text;

[bloodbathing]

[ "Augusta" is the name attached to this TAB. The picture is of curved white metal with a stripe of dark orange — leg armor, for any who may recognize it. ]

UNSC. Marines. RT-636.

[ In order: the military Maine knows, the branch he's in, and the hull classification symbol for the Mother of Invention.

[ North insisted on gathering intel while keeping a low profile. Maine's only interest is in returning to their mission. This is the result of compromise. ]

Comments

[Text]

[bloodbathing]

Where?

[ So what if he's brand new? He'll get there. Wash said he's not good, so Maine will get there. End of story. ]

Re: [Text]

[notyourrookie]

You at the Ingress complex? I'll meet you there.

text;

[grandpaladin]

[He's had worse conversations.]

Ja. Formerly.

Now? A crusader for justice! Hah!

[Text]

[bloodbathing]

Yeah. [ Then: ] Time?

[ In other words: how long does Wash get before Maine stops waiting and comes to him? ]

[bloodbathing]

[ That gives him pause. Because seriously. Why would anyone try to sell their armor? More importantly, were they successful? He doubts it was a member of Project Freelancer, but if it was, that's a big fucking mess. ]

Who?

Re: [Text]

[notyourrookie]

Give me 30. I'll take my helmet off as proof.

[Text] → action?

[bloodbathing]

[ That's a strange offer. What does Wash have to prove? But he lets it go in favor of, ]

Sync.

[ He'll wait exactly thirty minutes. If Wash doesn't arrive by then, Maine's gonna start kicking down doors. ]

[nishizono]

this chick. i didn't get the armor, though.

she a friend of yours?

[ he really had his heart set on that armor, too - and why anyone would part with something that was obviously important. ]

text;

[bloodbathing]

[ Holy fucking shit. ]

Drunk?

[bloodbathing]

[ He's brand new here, and Maine is already 100% done with the multiple universe bullshit. But it's "humans" more than "Freelancer" that sets him on edge. When it comes to contact with other sentient species, humanity's had it ... rough. ]

#3

[ His place on Project Freelancer's leaderboard. Not something that Maine normally pays attention to, but it had been hard to miss before his latest mission. The screen took up an entire wall. ]

Covenant?

and there's the relief

[infailtration]

Maine.

[ York breathes out, his shoulders dropping as the tension vanishes. He trusted Carolina, he did, but. He had to hear for himself. ]

Because you can't be too careful, right?

Re: [Text] → action?

[notyourrookie]

Sync.

[that at least is familiar.

He gets down there just before the time runs out and hesitates when he sees Maine before he drags his helmet off]

action

[startpoint]

[ The briefcase she takes without a word, quietly considering the merits of throwing it out of an airlock the first chance she gets. Thoughts for another time, one where she isn't looking at a dead man.

Now she just focuses on Maine, smiling as she adjusts to the sheer size of him again. She's never met anyone nearly as big, except maybe Caboose. ]

Any questions? Or should I skip right to finding you some civilian clothes and something to eat?

[beautifulspaceraptor]

[ Oh boy, just wait until Maine finds out this is the second time he's been here! ]

I see.

[ The idea of a leaderboard in a military setting so random and really freaking bizarre and it takes a moment to parse, but Nihlus does eventually recall it having come up in his conversations with the other, previous Freelancers. ]

Turian. Or if we're specifically talking about my species' governing bodies, the biggest one around the Apien Ridge would be the Hierarchy.

[ Ironically, humans don't have the best relation with the Hierarchy either. ]

action

[bloodbathing]

[ Questions? Oh yeah. He's got questions. He wants to know how much time has passed for her. Where is her armor? Why is she armed with only a gun? He wants to know why North recoiled at the sight of him. He wants to know why York insisted on hearing his voice. He wants to know about the A.I.s. He wants to know about his A.I. He wants to know what happened after he was shot.

[ He grunts noncommittally and folds his arms, discomforted by the idea of taking off his armor. Blame the bullet hole. Or ... literally everything else going on. ]

The mission?

[ Was it a success? Did they suffer any casualties? His other questions — his ever-growing confusion and unease — can wait. Or not be asked at all. The mission takes priority. Always does. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ That reaction? That's just ... bizarre. Seriously. Since when has anyone been that relieved to hear him speak? ]

Weird.

[ That's right, York. He's calling that behavior out. What the hell, man. ]

1/?

[bloodbathing]

[ Excuse him for just a minute because what the fuck. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ What. The FUCK. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ It's just that that's Agent Texas. Selling armor. And talking about being an A.I. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ A GODDAMN A.I. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ WHAT THE FUCK. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ It really doesn't help that, when he shows North (because what the fuck is going on), the sniper just smiles and brushes it off. Asks how else "Tex" could've beaten Carolina. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ AGENT TEXAS NEVER BEAT CAROLINA. CAROLINA IS THE BEST. SHE IS NUMBER ONE. WHAT THE FUCK. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ Fuck. Everything about this place. Just. Just fuck every single thing about it. God damn. ]

done i'm so sorry

[bloodbathing]

[ FINALLY: ]

Teammate.

[ A teammate he once tried to kill. And who is apparently a fucking A.I. But ... teammate. ]