Shades and Simulations

[notyourrookie]

WHO: Agent Washington
WHERE: Around the South and North village
WHEN: Mid-March
OPEN TO: Open to anyone! One prompt closed to Foggy, Peggy, and Tim.
WARNINGS: Some violence is likely!

---

Open to Anyone

There's a stinging feeling on his neck and Wash reaches up to scratch at it unthinkingly. It's barely worth noticing - like the scratch of an uncomfortable collar or the whip of a branch against bare skin; annoying for a fleeting second but gone from his mind after that as he enters the South village.

He's halfway to the inn when he notices it, a flicker of blue glow out of the corner of his eye. He stops dead, follows the glow and stares down at his hands where the glow is coming from. A pale blue which is familiar and horrifying all at once.

He's not- He's not Epsilon. He's not Alpha. Why-

The world ripples around him and he thinks he sees it- thinks he sees code, sees white walls, sees observation windows- oh god... not, not again.





Open to Foggy, Peggy, and Tim Drake

He has to get out. He has to- has to- It happened again and again and again and they're watching him and he'd trusted them and they'd broken him. He has to get out. There's nothing left to break.

He can't trust them. None of them. He staggers through the village, keeps to the shadows and it's not real, none of it is, he sees it in flecks of code ragged at the edges of his vision. But they're watching him and when he comes across someone- all he can see is the Counsellor's bland expression and the Director's cool regard and the Meta towering over them and it's too much.






Open to anyone

The frequent trips to the South village have become almost pleasant. The run down there clears his mind, and even though it's more crowded, that also means there's more to do. More to keep his mind off things. He visits the library frequently, ensconcing himself there to read what he can get his hands on to make their lives easier. The technology in the books is mostly hopelessly archaic to him, enough that even his training in field engineering is not much use, but he thinks he's picking it up, albeit slowly.

He dips into the Inn for lunch, eats quickly in a corner out of the way and slips out again as soon as he can, avoiding the busy times as much as possible.

And when he has time, he'll climb up the watchtowers and give them a good look over. Make sure he's familiar with as much of the land as possible, get a good eye on the defences. He wonders if they could build something like this near the house that he and Maine share, maybe even something on top of the house to give them greater range without having to leave the defences.

When he doesn't head down to the South, he stays up near the house in North village. They need to season firewood and while he'd love to start building the place up now to make it as defensible as possible, he's still practising, still learning what to do, sitting outside the house and trying to put some of what the books say into practice.

Comments

First Prompt

[ataashihunter]

Bull's on the way out of the inn when he sees the guy he had been talking to some come towards him. And then stops, and then looks horrified. Bull looks around, trying to see if there is something going on that he should know about but he can't see anything. So he makes his way over to the other, concern obvious on his face.

"Hello?"

Re: First Prompt

[notyourrookie]

Wash takes a step back when he hears the voice, and looks towards them. Holy shit, they're big. Like- big big. Like- "Maine?"

No... couldn't be- could it?

Re: First Prompt

[ataashihunter]

"No, The Iron Bull." Bull glances at Wash, frowning, the guy doesn't seem like someone to get that kind of mixed up. Then he steps closer, reaching out for him. "You're glowing? What is going on?"

Re: First Prompt

[notyourrookie]

Wash jerks away and takes a step back, wariness increasing. No, not Maine. Not Main at all. This is- "Meta. What the hell? What do you want?"

Re: First Prompt

[ataashihunter]

"Meta? What? What are you talking about Wash? No, it is me, Bull." He looks around, frowning "Who is Meta?"

Re: First Prompt

[notyourrookie]

Fuck, what’s going on? Everything feels off, he can see flickers of code out of the corners of his eyes. Bull... Bull? “Is this a trick? It’s not funny, Meta. And Epsilon isn’t here. There’s nothing for you here.”

Take Two II

[clouded_heart]

Really, Foggy is asking for it.

He sees one of the drifting things and he goes closer, because he's curious and it has such a beautiful, ethereal look to it that he completely misses the thin and far too long tendrils that reach out further than the main bulk of the creature.

When it brushes his arm, he yelps and pulls back, but still doesn't see the thin tendril that got him.

What he sees is a pale glow and then a dimming of the light around him. He looks up and he feels the world pressing in and he sees-

He sees Fisk. In his pale suit, hulking over Foggy's smaller frame and Foggy grabs for something, anything to defend himself with, like his good old trusty baseball bat.

Re: Take Two II

[notyourrookie]

The blue keeps glinting in the corner of his eyes and it blots out the world around him, narrowing his vision to the movement ahead. Everything feels close, tight around him. There's no escape. No escape. And he remembers white walls and windows and that face... that face staring at him across a table bolted down to the ground. Always mild and gentle and "Now tell me again, David-"

There's no reason to hold back now. He doesn't need to pretend anymore. He's already blown up the project and his chances. Why not finally get to punch the Counsellor?

He raises a fist, readying himself, and lunges towards the eother man.

Re: Take Two II

[mrsarcastic003]

Tim is not out here looking for trouble (for once). He not technically looking for anything but a walk in the fresh air that doesn't involve getting picked up and dumped at random in another part of the island to gather supplies or watch other people and his own memories play out in front of him. It's been an eventful few months.

The palely glowing blue lights catch his attention, and he moves toward them curiously. There's someone else ahead of him--he's seen him around, though they haven't introduced themselves. He brushes off one of the lights after it apparently bites him (stings him? he hadn't noticed which end of the jellyfish-looking thing had made contact with him), then glances up again just in time to see someone lunging at the first guy he'd seen.

He doesn't bother with a warning. He breaks into a sprint and tackles him out of the way. "Who the hell is that guy?!" he asks, already moving to get to his feet again.

[womanofvalue]

Peggy's been fighting very hard to try and keep her senses about her. She'd been stung in the field and had been trying to make her way back. Something is happening, though, a skirmish, but all she sees is blond hair and she thinks Steve before she notices that there's a fight happening.

If they think that there's going to be a two on one against him, then Peggy will shake off her hazy mind and charge in, using her power to guide her to the right place, standing in between the skirmish, hands out, trying not to let anyone attack anyone else.

"Stay back," she warns the man, her mind telling her that she knows it's Steve, it's him, she simply needs to protect him. "What do you want with him?" she snaps at the other two, the one who'd been in the initial fight, and the one who'd tackled Steve (or so she'd thought) out of the way.

[clouded_heart]

Foggy scrambles to his feet, not even thinking to try and call on his armour and instead catching his balance against the young man next to him. "Wilson Fisk," he whispers. "He's a berserker, all soft voice and manners and then he's bursting heads with his bare hands. "And he was advancing on me! He said he was going to get me, I'm not going to just stand here and let him do it." He can feel the comforting weight of his baseball bat and swings it testingly, edging back a bit more.

Watchtower

[moderndayassassin]

Desmond's been making some extra rounds lately, patrols and the such, and so when he walks up to the watchtower, he sees someone on top. He takes a step back to see if it's someone he knows, and while it's not someone he knows well, he recognizes the face. He never forgets one. It's the dude he met during the party who was pretty new to everything. By now he probably is more settled in.

"Hey," he says, so as not to startle the guy before he climbs up too. "I'm Desmond. We met at the party. How's the adjustment going?"

[notyourrookie]

The warning is appreciated. Wash steps back and leans against the railing while the other person climbs up the tower, folding his arms over his chest. He remembers him, although that first night had been something of a surreal blur. He's good at remembering some things. Shame they're usually things he doesn't want to remember.

"I remember," He says when Desmond reaches the platform of the tower. "I'm not dead yet so probably going as well as can be expected."

[moderndayassassin]

Desmond is someone who reacts badly to being startled, and by the way Wash holds himself, and his wariness from before, he can tell it's better to give a warning. He glances out to the land that they watch over, almost always calm with a rare animal occurrence here and there, but it's probably only a matter of time before some kind of disaster. Not a cheerful thought, no, but it's better to be ready.

"It's funny how that's a pretty normal bar to set around here." More than a few of them are dead after all. "Did your powers ever kick in?"

[notyourrookie]

"Pretty normal where I'm from too," Wash admits. Surviving a mission was hardly something that was guaranteed. "People die all the time."

The question makes him a little tense. "I don't know. I'm paranoid all the time so it's a little hard to tell."

PFL Flashbacks

[duel_wielding]

[OOC: What would be the worst time for another run-in with North? Why during flashbacks of course.]

Life continued on, North had decided. It didn't matter that things were complicated with Maine, didn't matter that Washington had cursed him and insisted that he be left alone, and it sure didn't matter that he'd come to some concerning conclusions about his sister. What mattered was the fact that in this place he'd found a new sort of life for himself, one that almost reminded him of the place he'd grown up in before his planet was glassed, before the war had swept him up and set him on the path to becoming part of Freelancer. He liked getting up in the morning and doing archery practice until his fingers stung. He liked joining the rotation of people who helped carry supplies from the storehouse to the inn for cooking, and he definitely liked his rounds of cooking communal lunches.

It was on the way back from the latter that North caught sight of Wash for the first time since that ill-fated meeting. The moment he saw the familiar form North almost felt sick, and started to turn quickly off the path, hoping to cut behind a house to give Wash the space the man had clearly wanted from him.

Except...

He doesn't look okay.

Theta's words get North to pause, just for a moment. Because he remembers it, that habit of looking for something that isn't there. But really, he should give Wash space. Should...

It's the horror that gets North moving. Not because he had ever seen Wash's face like that after Epsilon. Getting the rookie without his helmet on wasn't easy back in those days. No, it's the posture that gets him moving forward. Worst comes to worst he is reading it wrong, Wash decks him, and he heads home with his metaphorical tail between his legs. But if it really is something bad enough to lead to the sort of pain that Wash had dealt with back in those days, even if it's something completely unrelated, North needs to offer help.

"Wash," he says as he comes to his former-teammate's side. "You okay?"

[notyourrookie]

Everything blurs in an out, pulsing behind his eyes. He remembers this feeling, it's burned into his memory except- except he doesn't know who it happened to. Hospital. He was drugged. They were going to come for him again and- everyone is dead and it's his fault. He should have been better, faster... what's the point of being an AI- of being a-

He hears that voice and his gaze snaps towards North. North- Agent North Dakota and he is - "You're dead."

And it's his fault. No- it's her fault. He can't keep it straight anymore.

[duel_wielding]

Oh no.

North can't help it, he reaches out and puts a hand on Wash's arm. There is no reasonable method by which Wash should have given up his hatred of North so fast. At all. He's done nothing to warrant that, and that can only be bad. Especially with how out of it he seems.

"Agent Washington," he says, keeping his voice soft. "Wash, bud. We should sit down, okay? Let's just sit down for a moment. Do you know where you are right now?"

[notyourrookie]

Wash flinches away as though he's been burnt. He'd not- that never means anything good. They're dead. They're dead and if he'd just been better- No that- that isn't him.

"It's not real," he says when North asks him where they are. "You're not real."

Just another simulation, or hallucination or both. He's not doing this again.

[duel_wielding]

Trauma restimulating memories of the post-implant issues? Theta suggests, and North almost flinches under the intensity of Theta's concern. Which, of course, only builds upon his own.

Right now, T, I need solutions, not answers.

I'm working on it, but this isn't exactly my thing.

Make it your thing.

Meanwhile North lets his hand raise up to Wash's shoulder, gripping it firmly. Come on, Wash, be here with him right now. In a village and not in whatever happened to you. Please.

"I'm real, Wash. Come on, look at me. I'm here, and last I checked, you wanted to punch me for that. Because how dare I care about you, right? I'm right here, you're here too. In the very strange village, right? The place with purple alpacas with zebra butts."

Zalpacas.

Not helpful.

watchtowers

[whipshots]

The last time they were up here together, circumstances had been far more dire: the village was essentially on lockdown, almost everyone was missing, and the panic had been tight in Brigitte's chest though she kept it pinned down well. Her first emergency on this island.

Today, as she heads up with a hammer and some metal sheeting to fix a broken panel on one of the towers, the day looks deceptively clear. But some utterly weird shit has been going down the past few days with floating jellyfish drifting into the village, so she wants the integrity of the towers' roofs fixed if she can.

She could tell that there was someone up there, but it's not until she clears the edge that she recognises Wash. "You would think I only hang out here," she says, bemused. "Hi."

The woman is steady today, and seems to be taking the latest inexplicable threats more in stride. Somehow it's better, just knowing that there are other people around and she's not alone.

Re: watchtowers

[notyourrookie]

He glances over the side of the tower when he hears feet climbing. Red hair, tough build. He relaxes when he recognises Brigitte and goes back to lean against the railing of the tower. At least there's one other person here, other than Maine, who he trusts.

He offers a small smile when she crests the edge of the platform, and he takes in the equipment that she's carrying. "Well, the view's nice. Can't say much for the company," he says. "What are you planning?" he adds, nodding his head towards the metal. "Or do you just need to beat the shit out of something?"

[whipshots]

"I don't know, I think the company's pretty alright," she says, glancing at him with a tentative smile. Brig would have been welcoming no matter who she ran into up here, but the fact that it's someone she actually knows -- and knows could have her back in a fight -- is an extra-relief. She sets the panels down by the edge of the tower and flips her hammer up in the air, catches it as her smile broadens.

"Why not both? You can both fix things and beat the shit out of something. Nobody knows, but that's the real reason I took up blacksmithing."

Mostly a joke, but with a grain of truth to it. She would never have been happy just drawing and planning the designs; it is therapeutic to get in there with your hands, all cramped fingers and sweat on your brow and the ache of your arm muscles after a long day at the forge. It's a pleasant exhaustion. And safer than fighting, though she's good at that too.

"Want to stand around and hold things for me?"

[notyourrookie]

Wash snorts at that, but a smile tugs at his lips anyway. He’s pretty sure she’s just being nice, or maybe it’s because she doesn’t know him very well yet, but he’s willing to play along. It’s kind of nice if he’s honest. Maine trusts her, so he doesn’t feel the need to try to drive her away or be a paranoid asshole.

That does get a grin out of him. “Usually we’d beat the crap out of each other back in the Project,” Wash says. “Not a lot of fixing up going on there though.” Making something, fixing it, he thought that might feel nice.He likes what he’s done so far at the house.

Well, he can stand here and brood, or- “I think I can fit that into my busy schedule. Sure.”

[whipshots]

"I know we've all got very busy social calendars." A dumb joke, but dumb jokes are often what keep everyone sane. So she hands Wash the panes of metal, points out the spots in the wall and ramshackle roof that she wants to reinforce, the spots where she's going to maintain this simple watchtower. It's basic, but it gets the job done.

And it feels nice to create and fix things, rather than tearing them down. It's a constant balance. Both her father figures had been soldiers, but one of them had impressed the importance of repair and maintenance to her, too. The world always needed builders.

"Are you keeping your eye out for anything special?" she asks, while he hefts the metal. A nod towards the distant tree-line.