yorkies | open post (agent oklahoma)

OK hasn't shot him yet. But he wants to, once he finds the group again.

Or they find him, rather.

Retreating in the direction they'd just come from hadn't been a good idea, in hindsight. He knows what's back there and it's nothing good. He doubts he'd be able to see much from the entry point, and he knows he won't be able to make it far out enough to scout the place, so his only option is to stop, turn back around, and head for higher ground. He's about halfway up a long, sloping hallway when he hears movement behind him and spins around, raising his gun, ready to blow the face off of whatever peeks around the corner-

"Motherfucker." OK sighs harshly. Well, there they are, the three fucking musketeers. He considers blasting them all right then and there, but one of them has something that catches his eye. "Hey. Hey!" He takes aim at the one that's got the fancy alien-backpack. OK doesn't know who that one is (Saunders, apparently), and thank god for that. He's sick of seeing familiar helmets. "You're gonna have to take that off."

There's the clatter of two rifles and a magnum pointing at Oklahoma.

"He's not," says Ohio. "Why the fuck are you still here?"

He assumed OK had run, which was what he would've done. ...Probably.

Ohio's still not especially keen on having to be the one that kills him, and that accounts for part of the frustration in his voice. He'd set himself up to avoid this uncomfortable eventuality, and here it is right back in his face again.

See if he ever does anything nice for anyone ever again.

"Who the hell is this?" Saunders wants to know. Ohio ignores him.

Despite having three guns pointed at him, he's feeling pretty good about his odds here. Two of the guys look like some level of shit. There's blood coming from somewhere on one of them- the one who's got his package, so at least that one seems like he'd be easy pickings. OK thinks he could mow the two new ones down pretty quickly, but Ohio is another story.

He's not too comfortable with his prospects in that case, but he did just see Ohio take down a hunter with a sniper, so. You know. What could possibly be more of an optimism killer there.

The attitude isn't helping his comfort levels much. OK is irritated, enough to want to gesture angrily at Ohio while he answers, but he doesn't feel like he can spare a hand long enough to do so. "Okay, first off, yes, he is, and secondly, I'm getting out of here. Don't fucking rush me. And you-"

His attention turns back to Saunders, ignoring the question. "Take your weird little backpack machine off. It's a bomb." ...It's not, but if it gets him to actually do it...

"You're not getting out of here if you keep fucking with my team," Ohio snarls. "I didn't want to kill you, but if you don't fuck off right now-"

"Nobody told me it was a bomb!" Oh my god why is this happening in Saunders's life? He's bleeding and pissed and now there's a bomb. At least he's pretty sure. Saunders is, all things considered, not an important person here and it makes sense to him that Command wouldn't give him a vital detail like this.

"It's not a bomb!"

"How do you know?!"

Ohio is definitely the only point of competence in this team. He kind of wondered at outset if this was a deliberate attempt to kill him, but it's only now in this moment right here that he's starting to feel seriously about that.

"We got contacts!" Lane warns. His motion tracker has a somewhat better range than the other two. Ohio could just about strangle everyone in this hallway, himself included, and be done with it.

OK leans forward, ready to snap out the fact that he'd been in the process of fucking off when Ohio and his lambs came creeping up behind him, but their tiff is interrupted by Saunders taking the bait. Yes. Forget Ohio. What he needs to do is sink his hooks in to the weak one and get him to drop the package, then they can all go about their day. "Look at it! It's obviously a bomb! I work with them all the time, why do you think I'm here?"

Well, nobody knows. That's the problem, and OK is using it to his advantage. He may be a lying liar, but he sounds pretty damn sure of himself.

What he's not sure of, however, is if the stupid thing is worth this much trouble. OK scowls in Lane's direction, because that's exactly what they need, more bullshit hot on their trail. Since he's the one who noticed it first it's somehow his fault.

"Forget it." OK lowers his gun enough to make himself nonthreatening, waving the group away with a swing of one arm as he retreats further up the ramp, walking backwards. "Just get the fuck out of here."

Except they all need to go in the same direction.

Fuck you, this is OK's hallway.

"We are getting the fuck out of here. So move." And Ohio is leading the... it's not a charge so much as it is a deliberate advance. They're getting up to that Spirit. Ideally, the whole team is. So help him.

"Wait, bomb?" says Lane, finally noticing something besides the ominous red tracker dots.

"I'm carrying a bomb!" Saunders snaps. "Fucking listen, Lane!"

"It's not a bomb, it's a core!" There may be aliens hot on their heels right now but Lane has to get the facts straight. It's important.

"An exploding core!"

"No, an AI core!"

"Bullshit!"

"Both of you shut up and get up here. We can deal with all the particulars of the thing that isn't a bomb when we're fucking gone!"

Ohio will drag them if he has to, but to his great relief that seems to be enough to get them moving again.

Edited (I lost a punctuation) 2016-07-26 17:12 (UTC)

OK scurries back when Ohio stomps his way up, but he quickly slows his backwards escape and stops altogether as the team argues amongst themselves. OK is caught up in pure trainwreck syndrome. They're too close, the logical part of his brain warns him. He could be in the air by now if he'd just gone, it scolds. But the more morbidly curious side wins out over logic, and he just stares as this mess unfolds.

Holy shit.

He laughs nervously, the sound one of complete disbelief as he turns towards Ohio. He can't help asking. He really can't help it. "Is this your team? Really?"

There are a lot of old switches in Ohio's neural interface that don't have a purpose, these days. Controls for the accelerating equipment that was removed years ago. Macros Pi set up for calculations he no longer needs to run. Bits and broken pieces of things were left in her wake, and they would take more work to fix than anyone has thought worth putting into him.

But one of these useless things is fast access to Freelancer team comms, and all it takes is a thought to throw open the old channel. Because fuck you, Oklahoma, he's a shitty leader but he's not so shitty a leader that he'll say this to them. He snaps at him one to one.

"I sure as fuck didn't pick them."

OK nearly laughs again when he notices the direct channel open up. Ohio sounds like he hates everything about his two shadows, but evidently not enough to trash talk them over an open line. How sweet. He really does care. OK is tempted to tease him about being softhearted- something in what he's said rings as odd, though, and he skips that for now. "You were assigned them? Who'd you piss off?"

He's still moving, a little more quickly now since there are enemies headed right for them and all. They may be able to outrun them after all if they all hustle the fuck up and get around the corner, but he's still hesitant to turn his back on any of them. "Are you supposed to be training them or something?"

That can't be right either. This is not a baby-level mission.

It's not soft alright if he upsets them too much it will negatively impact their performance, okay. And it's already bad enough without his help.

"I think my bosses are just trying to kill me off at this point."

Ohio is pretty casual in saying that. Surprisingly so given the circumstances, the resignation in his tone, and the fact he's serious about it.

Needler shards bounce off shields and dig into the floor at their heels when a pair of jackals round the corner behind them. Ohio chucks a frag grenade back there them to keep the jackals busy and yells on the open channel again. "Lane, nav!"

"Spirit's gonna be in the center, it's guarded!"

Because of course it is. They hit the top level and keep on trucking.

"Is this guy with us now or something?!" Saunders wants to know, because there's still been no introduction and holy shit has he been shot at a lot today. He's also fucking tired and fucking bleeding, and it hasn't done wonders for his patience.

Ohio doesn't have it in him to negotiate the whole "I kind of almost used to know this person a little bit" deal right now, and settles for, "As long as we're shooting the same direction!"

Edited (i know how to words) 2016-08-03 03:03 (UTC)

open post (agent oklahoma)

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