exemplifies | Open/Contact post

The thing about the UNSC Halcyon-class light cruiser called the Mother of Invention was that, even with the support staff that was required for the Project, there was a lot of space. Perhaps way too much. It meant that it was easy to section off people that the Director didn't want interacting. The people that maintained armor never met the Freelancers, the people that repaired computer consoles never met the Freelancers. And the 'A-Team' as they were, the people that had burst in to fill the top fifteen or so spots of the leaderboard didn't get to deal as often with the people off of it.

Which made bringing someone up from the general levels to the pro-league as it were, that was a big deal. At least it was for the main squad. Not that North Dakota was there, he hadn't known it was coming. Sometimes the Director sprang things on them, and sometimes the gossip didn't travel as fast as needed (likely because Florida was just about to finish knitting some kind of cozy and wasn't free to chatter). So it was that North Dakota was in the training room working on a near pitch-dark training routine when the 'new' Freelancer was brought in to the big leagues, and it was only as he was coming out that he knew something was up.

Of course because his sister was standing outside of the training room.

"Fresh meat," she announced, amusement in her voice, a smirk on her lips.

North couldn't help but shake his head briefly as he lifted his helmet off. "Be nice."

Because that was likely. He just kept walking past her, and she fell into step behind him as he headed for the locker room. The last thing he wanted was to linger in his armor with his scheduled training done for the day. Spilling food from dinner on his armor was just a pain, and until the Director insisted on armor all the time, North was going to enjoy his time out of it.

"I'm nice," she answered blandly. "You're the asshole."

"People say I'm nicer than you, South."

That earned him a scoff, and in her defense... Well, hopefully this one was going to be better than Utah. He had been annoying. Being nice had been such a strain.

Being promoted had been a little bit of surprise, but they had openings and it wasn't like Wash was going to step back down. Even if moving into the top tier separated him from friends he'd made in the lower tiers of the Freelancer program.

The sound of footsteps though has him lifting his head from where he'd been putting his armor back on, his gaze landing on North as he entered the locker room area.

"Hey."

"Speak of the loser," South mumbles as she comes in behind North.

He just ignores his sister and puts on his best charming welcome to a stranger smile. Better to make his own evaluations of the new man the Director thinks is supposed to fit in with them. North nods his greeting as he moves to his locker to put his helmet in it before turning to offer the guy his hand.

"I'm Agent North Dakota. I fear you've already met my twin, South. Her bark is worse than her bite... usually."

Once more she scoffs at him. It isn't exactly wrong when you understood what the twins did. That in high school she'd been called referred to as the bark to her twin's bite when they got angry. Not that her own bite wasn't pretty bad. She just gave more warning than North.

He'd heard about South, and North by extension, even if they didn't interact withe the top ranked Freelancers much. Rumors ran through the ship no matter how often the separate groupings crossed paths.

"I'm not sure how true that is, given her placement, but okay. " Wash glanced past him, gaze settling on South for a moment before returning to North. "I'm Washington."

South smiles, widely. She's got good reason to be proud, with her fourth place. North had fumbled a little last job, he'd slipped to sixth. How embarrassing.

"The board isn't everything," North offered as he started to strip his armor off.

"Says the guy doing extra training in hopes of getting back up to top five," South counters, moving to lean next to her brother's locker. "So, Washington, what do you do? Specialty and all that. Why the Director thinks you can cut it."

"South," her twin cuts in, an edge of annoyance to his voice. "Be nice. He's new. Let him settle in to the new locker before you scare him off."

"Maybe not to you guys, but the rest of us...." A slight shrug, Wash's gaze following North before it flicked back to South for a moment.

"Just the battle rifle." It's not the whole truth but enough for the moment.

North shoots his sister a look before she can make a disapproving sound.

"That... isn't quite what I meant," he says as he works on pulling each piece of armor off with methodical care. Within moments his sister was there to help, ready to catch each loose back half of the armor when he pulled the front. The two of them were quite efficient at things like this. "For instance, Wyoming is a sniper, plain and simple, whereas I'm a combat sniper. I'm am better to put into a position where the sniper needs to actually fight his way out. And South is a stealth specialist when she chooses to be."

The teasing snipe gets him a punch in the ass, but a half hearted one.

"Right." Wash rolled his shoulders before shifting to his feet as he watches the twins for a moment.

"I'm good with most standard issue weapons."

"Standard issue?"

This time North doesn't speak up, doesn't stop her from what he knows she's going to say, because really he wants to know the answer as well.

"Standard issue isn't what Freelancers are made out of," she counters with an edge of distaste in her voice. "We don't need 'standard issue' dragging us down the ranks or blowing some op we skilled agents have to get right."

"He wouldn't be here without good reason," North spoke at last as he got his boots off and put them in the locker. His job was to be the good cop to her bad. "The director wouldn't pick him if he wasn't good."

"You're right. You don't need anyone blowing your missions when you do it perfectly well yourself, South Dakota." Wash's voice is still calm, even if there's the barest hint of an edge to the words.

"And maybe you should wait and see me in action before you start judging my skills or abilities."

Oh my.

"Don't you act like you know what I do on missions. I'm top five, asshole," South hisses.

Meanwhile North just does his best not to snort in amusement at the comment. The kid has backbone, he's got to give the newbie that.

"South, unless you want to watch me strip to shower..."

They had unspoken rules between them. One had to do with the fact that they didn't see each other naked unless they had to. Standard UNSC service had been bad enough, uncomfortable at times. At least here they can get a semblance of privacy. But he even goes a step farther and starts to shuck out of his underarmor, at which point South throws her arms up and strides out without another word. And once the door closes he stops moving so much to undress, instead moving to sit on the bench.

"Don't let my sister get you down. She's just... competitive."

"Everyone is." Wash leaned against the locker, gaze fixed on the one across from where he's standing.

"Either trying to get up to where we are, or just trying to keep up."

"Speak for yourself," North smiles, more to himself than anyone else. "My only goal is to be better than Wyoming. That guy..."

He shakes his head. Why Wyoming thinks he's a better sniper was frankly beyond North. Granted the man was definitely better at just staying still for insane amounts of time. Must be the Britishness.

"I prefer a relax and let things happen approach. I'm a sniper. The things I want come into my sights. That's how I get what I want. Chasing them down is a front line soldier's job."

"Yeah, but it's still the same thing. We've all got our goals, whether it's besting one person or just making it onto the leaderboard to begin with." Wash shrugged a shoulder.

"However we go about it."

Well that is... an enlightened way to look at it. Something he can even respect.

"Keep that sort of outlook and you might make it here," North answered at last. "But... be careful, it won't always make you friends among some of the people here. With that sort of approach... I'd suggest Agents York, Florida and Maine. Less leaderboard driven because, respectively, number two, number doesn't care, number giant mountain unmoved by most things."

With that he stands. "So... I wish you a lot of luck, because here in the supposed big leagues things get complicated. Meaner really. We're not nice people, Agent Washington."

"I didn't sign on to make friends." Wash straightened as well, pulling his helmet back on. "And none of us were promoted for the ability to be nice, anyway. We were picked for what we can bring to the missions."

And then he's walking towards the door.

"But thanks for the warning."

North is left staring openly at the man for his reaction. For what he said. It made sense. It was... practical. And intriguing.

"Just because you didn't sign on for it doesn't mean not to try," he muses before the man leaves. "And don't let anyone keep you from your goals, Agent Washington. I think you might fit in."

Settling in hadn't been hard. Demanding with the training and finding his place on the team, but it was nothing he hadn't been prepared for. And at least this team had a decent leader.

More than decent from what he'd seen and by the time their first shore leave rolled around Wash ended up heading out with the rest of the group

And the bar was at least sturdy looking, heavy tables and solid furniture and more or less empty as soon as they walked in.

The way they sit at tables is pretty set. Everyone knows what is going to happen at the start of the night, everyone knows what will happen at the end. Except there was a gap now, wasn't there? Where Georgia used to be. North ignores it, not thinking too hard about how there should be someone on the stool next to him going on, at length, about something meaningless. But within five minutes of silence he can't do it anymore. Takes his glass of terrible whiskey and moves to sit by the new member of their team.

"I warn you, you're going to see something here," North says with a smile as he sits. "We've got an interesting variety of drunks here."

"Which is pretty much the same for any group of people." Wash is at least trying to keep himself on the low end and nursing a beer because the last thing he needs is to get completely drunk.

It never ends well.

For him.

"We have a pretty impressive amount of combatives," North goes on to say. "Except for South. She's a cuddly drunk. I can't say I'm looking forward to that. What about you?"

North sips his drink again and frowns at the beer. "Do you want something better? I can buy you it."

"No, I'm good." He eyed North's drink for a moment before shrugging a shoulder.

"I would have figured her for the type to get more violent when drunk."

"You'd think," North agrees. "But she isn't. We all have masks, Agent Washington, just like you."

He's been keeping an eye on Wash for a bit now, watching the man as he went about his time on the MoI. Clearly Washington had an image he wanted to project, and North wasn't going to step on his toes about that. "Carolina gets really competitive about stupid things when she's drunk. Last shore leave her and York had a bet on who could stack more salt shakers in a stable tower."

Edited 2017-10-13 01:35 (UTC)

[continued from here]

Obviously. It's amazing what words can do sometimes.

Glad to hear that. But it's not calmed down over there either...

In different ways, yeah. I don't think complete peace would ever be a possibility. People will always find something to fight.

I think eventually there will be peace. It may take a while, longer than we have, but someday.

Allura believes it. I will too.

I don't know if it's possible, but it's a nice thought.

It's more than a thought. It's a hope and a goal.

You have to have both, and thoughts, to make any change.

I'm not saying it's impossible, but it depends on the scale. On a small scale, I can see it working for a while but...

I know. People will always be people.

But even small strife can exist within a greater peace.

Until it expands, anyway.

We try to prevent that from happening.

Space is too big for that to be possible.

I refuse to give up on that ideal.

Working together with our allies, we'll keep aiming for peace.

Good luck then.

What did you fight for?

When I was in the military? I saw what they were capable of and they needed to be stopped.

After I was on my own? I wanted revenge, then it was just what had to be done.

Do you want me to ask why you joined?

Or why you went for revenge?

There weren't a lot of civilian options by the time I enlisted and it was the tight thing to do.

As for revenge, I made a choice and it ended up being a mistake with a price that was too heavy for no actual benefit.

But there are reasons I would make most of the same choices again.

I don't want to get in your head, but you said "the right thing" so you must not feel like striving for something is pointless.

I can't say anything about revenge. I just know it doesn't make anyone happy in the end.

It was a ...complicated situation but there were reasons to put an end to it and we were on the right side.

All right. I won't question your reasons.

What's done is done anyways.

It usually is, yes.

"Usually"?

...Things can get pretty interesting over here.

I don't doubt that. Any of them good?

My reasons or?

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