really matter. He'll be alive to complain about it later, that's the important part.
He gets one side down and bends metal into metal. It's not the easiest task because these suits were designed to take a beating and though Maine is vastly stronger in his suit, he's not invincible. He fucking wishes he was. He rumbles a low noise, not really meaning much other than asking how he's doing, while he works on getting the other side down, too. ]
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It fucking hurts, though.
Wash clenches his teeth so tightly that his jaw aches. And when that doesn't distract him from it, he bangs his head back against the ground, which doesn't help either. ]
Motherfucking... [ It's a low growl that's directed nowhere. He isn't talking to Maine, just doing something in the hopes that expending energy will spend the pain. ] Christ. [ He sucks in a deep breath, thankful that he can do that at all. ] It's fine. I'm fine. It's okay.
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Even with the temperature regulation in his suit, he's sweating. This is too close for comfort and he doesn't want to lose Wash now that he's finally gotten him back. That'd just be ironic, though. Poetic fucking justice after everything that's happened.
He works faster, his arms shaking a bit with the effort of pushing the metal down. His body is tired, he can feel it, but he's got to get this done. Which he does moment later with a hard jerk as his hands slip slightly. There's a low noise of apology, but he doesn't stop. If he does, it'll only make it harder on Wash. So, he shifts a little, to get a better hold on Wash's leg and digs out a few tools from his pack. He uses a chisel to get around the edges to hopefully seal it up enough to carry Wash through the rest of this mission. Or at least until he can check with Carolina to see if she has any sealant with her. Otherwise, they're going to have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing happens.
Seemingly hours-long minutes later, he thinks he's done and he sends the question out there, What's the read out? ]
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He almost screams.
Through some miracle, dignity prevails and he takes it like a goddamn soldier. A hissing breath. A low humming groan. And it's done. Maine's done and the pain levels out. It doesn't stop: his leg's burned and there's metal digging into it. It's not going to stop until he gets the armor off and the leg treated properly. For now, though, it'll do. ]
Uh... [ He focuses on the HUD's readout. ] Oxygen rising. Levels stabilizing. [ He takes a deep breath. ] It's good. [ His head thunks back to the ground. ] Thank you.
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He doesn't say anything—not that it's much of a surprise since he doesn't often talk a lot—and just sits there staring at the ground. It's discolored from Wash's blood and the leaking biofoam and fuck knows what else. Alien blood, maybe. Plasma remnants. Another few tense moments pass when all Maine can see is red and hear the swooshing of his blood in his ears.
He needs to get a grip.
Forcing himself to look away and get up just so he can't see that anymore, Maine rises and begins to pace. Then, thinks better of it and goes to stand watch, his suit flickering for a second before melting into nothingness. The bright white ( or dirty, as it were ) is too obvious in the browns and reds of the desert. Just easier this way.
Rest. When you're ready, we'll get you up. ]