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

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?

[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. ]

[infailtration]

Come on, Maine. If you were stuck on a foreign world with no sign of your teammates, wouldn't you want a little more to go on than just a text post?

[bloodbathing]

[ Maybe. But that relief? Still weird.

[ Maine grunts, clearly unconvinced. ]

[infailtration]

I'm serious. You can't be too careful.

[bloodbathing]

[ Another grunt. Not buying it. That release of tension combined with York's fucked up eye just ... doesn't make sense to him. ]

You're not.

[ Being careful, that is. Video right off the bat? Maine's shit at being stealthy, but York isn't. What's the deal? ]

[infailtration]

We don't have to hide here. You'll see. Nobody cares who we were.

[bloodbathing]

[ He's about to snap that he doesn't hide. This "Augusta" bullshit was all North's idea. He would rather find whoever's in charge of getting people home and beat them until they send him back to the mission.

[ But one word brings him up short. Confused, he asks, ]

"Were"?

[ For a man as taciturn as Maine, word choice is important. "Were" instead of "are" just sent up a big red flag. ]

[infailtration]

[ York hesitates a little, knowing Maine won't want to hear this, but. ]

Yeah... there's no more Freelancer, when I'm from.

We scattered.

[bloodbathing]

[ No response. For a long time. Just ... nothing. Finally, more snarl than word: ]

What.

[infailtration]

[ Yeah........ yeah. ]

It turned into a real shitshow.

[bloodbathing]

[ This time, there are no words. There's just a low, furious growl. The entire goddamn war was a shitshow. That's not a reason to "scatter." That's not a reason for the entire Project to stop existing. That's not a fucking answer at all. ]

[infailtration]

[ okay man honesty time ]

You're probably going to hear a lot of things you don't like about the future. This isn't a conversation to have over the network.

[bloodbathing]

[ Another snarl, and, ]

Fuck that.

[ Fuck secrecy, fuck stealth, fuck York and his stupid fucking broken eye. What the fuck happened? ]

[infailtration]

I'm serious, not over the network. Carolina's coming for you, we can all meet and talk about this.

[bloodbathing]

[ He growls, still livid, but he stops pressing. Carolina is on her way. He'll wait. He'll find out what's going on, straight from her. ]

[infailtration]

She's gonna call me when she finds you, we can all meet and talk.

text again

[bloodbathing]

[ Talking. Not Maine's strong suit. Never has been. And if he's acting like a petulant child when he switches back to text, well ... fuck off. ]

Fine.