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! )
[ 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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no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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? ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]