When he can swing it? North strongly prefers to not be in basements. True, in the Project he was technically a stealth specialist, the same as South. But his strengths really shine when he has a clear vantage and room to maneuver quickly, somewhere a rifle would be more use than a shotgun. And the basements of the studio are far, far from the long sightlines and easy-to-ignore rooftops that he favors.
The heat vision helps, though. He can see where a clattering is rats or pipes and where it's humanoid shapes, though thicker walls or hot water pipes play hell with it. Still, he finds himself prowling a likely avenue of escape - or sabotage - rifle at the ready and senses fixed on a growing blot of warm that's staying suspiciously still. Theta's quiet in the back of his head, the soothing knowledge of variables being run and input being scanned a healthy fraction of a second faster than his brain could manage on its own.
It means that what happens next happens very fast - and that he moves half on instinct, half on the trust he puts into Theta's input. Because he dives through the last open doorway on a command that doesn't have or need a reason and his eyes see gold and Theta shouts the instantaneous concept far wall explosive device triggered now and both of them put York together in the same flash, because all of the analytics in the world don't make up for fighting alongside a man so long you know him just from the way the light glints off his armor.
"Get down!" he barks, just in case the shield doesn't hold where it flashes into place on the wall, wincing with the effort of holding his focus on that little dome of solid light when the explosion goes off inside with a bass, airless thud that cracks the wall behind it.
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The heat vision helps, though. He can see where a clattering is rats or pipes and where it's humanoid shapes, though thicker walls or hot water pipes play hell with it. Still, he finds himself prowling a likely avenue of escape - or sabotage - rifle at the ready and senses fixed on a growing blot of warm that's staying suspiciously still. Theta's quiet in the back of his head, the soothing knowledge of variables being run and input being scanned a healthy fraction of a second faster than his brain could manage on its own.
It means that what happens next happens very fast - and that he moves half on instinct, half on the trust he puts into Theta's input. Because he dives through the last open doorway on a command that doesn't have or need a reason and his eyes see gold and Theta shouts the instantaneous concept far wall explosive device triggered now and both of them put York together in the same flash, because all of the analytics in the world don't make up for fighting alongside a man so long you know him just from the way the light glints off his armor.
"Get down!" he barks, just in case the shield doesn't hold where it flashes into place on the wall, wincing with the effort of holding his focus on that little dome of solid light when the explosion goes off inside with a bass, airless thud that cracks the wall behind it.