legionmissions | Out With the Old [modplot]

Phantom North is sassing him.

Also normal. Which- he probably should tell the doc about. Has toed the line of doing just that but they're working and he doesn't wanna get benched and he's fine. Rolls out his shoulders, scrubs at a scuff on his shoulder plating and crouches right back down to get to where he was. No more explosives. Delta still and quiet for some fucking weird reason that feels like a pregnant pause before, quietly, comes the note.

"You are not alone."

"Uh- yeah I am? Trackers show nothing, area's clear. I just fucked up like a moron. Nothing else in this panel, though, so I'm fine." Right back to wrist deep in wires, teasing them apart to get to what he needs to. "Seriously, D, thank her for saving my bacon. I'd be full blind insteada just half-"

"Cortana did not supply that shield. There are no holoprojectors in the basement."

Nothing. Straight back to work like no one else is there, and that crawls cold and not-right through North's gut, because that isn't York. Is it? No matter which way he turns it, it doesn't make sense, and now Theta is getting antsy too, triple-checking for any sign that they have the wrong man and not finding anything either and asking if York is mad at them and no, it's okay, we just had to split up after the crash, remember? like that answers anything and-

-and he does not think he - either of them - has ever been that glad to hear clear, precise voice of Delta over the comms.

At that point, it's okay. He can wait patiently for the acknowledgement he's due.

"...what?" He- what? York untangles his figners and checks his trackers again and- holy shit there's company. Massive company and he goes still rather than whirling to face the enemy because it...it isn't? The enemy.

His Hud pings the shape and density as friendly and there aren't many people that large with shields that shape with voices that crawl down and hook in and scream familiarity. Scream teammates and fond exasperation and years of shittalking and shit giving and it's been fucking forever- Before Delta can say one thing or another he turns slow and there it is. The familiar outline of North standing still and real and solid and-

It's always voices. Echos. Never faces. Never armor. His voice is a thin, rough scrape when he manages to find it and-

"I always knew you were my guardian angel." Because if he laughs it's real. If he gives that tilt of his helmet, the 'jesus fuck York' shift of his shoulders and drawling wry fondness it's him.

He doesn't laugh - just huffs, relieved and bemused and aggrieved all in one seamless tumble. Head and rifle barrel down and to the side, away from that unconsciously strict attention, because this is York. He's on Earth in the future and here's York, snuck into somewhere he has no business being either, strung out and giving him shit about his name.

"Don't think you can sweet-talk your way out of ignoring me, now," he warns him, grin probably audible even through his helmet comms.

I didn't think you were real.

How do you tell your bro that you're so used to hearing him call you out on stupid shit you've done or not done or giving you shit for just being you that hearing him was something to be shrugged off? You don't. York doesn't just- shoves away from the wall and takes the five seconds they absolutely do not have to haul North in by the shoulders and hug him as close as the armor will allow.

Here.

Whole.

Solid. "Jesus Fuck, North." His voice is just on this edge of hysterical because Christ this is not what he expected today.

Okay- okay. There are possible explanations for this. Maybe York's been here longer - he'd got the impression he wasn't exactly entering the first class through. Maybe he's seen some extremely superpowered nightmare fuel. But even missing him, even going through who knows what, he's surprised by the intensity of that hug, and pats his back solidly, helmets knocking together in a lazy headbutt.

"Hey, it's okay." He's not sure what exactly he's reassuring him of. It. "Good to see you too."

That can't be the half of it, and he knows it, but getting into the brass tacks? That's not what you do in the middle of a job. Not if it seems even remotely avoidable. Which . . . this actually seems like it might not be, if whatever it is has reached the ignoring-people-standing-nearby stage. Not injury, he thinks. York's suit still looks solid.

"You doing okay?"

Same suit, same voice, and he's here. Delta provides enough concrete data across his HUD to prove it and- yeah. This isn't the time to break down but he still takes another five or so seconds to settle. They got a job. They got hostages to clear out and lives to ruin in the process.

Without actually killing anyone. Fun times.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been-" He pulls back, patting North's shoulder as he angles his head back to the panel where he'd been working the wiring. "Kinda crazy.CO got kidnapped, live broadcast of torture, etc, etc etc. I gotta finish this, you mind covering me? Delta's in the servers up a level."

"Yeah, I got that impression myself." He lets York pull back, reassured by the return to the job, to some semblance of focus. After this, they can talk, but right now the situation doesn't give them that kind of luxury. He steps back, canting his head to the right at the spot where his brain tells him that Theta is, even if he doesn't flicker into view until halfway through his question. "What do you say, Theta. Think we can keep watch for our infiltration specialist here?"

"Can we stay close? I don't know how big we can make the shield yet."

"Good thinking, Theta." North situates himself at the best happy medium between line of sight and shield range that he can reasonably manage in a basement, nestling the stock of his rifle in against his shoulder, ready to aim and shoot.

Edited 2017-02-11 10:23 (UTC)

"Y'all did get the 'no killing' memo, right?" Because if there's one thing little theta is surprisingly adept at with all the enthusiasm of a child with a new cool trick to show off- it's an efficient and relatively painless demise for all threats in the general area. Paired with North's rather...creative means of dispatching most targets?

Yeah.

This'll be more than an adjustment for just him.

Delta's voice clips through the comms, almost warm. "It is good to have you here, Theta."

The one sibling he LIKED.

"I know I feel better with you both keeping an eye on me." He gives the invisible AI and his buddy a quick salute before diving back in, things clicking right back into place like it's six years ago and everything's normal.

"Yep, loud and clear." He doesn't sound exactly thrilled about it, but hey. His life has been occasionally-inane rules for years now. No changes there.

Theta flickers closer, from in front of North's shoulder to behind it, though Delta isn't visible alongside York like he's used to. Another thing not quite as expected, and there's a second of uncertain quiet and the ever-present we're okay, don't worry of North's thoughts pressed to the borders of his, both steadier for the even pushback.

"Hello, Delta." He shifts restlessly, looking between North and York. "-are we allowed to talk now?"

"Don't see why not." North's voice is softer, but still easy, relaxed in the familiar focus of standing guard. "York?"

"Sure, Theta. It's just us here and we're all friends. Delta's up a level helping out a friend with the systems." He taps a small module he'd set in the panel that holds Delta's chip, safe from any explosion or EMP. He'd almost forgotten how shy and tentative little Theta could be, the reassurance clearly is needed. "No projector in this thing, but he'll come out and say Hi proper when we're all done, right bud?"

"Correct." As though to make up for his visible absence, Delta's voice softens somewhat. "We have much to discuss- if he and Agent North are comfortable I could perhaps introduce him to some friends I have made in the Legion."

York huffs a soft laugh. "And he could show them his firework trick."

North doesn't even try to suppress a small noise of bemusement. York going out of his way to make Theta feel comfortable and acknowledged isn't new, but aside from that, a few days ago it was Project Freelancer protocol all the way. And now Delta's offering to introduce Theta to his friends? Delta has friends that aren't York?

"North?"

"I think that sounds nice. Sure. Make some friends." A scuttling noise, and he narrows his eyes, releasing a quiet sigh when his thermals stay cool. Just debris settling. "-after the mission."

"Okay!" He blips back out of sight, back into the tumble of being more palpable than audible, though he keeps his voice at the ready on the comms.

"It oughta be pretty quiet down here, I mean. All the action is going on upstairs, no one's gonna mind me pok'n around." Except for the explosion that nearly killed him. Yeah. That was a thing. "So- I gotta ask."

Because Freelancers are all creative in their own special way but rarely does that translate to picking appropriate names. "Powers and Hero name? I'm Locksmith, here."

He'll give North the rundown on what he can do in a bit.

"Hardball. Not much different from before, except my shield doesn't need hardware to activate and I can see thermals without the HUD if I focus right." As far as he understands it, anyway, he's not really going into detail about the fact that he's only been using these for about a day and he's still getting the hang of activating and manipulating a shield with Theta more of a gentle suggestion and less actually at the wheel.

"..." Okay just gonna. Turn from where he's working, fingers still finessing their way through wires and. Stare for a second because North.

Buddy.

"...Hardball." Dear god his friends are all nerds. "Hard. Ball. You just- set yourself up for dirty jokes for days with the fandom, dude."

"Okay. First of all, it's baseball. And ammunition." And catchy, he'd thought. As catchy as he was going to get when someone asked him for a nickname when he was still reeling from the massive culture shock of it all.

"Second of all, fandom?"

"And all the ball jokes in the galaxy." This is his best friend. THIS ASSHOLE HERE is his best friend. He needs to look at his life and his choices because god and damn. God. And. Damn.

"Yeah we're widely publicized and have a media presence. We're kind of celebrities so- there's a fandom. There's shipping and fanfic and fanart and it's kind of crazy- HA!" A twist and flick and they're in the system properly. "There we go. D, piping you the readout- cut all external broadcasting, activate any dormant cameras and feed everything to Cortana for our live tracking app."

"If it's that important, they really need a better PR team," he comments, half to himself, more careless than the situation probably calls for. So he's going to be a celebrity with a name that's ridiculously easy to make dirty jokes about. He already went through his entire pre-freelancer life named after an angel, it can't be that much worse.

He listens to the triumphant chatter and relaxes, slowly, because that's another thing that stacks up into the Definitely York column. It's easy to see how they got him into the Project - nothing hits him quite like a job well done, doubly if it's a brand-new challenge for him. "Need an escort back into the action?"

"I've kinda benched myself." Uncharacteristic, but- yeah. "We need objectivity. Disarm, disable, arrest- all that jazz. But they've got my CO and hurt 'em for shits and giggles and I'm...not all that objective right now."

He's trying to do better. To BE better. "Better not to tempt old habits, you know? But there's another console in the next wing I need to get to. Maybe running through the footage of their setup will tell us more that we don't know. Give us some knowledge to drop on the rest of the team."

"Wow." North gives a tip of his head, stepping aside so York can lead the way. Better if he follows behind and puts more of his focus on thermals than the dozens of other considerations of taking point. "Look at you. Finally one of the good guys, huh."

If there's a hint of teasing, at least it smooths over his incredulity at York making that kind of turnaround. After what they'd been up to in Project Freelancer, something as simple as an oath not to kill is practically Boy Scout territory.

"Kinda had time to look back over what we did in the project and make a few judgement calls." This place, these people? They're as legit as he can figure. And that's worth falling in line for, even if he'd rather just put a bullet in those assholes and call it a day.

he doesn't get it, but he doesn't have to.

He just needs to do his job and get people out of here.

Panel sealed he nudges North with his shoulder, all easy and companionable, on the way out and heads for the hallway. So far? All clear.

"You seem to like the chain of command well enough. That has to help." He can't imagine York seeing red enough to question his judgment if someone had pinned down the Director on a live broadcast and started kicking the shit out of him. He would have performed his duty, sure, but York doesn't necessarily put his heart into something just because he has skin in the game. It's a trickier thing than that.

"They're good people." Which is a gross understatement but- he and Delta are partial to Kid Q and Brainy. "They actually care about their people, make sure we do our jobs, do it right, and keep each other on the level. They got a therapist here that isn't a fuckwit. They give us somewhere to live that's as close to home or whatever we want and a chance to actually save the goddamn universe- so."

He rolls his shoulders. "Yeah. I like 'em."

"So you got kidnapped into a better job." Only York, and he snorts softly, checking their six for anyone coming down for them. Nothing- maybe they set the traps and focused their energy on upstairs. He's not a supervillain expert.

"So what are you powers?"

"...yeeeeeeah." Or. Well. Resurrected BUT NOT THINKING ABOUT THAT, nope, focused on the job and the next set of security measures he'll have to mind. "Uh- well I got this charm power thing, I'm lucky, and I make grenades."

A wild constellation of skills, truly.

Out With the Old [modplot]

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