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"You haven't said a word
since somewhere in the middle of Lamtha."
His greying muzzle smirked at
her in the reflection of the window and she rolled her eyes. "Yeah,
because normally I'm renowned the ring over for my chatty
personality," she growled. He snorted but didn't respond,
leaving her responsible for whether or not the conversation
continued. That was just his way, she supposed.
She proceeded to gaze at the
passing jungle before eventually grumbling. "Lots on my mind.
Like why we're taking a few periods to drive across the fucking ring
and back to see these fuckers -- what the fuck's wrong with the
radio? Not that it would even matter, these Freelancer fucks can't be
trusted to follow through on a goddamn word they say..."
"Nelson, you really gotta
learn to appreciate the value of face-to-face meetings," her
mentor retorted before he grinned at her. "You think I woulda
been able to recruit you over the radio, eh?"
"You would have had one
less bullet hole if you had," she muttered. He was right,
though, of course. Tracer usually was. Arguing with him was often an
exercise in futility. "I get your point. It's just a long time
to be gone when there's still so much to be done at the mines."
"You're too focused on a
single point again, woman," he chided. She frowned through the
window. "I know it's important to have a base, a point you call
home. But you shouldn't ever be too attached. Always have a back-up
plan, another location to turn to. We do call ourselves the Movement,
after all."
She rolled her eyes but
mumbled an agreement. She knew the ex-Freelancers had the same
perspective. Even if they weren't sharing much, she was all too aware
they had their own alternate location somewhere else in Qoppa. And against her own wishes, she and Tracer had continued to send workers and supplies to the cliffside base they'd dubbed 'Sidewinder'. It made sense to branch out, to have options.nShe just hated
splitting resources when they had just begun to make real
progress on building their numbers and materials. It felt too much
like tempting fate to her.
And she'd had enough tempting
fate. The mission in Timae still weighed heavily on her thoughts.
She'd lost three men, three good fighters, and obtained nothing
of value. She'd barely kept her own life...and she grudgingly had
that talkative bitch
to thank for that.
She thought about Mills's grin
more often than she wanted to, heard her voice whenever she didn't
need the distraction. It confused and annoyed her to think of the SSF
pilot as anything other than a convenient way out of a bind.
That's how Tracer had
described her after she'd told him the details of the operation.
Don't be upset you worked with a mercenary -- you did what you had
to in order to survive. Not all mercenaries are the enemy, Nelson.
Her muzzle twisted into a
scowl as she rested her head against the window. Fucking Tracer. How
was it possible to be so paranoid and yet so carefree? He was such an
asshole sometimes...
"Geezus, fuck, you are a
heavy bitch!" Ashley wailed as Nelson stumbled and half-fell
against her for support.
"Sorry for giving a fuck
about my body and not being a fucking twig," Nelson
snapped back even as the slightest flush crept across her features.
She tried to not put so much weight on the pilot, but Ashley noticed
immediately and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, don't be so fuckin'
sensitive, like you need to be doing any more work than necessary,"
Ashley grumbled while squeezing the arm around the larger female's
waist. "I got you, ya fuckin' muscle-queen. Road's just ahead,
anyway."
Nelson's features tightened.
She didn't quite take that as a good thing, even if she knew trying
to walk all the way to the next town would result in at least one of
them strangling the other out of frustration. She grunted her
acknowledgment and tried to focus on moving forward. At this point,
the combination of the splint and the exertion so far had made her
broken leg mostly numb, thankfully. Now all she needed was some quiet
and things might actually start to--
"So you gonna tell me how
you became a scary rebel bitch?" Nelson narrowed her eyes and
shot a glare down at Ashley, who only gave her an unimpressed squint.
"Uh huh. Yeah, what a shock, the scary rebel bitch doesn't wanna
talk. Again. I get you like your peace and quiet, but damn, lady,
this is a long walk and I sure as shit ain't gonna be bored outta my
skull and have to drag your ass the whole way. So if you aren't gonna
talk, then, I dunno. Fuckin' ask me about something."
Nelson blinked and promptly
snorted. "Why the fuck would I need to do that? You seem more
than capable of talking about whatever the hell you want, without any
nudging from me."
"Uh, common courtesy? I
know I got the fuckin' magic maw over here, but it's still kinda nice
to have your new bestie at least pretend she wants to learn something
about you."
"We are not friends,"
Nelson muttered stiffly. She didn't need to look down this time --
she could feel the blue eyes peering up at her as she strained
not to meet them. "You did me a favor, I did you a favor --
that's the extent of this shit."
"Uh huh, 'cause you
aren't the loneliest bitch I've ever met or anything," Ashley
replied drolly. "Anyway, I got friends who've never even done me
a favor, it ain't exactly a mathematical process." When Nelson
only kept scowling ahead, the pilot grinned and then flicked her tail
into the splints on her broken leg, making her give a very unbecoming
squeak before she snarled and glared down at her again. "What're
ya gonna do, kick my ass?"
"My god, you are
insufferable," Nelson hissed before she closed her eyes with a
grumble. "Fine. Tell me. How did you become a fuckin'
mercenary-ass bitch?"
Ashley sniffed disdainfully
and put her free hand on her hip as they started to limp along the
road in the direction of the next town. "Was that so hard?"
Before Nelson could throw her in the way of oncoming traffic, she
snickered. "Anyway, you might be shocked to hear that before I
was a mercenary-ass bitch...I was a mercenary-ass bitch!" Nelson
glowered down at her and Ashley grinned amusedly. "Heh. Yeah, I
flew for the Freelancer organization for a few years."
"Somehow I'm not
surprised at all," Nelson grumbled. She was all too aware of
what kind of people came from Freelancer. Untrustworthy assholes.
"What happened, they stop paying you enough for carrying out hit
jobs on innocent people?"
Ashley snorted quietly and
then shrugged a bit. "Hey, look -- you judge all you want, but I
assume you weren't there, so your blind fuckin' assumptions
don't bother me none." She paused and then squinted up at her
again. "Wait a sec, I still don't even know your goddamn name."
"You've been doing fine
with 'bitch' so far," Nelson replied dryly. When she was met
with only a pointed look, she sighed. "Nelson. You can call me
Nelson."
"The fuck am I gonna
hafta do to get your first name, suck poison out of a snake
bite? Resuscitate your tall ass? Fuck's sake, you're a paranoid
bitch, but alright, Nelson it is. For now." Nelson scoffed but
felt a slight smile on her lips as they reached the top of a small
hill and began to trudge down the other side while the occasional
vehicle rushed past. "So anyway. Life wasn't too bad flying with
Freelancer. They were all a bunch of crazy fucks, but...we got along
okay. Most of us, anyway. And one thing was for damn sure -- never a
boring mission with those guys. Some of the craziest shit I got to
fly through started as just a fuckin' recon job or a site
exploration. You wouldn't believe the kinda shit those fuckers from
the House got protecting their secret sites 'n shit."
Nelson blinked. "Wait.
You ran anti-House ops? Freelancer is a part of the House."
Ashley chuckled, unable to
mask her surprise as she glanced up again. "Shit, here I was
thinkin' you knew all there is to know. Heh." Nelson steeled
herself for the mockery, but it didn't come, Ashley merely shrugging
a bit. "But I ain't all that shocked. They keep all that shit
under wraps. Anyway, yeah. Freelancers went where they were told to
go. Sometimes they helped the Reds and the Blues, but plenty of
missions scopin' out some research lab or another, or digging around
in some black site for god knows what. Kept the agents -- and me --
on our toes."
Her face sobered and Nelson
frowned slightly. Mills hadn't been much for somber expressions so
far. "Anyway. Shit started to get...worse. The missions got
rougher, the targets got lots more questionable. And I saw shit
getting done to my buddies that I didn't like. Physically,
mentally...it was fuckin' them up."
"They knew what they
signed up for," Nelson replied icily, only to give a genuine
wince when Ashley bared her teeth.
"They didn't sign up for
that shit," she snarled before sighing and glancing off
to the side. "Look, I wasn't 'in' on everything. But I still
talked with my pals plenty. And I heard plenty more. I saw what they
did to one of their best. And soon after that, some of them decided
to leave the Division."
Nelson was silent, even as she
started to put two and two together. It now felt improbable that they
didn't know the same crew of ex-Freelancer agents.
"Didn't take me long
after that, myself," Ashley concluded in a low voice.
"Freelancer was a good gig, but it wasn't worth my damn soul.
You say what you want about 'mercenary bitches' but some of us still
got a damn conscience, alright?"
Nelson scoffed but glanced
down. She was no basket of good moral decisions, herself, after all.
"Yeah. Alright, I get it. Don't get why you just moved to a new
mercenary organization, though, shit seems kinda repetitive."
Ashley chortled this time, her
spirits seeming to lift again. "Hell, woman, the SSF ain't
nothin' like Freelancer, at least. Sure, they're mercenaries, but
they ain't run by a goddamn psychopath. We might do some shit that
makes people frown, but I can guarantee you it's nothin'
compared to the things they do over at Freelancer. And besides. I got
bills to pay, mouths to feed, that shit ain't comin' to
me from no good will, so a big 'fuck' and 'you' to anyone who
wants to come at me for trying to make ends meet." Nelson rolled
her eyes but looked down with a mix of amusement and curiosity as
Ashley squared her shoulders. "I'm a fuckin' grade-A pilot and
I'm gonna get paid for my skills, you got me?"
Nelson snorted quietly and let
her eyes drift back to the side of the road as they trudged along. "I
don't know if I'll ever get you, Mills. But I appreciate the
distraction."
She didn't want to care,
because this woman's life story had nothing to do with her. But it
wasn't easy to simply ignore all that had unfolded over the last few
hours. The last time someone had gone this far for her, she'd ended
up abandoning her post and joining the rebellion. The least she could
do was take the time to get to know the loud-mouthed asshole who'd
saved her.
"What...what did you call
me?"
Nelson smirked, her arms
crossed as she glared down at Wash from across the room while the
little fucker stared stupidly at Tracer. She didn't want to admit it,
but this shitty underground installation they'd been working on was
coming along. It reminded her a lot of her last Red Army base, and
she wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Their location in
the mines was much more natural...which was sometimes nice, and
sometimes a pain in the ass. There were moments where you just wanted
a room with four fucking square walls around you.
The old rebel grinned toothily
and shrugged. "Shit, and I thought I was hard of hearing.
I called you a spineless squirrel, still afraid of coming out into
the spotlight."
York stepped forward with a
half-smile, his arms wide. "Aww, come on, Tracer. Don't you
think that's a little harsh? Look what we've done with this place!"
Tracer turned his eyes to the
towering chupa and offered a bemused snort. "Says the idealistic
idiot of a man-whore -- but ya know what, you probably recognize that
as a compliment."
York grinned stupidly. "Heh.
Hey, man, why deny the truth."
Wash threw his arms up in
frustration. "Well what the fuck do you want from us? This is
our base, I don't give a fuck if we're not running it the way
you want!"
Tracer turned around to face
Wash again, though his expression was anything but angry. "Son,
I haven't said a peep about anything being 'done wrong'. I ain't
calling you out, I'm just callin' out facts."
"How is being a
'spineless bootlicker' not an insult?" Wash seethed.
"'Cause it means you got
a different perspective than everyone else," Tracer countered,
jabbing a finger toward Wash. "It means you're gonna be a
different fuckin' leader than anyone else, and that ain't a bad
thing."
"Might be a bad thing if
he decides to betray us all," Nelson muttered as all eyes
flicked to her. York frowned and crossed his arms as well, while Wash
bared his teeth. She snorted at them both. "Please, you fuckers
wanna say somethin', come and say--"
"Would you unclench,
woman?" Tracer interrupted as she blinked stupidly and trailed
off. "Goddamn, we got the coward, we got the man-whore, and we
got the heartless, barren ice-queen-bitch who'd sooner shoot her own
platoon than admit defeat." Her jaw dropped as both Wash and
York stared speechlessly. Only Tracer smiled slightly before he
sighed and let his arms hang down. "What I'm getting at, you
three, is you are the face of the Movement now. You've got
fuckin' canyons of differences between you, but that's not a bad
thing, for fuck's sake. And the last thing I'd hope you would do is
combine forces...you don't gotta be an old bastard like me to realize
we need all these different branches to survive."
"Well then, what the fuck
are you saying, old man?" Wash muttered. Nelson
immediately snarled as she took a threatening step toward him while
York automatically moved between them.
"I'm saying do whatever
it is you feel like you should do," Tracer replied, glancing at
each of them in turn before settling his eyes on Nelson last. "You're
gonna do things differently, That's not a bad thing. All I humbly
request is that you stop being such jackasses and try to work
together every once in a while."
There was awkward silence for
a few seconds before York offered a chuckle that barely broke the
tension. "Aw hell, that's what we have you here for, Tracer!
You're the Great Negotiator!"
Tracer smiled slightly. "I've
never wanted to be a leader, kiddos. That ain't my purpose. I'm just
here to help folks see they got options." He paused and then
raised a finger. "Speaking of which!" He cocked a half-grin
at Nelson, who immediately recognized it and scowled. "I've said
my piece, I've gotten the tour -- I got some scoutin' to get back to.
Gonna need to take the truck."
She sighed and dropped her
face into one hand, slowly massaging the bridge of her muzzle.
"Tracer, how...how am I supposed to get back?"
"Shit, your leg's not
broken anymore, take a stroll," he replied with a wink, which
she met with a glare. "Or make nice with your fellow rebels and
arrange for some shared resources. No skin off my teeth, regardless."
Wash folded his arms and
pursed his lips. "We can't spare any vehicles at the moment.
They're all in use or being repaired."
Tracer walked up to Nelson and
smiled at her before reaching up to squeeze one of her thick biceps.
"Be sure to stay hydrated, it's a long trip."
She sighed loudly and was just
able to avoid rolling her eyes before she glanced over her shoulder
as he ambled toward the door. "Where will you be going this
time?"
"Old man senses tell me
to make a trip out to Sampi. Think I'll try and find some fresh young
meat to thaw out and bring over to ya. Give you a buzz on the radio
in a week or so to check in." He tossed an informal salute and
then pushed his way through the door to disappear around the corner.
"Good luck, boys 'n girls -- watch each other's asses out
there!"
Nelson ground her teeth
together as the door closed before shutting her eyes and taking a
deep breath. He was such a goddamn prick sometimes, and --
"Christ, here's hoping
that's the last time he wants to 'visit' us," Wash muttered. He
shook his head and then glared at Nelson, who had already returned
the cold glower back to him. "You can keep him, I'm tired of his
bullshit."
"Watch your fuckin'
mouth, Freelancer, he's done more for this rebellion than you and
your goddamn defectors ever will," she snarled, apparently quite
content with forgetting Tracer's 'request' in the literal seconds
since it had been uttered.
,
you're one to talk -- remind me, how long were you killing the shit
out of Blue soldiers in Omega's 'glorious name'?" he shot back.
Nelson growled and stormed
forward, only to run into York's palm. Her nostrils flared as she
grabbed his wrist and twisted it firmly to one side, only for the
massive chupa to quickly spin around behind her. Her instincts
screamed and she went to stomp on his paw, but rather than put her in
a choke-hold, he simply kept dancing backward, forcing her to turn
away from Wash as the grip on his arm was released. He grinned easily
like the asshole he was, staying just out of reach as she lunged
again. She nearly took a swing at him in her blind fury, but managed
to catch herself with a brief snort, their green eyes boring into one
another for a few seconds.
Behind them, Wash sighed and
rubbed slowly at his muzzle. "Christ, both of you, stop it."
She spun around again but only
thrust a finger at him this time, warding off York's automatic
reaction. "Don't treat us like the fuckin' children, Agent
Washington," she muttered. "Your bodyguard might act like
one, but I've seen more shit than either of you, I don't care what
kind of fuckin' horrors you went through at Freelancer." Her
eyes burned even as she glanced to one side and finally exhaled to
release some of the tension from her shoulders. "Raymond Tracer
is no more perfect than any of us, but if he was able to make
me see the fuckin' light and turn away after my hard fuckin' time in
the Army, then he deserves some fucking respect."
"He's a loose cannon who
recruits other loose cannons," Wash replied coldly. He paused
and blinked as York appeared next to him, wrapping an arm around his
shoulders before Nelson could take another step closer.
"Hey, hey, c'mon, little
buddy. This is no different from Freelancer, right?" He beamed
between them both, receiving two dark glares in return. "Everyone's
a little weird, everyone's got their own way of doing things, and
it's all for the good of the--"
"You fuckin' compare me
to a bunch of mercs again and I'll rip your fuckin' arms off,"
Nelson threatened before she shifted her weight and sighed again.
Christ, maybe Tracer was right about her anger issues -- she could
already feel her pulse in her temples. "Fuck it, it's not worth
the headache," she added under her breath as she turned to leave
the room. "Place looks fucking great, I'll find my way out. Got
a long fucking walk ahead."
York's voice called out,
making her both twitch but also halt mid-step. "Nelson, wait."
Her eyes burned holes into the opposite wall but she forced herself
to breathe in...count to ten...and then breathe back out before
looking silently over a shoulder. If York was expecting some
acknowledgment beyond that, he wasn't gonna get it...and he figured
it out after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence as he cleared his
throat and then gestured quietly to the cast still visible on her
leg. "What happened in Timae?"
"I heard it was a
clusterfuck," Wash added dryly before blinking in surprise as
York squeezed his shoulders firmly and gave him a pointed look.
"What, she lo--"
"Agent Washington is
right," she replied brusquely, half-turning to give them the
same amount of her attention. "It was a clusterfuck. I
lost three of my men." Her muzzle wrinkled as her claws dug into
her palms. "I made a bad call, I fucked up, is that what
you're hoping to hear? Because there you go," she sneered.
Wash snorted and glanced away,
but York nodded to her. "Hey. We're sorry to hear it. That
sucks."
might give half a fuck with how goddamn soft you are, but I don't buy
for a minute that this asshole gives a flying shit about it,
as long as it doesn't fuck with your operations out here," she
snarled with an arm outstretched toward Wash.
York looked honestly hurt for
a moment, even as Wash only shrugged and crossed his arms again. York
tried to force a weak smile. "Look, I get it, we have our
differences, but...come on, guys, would it really be that hard to try
and get along? Just...long enough to share some intel, a few words of
respect? Nelson, I know you don't trust us --"
"Sure as shit don't,"
she growled, glaring daggers at Wash.
"--and Wash, I get you
don't like the way Tracer and Nelson do things--"
"...no shit, York. I know
what you're about to say, and no, it really isn't worth it because I
can't get two fucking sentences out before Nelson--"
"Maybe if every other
fuckin' word outta your mouth wasn't dripping with that
high-and-mighty attitude you assholes lord over us," Nelson
muttered as Wash simply threw his arms out to pantomime his
exasperation while glancing up at York.
York sighed quietly and looked
between the two before holding up his hands in surrender. "Alright,
alright, geezus. I guess Omegrad wasn't built in a day, either."
He nudged Wash's side. "If you two aren't gonna talk about the
mission, can we at least see if we have something she can borrow?"
"I don't need your pity,
Agent York," she grumbled before closing her eyes briefly.
"Look." She glanced across at Wash again, reminding herself
that even if she hated Tracer's advice, she meant every word about
respecting him. "We had a tip about the Omegite asshole the
insurgents were holding hostage. Said he had valuable intel that
would help keep us off HADES radar, or at least try to avoid it. Tip
was bogus, though, he had nothing of use. I lost my men for nothing.
You happy?"
"No," Wash replied
curtly before a raised eyebrow from York made him sigh and give a
less-hostile shrug. "I know what it's like. A loss that
feels...stupid. Pointless. It's why I try not to get involved in
ridiculous long-shots like that, and why you--"
"How did you get out?"
York interrupted, gently enough that Wash only scowled a little and
quickly enough that Nelson's snarl receded into a soft snort.
"Guessing that break didn't make things too easy," he added
with a small smile toward her cast.
"It didn't," she
shot back briskly before crossing her arms with a muted expression.
"That, Agent York, is none of your business."
He tried a slightly-wider
smile. "What if we get you drunk? Bar's all set up. You could
have a drink or five before you start your long-ass march...which I
imagine is only gonna last as long as the first car you can terrify
away from whatever poor jerk is driving it."
She snorted again but gave a
wry smile. "You think you can get shit outta me when I'm wasted,
that's your mistake. But it's been a long fucking day. I don't have a
goddamn fuck to give about socializing with you bastards, but I'll
drink your booze. Lead the way."
"There is no way he
thinks I'm a pilot in training," Nelson grumbled under her
breath while moving around to try and find a vaguely comfortable
patch of hay to rest on.
"Heh, probably not...but
what does he care? Two hot chicks are riding in the back of his
pickup, all he can think of is all the juicy threesome-sex he's gonna
have!" Ashley replied with a toothy grin.
Nelson's expression snapped to
a glare so quickly it made her jaws ache. "You didn't fuckin'
promise him any of that shit, right??"
"Geeeezus, woman, take a
fuckin' pill, you're about as high-strung as one of my kids after too
many bowls of that fuckin' sugary cereal shit," Ashley snorted
while flopping back against the itchy hay next to the rebel. She
promptly smirked when Nelson stared over at her. "What, you got
a problem with kids?"
"Yes," Nelson
muttered even as she resettled her weight and rubbed idly at the
makeshift splint. "If it wasn't obvious, I'm not much for the
Sircan family dream."
"Color me shocked,"
Ashley retorted even as she smirked in amusement. "Let me guess
-- you didn't think I would be popping any hellspawn out of my
whore-ass cooch, either, though, eh?"
Nelson pursed her lips but
then shrugged. "Yeah, in a nutshell. You don't seem the type."
"Heh, here you go makin'
assumptions again, ya cranky bitch," Ashley snickered, crossing
her legs and lacing her fingers behind her head. "Anyway, the
little fuckers ain't mine. I run an orphanage over in Episemon, just
give the shits a safe home, some real fuckin' meals and a roof over
their heads that don't leak too often."
Nelson failed to hide her
surprise and she shifted uncomfortably. Ashley seemed to instantly
catch onto her hesitation as she grinned up at her from her relaxed
position. "Left ya speechless, eh? Yeah, that's what I thought.
This is the closest I'm gonna get to a fuckin' nice word from you,
huh? I'll take it, I guess, since I didn't get anything better after
saving your damn ass during the crash. Gonna write up some fuckin'
IOUs first chance I get or I'm gonna lose track."
"Don't forget who stopped
you from getting about twenty new holes to blow hot air through,"
Nelson warned, even as her tone was easily brushed aside by the
carefree chuckle from the pilot. "Anyway, I thanked you back
there. More than most get from me."
"Gee, I'm speechless
again," Ashley droned even as her eyes lingered curiously on the
rebel. "You know what'd be a better thank-you than that
half-assed string of words you practically had to dig out with a
fuckin' pickax?" Nelson glowered at her warily, but she just
winked while forming a pistol with one hand. "You tell me where
the fuck you learned how to shoot like that. I've been around plenty
of fancy gunplay in my time flying, but nothin' like that."
Nelson narrowed her eyes
before she crossed her arms and looked off to the other side of the
pickup truck, watching the bland Timae scenery blur past for a few
seconds. Silence permeated the two, not that Ashley appeared to be
shocked by the larger woman's muted personality.
But Nelson eventually spoke
up. "You know...it's a good thing. What you're doing."
Ashley blinked and looked over at her inquisitively again. "With
the...kids, I mean." Nelson rubbed into a thick shoulder. "Some
of my fighters have...children. I can't turn them away, but where we
operate, it's not exactly very. Kid-friendly. And they all know they
could die any time, so. I'm sure they think sometimes about what
happens to those little fuckers when they bite the dust." She
took a slow breath while idly fingering some of the loose hay beneath
them. "Good to know there are some places out there for them
that aren't run by the House." She paused and then glowered over
at Ashley, trying to ignore the quiet smile on her face. "That
is, of course, unless you are fuckin' House-supported and are
filling those little bastards' heads up with all that propaganda
shit."
Ashley burst into genuine
laughter. "Goddamn, Nelson, this close to another real
compliment, I must be moss on your dusty snatch at this point!"
She chortled past the horrible glare, waving a hand while shaking her
head in entertainment. "Look, I don't say no to no fuckin'
stipends from the government, alright? Hard enough to make ends meet.
But hell no if you think I'm teachin' those yappy shits any of
that Omegite bullshit. I don't buy into any of that shit, and I'm not
trying to raise an army of dumb fuckers rip-roarin' to go get
themselves killed for this stupid war. Just 'cause it puts money in
my piggy-bank doesn't mean I want it ruining their lives too."
Nelson snorted but crossed her
bulky arms contemplatively. Mills continued to surprise her, not that
she was going to come close to admitting it. The bitch was already
taking enough pleasure with every tiny bit of kindness Nelson let
slip past her moat-lined, spike-riddled, mine-covered defenses. Last
thing she needed was to give her any more satisfaction, regardless of
whether or not the words were genuine. If nothing else, Nelson
supposed she didn't make as terrible a choice with her 'savior' as
she originally thought. At least the talkative bitch had more to her
than just bravado and a death wish.
...Not that Nelson was one to
talk about what kept her going.
A few minutes of silence
passed in almost-comfort, even if Nelson's mind never stopped
whirring. She already had a plan for when they reached the
settlement, as she and Tracer had sent a small detachment to Honkal
to nose around some of the hoops for possible temporary arrangements
in exchange for a quick infusion of resources. Assuming they hadn't
gotten themselves killed or captured, they'd have a vehicle and would
be able to get her back across the ferry and on the way home to
Qoppa. It was better than relying on anything further from the
mercenary pilot.
But even as she tasted
bitterness, her eyes inevitably flicked over to Mills again. The
happy-go-lucky female had an elbow propped up on the side of the
truck bed as she chewed on a piece of hay and tapped her paw along to
some inaudible melody. She didn't miss the occasional glances back in
her direction and hated to admit they weren't laced with any kind of
contempt, wariness or even appraisal. They were just...looks.
Curious, bemused, tinged with something else, too. Something Nelson
wasn't sure she wanted to think too deeply about.
She eventually grimaced and
then cursed herself under her breath while reaching up to where
Ashley's jacket was still hanging over her broad shoulders. She slid
the jacket off and then pointed to a spot just above her collarbone.
A scar was barely visible beneath her layered brown fur. "My
second shift ever as a sergeant," she muttered, making Ashley
raise her eyebrows with intrigue. "Red Army. At my first post."
Ashley sat up a bit but remained quiet, turning slightly to face more
toward Nelson. "I had a crew out on patrol with me. We were
sweeping for Blue raiding parties. We were a small base, but we were
right on the border of conflict."
Her muzzle creased at the
memory, but it was one of many at this point. "Got ambushed.
Fuckers had us outnumbered, but I'd trained my men well. We took out
most of them. They just had too many guns, and we didn't have enough
bullets. I took a hit when my rifle and magnum were both dry. Lost
two of my guys, even if we scared the survivors off. And I promised
myself that day I wasn't ever gonna be caught empty-handed again."
She gave a curt smile. "Decided to get a back-up for my back-up.
My lieutenant was a hard-ass, but he was good about requisitions if
you earned it. He reckoned I did since part of the patrol returned
alive, and the Blues were driven off."
She blinked, interrupted when
Ashley leaned over to peer at the scar. Nelson twisted her head away
and made a face. "Woman, would you back off?"
Ashley smirked up at her,
practically shoving her muzzle against her collarbone as she studied
the spot for a second. "So what, you got shot 'cause you ran
outta ammo and thought a six-shooter was the way to go?"
"It's compact, it's
accurate, it doesn't jam, it fires in any condition and it hasn't
failed me yet," Nelson replied testily as she raised a hand to
shove Ashley's head away, only to stare incredulously as the pilot
slapped her wrist away and instead leaned in closer while jabbing a
claw against a different patch of missing fur on the same shoulder.
"Mills, what the fuck--"
"Aw, shuddup and tell me
'bout this one, damn -- you got more holes in you than an Omegite's
got assholes," she remarked, hardly deterred when Nelson shoved
her forcefully back, simply squirming around her enormous arm to
continue to stare at the additional scars dotting the rebel's torso.
Nelson's teeth grit together
even as she glanced at the aforementioned bullet wound. That one
carried a particular sentimentality. "Get the fuck off me and
I'll tell you," she grumbled, again trying to push the pilot
away and again finding only a goddamn wriggling snake that slid
easily past her attempts to force her away.
Ashley finally huffed and then
squinted up at her. She looked like she was making a very difficult
decision, but finally smirked and settled for dropping her body back
against of the cab of the truck so she was sitting up next to Nelson
again. "Fine, only 'cause you clearly wanna talk about this
one." She grinned toothily. "What's it from, a lover
scorned??"
"I guess if you want to
make a joke about masturbation, now'd be the time," Nelson
replied dryly, barely able to repress her smile as Ashley blinked and
stared mutely for a second or two while piecing it together.
She finally cackled a moment
later. "Wait, wait -- you shot yourself??"
Nelson snorted but gave an
easy shrug while reaching up to rub a thumb slowly against the scar.
"You remember earlier, when I mentioned what happened to the
last guy who saved my life?"
Ashley tilted her head
slightly. "What, uh. Some broken bones and a bullet hole,
right?"
"Yeah." Nelson
rolled her eyes despite herself. "Same bullet that went through
his shoulder ricocheted around and got me in mine." She shook
her head slowly as Ashley laughed loudly, trying to hide her smile
with a long sigh. "Look, that was. A helluva day, alright? Gimme
a fuckin' break."
Ashley only continued to
giggle amusedly while nudging her side with an elbow. "Well,
c'mon, tell me the rest! Who the fuck shoots someone who's tryin' to
rescue them, eh? You that much an independent bitch, you'd rather
blow someone away than let 'em save your life?"
"I didn't kill you, did
I?" Nelson retorted before she sighed again and then ran a hand
through her short mane. "Anyway. Guy told me he was with the
Movement. Said he wanted to recruit me. Me, being the good little Red
soldier I was, promptly tried to kill him."
Ashley gave a low whistle.
"Okay, I gotta say -- this dude must be impressive as
fuck to walk away from a tussle with you, ya big barbarian
bitch -- you're about the toughest customer I've ever had the
displeasure of having wreck my ship!" When Nelson glowered at
her, she just grinned and raised a hand defensively. "Hey, I
mean that as a compliment! You're a badass bitch -- anyone who you
tried to kill that ain't six feet under must be somethin' else."
Nelson grumbled but gave a
reluctant nod. "He...is something else, yeah. After we nearly
killed each other, he managed to subdue me. Even when he didn't kill
me, even when he spared me and I saw he could have ended it right
then and there, I was still ready to try and fight back,
just...hard-coded to give my last dying breath to end this
bastard's life. And instead he just started talking. I had no choice
but to listen, he had me pinned and at gun-point. I...probably could
have had the drop on him, but...."
She grimaced even as her eyes
flashed wistfully. "Few hours later -- and after he promised
he'd release every soldier he'd taken down to get to me -- I...walked
away. Turned my back on ten fuckin' years serving the Red Army and
became that which I fuckin' spent hours being prepared to kill on
sight. Became a fucking rebel."
Nelson hadn't noticed the way
Mills had sidled up close to her side, glancing over with surprise to
find the pilot's muzzle resting on her shoulder as she gazed up at
her thoughtfully. Nelson made a face, attempting briefly to shake her
off but finding it difficult in more than one way. She was lost
briefly in the tender blue pools that took her in, without judgment,
without accusation. It made her want to look away -- that kind of
honest gaze was anathema to the world she'd spent years building for
herself. It was too steeped in a thousand potential regrets, and a
thousand more haunting memories.
"He must have had one
fuckin' incredible sales pitch to get you to turn your back on that,"
Ashley finally murmured, one of her hands rubbing lightly over
Nelson's muscular bicep. "Don't see you as the kind to make a
decision like that lightly. Musta felt like you were betraying
everything you stood for."
Nelson stiffened up but then
exhaled quietly and glanced away as she brushed at her muzzle with
her free hand. "Shit wasn't easy. Still not sure what bothers me
more. Betraying something I devoted my life to, or the fact I devoted
my life to a bunch of stupid, blind bullshit in the first place..."
Ashley shrugged against her
arm. "You didn't know any better."
Nelson scoffed and glanced
back at her with a frown that bordered between suspicious and
confused. She was sure Mills was mocking her, but there wasn't a hint
of it in her expression as she kept looking up at the rebel without
any sort of visible reservation. Nelson looked away again. "Tch.
I should have known. It's so obvious from out here."
.
You ain't telepathic, woman, and you were clearly just as
indoctrinated as those other fucks -- why the hell you gonna beat
yourself up when you at least listened to the truth and chose to
believe it? Ain't that worth something to that pitiful self-esteem
you got lurking under a rock somewhere in there?"
Nelson groaned and shoved her
away again, only to squirm against her will when Ashley simply
wrapped up her arm in both of hers and again settled close to her
side. "Ugh, get off me, Mills. And for your information,
my fucking self-esteem is just fine, otherwise I would have just laid
down and died back there with the rest of my men."
"Nah, I'm fine right
here," Ashley replied easily before she lightly dug the claws of
one hand into Nelson's forearm. "And you say that, but I saw you
down there. You were ready to up and die, even if you were
gonna bring half the ugly bastards down with you. Call it pride, call
it the 'warrior's blood' or whatever fancy shit you wanna call it,
but bottom line is: you weren't down there to live, you were down
there to go down fighting."
Nelson rolled her eyes and
shifted again, using her other hand to push Ashley's muzzle away from
her shoulder, only to wince when the bitch bit her fingers. She
stared down at her and lifted her hand in bewilderment before
sighing. "Of course I was gonna go down fighting, I'm not
a fuckin' coward. Look, I don't need your damn judgment; whether I
like it or not, I'm a goddamn survivor and I always seem to pull the
fuck through, no matter the casualties it leaves around me." She
wrinkled her muzzle, giving up on shoving the pilot away as she
dropped her other arm into her lap with a sigh. "You're fuckin'
lucky you weren't one of them, you know."
"Shit, we both shoulda
died about five times durin' that crazy shit," Ashley fired back
while holding up a finger. "You think of yourself as a survivor
like it's a bad thing. But you know what I see?" Nelson was
loath to turn her head back down to her...and for good reason,
considering the affectionate half-grin that was shot back up. "I
see a strong, beautiful woman who's seen some shit and knows how to
handle whatever the fuck comes her way. And you know what else? Even
if all you rebel fuckers are a bunch of crazy assholes, I'd rather
have a tough bitch who don't take shit, who don't die easy, and who's
a treat for the eyes out front leading the rest of the crazy
assholes. At least then I got somethin' nice to look at before the
shit hits the fan and all of us go down in a blaze of Omega-blessed
gunfire."
Nelson's body didn't know how
to be embarrassed, but she'd be goddamned if her cheeks didn't feel
warm as she tried to focus her eyes on anywhere else but the clingy
bitch at her side. "Fucking...christ, woman, did you
shoot up with something when I wasn't looking?" she mumbled
before stiffening up as she felt a soft muzzle press against the side
of her neck, followed by a brief brush of teeth through her fur,
scraping lightly across the sensitive flesh beneath.
Every hair stood on end as she
stared wordlessly out across the back of the pickup truck, too
morbidly frozen in shock to move. It was over as soon as it begun,
however, and she heard the quiet chuckle from Ashley before the pilot
curled up at her side and dropped her head on her shoulder again to
fall into a casual silence.
They wouldn't speak again
until reaching the outskirts of the town, when Ashley finally unwound
herself from Nelson's arm with a small smirk as she repositioned
herself to once more prop herself calmly against the wall of the
truck bed. Nelson glowered at her for a few seconds but couldn't find
any words to utter that wouldn't immediately give away how fucking
flustered she felt. She was Marisa Fucking Nelson -- she
didn't get flustered.
"You gonna give me that
first name yet?" Ashley asked coolly while nudging Nelson's
broken leg with a paw.
"You gonna be able to
speak it after I break your fuckin' jaw for not knowing what the fuck
personal space is?" Nelson spat back even as her tail twitched
to one side. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I
hope you got your own fucking plans to get outta here because you
sure as hell aren't coming with my people," she muttered,
drawing on every ounce of the coldest ice she could feel in her
veins.
...Ashley's smile melted every
last fucking piece, cutting through her frozen facade with all the
ease of a hot knife through butter. "Don't worry, Nelson. I
ain't gonna tag along and let all your hardcore rebel friends know
you're a raging bull-dyke with a crush on a mercenary-ass bitch."
"Oh, woman, if this leg
wasn't broken I would have my foot so far up your fucking ass,"
Nelson growled, even as she completely failed to mask the tiny smile
that threatened to break apart her furious glare. She didn't even
know why she felt it tugging at her muzzle, but it was there, and she
wasn't sure if she wanted to be pissed off or simply annoyed that she
couldn't shake it off. Ashley only continued to grin across at her as
the dusty pickup truck slowed and turned into a refueling station.
"What the fuck are you still smiling about, Mills?"
"Just the fact that I'm
gonna tell you to call me, and I know you ain't, so I'm just gonna
hafta settle on hunting your ass down to get that fuckin' first
name," the pilot replied with a wink. She glanced over her
shoulder as the truck came to a stop in front of a row of pumps.
"Farmer McTinydick's about to proposition us for that threesome
-- how do you wanna play it?"
Nelson looked at her flatly
before producing the revolver in an unnaturally smooth motion. "Gee,
I don't know. 'Touch us and you lose your fucking brains'? That
usually works."
"Geezus, you are shit at
the whole 'undercover' part of being a fuckin' rebel, ain't ya?"
"Not all of us are born
to be greasy assholes," Nelson muttered darkly.
"Better than being a
nasty dry one," Ashley retorted with a grin. "Put that
pocket rocket away, let me handle this shit."
Nelson frowned at her but
rolled her eyes and tucked the revolver away again -- not like she
couldn't have it out in a flash if needed. "Considering how well
your last plan turned out, I'm just dying to see what you have in
mind," she intoned before folding her arms with a neutral
expression as the driver hopped out of the truck to apprehensively
approach the bed.
"Hope the ride wasn't too
bumpy for you ladies!" he announced with a crooked grin as he
gripped into the side of the pickup with an excited look between
them. "So...where can I drop ya off, mm? There's a real nice
little motel just down the block, I hear they got..." He waggled
his eyebrows in what he no doubt assumed was an extremely enticing
gesture. "Waterbeds."
Ashley flashed a grin from the
other side of the bed. "Heh, listen, pal -- I know what you're
thinkin'. But I gotta warn ya, this bitch here?" She gestured
idly at Nelson, who squinted up at her. "She's got the slimiest
snatch this side of Honkal. I mean, just riddled, you feel
me?" He blinked and slowly stared at Nelson, who wondered if she
was tearing a hole in the bottom of the pickup truck with how hard
her fingers were clenching into the bed. "Her leg ain't actually
even broken! It's just melting from her vagina disease.
Tragic, really!"
He leaned back slightly and
gave an even worse look to Nelson, who tore her eyes away from Ashley
long enough to snarl in his direction. But bless him, he still gave
it his best. "W-well, I mean...there are, uh, other
things we could do...fer a fair trade!?"
"Mmmm, I got ya, buddy, I
got ya," Ashley replied sympathetically before she held up both
hands. "But you don't want that, either, this bitch is all
teeth, trust me on that."
He took another step back from
Nelson and then did his best to smile hopefully at Ashley. "...Oh.
Well. What about you?"
"Oh, me?" Ashley
gave a toothy grin as she hopped out of the back of the truck and
strode up to him, her navel piercing glinting in the sunlight. "Yeah
I'll just fuckin' knock your teeth out if you try shit, you got
that?" She jammed a claw into his chest and he stepped back
again with a mortified expression. "But we appreciate the ride,
fuckbucket!"
His muzzle worked stupidly for
a moment before he grit his teeth and yanked on the brim of his cap.
"Well, goddammit, you fuckin'..." His eyes widened
as Ashley held up a balled fist, cutting himself off as he quickly
stepped away from her and gestured angrily at them both. "Git...git
outta my truck, then, and...don't you never expect a free ride again!
Just...just plain rude, the both of ya!"
Nelson rolled her eyes but
slid along the back of the bed before glaring at Ashley when she
offered a hand. She took it, nonetheless, and allowed herself to be
helped down to land heavily on her good leg. "Trust me, asshole,
you're better off getting the fuck outta here while you still got
somethin' to chew with," she growled, and whether he'd forgotten
just how big she was or simply didn't want to risk any additional
public humiliation, he wasted no time in turning tail and jumping
back into the cab to speed away without even getting any fuel.
Ashley continued to grin while
Nelson snorted disdainfully and then started to glance around. Plenty
of places she could borrow a radio for a quick call to her people, at
least. It would be unencrypted, but not the end of the world. A vague
request for pick-up would be enough to make the picture clear.
She felt a hand against her
side and grit her teeth automatically, looking down and then blinking
in surprise to see Ashley pulling out a small notebook and pen from
her jacket, which was still squeezing snugly around Nelson's broad
frame. "Oh. Here..." She started to shrug off the coat, but
Ashley smirked and slapped her arm lightly.
"Keep it. It's fuckin'
drenched in your damn blood,
anyway."
"It has the fucking
Sircan Special Forces logo, you don't think that's gonna raise
questions for anyone who sees me?" Nelson asked drolly before
tilting her head as Ashley jotted something into the notebook, then
tore the page out to offer it with a half-grin. "You're shitting
me, right?"
"We know how this plays
out, but fuck you if you don't think I'm still gonna try,"
Ashley replied easily as Nelson sighed and accepted the folded slip
of paper. "I know you're just gonna disappear on me regardless
as soon as I go to call my people to get a ride outta here...so I'mma
cut to the chase." She slid the notebook and pen into a pocket
of her pants, then reached up to grab the back of Nelson's neck and
drag her down for a brief peck on the cheek before she could react.
Nelson flailed at her and
almost toppled over, barely keeping her balance with the splinted
leg. Her muzzle curled into a snarl again, but she felt the tiny
blush tickling over her features. "I swear to god,
Mills, you touch me again--"
"And you're gonna beg for
more, I know," Ashley interjected with a wink before she gently
punched Nelson's arm. "Good luck gettin' back home, rebel-chick.
You got my number if you get drunk enough to call. Don't let me catch
a shot of your capped ass on the news before we get together again,
'cause I'll come piss on your damn grave."
She then turned around and
tossed a wave over her shoulder as she headed for a public comm
terminal, leaving Nelson to stare at her back speechlessly. Her eyes
lingered briefly on the pilot's natural blue tuft as it flicked from
side to side before she glanced back down at the folded sheet of
paper and then forced a frown onto her features."Fucking
mercenary-ass bitch," she murmured, shaking her head and then
grimacing as she turned to limp in the opposite direction. At least
it'd be easy to tuck this whole experience away into some secure
pocket of her subconsciousness -- she obviously wasn't going
to call...and what were the odds of ever running into her
again?
"Seriously. How many is
that now?" York asked, staring incredulously at Nelson from
where he was perched on a bar stool nearby. There were a few empty
spots between them, possibly for his own safety. He was straddling
his stool, hands clutching the cushion between his thighs as he
watched her slam down yet another glass, disbelief painting his
features. "Are...what the hell
is wrong with you?"
It's not like she wasn't
tipsy. Nelson felt the inebriation crawling over her like a warm
blanket, numbing the parts of her that hollered for attention, as if
the years of ignoring their cries hadn't deterred them from hoping
for some sliver of her non-existent kindness. She glanced at the
tumbler to ensure it was, in fact, empty, then reached for the bottle
that now had only about a quarter of its dark amber contents
remaining.
"Christ, she wasn't
kidding, not a single fucking goddamn word," Wash muttered from
behind York. He had refused anything but water, though York had
happily helped himself to a few bottles of beer, claiming he'd be
able to 'work better' with a bit of alcoholic lubrication. "This
is fucking pointless, York. Let's go, she should have arrived by now
and I want to check the crates myself."
York squinted at Nelson for a
few more seconds, but the muscular female only glowered back silently
as she lifted the glass to her muzzle and then let the whiskey run
into her jaws and down her throat. York scratched the back of his
head for a moment before sighing and sliding off the bar stool. "Just
uh. Try not to drink our entire stock before you go?" She gave
him another look and he cleared his throat. "Seriously, if you,
uh...if you want some supplies for the trip, just uh. Just come find
us."
Wash grumbled and lightly
shouldered York as he walked past him. "Come on. The stubborn
asshole isn't gonna ask for help."
Nelson wasn't sure if that was
an intentional slight just to piss her off, or a vague attempt to
provoke a response. She treated them to the finest reaction she could
be bothered to produce: a raised middle finger. She felt the frowns
from the two ex-Freelancers, and she didn't need to look to know they
weren't quite the same. Agent Washington, with his eternal, haughty
disapproval. Agent York, with his idiotic straddling of serious and
emotional. Two jackasses she wouldn't trust to pull her back from the
edge of a cliff.
As she moved to refill the
glass one more time, perfectly content to continue drinking by
herself, York's voice rang out from the hallway outside. "Yoooo,
Ashe!"
Nelson's eyes widened slightly
as she stared down at the dark liquid. That had to be a coincidence.
That had goddamn better be a
coincidence.
Wash's grumble filtered in a
moment later. "We still need to check the cargo."
for that, short-pants!"
Nelson's fingers clenched
around the glass as her chest tightened. There was no
fucking way. Except that fucking voice
haunted her in her dreams, there was no mistaking it. She did, at
least, take a small amount of pleasure from hearing Washington's
annoyed muttering.
"Fine, whatever. If
you're going to steal our booze, good luck with the angry bitch at
the bar," Wash added mildly as his and York's footsteps faded
down the hall.
"Tch, like I can't handle
salty bar bitches," the all-too-familiar voice retorted.
Nelson hunched over her drink
with a scowl, refusing to look up even as she heard a positively
delighted gasp from behind
her a moment later. "Ho-ly-fu-ckin' shit,
do my eyes deceive me? Wash
said 'angry bitch', not 'tall-ass, scary-ass, awesome-ass
rebel-bitch'!"
Nelson felt every nerve in her
body flinch with displeasure, even as the short fur at the base of
her tail tingled. She exhaled slowly and then lifted the tumbler to
her maw again only to stare as a hand reached past her to snatch it
from her grasp. "Mills!" she snarled in warning
before blinking in disbelief over her shoulder when Ashley smirked
and downed it in one gulp. "Oh, fuck you."
Ashley grinned and wiped the
back of a hand across her muzzle. "You never called me, woman."
"You were the one who
said I wouldn't," Nelson muttered as she grabbed the
nearly-empty bottle and lifted it to her jaws to finish it off. Their
eyes met as she guzzled the last of the whiskey, Ashley watching her
with entertainment as she bounced a thumb against the side of the
stolen tumbler. "The fuck are you doing here? You switch sides
again?"
"Oh, I think I like you
even more when you're drunk," Ashley announced cheerfully before
winking. "I'm a mercenary-ass bitch, remember? The boys pay me
for a job, I do the job." She dropped into the stool directly
next to Nelson, who rolled her eyes and shifted away. "I'm
certainly curious why you're
here," she added with a playful lilt. "You guys havin'
yourselves a little crazy-bastard-pow-wow?"
"Ain't your concern,"
Nelson replied shortly as she gave the empty bottle a dirty look.
"Besides, shit's run empty. So I'm on my way out."
Ashley smiled up at her coyly
before leaning over to the other side of the bar and fishing around
blindly for a few seconds. She eventually produced a new bottle,
tinted blue with a wax seal covering the lid. Nelson couldn't help
arching an eyebrow in surprise and the pilot immediately grinned
again. "Heh. Guess who knows where they keep the good stuff.
Sure you can't stay, have a drink with your best friend?"
friends," Nelson growled even as she didn't budge from her seat.
"Shit, alright -- then
just have a drink with your damn savior, ya stubborn hag,"
Ashley teased before using her teeth to tear open the seal and spit
the wax-covered cork to one side. She raised her eyebrows playfully
when Nelson gave her a horrible look, then poured a healthy serving
of the deep-red liquor into the glass. She nudged the tumbler toward
Nelson, who peered at it and then gave her own small smirk before
reaching over to yank the bottle out of Ashley's hands and take a
long drink directly from the neck.
Ashley guffawed, settling to
instead down the contents of the glass as they both took a moment to
hiss and savor the pungent alcohol before their gazes met again.
Nelson snorted but kept her spot on the bar stool -- the shit was
potent, and she maybe had
just enough booze in her by now that she was willing to let this
cocky whore waste another hour or two of her time.
"Alright, Mills. You got
to the bottom of the bottle, then I'm outta this shitty hole to get
back to Qoppa." Nelson's dark green eyes flashed with a hint of
amusement as she tapped a claw pointedly against the azure container.
Ashley continued her cheerful
grin and slid the glass between them. "You play your cards
right, I'll fly your ass back to Qoppa." Nelson scoffed
but the pilot only winked and snapped her fingers with a gesture to
the tumbler. "You already talk like a sailor, so I'm guessin'
you drink like one, too. Fill me up before ya start deep-throating
that bottle, and then tell me what the fuck you and those
ex-Freelancer bastards could possibly
have to talk about. We gotta catch up on lost time, ya giant
muscle-momma." |