legionmissions | Camping: Part II!

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Camping: Part II!

Jason didn't exactly sell the new world well. Stepping through the Threshold Gate, the Legionnaires find themselves on a landing platform overseeing their new vacation hotspot. The first thing they'll notice is that everything feels slightly heavier. Nothing dramatic, but if they were carrying a hundred pounds of stuff, now they've got twenty more pounds weighing them down. The planet, Futuro's Folly, is as advertised, hollowed out with the entire ecosystem on the inside. Outside, if they'd bothered to look, there was only a barren, crater-pocked surface of a dwarf planet about half the size of Pluto. Inside, however...

While they're standing in the midst of what was surely once a base of some kind, the criminal resort according to Jason, it doesn't stretch out very far. Just about three quarters of a mile out, the 'settled' area ends, taken over by a vibrant jungle of dense violet and orange foliage, with gigantic red and blue mushrooms filling just as much area as the trees. More, in some cases, as some of them seem to be miles high off in the distance, just when the earth seems to start curving in on itself. An orange sphere that seems to be the size of a silver dollar hangs in space above their heads, with something rotating in the core of it. If anyone were to watch it, the orb flickers rapidly as rings blur around the sphere itself. After about 8 in the evening, the fields that the rings generated would turn slightly opaque, bringing darkness to the entire planet at once.

The former crime resort itself isn't exactly in the best of shape. By 31st century standards, the technology is centuries out of date and finding people who are capable of repairing it without ruining the 'historical significance' is increasingly difficult. There are six main buildings other than the small spaceport they're standing in:

The main building. The top three floors were once dedicated to administration, communications, and security. The bottom two floors are dedicated recreational areas, with infonet hookups (reception's not a problem when you can turn your entire planet into a signal amplifier), a variety of holographic games, and a bar/lounge area with some futuristic gambling machines tucked into a corner. Jason has turned on the parental controls, however.

Behind the main building is the storage center. There's a vast array of vehicles, furniture, and machinery that can be asked for, and it's all stored underground. Simply type in a command and the robots underground will shove the requested item into the gravity tubes, shooting them up to the customer's level.

The food court has the option to make your own food as well as an outdated and slightly buggy robo-chef that can make a variety of meals. Meat is on the menu, but if anyone asks for meals that require it, they'll have a long wait. The larder hasn't been stocked in centuries. However, it does have coffee. STRONG coffee. And just about any vegan meal you could ask for. It's open air, but can be covered with a dome at the push of a button. The dome has controllable transparency and can be programmed to display any number of things as a ceiling.

Standing roughly three hundred yards apart are two convertible athletic fields, each about a half-mile in distance. In the old days, they'd hold races or gladiatorial bouts in them. They'll form just about any field needed, however, from obstacle courses and splatterball to golf to the now-illegal slaughterball rings or laser tag arenas. However, most of the gear needed to play is in the storage center.

Finally, there's a single public bath house. Rather than the sonic showers of Legion World, these use real water. The bath house holds rooms for spas, saunas, massages, public bathing, and showers. Jason has assured everyone, however, that there are private bathing arrangements. He neglects to mention the cameras that subtly fill the rooms, though they are now sporting brand new Legion of Super-Hero stickers over the lenses to keep everyone's privacy intact.

About a quarter a mile off in the distance, there's about fifty luxhabs. Small cabins built for two people at most, with private bath rooms, small kitchenettes with freshly stocked food, personal computers, and a communications system to contact other luxhabs or make orders from the main house and kitchen. Food can be delivered by small drones if it's called for. The beds are made of a oxygenated memory gel, capable of taking nearly any consistency and shape requested, from a pudding to rows of gel-blades. Climate controls, down to programming the inhabitant's favored atmosphere or filling the luxhab with water, are in full effect. The outsides are programmable ferroliquids, so the guest can customize their vacation home's exterior, even going as far as to add porches.

When the Legionnaires approach the border, heading to the wilderness, there's a small, almost decorative-looking wall. Even those with normal hearing will pick up on a ringing tone as they get closer to it, like a bad case of tinnitus. Walking through the gates is almost like walking through an actual barrier, but once they've done that, the noise fades the further they get from it. The sonic barrier covers the resort in a dome, meaning that they'd run into the same thing if they flew straight up.

Immediately outside the wall, the jungle starts abruptly. And, compared to the relative silence of the resort, the noise of life is practically deafening. Bugs clicking, birds calling, animals screaming at one another, it all slowly fades in the deeper they get. There are trails through the jungle, but they're slowly becoming overgrown as the resort's popularity slowly fades.

As they go deeper, it's not hard to find the first actual animals. Totally unused to humanoid life, they show more curiosity than fear. Small, chicken-sized dinosaurs roam in packs, sloth-like creatures hang from the ceilings, and there are trees that have been knocked over, and recently, in some huge brawl between titans. Every now and then, a small batch of overgrown buildings can be found, mechanical parts pushed out of them by growing vines, or torn out by wild animals. Slow, crackling noises that sound like drawn out thunder echo in the distance as something snaps trees, some of them several dozen feet in diameter, like twigs in the pursuit of prey.

The only thing that Jason's marked on the maps, beyond the default markers that the resort gives out, is a lake about five miles outside of the resort. Set in a clearing, it's over a mile long and several hundred feet deep, with a cave system connected to it underneath. The data regarding the caves is corrupt, the maps refuse to include them. A river feeds into the lake by a waterfall, and a number of small creeks seem to spring up near it. It's not uninhabited, there are several fish in there. And, possibly, something living in the caverns underneath. It's rare, but someone might see animals drinking from time to time, from the small dinosaur packs to titanic mammoths... with weapon mounts that alarmingly track anything that move too close, too fast.

There's a lot to work with, and Jason's rented the place for several days. Hopefully, everyone will find what they need to relax and recover from their recent traumatic events. Or just socialize and meet new people.

[[Okay, so there's some generic activity headers up right now. Feel free to pick one up and run with activities running in any of those areas. For those of you who wanted action, I'll have a separate top-level for that. However, I won't be running any of that chaos, so feel free to take it in the direction you'd like.

If you want to do anything, anything at all, and it doesn't fit into one of my toplevels, feel free to make a new thread entirely! Go wild with it, y'know?]]

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"So like winding you up but less punchy and shriek-y." Less shrill, in a word, and he's pretty sure he could manage to ignore Jason as long as he needed if only because of the lack of punching and yelling.

But.

Ugh. Fine. York scrubs a hand over his bad eye and mutters something rough and inarticulate under his breath before holding his arms out. "Fine."

For a moment, Wash honestly considers the pros and cons of forgoing the falling part of things entirely and just tackling York. It's a one step forward, ten steps back sort of thing, and it would completely defeat the point of this being a trust exercise, but damn is it ever tempting.

He also considers the merits of York being the one to take the fall, but he himself had been sorted into the to-fall line, and...well, metaphorically getting mauled by a puppy is not on his list of things to do today. Not when he's short on patience to begin with and is supposed to be relaxing.

Wash eyes York's hands, then York. The problem is, he doesn't actually trust York not to drop him - not with York's history of fucking with him, and not with their relationship as...tenuous as it is right now. Never mind that that's the whole point of the exercise.

Goddammit.

"Fine," he says, absolutely fucking eloquent. He then turns and takes the fall.

There is, of course, the half second where he considers letting Wash drop. They've had worse falls and come away fine and it would serve him goddamn right for the whole...everything. Delta submits a more appropriate and less passive aggressive course of action: Waiting until the last possible moment.

It's as much a test of their shared reflexes as anything else. Half a second is spent calculating how far Wash could drop before they could catch him and what would be an acceptable point of no return. Settled on a neat 35 degrees from heel to head they stand. Wait- and snap in to catch him around the shoulders at what isn't the last possible they'd be able to- but longer than should probably be acceptable. "Got you, ki- wait. Shit. You're older now."

For a moment, Wash is absolutely certain that York's going to drop him in the dirt. This right here is why he has trust issues.

But York does catch him, though the low angle means he still has to struggle back to his feet. "Yeah. Crazy how time flies." It's heavy with sarcasm, but not as bitter as it might have once been. At least York is better at catching himself than he is at catching Wash.

Helping Wash back to his feet is just part of the package. "So..."

What, how he's got to turn around and let Wash return the favor? "...do I call you gramps now instead of kid? How's this gonna work?"

Because he can't always filter what comes out of his mouth, goddamnit. That still hasn't changed.

Look at how amused Wash is by the new nicknames. Just look. "Or you could call me by name. I know it's a foreign concept to you, but you'd be surprised how well it works."

And yes, he definitely has to let Wash return the favor. Wash makes a little spinning motion with his finger. "Now turn around - it's your turn."

"Wash isn't your name anymore than York's mine." Not that he KNOWS Wash's name. After a certain point in the project everyone just went by their state names. So damn clandestine.

Hell no one's called him by his name in...years.

"Right. Sure." Ugh. Putting his back to anyone deliberately- Delta twitches hard in the back of his skull and he turns, shoulders tense, little green chip nestled in safe at the base of his skull. "If you drop us I'm dying your hair blue."

"It is now." It's flat and not terribly loud, but it's there. As far as Wash is concerned, David died when Epsilon tore him apart - there's nothing viable left of the naive rookie that stayed on the AI implementation list because he wanted a goddamn friend.

"Uh-huh." He holds his hands out, less than six inches away from York's back. If York falls and leans against him, he'll give it a moment or two before pulling his hands away, letting York drop another few feet, before catching him again. He's not going to drop York, but he's also not above a fakeout.

"Depending on how you look at it, I guess." People process shit differently.

He's tense because of course he is- and he tips backward ready to catch himself on the ground or go into a combat roll. So. The first grab is ok, cool, ready-

The second drop has him swearing and scrambling before glaring over his shoulder. "You're an asshole."

Even if he's smiling. If they can fuck with each other- well. They might be ok. Ish.

"Well gee, pot, kettle called." The comment is without ire, and Wash hauls York back to his feet. They're not perfect, and they're not where they used to be - which is probably a good thing for Wash, since where they used to be wasn't exactly great for him - but they're getting better. He thinks. It's going to have to be good enough.

"Yeah, but I'm a charming asshole. It's why I get away with shit." even when he probably shouldn't. Even when he really shouldn't. He brushes himself off and nudges Wash with his shoulder (gently). "I'm gonna have to get used to this."

The Legion. Wash being older. Everything.

"The Legion is full of charming assholes. They're going to get wise to you pretty quickly." And if they don't, Wash will be sure to teach them. "Yeah, you are." He nudges York back. "It's not so bad once you do, though."

"...it's what I signed up for, back home. Kinda. Help people. Save lives." Tipping a hand he never cared enough to share back in the day, but times have changed. They're both older. Pretending not to give damn won't really fly here. "Kinda nice that this seems legit."

Huh. Somehow, that's a level of altruism Wash hadn't really ever expected from York, and yet here he is, opening up. Then again, they'd all joined the project for a reason, hadn't they. York had seen it as an opportunity to do good; Wash had seen it as a last resort.

Not that he feels like talking about that right now, or ever.

"I'm pretty sure it is," he says instead. "That's the second time I've been reamed out by Kid Quantum for fucking up, and that's the second time she's ended the lecture with concern and an offer to help." It had thrown him both times; he's still not used to a dressing-down being followed by compassion. "Everyone here's like that. They've lost half their team, and they're still doing everything they can to help. It's how a team should be run."

It's why he signed on with the military- though with measured expectations of how that'd go. The project had been one last swing at that kind of deal and-

Yeah. That turned out real well.

"I am still a little pissed at you. I'm trying not to be a fuckup this time around." How many people get a second shot? Fucking no one, that's who. "Then we have that stupid ass fight."

Not he, we. Cuz it wouldn't have gone to blows if he'd calmed his ass down and not bitten back but emotions are difficult on a good day even with Delta trying to calm him down. "She reminds me of my old CO. Knows her stuff, tries to keep people on the level. Actually cares."

"I'm still pissed at you too." It comes out before Wash can stop it, and honestly? Maybe it's better out than in, especially since they're actually talking now instead of yelling. "I've had a long time to think about the project, about everything, and..." There's really no two ways about this, is there. "You were a complete asshole to me in the project. You just were. And I wanted to fit in - I wanted you to like me - so I just took it. And I thought that was going to be something I wasn't going to have to think about ever again, and then you showed up." Wash shakes his head. It sucks, talking about this, but now that he's started he's not sure he wants to stop. "And you pushed me so hard when you saw me, and after I woke up the next day, I thought there must have been a reason. You must have had something really important to tell me. And then I actually talked to you, and you had nothing. You never had anything important to say - you were just being you, doing what you wanted regardless of what I wanted, and I just...I got angry." Understatement, sure, but he's finally getting to his point. "I'm not going to put up with that anymore. I put up with it for too long as it was, and I'm done. That's why I got mad, and that's what needs to change if we're going to be able to work together."

That's it, then. That's the long and short of it. Now it's moment of truth time, and only now does Wash start wondering if he's said too much.

Well, it's too late for that now.

York leans back on his heels, hands slung in his pockets and just- listens. Doesn't nod, doesn't fidget, doesn't roll his eyes or sigh dismissively like he would've, like he did, in the past. This isn't that. This won't ever be the Project and he's so goddamn glad for it. They've both had a lot of time to look back and-

Wash ain't wrong. Not even a little.

"You looked like death warmed over. Like you were gonna fall on your ass or pass the fuck out. Was it right? No. Hell no. But that's where my head was at. It'd been...years since I'd seen any of you. And the whole time all that went through my head was that, well. A) I left you there. In the middle of everything there wasn't a lot of time to...and I never really had my priorities in order." Take care of the team, not the boss. Keep everyone on the level, not be a cocky shit. He scrubs a hand through his hair, eye flicking back to Wash. "So I thought to myself' he's here, this time I won't fuck it up. This time I'll help him like I'm supposed to- and then you tell me to back off. And instead of listening I get angry because, shit, why aren't you with the program. This is York, new and improved, not a selfish asshole- and in trying to, you know, not be that guy...I go and be that guy."

That hangs in the air for a moment- self analysis isn't comfortable, he hates doing it- but goddamn if he didn't have plenty of time over the past few days (Thank you mandatory therapy) to look over some shit. "You were right to get pissed. Kinda woulda rathered you not throw all those bodybags in my face right then in fucking public but hey. I've always been good at pissing people off. That and...everything else, and you being right about a lot of what you were saying? That's why I started swinging. So. Agent Fucktruck York, being an asshole, film at 11. When I say 'I'm trying to do better-' I mean this too."

He gestures between them. "You and me. I wanna be better about this too. Cuz you're not a rookie and I have no fuck'n idea what I'm doing anymore. Shoe's firmly on the other foot, here."

It hangs in the air, and Wash lets it hang before York continues. York may not be comfortable, but there's some sharp satisfaction in being vindicated, even if it's something Wash shouldn't be too happy about.

And then York continues on, and Wash nods. "I wish I hadn't said that in public either, even if I was right about some things. It wasn't the time or the place." Not that there ever really is a time and place to talk about one's plethora of dead friends, but Wash had definitely picked the worst of several terrible options.

"For what it's worth, I don't have too much of a head start on you. There's still a lot to get used to - death arenas, supervillains, a whole lot of comic book stuff that I never thought could be real. Hell, there's someone in this dimension that eats planets - evidently they fought him before I got here." He's getting off track, especially since the planet-eater is still something he can't quite wrap his head around. "Point being, there's a lot to get used to, and it's a hell of a lot weirder than an age difference. I think you'll be okay." They'd both had to be good at Fake It Til You Make It in the project, and that's not a skill that ever really goes away.

"Be honest, there isn't ever a time and place to go 'hey guess what all your friends are dead.' Except Wash and- He'd never been all that sure where they fell on the sliding scale of antagonistic but not too unfriendly co-workers to actual bros. It fluctuated, a variable, and for someone that lives and breathes equations and constants under the surfaces, variables are an irritant best avoided or pinned down until they're made Constant. Picking at Wash till he fell in line with his worldview was a shit way to go about solving that particular equation.

So they're.

Something.

He scrubs a hand through his hair, resting his fingers on the chip where Delta lives before nodding. "I'll figure it out, I'm sure- and if I start being that guy again I'm pretty damn sure you'll let me know. Loudly."

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Camping: Part II!

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