anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

"I'm gonna have to change my parameters for parkour." He can jump higher, farther, close gaps differently, learning the momentum he can manage, how hard he can hit when he lands? He pulls himself up with a hand in Locus' grinning ear to ear. "Christ that was faster than Carolina's time with the speed module. Without armor. Actually armor might slow and weigh me down now and that is a real fucking trippy thought."

Doesn't stop him from dusting himself off, rolling up his sleeves and picking a new target. Any target. Cliff? Cliff. On a whim he reaches over, taps Locus' shoulder, and calls behind him "Tag!" As he sprints off a second time.

Really? Now who's the nerd?

Locus gives him a vaguely judgemental look as York goes sprinting off before shaking his head. Alright, if that's what he wants. A second later and he's taking off after him.

The world almost seems to go in slow motion, when they move. Everything slowly shifts around them but they move in a blur, and it's vaguely surreal the first time it happens. By now? Locus is practiced at it.

York won't get away that easily.

Vertical running might be a thing in the future- or at least an attempt at it. For now? He gets close to the base of the cliff and vaults up, hands out stretched for the first outcropping to haul himself up. Or. Fling himself higher, as it turns out.

Cackling with glee he bounds from point to point till he's at the top, only then whirling around to peer where he's surely left Locus standing and staring after him-

Only to see a blur heading in his direction. Oh. Shit! He sprints along the cliff face, trying to regain the time he's lost by looking backward.

But Locus is bearing down on him. He knows this cliff, knows where it ends, and for a second he leaps aside to a nearby crane, running along the length of it.

Cut him off at the pass, lest he get too proud of himself. The leap has his hair flying loose of its tie, but he barely seems to notice, feeling the wind whip past as he lands near the slope where the cliff edge runs out.

"Shit, shit, shit-" Delta scans their surroundings and leaves a rough approximation of T-Minus X until they run out of cliff. Calculating Locus' velocity relative to theirs takes more looking back at him and right now that's not happening. Turning back the way he came would take too long, there's nowhere to JUMP but down and even as he is? That might hurt. Shiiiiit.

He's climbing up after him now, intent on cutting him off, rather than trying to keep up with him on a level one-on-one. He wanted a challenge, didn't he? A chance to stretch his wings?

No better course to do so on than trying to outmaneuver one of your own.

Yeah, jumping. That. That's gonna be a thing. Swearing under his breath he puts as much speed on the last few feet that he can, bracing to leap. "I don't wanna do this-"

And isn't that familiar? This time, though, it's not explosions and death and several hundred stories. Just a quarry and someone giving chase as he launches himself up and outward, arms wheeling in the air as he tries to find his center. Landings still aren't really his strongest suit.

Well that was unexpected.

Locus makes it onto the cliff ledge just as York wings it off into the air, and he has to twist to watch him as he cuts through the air, a shadow against the night sky illuminated vaguely by the lamps nearby. A second later, and he throws himself back after him.

Tuck and roll, tuck and roll, tuck and roll, when does he tuck? How does he control the roll? Aw man he's fucked up-

The ground looms and he tucks into a tight ball, rolling with a little more grace this time. He even manages to roll to his feet without much of a wobble, steadying himself against some decrepit mining equipment as he shakes his head clear. Okay. That was a thing. "Landings. Gotta work on those."

A second later, and Locus lands in a crouch not far off. It just takes one lunge after that to close the distance, seizing hold of York from behind with an arm. Caught, at last.

If he were mortal, his heart would be racing. But that feeling is still there, oddly heightened. The hunt, the chase? Or something else entirely, perhaps. He stands still there for a moment, surveying York with those pale eyes.

"Oh shi-" But he's caught, laughing, leaning back against Locus' chest as he catches the breath he doesn't even need to take. "Okay, You've caught me. But knowing the terrain probably gives you an edge. I get the feeling you've been here before."

Otherwise how do you just. Know about a quarry at the edge of the city, huh? You don't.

At that, he releases his hold on York. His eyes stray over the terrain before he moves towards one of the machines nearby, running his hands over the metal.

Which, if York hadn't noticed before, are pock-marked by bullet holes.

"Yes. I've been here."

That had escaped his notice somewhat, yeah. He slings his hands in his pockets for a moment, sidling up next to Locus while he peers at the marks. Habit and Delta have him trying to work out trajectory, caliber, number of potential assailants. "Before or after it became the OK corral?"

"During."

He sees York studying the marks. "Look at this place. Tell me what you see." Another test of his senses, but this time less a physical stretch and more of a mental one. How much could he glean with these new eyes, if he looked?

"A gigantic killbox. Anyone that made their stand here either had an ace in the hole or no other options." It's a literal quarry. One way in and out, high terrain- he steps away from the mechanical corpse next to him and scans the fence line, the fractured earth. Takes into account the way the dirt's smoothed out in some places, the ominous crater near what looked like the stripped remnants of cars.

"Grenade, TNT, get a sniper up high to clear out their group when they get their guys in a line- idiots up front with shotguns, a few with rifles..."

Locus follows behind. He can see him piecing it together, a combination of his desire to solve a complex puzzle, military expertise, and these new senses of his, all fitting together to form the image in front of him.

This is within his power. His surroundings are an open book for him to read, at his choosing.

"What else?"

"Grenade on the conveyor belt, grenade...held roughly this high-" He holds a hand at about his chest. "And steady right about there when it went off. Either a really well timed throw or strapped to something. Melee scuffle around here-"

The dents are weird. The angle of that one jagged bit of metal? Also fucking weird.

"...Were y'all all...alive? When this happened? Because that isn't normal. I can't clock how it ended up there."

"Metal leg prosthetic. And a man adept at wielding it."

Someone he misses, to some extent, but Siris never belonged in this world. It was for the best. "You understand now the extent of what you can glean from your surroundings? Taking us by surprise becomes very, very difficult if we know our terrain."

Taylor whistles, low and slow as he gives the grounds one last good once over. A mess of a fight with odds stacked against them- and apparently they came out mostly alive. Not terrible. The mood, for a moment, seems a little heavy.

Enough that he extends a hand to attempt to tap Locus' shoulder. Technically, they didn't call time out.

At which point he's going to find his wrist ensnared, and Locus giving him a look from under those heavy brows, set at a somber angle from remembering the battle that passed here. The people he'd fought alongside.

The past is past. Here stands his future, or a good portion of what will decide it.

Offering his most innocent look, Taylor wiggles his fingers, brows lifted, eyes wide. He's just saying hi, right? Right.

Yeah Locus isn't gonna buy that.

"...What, you're not gonna run?" He can't give chase if Locus doesn't run.

Ah, so that's the game.

He cocks his head slightly, considering, before releasing his hold and stepping back. "Very well." He'll play the game, considering that York seems so pleased by the prospect, and...well. He's never had that much of a clue as to how to make someone happy before.

If it's that simple?

He leaps back, one hand reaching for a grip on the nearby bulldozer before hoisting himself up to the top of the cab, and making a leap towards the railing running the length of the building behind them. Come get him, then.

In the interest of fairness Taylor slips his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he waits for Locus to run. Give him something to chase. He's not even sure he'll go for it but- go for it Locus does and there's a flicker flash of bright giddy pleasure across their connection.

Kids learn by playing, right? And what is he if not a vampire kid? Ish. Thing.

Locus vaults over and York does the same, sprinting after him at full tilt.

Locus won't make it easy for him. There are no straight lines, no staying at level height for very long. Dropping down on the other side of the building and leaping down the conveyor belt is the next route to take, ducking low and sliding down the belt, before using that momentum to leap forward as far he can.

Off, towards the giant machine with the still-bloodstained saw embedded in the ground.

Ok, shit, time to put speed on his observation ave agility in his speed. Multitasking like woah- yeah, this'll end well. Reservations don't stop him from sprinting for the conveyor belt, sprinting down the covered top and trying to calculate a point of intersection. None yet, he's gotta catch up first.

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