legionmissions | Out With the Old [modplot]

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Out With the Old [modplot]

Who| Everyone who signed up
What| The rescue of the NPC Legionnaires
Where| A movie studio in New New York
When| Takes place the same time as "Books of Magic"
Warnings/Notes| N/a

The studio where the Legionnaires are being held is swarming with supervillains. It's a trap, of course. But that doesn't mean they have to walk right into it. They have a plan, and now it's time to put it into action.

The Legion of Supervillains are expecting the non-native Legionnaires to be pushovers. They're about to discover just how crushingly, devastatingly wrong they are.

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"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.

That sure as hell sounds like there's a catch, like for all that he likes his COs there's something deeply wrong with this gig, but North consigns that to a mental note-for-later. Now isn't the time for sitting around complaining about the particulars of the job.

"Fancy. So what, they have you talking your way out of tight corners instead of shooting your way out, now?"

"Pretty much- but this time it's more effective." Better lucky than good, better armed than not, better nonlethal than lethal. He slips down the last little leg of hallway and pops a squat next to a panel, tipping his head back to North. "Wanna look over this one so I don't blow myself up?"

"Mmm . . . nothing out of the ordinary," he pronounces after a slow scan of the area, though he stays a few steps back, watching York as he sets to work on the panel. "We can keep an eye on it until you're all the way into the system, though. A lot of this gear is pretty new to both of us."

"It's a lot easier to see a weapon that's activated," Theta chimes in, popping back into view over North's shoulder out of habit. "I'll keep looking."

Fingers along the seam, no tripwires- it'd been some kind of magnetic contact before but everything seems like it's the proper weight. Just gonna have to push his luck. There's a faint shift in the air, a prickling of skin even in their suits when he tugs the panel free-

And there's an explosive.

A dud.

Careful as he can manage he untangles and disconnects the detonator with a soft sigh. "Good to be lucky, huh?"

"Saves me some quick shield-throwing, anyway," he agrees, crouching along next to him and holding out his hand for the charge to get it well away from where York is working. "So you're just lucky all the time? Don't have to put any special effort into it?"

"I have to focus to make it happen. Small nudges help me tip the odds in my favor with minimal pushback. Big things? fifty fifty chance of it working out allright across the board- or of it biting me in the ass a big way. So. Constant gamble." He tips his head back enough to let North catch the angle that means he's smirking under the visor as he hands off the explosive. "So I can make a lucky shot or fall off a building, you know?"

"Sounds like business as usual to me," he jibes mildly, rolling the payload around in his hands to assess the size and weight of it before stepping back around the corner. A few safe turns of hall away and he tucks it into a shadowed corner, giving Theta an idle good job, buddy when he drops a pin on his HUD feed of the spot. Then he's back with York, keeping guard, watching through the ceiling for the occasional amorphous, almost-invisible red blur of poorly-defined battling figures. At least it's a solid foundation.

"Yeah but at least this time around I'm somewhat in control." Like that helps- and it does. More fiddling, more soft, subaudible boots and cats and trilling- the familiar beatboxing noises of a York At Work. "Hey li'l T-"

Yes, theta has a nickname now. "Thanks for the save, earlier."

North isn't as adept at silently nudging Theta's attention to something as the other way around - trouble with AI being designed with human brains in mind and not vice-versa, he guesses - and he chuckles at the flicker of confusion that dances across the far side of the connection.

"I think he means you."

"Oh-!" Theta. Little T. He can see it when it's pointed out to him, and even though it's not a proper operational designation, this isn't really a proper operation either, he guesses.

Plus. It's Agent York. He likes to tweak the rules where AI are concerned.

"Um. You're welcome." He's not used to being thanked. Praised, more and more, but anyone acting like he might do otherwise just feels . . . weird. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Glad to have y'all back." They'd been missing, the package that is North and Theta, for years. They'd sort of known with a vague certainty where they might be- at least enough for the deadrop system to work, but not enough to really...get each other in trouble.

Or give aid if it came down to it.

"It's kinda nice, knowing someone else here will, yanno, get it. The me and D thing. Explaining it is a pain sometimes."

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Out With the Old [modplot]

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