Wash Dies At the End [Closed]

[unrecovered]

Who| Wash, Dave, and Chief
What| Foiling a robbery is a pretty routine mission, right?
Where| Rimbor
When| After Time Ripples
Warnings/Notes| 8D

The Rimbor Museum of Culture and Entertainment hasn't been around for very long. The grand opening of the establishment had been about a month ago, and aside from scrubbing graffiti off the walls most mornings and defusing a single firebombing attack, it's been relatively quiet. It seems like the effort to gentrify Rimbor isn't as Sisyphean as it initially seemed.

And then, three days ago, the Museum had publicized the opening of its latest exhibit: a rare, one-of-a-kind artifact from cinema in the early twenty-first century. In the center of the museum's main room, on a pedestal and surrounded by security, sits a white volleyball with a crudely drawn red face. The Rimbor Museum of Culture and Entertainment is now home to the very last Wilson in existence.

That fact has not gone unnoticed by the local crime syndicate, GANG. (Their name is in English, not Interlac, because it sounds so much more intimidating in English. Obviously.) These up and coming mobsters plan on making a name for themselves - not to mention a whole lot of money on the black market - by breaking into the museum and stealing Wilson. They've mostly committed petty crimes (and been arrested for them, putting their information into the system), but this is going to be their big break.

What they don't know about is the anonymous tip to the Legion warning them of the impending heist, or the three Legionnaires that have been dispatched to stop it before it starts.

Comments

[unrecovered]

Oh. This is, uh. This isn't good. A couple of the more enterprising members of the group - those with the knowledge or experience to see the writing on the wall now that there are Legionnaires involved - turn to sneak back the way they came.

Which is when Wash casually saunters out from behind another exhibit a little further down the hall and directly behind them, cutting off their exit. He'd cut the lights on his armor and held still, and they'd waltzed right past him.

"You're going after Wilson? Really?" He's not mad; he's disappointed. "You can't be that lonely."

[turntex]

Meanwhile, Justin Time is seated at the base of the pedestal, leaning up against it. Congratulations, petty villains. You've got a whole three Legionnaires.

"Was this all really necessary? Not you guys," he adds with a vague gesture at the GANG members before presumably leveling his teammates with a flat look. Presumably, because it sure is hard to tell sometimes with the shades."Like, the dramatic lighting reveal and the stepping out of the shadows bit? This is so cheesy Kraft is sending y'all cease and desist letters. Refrain from any further dangerously cheesy actions or we will be forced to take legal action, etcetera."

Dave stands lazily, and it's a good thing Wilson is held in place by some kinda magnet tech or something, because he may have bumped up against the pedestal a bit and sending the volleyball rolling away wouldn't be very heroic, would it? "Anyway. Stop right there, blah blah blah, I cannot believe what my life has become. Lurking in dark museums to protect goofy props from shitty movies, goddamn."

[prettycoolguy]

The Chief looks over at Dave. So do several members of GANG. Their plan is not going according to plan, and the plan that stopped their plan isn't going according to plan either. There are too many layers here. They've all gone too deep. Several of them have sudden, deep misgivings about what they've chosen to do with their lives.

It's a fun little moment until the spell breaks, the first GANG member realizes that maybe he should pull his gun, and the Chief lunges at him.

[unrecovered]

Wash just shrugs. "Oh, come on, Justin Time," he says, nonchalant and almost lazy, like a terribly satisfied big cat, "it makes for a good story. Paperboy will be happy."

Just like that big cat, he's more than ready when things take a turn for the violent. Members of GANG who see their leader get bulldozed by the Chief and turn to run will find themselves being picked off one by one by Wash, who has three-quarters cover, a pistol full of stun ammunition, and a vicious grin beneath that visor. As far as he's concerned, this is fun.

[turntex]

"Unfair," Dave says, frowning petulantly. "You can't use Paperboy against me like that." Wow, and referring to everyone by codenames makes him feel like a loser. Even the thought of Kubo doesn't diminish that shame.

Luckily, the baddies jump right into resistance so that's a nice distraction. Chief barrels in, Wash is enjoying the firefight, and Dave...remains where he is, watching on coolly.

Not that he's being lazy. He's just way too genre savvy to leave the Big Important Thing unwatched in the middle of a hectic fight sequence. Like hell does he feel like deeling with the scene in which they turn around and some two-bit villain is making off with the thing they're supposed to be guarding. Which is fortunate, because one of the GANG members thinks to try that shit, ducking out of the fighting and making a break for the volleyball. He skids almost comically to a halt upon realizing there's still a Legionnaire in his path despite the fighting, and Dave offers him a nonchalant wave.

He's filled his quota of heroic cliches for the day, though, so Dave skips the one-liner and just jumps himself forward a moment in time to punch the dude in the throat. These guys aren't worth pulling the sword out, and it's more of a pain avoiding killing anyone with that thing anyway.

[prettycoolguy]

The GANG is terribly unprepared to deal with a team of Legionnaires, and before long the Chief's handing out handcuffs like he's some kind of giant and terrifying version of Oprah Winfrey. You get restrained and you and you and you!

All told, it's gone very well and there isn't too much tidying for them at the end. The Chief even managed not to break anything. ...Anything important. One of the low velvet ropes that's meant to keep people back from the displays may currently be keeping three bruised men stuck together.

He dusts his hands off in a gesture of satisfaction. But, for Dave's sake perhaps, there's no oneliner.

[unrecovered]

Short but sweet is about the way these sorts of things should go anyway. It's a good thing Wash brought extra cuffs - he's cuffing everyone, regardless of whether they're conscious or not (though most aren't at this point - the several who are still conscious are wisely keeping their mouths shut, and he's pretty sure one of them is playing dead), and he still runs out right about the time Chief repurposes the velvet display rope. He'd been thinking of heading to the window behind him and grabbing the rope keeping the curtains tied back - good to know that wasn't necessary.

"Well, I think it's Dave's turn for a one-liner," he says, stepping away from the last GANG member. "Unless you're too tied u-"

He staggers, pain exploding through his chest, and wonders how he managed to get hit by a car again- but he's indoors, that doesn't make any sense, it's-

His HUD flares with warnings- severe damage to his right lung- oh, that's why he can't quite breathe anymore- went right through his back- must've been armor-piercing-

Sniper, he thinks vaguely, as he collapses forward on the museum carpet and his world goes white.

-

A block away, the newest and currently last free member of GANG pulls back from the edge of the roof and starts dismantling her rifle. She was supposed to be providing cover for their escape, but there's at least one Legionnaire in there, which is way above all of their pay grade, which means nobody's coming out. The least she can do is take out the righteous nasshead who ruined their plan.

Is she technically the leader now that she's the only one? Probably, and killing a Legionnaire will get her a ton of street cred. She'll lay low for now and capitalize on this next week. She's got plenty of time.

[turntex]

That went well. Or at least, it looked like it'd gone well for all of five seconds.

But goddamn Wash just dropped and fuck there's blood and the sight of it alone makes him feel sick and no no nononono--

Dave's gone stark white, immediately darting to Wash's side, heedless of possible additional sniper fire. Fuck it, if he gets shot then he gets shot and they'll be finding out whether or not he's actually still immortal here, but Wash sure as hell isn't and there's blood...

And goddamn, why do these guys have to wear all this bullshit armor? Dave only gives it all a brief glance before going straight for the helmet, because he knows that shit comes off and he's not about to waste time fumbling with the rest of it. Pulls that shit off and tosses it wherever, too busy shoving a hand down the armor neck-hole to feel at Wash's throat for a pulse and thank fucking god there's still something there. Probably not for long, though.

He's not sure what Chief is doing, doesn't bothing looking to him for a moment. It's easiest to just shove aside the panic and nausea, force himself to keep a cool head and still slightly-trembling fingers. There probably isn't much time but time is his goddamn bitch and right now he has to do something useful so there's no room for all those distracting emotions.

Dave draws a breath, focuses on Wash's body alone -- the smallest area possible will be most managable for any prolonged stretch of time, but he doubts it'd be healthy to isolate and freeze just one part of a human body so it'll have to be the whole thing -- and he mentally takes hold of the flow of time there and it stops.

The pulse under his hands stops, but that's fine because Wash can't die if the blood isn't pulsing out of his body. The bloodflow is chronologically frozen in place along with all the organs that needs it, locked in that moment before a lethal threshold of bloodloss is crossed.

"Chief?" Dave breathes, voice carefully controlled. "A little help?"

[prettycoolguy]

"Sniper!"

The Chief knows what to do about a sniper, and his reaction is immediate.

BLAM! BLAM!

He puts two rounds from his sidearm through the supports on the big exhibit sign above the window the sniper shot through. One side comes crashing to the floor, blocking the view. Cover established.

The shot came through that window and Wash is there so it had to come from- he's at the next window, back to the wall, head tipped to see out into the light-blotted Rimbor night. The helmet's thermal sensors pick up a humanoid flicker of movement that vanishes quickly into the cold, still buildings and is gone.

There might be someone else out there, but if there is he can't see them. Nothing else moves.

"Clear!"

Then Dave's voice comes to the Chief through the adrenaline haze and then he appears over them. Something in his chest wrenches violently at the sight of Wash, now that he can spare the second to process it. The freelancer's armor sensors have just stopped, the display of a flagging heart rate completely frozen on the Chief's HUD, and now that he sees Dave there he understands why.

They have to move. They have to move now.

He kneels, clipping his teammate's shed helmet to the open mag lock on his hip with one hand and taking his flight ring with the other. He's going to need the extra help.

"Stay on him."

As if Dave would do anything else right now, but it's an attempt to steady him more than anything. It doesn't matter what's happening, the Chief's voice is low and stable. They're going to get Wash out of here, it's going to be alright.

Then he kills his shields across his arms and chest and moves to lift them, both of them. A grown man in full armor is still nothing to the Chief, Wash is smaller and freelancer kit doesn't weigh near as much as his own suit. Dave is practically a feather balanced on top as he rises and settles his grip.

"We're going."

And the Chief takes off for the exit, twisting to crash the door with his shoulder and take the straightest path anyone ever flew for the threshold gate.

Hold on tight, Dave.

[turntex]

A sound of surprise escapes him at being scooped up with all the ease of a fucking kitten, but hell, Dave's not really gonna conplain right now.

Being half-seated half-laying on top of a dying friend should be a pretty disturbing dituation, but, well. He's had to get pretty up close and personal with corpses before, so this isn't really that bad. He'd planned on just running with Chief, he doesn't really need to stay in contact to keep the localized timestop in place, but it does admittedly make it slightly easier and right now he needs every bit of "easier" he can get.

The largescale stops he's pulled in the past were massive energy drains that could only be managed for a few seconds. Even minimized as much as this one is, he can feel it sapping at him like he's running a race. He's suddenly real glad Chief just grabbed him too, because actual running would likely only cut into what energy he has to use for this.

Chief fucking bursts straight through a door and goddamn, he sure isn't wasting any time at all on shit like door handles, huh? Dave doesn't spare the concentration needed to comment, though, usually silent as he curls himself smaller atop Wash's armor, head ducked in case they have to bust through any more inconvenient obstacles.

[prettycoolguy]

Fortunately for Dave and Wash, the Chief doesn't have to crash through anything else on their way to the gate. The kwai navigator on duty is pretty reasonably startled by how they show up, but leaps to work getting them back to Legion World.

As he does, the Chief's calling in to the station trying to get word to medical.

"Freelancer's been shot," he finally reports. It's only been seconds, but it feels like hours. "Justin Time and I have him, Justin can't hold him forever."

He always uses code names in the field, even the jokes, with perfect seriousness. He's not succeeding at ignoring the way Wash's potential death makes him feel, but he can keep it out of his voice. Still rock steady, still the goddamn Master Chief.

When they're through, he goes straight for the medbay without even touching the ground. The hall in is perfectly clear. The staff remembers what happened the last time the Master Chief decided he needed to get somewhere now.

A stretcher is ready for Wash and the Chief finally lowers his awkward burden of teammates. It's now out of his hands in more ways than one.

Someone's asking him what he knows. How was Freelancer shot, does he know with what weapon, by whom? The Chief answers, but it doesn't feel like he knows anything critical.

He watches over the staffer's shoulder as they take Wash away, something knotting up in his chest and throat much tighter than it ever should.

It's not over. It's not like home. He has a good chance now that they're back, Dave's time powers might have been enough to save him. He runs down these list of reasons he shouldn't be upset and all of them feel empty.

John has been emotionally compromised and that's almost as scary as the thought of losing Wash.