legionmissions | PIIIIIIIPE WREEEEEENCH FIIIIIIIIIGHT

Pidge makes a small grumbling noise of disgust and annoyance in the back of her throat. This whole thing is set up to push her past her limits but...

"...Did Arcade build this himself or did he just find a planet full of terrible architects?!"

OK, no, focus. "It's just a pattern. We should be able to decipher it pretty easily. Unless..."

She has the presence of mind to give the recently slammed door a few pushes, just in case. If they thought it'd be locked, then Arcade may be toying with them by not locking it but...no. It's just straight-up locked. Worth a shot.

"Pretty sure he stole it from a movie," Wash comments dryly. Oh, yeah, Wash definitely remembers seeing this one. "Pretty sure the characters in the movie talked about just how stupid this kind of trap is." He hopes Arcade is listening; to that end, he'll insult Arcade's nonexistent creativity as much as he possibly can. It's petty, but it sure makes him feel better.

He catches sight of Pidge checking the door, and for a moment he can't help but hope-

Well, damn. "It's never that easy, is it," he mutters, turning back to the chompers and setting about memorizing the pattern. "The hard part of this is knowing if there's enough space to stop between sets - I can't see the farthest ones from this angle." Not being able to stop would make this a hell of a lot harder than it needed to be - which, of course, is why Wash wouldn't put it past Arcade. After all, Arcade wants to kill them all; why make it easy for them?

"If it had worked, it would have been great television." There's no humor in it. Does Pidge look as tired as she feels? Or maybe she'd have to be actively laying on the floor.

"Alright, start counting from the first crusher." it smashes to the ground, and she starts.

"I've got six seconds between hits."

"Only if you're selling comedy," Wash replies. "This is bloodsport." Like Grifball, but with far fewer rules and potentially more casualties.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

"That sounds right." What he wouldn't give for the timer on his HUD. Hell, what he wouldn't give to have his armor here at all. But wishful thinking isn't going to get either of them anywhere, so he cuts it off. "Do you think the walkway's wide enough for both of us?"

"There's probably someone out there watching this and rooting for Arcade." Pidge eyeballs the start of the walkway, testing it with her foot. "As long as we don't start playing tug of war on it we should be good."

And then she grabs his wrist. She really doesn't want to get separated from him here because if they get separated, that's two sets of calculations they'll have to do rather than one.

"Probably." Wash shrugs - there's always someone out there being an asshole for the sake of it.

He raises an eyebrow as Pidge grabs his wrist. That's unusual. Chalk it up to sleep deprivation or just not wanting to go it alone. "Okay. Are you counting or am I?"

"Oh, I don't even-" She nearly snaps because this is starting to feel like stalling, and her patience is running a little thin. "Whatever, I'll count. Ready?"

"Got it." His tone is mild, because running angry is a damn good way to get killed. "On your mark."

She nods, and begins to count out loud. No sense risking any confusion.

"...2...1...now!"

Pidge tries only to focus on the next smasher, not the one behind her, not the next after the next, but she's tired, it's loud, the walkway vibrates like it's going to fall apart at any second. But she counts off, even as it takes every ounce of her focus and makes her head throb.

It's all she can do to keep Wash from seeing the tears pricking her eyes at the end of it. It's just a response to all the stress, but it's still a little embarrassing.

He readies himself and moves on her mark, keeping pace with Pidge as best he can. He counts silently beside her, just in case, but despite exhaustion she's completely on her game. The trap is loud and ugly and leaves his ears ringing, but they make it out the other side in one thoroughly unsquished piece. Wash glances at the trap behind them - quiet and still, now that they're out of range, and looks back at Pidge. The tears may be a result of exhaustion or frustration, but that doesn't mean he's exactly happy to see her upset. For a moment, his stomach twists and his lip curls - Arcade pulled children into this death arena, and he's going to damn well get what's coming to him.

But that's in the future. The next moment, his expression falls back to neutral, and he places a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Well done."

The door ahead of them is still a few yards away - and automatic, much like the one behind them, he notices with displeasure. It could open at just about any moment and they wouldn't have any say in it. Still, for the moment, it's closed, and it's a moment they should take advantage of. "We should rest here." He rubs his ear with a hand. "Or at least wait until we can hear normally again."

She can offer him a small smile for the praise, a silent thanks, but that's as far as either of them can go right now. She doesn't trust that door either, and absolutely not enough to sit down. So she leans against the wall and closes her eyes, just for a few moments.

"Sure, but we should-" Then she bolts back upright.

...Are those the robot's footsteps again?

Wash settles as best he can, rolling his shoulders slowly and keeping an eye on the door. The ringing is starting to abate now that the trap has stopped, and while he's not about to crash out completely, he knows he can go from resting to combat ready in a few seconds flat, so-

That train of thought screeches to a halt as the rough, rhythmic sound of metal on metal echoes down the hallway and through the door. Goddammit the Robotican is back-

He's on the opposite side of the small entryway, in full view of the door and with his knife drawn, in a matter of seconds. "I'll distract it," he says tersely. "You run." Pidge is tired and frustrated; Wash is used to running on exhaustion and has more experience than he'd like in taking down opponents while at a severe disadvantage. He can handle this. If all else fails, he can try to lure the Robotican into the crushers or toss it off the edge.

She's in a battle stance, however much good it'll do in this situation. She can't fight off a robot without her bayard, but she can be ready for whatever it does.

...And then Wash is trying to send her away so, what, he can spare her the pain of watching him get torn apart? Absolutely not.

"No way! I'm not leaving you behind!"

That's entirely too much arguing and Foxface takes the opportunity to charge them both.

His ocular senses detect the small one leaving her position and running around his side, in a way that makes it seem like she's trying to get behind him. In a movement like a piston firing, his arms shoots out and grabs her by the arm before he tosses her back into the room she just came from.

Of course the door slides open to admit the killer robot into the room. Of course.

Wash pulls his rifle off his back and brings it to bear in one smooth movement, just as Pidge moves and the Robotican goes for her, shit shit shit-

But he learned to shoot under pressure, and hopefully hitting his mark will put murderous attention on him instead of her. He hadn't been Freelancer's top marksman for nothing.

He aims for Foxface's eye, adjusts for movement, and pulls the trigger.

Edited (what am tense agreement) 2016-11-10 23:55 (UTC)

Clink.

Foxface's head jerks backwards from the force, and when he brings it back down, it's with a deliberateness that should communicate all the sudden rage that Wash's actions have sparked.

His left "eye" is shattered, exposing the wiring and the ocular device behind the glass. Which is also broken. And the way Foxface tilts his head may give away that Wash knocked out his vision in it completely.

It also gives away that Wash is a target. Foxface charges at him in an attempt to overpower and subdue him as quickly -and painfully- as possible.

Well. That worked. Time for step two.

Wash recognizes that slow fury, and the favoring of the left eye - York had done that for a while, before he'd gotten Delta to compensate for his loss in sight. For now, Foxface has a blind spot (hopefully) and a very threatening non-expression (definitely). It's all very theatrical. "That's right, asshole," Wash murmurs, taking the momentary lull as an opportunity to reload. "Come and get it."

Hopefully Pidge is using the opportunity to get the hell out of Dodge. It's a vain, somewhat stupid hope - this is Pidge, after all, and she's as stubborn as the day is long - but he's hoping anyway. It's about all he can do at the moment.

Foxface charges. Wash aims another shot at Foxface's other eye, fires, and dives to his right - Foxface's left - and hopefully right into Foxface's blind spot.

Wash's luck doesn't hold out a second time, and this time the bullet bounces harmlessly off Foxface's cheek, leaving only a tiny dent in his metal casing. But Wash is out of his line of sight before Foxface can catch him and it takes him longer to turn around than it would for Wash to escape. Pidge is almost forgotten in favor of wrecking the upstart agent and Foxface follows to where he suspects Wash has gone.

And Wash has not gone as far as he should have. Electricity sparks from his fist as Foxface advances on him, ready to subdue Wash by any means necessary.

Later, Pidge may appreciate the miracle that she stopped short of the crushers when she was tossed. But the sound is still as deafening and the vibration still as disorienting as ever, and when she opens her eyes, she's seeing stars.

And Wash shooting Foxface straight in the eye.

She gets to her feet slowly, but her mind goes a thousand miles a second. She can't attack Foxface without him knocking her away and there's no way she's trusting her luck a second time. He's too close to Wash to try to hack him, there's just no time. And she has no weapon-

...Well, no. That's not true, is it?

Pidge has always sort of prided herself on doing what needs to be done when the chips were really down. The incident in the Castle of Lions had cost her a friend, but helped save her friends from Zarkon's clutches. There's no reason she can't do it again now.

She has the grenade. And if she can get Wash out of the room, though there's no way he'd go along with it if he knew what she was planning. So she calls to him.

"Wash, I have an idea! Back up! Slowly!"

Shit. Well, it was worth a shot (literally) and Wash already has some ground between him and Foxface by the time the Robotican turns around to pursue him. He's reloaded, ready for another shot, when he hears Pidge calling to him. For a moment, he wants to argue - no, let him lure Foxface away, she'll be safer - but Pidge is smart. If she says she has a plan, he'll trust her - it's more than he has right now as it is.

He fires another shot at Foxface, aiming for a shoulder joint. If he gets the bullet into the joint and tears up some wiring, great - Foxface will be down an arm. If not, the force from the bullet should at least be enough to knock Foxface off balance for a bit. He backs up, slowly, keeping distance between himself and Foxface, and after a few seconds backs through the open doorway and into the hall. There's a very obvious set of two buttons near it, he notices - open and close buttons, probably. Pidge's plan must be to slam Foxface in the sliding metal door. Not a bad plan, all things considered. He puts his back to the hallway wall and snarls at Foxface. "Come on. Come get me."

Foxface shoots Pidge a glance with his good eye. He knows she's up to something, but he has no fear of her. Nothing she can do can harm him, and he knows it.

So he holds eye contact with Pidge for a few moments before advancing on Wash. It's as much for Wash's sake as it is for Pidge. Whatever happens now, it seems to say, the little one is next.

Pidge narrows her eyes as Foxface stares straight into them. A bead of sweat trickles down her forehead and for a moment, she felt a jolt of panic that he might see it as a sign of weakness and she'd lose her opportunity.

She blinks first. There were more important things to pay attention to and she inhaled sharply as she saw Wash put his back against the wall. Good. He was far enough away for what she planned to do. Foxface turned away from her, probably to go take care of what he saw was the bigger threat.

Pidge reached into her coat pocket for the grenade, clinching it in her fist as she grabbed the pin in her teeth and yanked it out to follow through with a toss for all she was worth. She only had a second to yank her eyes up to her friend and mouth two words.

Sorry, Wash.

It rebounded off the door button and clattered to the floor below, right under Foxface's feet as the door slammed shut.

Edited 2016-11-14 04:41 (UTC)

Foxface shakes off Wash's shot like it's nothing, and Wash has a few moments to reconsider his strategy. Hopefully Pidge can hit the button without Foxface cottoning on to her strategy. If she catches him in the door, Wash may be able to get up close and personal with his knife without danger of Foxface retaliating. It's all going to depend on these next few seconds.

He spends several of them fighting back rage. He knows that look - it's a cocky dominant predator gambit - and he is not falling for it. He'll just have to rip Foxface's throat out before it even thinks of doubling back for Pidge. He can do that.

He glances over Foxface's shoulder to look at Pidge, to make sure she's ready, when-

He's not a very skilled lip reader, but those two words are impossible to miss. What's even easier to see is the grenade pin that falls from her lips as she mouths those words.

Wait- no-

The door slams shut.

A moment later, a loud explosions rattles the door, reverberations echoing down the hallway and making Wash wince. Seconds after that, the clanging of the chompers starting up again sounds through the doors, followed by the screech and grind of - ostensibly - something getting caught in said chompers.

Then there's nothing. Silence, for the space of a thought-

That had been her strategy the whole time - to get him out of blast range and use her grenade on Foxface.

-and another-

He'd fallen for it. He'd trusted her and he'd fallen for it like a fucking idiot.

-and another-

And now she's-

He shakes his head roughly. No. No. He can't start thinking like that. He has to know for sure. "Pidge, open the door." His voice is strangled and unsteady, and that won't do. Try again. Come on. "Pidge. Open the door." It's louder, more firm, but nothing happens, and he's still not getting anything but silence-

"Pidge!" He crosses the hallway in three strides and raps on the door, as though if he just knocks hard enough she'll let him in. "This isn't funny! C'mon!"

Silence. More. Still. She's not saying anything - he can't hear anything moving - she's just a kid, he's supposed to protect her, he could have handled Foxface and she-

He slams his fist against the door. "Pidge!" He's just about yelling now, as though volume and intensity will make a difference where time hasn't, as though screaming loud enough will change the facts-

She's a kid. She's a kid, with a team relying on her and her whole goddamn future ahead of her, and she put herself in harm's way for him, sacrificed herself for his trainwreck of a life, and he-

He's having trouble pulling himself together. This cannot have happened. It just can not.

"Pidge!"

Pidge had only a few seconds to do a lot of things completely perfectly...

Get out of the way while Foxface barreled down the walkway with all the power of a freight train. Catch the side of a heavily vibrating metal platform. Duck under that platform and cling to the rims to shield her from the grenade.

Hang on for dear life as the explosion deafened her for a second time in not even 10 minutes. Ignore the stinging in her arms and the burning sensation on her exposed fingers. Hope Foxface didn't come back to step on her hands and-

The sounds of metal crushing metal only faintly got through the ringing in her ears, but it wasn't hard to guess what happened, especially without the constant shaking of the crushers.

That was that then. Pidge slowly, achingly, awkwardly pulled herself up again. A lot of swinging and slapping the side of the walkway for purchase before finally hauling herself to whatever could pass for solid ground in this godforsaken place.

She wants to catch her breath for a moment, to just look at the crushers pounding stupid Foxface into scrap but-

Wash.

She's kind of glad the ringing in her ears is still drowning everything out, because she's not up for hearing Wash have what she's sure is a meltdown behind that wall. She bolts, stumbles, runs through the cloud of smoke still billowing from the explosion and smacks the button to open the door.

The door slides open abruptly, startling Wash out of his spiral of self-loathing and grief, and Pidge runs out. She's running - there's smoke, he can't see what happened - the plan must not have worked-

Between one heartbeat and the next, Wash clicks over to survival mode. He grabs Pidge's arm, using her momentum to swing her around behind him, and unsheathes his knife with his other hand, holding it in a defensive position. He's at a severe disadvantage in hand to hand combat with a Robotican and he doesn't care- he'll dismantle Foxface with his own to hands if he has to- as long as it keeps Pidge safe-

He takes a breath, and then another. Nothing happens.

Slowly, he edges towards the door and peeks through the open doorway. The smoke has dissipated enough for him to be able to see Foxface through the gloom, half-smashed on the platform under the final vertical chomper, one red eye flickering through the haze. It's like living through the climax of Terminator. In the next moment, Foxface's mangled form fades, no doubt teleported away by Arcade for some much needed repairs. For now, the threat is gone.

He takes a breath, and then another. He's okay. More importantly, Pidge is okay. Right.

He turns and looks at Pidge, voice as steady and grounded as he can possibly manage. "Don't ever do that again."

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