flksjfs
i shouldn't be allowed to write ever THIS MAKES NO SENSE ALFJJSFLFJAJS /foams
mostly just me dabbling in things, trying to do something useful and FAILING HORRIBLY. brb raping timelines while i'm at it. basically just random shit.
“First to five?” York says, slipping on his helmet while Tex fixes something on her rifle, giving him a glance. It’s...a little wrong, really; he can’t shake, can’t chase away the feeling that something’s wrong and that Omega’s rolling around in there with more than he should have. It’s nothing he’s bringing up to her, though- he doesn’t want to insult her, and he doesn’t want to cause trouble, either. Tex is a big girl, she can handle herself, well enough.
If Omega does have more control than we realize, York-
‘I know, D,’ York assures quickly, head lifting when Texas finally responds, voice muffled as she slides on her helmet.
“First to five,” she says in agreement, standing, smacking his shoulder almost playfully on the way out, hopping down onto the ground and wandering to the start point. York follows after a moment, taking his spot next to her. York's body is humming with anticipation like it always did before something like this, Delta’s voice in the background offering quiet notes on his vitals.
“Sync?”
“Synced.”
“You stupid fucking-” Texas hisses, the first time he wakes up, leaning over the bed with rage clear in her posture, in the set of her jaw, in her eyes. York manages a half-smile, strained and crooked, and opens his mouth, only to realize it hurts too much to even speak, and his mouth tastes like something died in it. “Don’t say anything or I’ll shove your fucking pillow down your throat.”
...Well, then. He obeys, mostly because he can’t really speak, and his mouth is too dry to even attempt it. The left side of his face aches and when he lifts his hand, fingers brushing over skin and gauze, he flinches, turning to look at Tex with his one good eye.
“Delta’s being checked over,” Texas says, and there’s a faint edge of something in her voice as she drags a chair over and sits on it, arms crossed over the back, looking at him. After a pause, she leans over, grabs the glass of water next to his bed and hands it to him, watching him take it and drink it shakily, licking his lips when he’s done. “You fucking idiot.”
“Good to see you too, Tex,” York murmurs, voice scratchy and rough, head resting back on the pillow again while she resists the urge to punch him in his stupid face. He knows it, too, watching her quietly, a million questions running through his head at that point, though none of them really make sense. Pain relievers, he realizes absently; that’s why his head feels so fuzzy. “So did I win?”
For a moment, she almost spits out something acidic and angry, but she pauses, swallows it down, and stands, leaving the room surprisingly quietly- up until she slams the door hard enough to make him groan and press back into the pillows.
His suit is sitting there, polished free of dirt and debris, Delta already plugged into it- it’s weird- usually there’d be more security than this, he thinks, working on getting himself into it as quickly as he can, gun within reach in case anyone finds the fact that the door to this room is locked, strange. Not that they don't have other things to worry about, but.
Delta seeping back into his head makes him exhale softly, stand still a moment and just take it in, letting Delta sweep over him, filing information away, sorting things here and there until he comes upon the memory of the conversation York’d overheard.
I see.
He doesn’t ask questions (have you fully thought over the consequences of this action), doesn’t make predictions (the odds of us breaking out are less than-), even though they’re all there, hovering under the surface. Instead, he keeps them to himself and waits for instruction.
‘Yeah.’ York flicks the safety off his gun, and takes a step forward in the armor that’s practically become a second home at this point. ‘D, I need you to do me a favor.’
Of course, York.
‘Watch my left side.’
For a moment, there’s nothing, just the soft hum of Delta running processes, analyzing things, and when he finally speaks, York wonders if that’s something like disappointment in his voice.
Of course, York. Watching left.
The second to last time he sees Tex, just minutes later, she's smashing someone's head into the wall in front of them, leaving a bloody smear across it, turning her head to look at him for a long moment.
"Holy shit, Te-"
Warning! Threat level raised. Agent Omega-Texas is-
'I know D, I can-' See, he almost says, but stops himself, raising his gun too slowly- and fuck, fuck, he knows it's too slow because Tex is always too fast for him. The air gets knocked out of him as she slams him back into a wall, too, and Delta's shoving warnings at him while he lifts his gun and presses it to her stomach; point blank, the rounds have to do something but it's Tex, it's Tex.
She shudders a moment, then shoves him aside, blowing a fucking hole in the wall and leaving through it.
'D, what the hell was that-!'
York, I think it wisest that we get out of here as quickly as possible and concern ourselves with Omega-Texas' inexplicable behavior at a later point.
'Leave her here?' York says incredulously, but he's already moving, running and taking down what gets in his way. Getting out is nearly a blur; all he knows is that eventually, they stop running and he leans hard against a tree, out of breath and shaking faintly as the adrenaline fades. Things are so immensely fucked, he thinks sinking down to sit hard, helmet thunking against the tree. So, so fucked.
mostly just me dabbling in things, trying to do something useful and FAILING HORRIBLY. brb raping timelines while i'm at it. basically just random shit.
“First to five?” York says, slipping on his helmet while Tex fixes something on her rifle, giving him a glance. It’s...a little wrong, really; he can’t shake, can’t chase away the feeling that something’s wrong and that Omega’s rolling around in there with more than he should have. It’s nothing he’s bringing up to her, though- he doesn’t want to insult her, and he doesn’t want to cause trouble, either. Tex is a big girl, she can handle herself, well enough.
If Omega does have more control than we realize, York-
‘I know, D,’ York assures quickly, head lifting when Texas finally responds, voice muffled as she slides on her helmet.
“First to five,” she says in agreement, standing, smacking his shoulder almost playfully on the way out, hopping down onto the ground and wandering to the start point. York follows after a moment, taking his spot next to her. York's body is humming with anticipation like it always did before something like this, Delta’s voice in the background offering quiet notes on his vitals.
“Sync?”
“Synced.”
“You stupid fucking-” Texas hisses, the first time he wakes up, leaning over the bed with rage clear in her posture, in the set of her jaw, in her eyes. York manages a half-smile, strained and crooked, and opens his mouth, only to realize it hurts too much to even speak, and his mouth tastes like something died in it. “Don’t say anything or I’ll shove your fucking pillow down your throat.”
...Well, then. He obeys, mostly because he can’t really speak, and his mouth is too dry to even attempt it. The left side of his face aches and when he lifts his hand, fingers brushing over skin and gauze, he flinches, turning to look at Tex with his one good eye.
“Delta’s being checked over,” Texas says, and there’s a faint edge of something in her voice as she drags a chair over and sits on it, arms crossed over the back, looking at him. After a pause, she leans over, grabs the glass of water next to his bed and hands it to him, watching him take it and drink it shakily, licking his lips when he’s done. “You fucking idiot.”
“Good to see you too, Tex,” York murmurs, voice scratchy and rough, head resting back on the pillow again while she resists the urge to punch him in his stupid face. He knows it, too, watching her quietly, a million questions running through his head at that point, though none of them really make sense. Pain relievers, he realizes absently; that’s why his head feels so fuzzy. “So did I win?”
For a moment, she almost spits out something acidic and angry, but she pauses, swallows it down, and stands, leaving the room surprisingly quietly- up until she slams the door hard enough to make him groan and press back into the pillows.
His suit is sitting there, polished free of dirt and debris, Delta already plugged into it- it’s weird- usually there’d be more security than this, he thinks, working on getting himself into it as quickly as he can, gun within reach in case anyone finds the fact that the door to this room is locked, strange. Not that they don't have other things to worry about, but.
Delta seeping back into his head makes him exhale softly, stand still a moment and just take it in, letting Delta sweep over him, filing information away, sorting things here and there until he comes upon the memory of the conversation York’d overheard.
I see.
He doesn’t ask questions (have you fully thought over the consequences of this action), doesn’t make predictions (the odds of us breaking out are less than-), even though they’re all there, hovering under the surface. Instead, he keeps them to himself and waits for instruction.
‘Yeah.’ York flicks the safety off his gun, and takes a step forward in the armor that’s practically become a second home at this point. ‘D, I need you to do me a favor.’
Of course, York.
‘Watch my left side.’
For a moment, there’s nothing, just the soft hum of Delta running processes, analyzing things, and when he finally speaks, York wonders if that’s something like disappointment in his voice.
Of course, York. Watching left.
The second to last time he sees Tex, just minutes later, she's smashing someone's head into the wall in front of them, leaving a bloody smear across it, turning her head to look at him for a long moment.
"Holy shit, Te-"
Warning! Threat level raised. Agent Omega-Texas is-
'I know D, I can-' See, he almost says, but stops himself, raising his gun too slowly- and fuck, fuck, he knows it's too slow because Tex is always too fast for him. The air gets knocked out of him as she slams him back into a wall, too, and Delta's shoving warnings at him while he lifts his gun and presses it to her stomach; point blank, the rounds have to do something but it's Tex, it's Tex.
She shudders a moment, then shoves him aside, blowing a fucking hole in the wall and leaving through it.
'D, what the hell was that-!'
York, I think it wisest that we get out of here as quickly as possible and concern ourselves with Omega-Texas' inexplicable behavior at a later point.
'Leave her here?' York says incredulously, but he's already moving, running and taking down what gets in his way. Getting out is nearly a blur; all he knows is that eventually, they stop running and he leans hard against a tree, out of breath and shaking faintly as the adrenaline fades. Things are so immensely fucked, he thinks sinking down to sit hard, helmet thunking against the tree. So, so fucked.