anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

Yeah, and when you are literally made of fucking figures, you can shit on the idea. But for right now, just listen.

[Organic brains. Ugh. And maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to snap back, but dammit, he needed this, needed to be doing more than sitting in a room, drowning like Wash was. He narrowed his eyes behind digitally constructed glasses.]

Wash, I've been crunching the numbers since the moment Tucker di--stopped. [Stopped existing. Stopped being a part of them, of their lives. Since they all had stopped.] Do you know how long that is for an AI? For me? Compared to you organic folks? It's years. I've been working on this for years, and I think I found something!

I just need Simmons to help me build it, and maybe we can stop this thing before it even happens!

You're talking about time travel. That's science-fiction. Low-grade science fiction at that.

[ Did he not realize that? Was he that far gone with guilt, that even this seemed a possibility? ]

I know you think this is your fault, but this...this isn't an answer. It's a fairy tale. It's nonsense.

[ And he wasn't buying into it. He didn't need his hopes raised only to have them shattered when reality ultimately denied them the chance to bring their friends back. He couldn't. ]

Don't. You don't get to be the only one here with the blame game, got it? It's my fault, and rather than shutting everyone who cares for me out like some people in this room, I'm trying to help.

[Do you think they didn't notice, Wash? Because they did, they all did. They just didn't know how to come to either, not when they were barely hanging on themselves.]

You know that Simmons was stupid in love with Grif, right? And he's falling the fuck apart. I can't lose you idiots, too, so I'm actually doing something.

[Unlike you. Unlike most of you.]

And if I'm wrong, so what? You know they would try if it was you.

[ And that, more than anything else, hits home. They would. They wouldn't care if it was crazy, if the prospect was there and something to work towards, they would absolutely do it.

The last family he'd had had left him for dead. The Reds and the Blues...there's nothing they wouldn't do for each other. For him. And maybe Church was right. Maybe they owed them the chance, as slim as it was.

His expression shuttering, his fists relax their hold, and he sinks back to rest on the edge of his bed, hands moving up to cup quietly over his mouth for a moment or two. ]

[Something had gotten through. Maybe not completely, but enough to shake the hardest walls, the full out denial. He sat on the data pad, legs crossing underneath him like he was about to tell him a story in the grass. He wasn't.]

I think I can do it. It's not going to be easy and the probability in our favor is pretty much shit, but...what else do you have going on, huh?

[Because if they have a shot, and if Wash really wasn't long for this whole life he had left, what better way to toss it than helping them.]

I'm sorry. You know that, right? About them. About all this shit. I just...hated them the least and sometimes we listen to our dumb organic friends when we know better. I...would have done anything to save them.

Don't.

[ It comes out sharper than he means for it to. It would be easy to blame Church, to say that he should have done it anyway. Torn himself to pieces to save them because he'd known for a fact they would die if he didn't. But what good did that do anyone? It didn't change what was.

Mistakes had been made. Maybe...maybe there was a chance to undo all of it. Ridiculous as it sounded, hadn't they gone through things just as strange before now? It was worth one last shot before they did anything drastic. ]

...alright. Alright. We'll do it. Whatever you've put together, let's try it. It's not like things can get any worse.

Huh. You are way more positive than I thought you be about this.

[Which was saying something, because this certainly wouldn't qualify as positive anywhere else in the world. But Epsilon had spent time in Wash's head, however momentarily brief, and he hadn't thought that Wash would be on board at all. There had been a twenty-three percent chance that he would even listen to Church; there was a seven percent chance he would follow along.

Well, damn. The odds were in his favor.]

It's not built yet; I need Simmons for that. [Sorry, Wash, this was nerd skills he needed right here, and you weren't the right kind of nerd.] Weirdly enough, it'd be a lot easier if Caboose was here, and you better not ever tell him I said that!

[He didn't want to endure that level of hugs. Thank fucking God, he was an AI.]

It's going to take about three months. Can you give me that long?

I don't really have a choice, do I? I can't just go 'make the impossible thing happen faster'.

[ Because he was still not convinced that this was even going to work. All he'd been convinced of to this point was that it was worth trying before they gave up entirely. This was the last avenue he could apply himself to before there was actually nothing left that could feasibly be done.

Not like he didn't understand what Church was actually asking, either. But he wasn't addressing that, wasn't going to talk about it to anyone if he could help it. That was his decision to make. No one else's. ]

[He wondered how long he could keep him going along if he couldn't get it to work. Four months? Six? A year? Would Wash be over the worst of it by then and actually keep living? Could he find a new reason?

He was stubborn. He was a fucking cockroach. But even cockroaches got stomped on eventually. ]

I think I can convince Simmons, partly because of science, mostly because he misses Grif. You...you just sit tight, okay? And--

[He flickered back to the armor, sitting on the discarded shoulder, not disturbing the dust.] --check in on Carolina, okay? She doesn't show it, but she's having a rough time, too. You guys could probably use each other.

Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that.

[ It wasn't as if he could contribute to this mad plan any other way. All he knew was that if it worked, if there was a chance, slim as it was, he had to take it. Tucker would have done it, in a heartbeat, if the tables were turned.

He'd have told him not to. He knew that as well. But Tucker wasn't here to argue the facts. It was their call, their choice to make. Carolina would have to agree with that, wouldn't she? ]

[Yeah. Yeah, she would. She did.

She probably shouldn’t, she knew that, but the emptiness of everything, the loss of the family she had just discovered had pushed her, drive her. Once, twice were bad; three times? Three times made her desperate.

So yeah, she agreed to the stupidest plan she ever heard of because she had faith in Epsilon. She disagreed that Wash should do it, but someone needed to be here for Epsilon if shit went south, and …Wash wasn’t suited for that. And her protectiveness of her pseudo brother was the one thing that swayed the vote in the end.

But she still didn’t like it.

So three months passed. Three long and lonely months. And he worked, they worked, Simmons had dark circles and no sleep and all of them looked haunted by the time things came to pass. And when the day came in the hangar bay where Epsilon had set up machines and computers and platform, he called Wash down.]

Are you sure you want to do this?

A little late to ask that now.

[ They'd come this far. Why turn back now? What was waiting for them if they did? This was all any of them had been able to focus on, and as weeks passed, Wash started to let himself hope. Maybe it would work.

Maybe he'd be able to see Tucker, somewhere outside of blood-stained nightmares that counted his failures in bodies. He looked completely haggard, not unlike the others, but the determination under the exhaustion kept him upright. It kept him going at least this long, long enough for one last shot at setting this right. ]

Just...tell me what I need to do.

Hey, idiot, I can ask someone else to go.

[But he knew enough with his time in Wash’s head that that wasn’t happening. He wondered what was powering the Freelancer anymore, because it sure as shit wasn’t sleep. Anger? Rage? Determination?

Hope?

Epsilon’s little hologram waved at the platform, before flickering in and out. He needed to work, to focus on this shit, and--]

Go stand up there.

[And he was gone again, focusing on shit as he felt…thinner. Not tired; AI didn’t get tired but thinner. Unstable. Fuck it. Worry about it later.

Worry about it after, when now wouldn’t matter any more.

Two pieces of the machine started to hum to life, electricity in the bay – in the entire city – flickering, hitting brown out, disappearing until it was just…this room. Until it was what was zipping in the air. Carolina looked at Simmons, while he was looking at the screen.]

You’ve got ten seconds! [Epsilon chimed in over the comms.] Go find their dumb asses and warn them!

[ He wasn't sure what to expect. A gateway of energy perhaps. His skin tingled, hair rising under his armor, and what if it didn't work? What if it just...electrocuted him and that was it? Can't be worse than this, he can't help but think, stepping up where directed and bracing himself.

That first swell of energy feels like a weird tug at his core. Like his body glitched, wanting to turn itself on end and couldn't. Oh. That felt weird, and not in a great way. ]

Just do it!

[ And he closed his eyes. Just let him get there in time. Give him this one wrong to make right and he'd never ask for anything else, as long as he lived. Tucker could sleep naked every night of the week, Caboose could have cookies for breakfast, Sarge could steal every tool he had, just...

Let me see them. One last time. ]

[Epsilon heard the yell, responded with a Sure thing, Agent Bitchington, before the electricity struck the platform. Somewhere, Epsilon winked out, forever or for now, it was initially impossible to tell which. The surge, the effort to run this was massive; the electricity and content such a draw, a siren song.

He felt thinner for a reason.

He felt nothing now.

But that wasn’t for Wash to know, couldn't be his concern with all the grit and sand in the way. It was shadowed in here, lit in spots by the occasional safety flashlight attached to the wall just enough to see. If he spoke, it would echo from all the nothingness inside.

It was empty and brown and maybe even familiar from a time he had traveled with the Meta.

And here was another familiar thing: the sound of an alien energy sword coming to life and the blue light suddenly illuminating the walls.]

Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here? [It didn't sound as hardened as what the war started to create, instead something young, something that still didn't take shit seriously. Except, maybe this.] Better talk because I'm about three seconds from teabagging all your corpses when I'm done with this shit.

[Welcome, Private Tucker.]

Edited 2018-08-24 00:32 (UTC)

[ It was familiar, but it shouldn't have been. This wasn't Chorus, this was somewhere else entirely. The smell of stone and sand and dust, shadows dancing around the lights hung up to provide any kind of visibility and--

He should have put up his hands. Instead, all he could do was stare. It--

It had worked. They'd done it. Tucker, alive and well, was standing in front of him, sword active which meant he was alive. He couldn't quite get past that part, his brain rolling back over it like a skipping record, something painful twisting in his chest.

Alive. Alive. Alive. ]

Tucker.

[ And he reached up, yanking his helmet off of his head, the better to see him in the darkness. ]

[Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who the fuck was this guy, just moving around so quick?

Was he—

Was he pulling off his helmet? Did he want to get stabbed? Was he just trying to make it easier to get wrecked and holed? Because Tucker would wreck him.

Not…not like that.

All the same, his brow furrowed a little more when he realized the guy knew his name; nothing like being at a disadvantage, right? Unless his aimless distress calls were finally answered, and this was Command’s oh-so-gracious answer.

Or maybe this asshole was one of the guys outside, laying seige.]

Who the hell are you? [That deep level of confusion was all over him, in his body, his eyes, his face. He didn’t have a clue.] I get wanting to strip for me, but dude, you’re so not my type.

[ He doesn't know me.

The thought sinks in after a moment, and this strange warring sense of numb and every other emotion know to man feels like it's clashing inside of his guts, and all he can do is stare at Tucker and wonder how far back he's gone.

Wait a minute.

His eyes tear away for just a moment, looking around them. ]

This is Sandtrap.

[ God, how long ago was that even? Long before Chorus. Long before he and Tucker had even met. He was sitting in a jail cell somewhere at this very moment, likely as not. And that also meant... ]

They still haven't come to rescue you, yet.

[Oh, hey, you know that thing where people say that things can't get weirder and then they do?

Yeah. This. Right here.

Tucker didn't really call it "Sandtrap" because it was a stupid name; "bad ass alien sand temple" seemed way more appropriate and telling, all things considered. "The Place Where Assholes Tried To Kill Him" was another, but hey, that didn't exactly narrow it down, either. But this guy? This guy knew the name.

He knew he hadn't been rescued.

Which meant he knew he was sending distress signals.

Tucker pressed the sword a little closer, not enough to touch, but fuck, it's got to be hot right about now.]

But they are coming - [god, he was shit at bluffing] - so if I were you, I wouldn't do anything stupid. Or, you know, do it and give me a reason. Just one.

[ It doesn't matter. The heat of the blade doesn't matter, he'd impale himself on it if it meant getting warning to Tucker regarding what was to come. If he could even remember it that far ahead. But how much weight could the word of an absolute stranger carry? ]

Yeah. They're coming. You're getting out of here, and...

[ No, now was not the time for his voice to close up. ]

Tucker, I'm not here to hurt you. I swear it.

[ And both hands lifted, palms open, into the air. See? No weapons, no aggressive intent, just hear him out. That's all he asks. God knew how much time he had or didn't, in this place. ]

[Okay, okaaaay, that was good news. Tucker lowered the sword by degrees, adrenaline still coursing through his veins; that's what happened when you were on minimal sleep, bare rations, and constantly being cornered in a temple by a bunch of assholes who wanted to murder you dead so they could make a cheap grab at alien tech.

No wonder Tucker was sent out here, and thank God, Junior was back, somewhere safe.]

So, Church heard it finally and got his head out of his ass?

[He missed him. He fucking missed him, missed Caboose, missed the Reds. Blood Gulch had been paradise in comparison to what this place had to offer: isolation and real death. Anything had to be better than this.]

How do you know they're coming? How do you know us at all? Who the fuck are you?

I'm...a friend.

[ He hesitated over the words, lowering his hands slowly. ]

Or, I will be. Months from now. I think...I think I got here before we actually met.

[ The timing worked out. He'd come here with the Meta after Tucker had been rescued, chasing Tex to Sidewinder, and then after the fight with the Meta the Blues had effectively adopted him.

The blues. Of which he was now the sole surviving member. Focus. ]

This is gonna sound crazy, but...Church sent me from the future. Something happened. Something I gotta try and stop.

[...and the sword went back up.]

Soooo, you're crazy. That's cool.

[It was easy to repeat the name of the one person Tucker said, like a psychic at the bachelorette party. It was simple to make up the stupidest story ever told, especially after Tucker had already dealt with Time Travel. Sort of. Kind of. Look, it was complicated and those early days didn't make a bunch of sense.

His hand tightened on the sword hilt, his jaw tight. What the fuck was he supposed to do with this guy, huh? Really?]

You don't have a set of handcuffs on you, do you? I mean, you strike me as a BDSM type, so hey, maybe.

I know it sounds crazy. I know it does. I know...

[ The desperation was rising in his voice, those exhausted eyes staring pleading at Tucker, who had no real reason to trust him. Who could only go on his word.

Would Wash have listened, if the tables were turned?

He sighs, eyes sliding shut for just a moment, that weariness washing over him in a wave. How to convince him? ]

This was the only chance we had at saving you guys. I let you down once. I'm not gonna do it again. Just...hear me out. And if you still feel like stabbing me afterwords, that's fine, I don't care, just. Please.

[Man, this guy looked tired. It was heavy and across his face, not like a mask, but like the mask had fallen off and this was all that was left. It was desperate and just...sad.]

God, when was the last time you slept?

[The sword dropped again, not turning off but just hanging there. He sighed a little, those aqua shoulders rolling in a shrug, and fine, he could have a few minutes; Tucker had a feeling that the guy would uphold his end of this bargain, anyway. Stabbings would be had if it was bullshit. This guy wasn't the only one that was exhausted.

Tucker took a step back, sizing him up.]

Go ahead. It better be good, though.

Red vs Blue pt 2

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