etrayalogs | My head is spinnin'

My head is spinnin'

WHO: Carver and Bossie
WHEN: The mission
WHERE: San Francisco
WHAT: Hero shit.
NOTES\WARNINGS: n/a

In some ways, this isn't so different from the shit they ran before the world ended back home. A lot of the same gear. A lot of the same prep work. And a lot of the same improvisation done on the fly when things go strange.

Carver shifts, lifting his mask for a better look at the bank. They're not robbing it. Somebody else is. And they're doing an okay job so far, as these things go, except that they've got hostages and no trigger discipline. And at least half of the robbery team has powers.

So, that's not great.

"You ready? Don't think I can stop them all at once, my nullify-shit's not that strong."

They're dressed in body armor, which will help against the guns. And apparently Carver's new superpower is stopping other people from using theirs.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bossie has made a replica of his mask. It's not the same, he still wants the one from back home, but it'll do. He woke up today feeling...different. And part of that was a yearning to hide in his uniform, behind a mask.

He's grinning now. "I'm ready. I'll take the two on the left."

Carver pulls his mask down, rolling his shoulders. "Control the enemy. No backsplatter."

There are civilians in the line of fire. Today that matters to him.

This is how they're meant to be, he feels certain. Masked up and getting ready to fight. The only difference is today, some people are going to survive.

"Let's go save 'em," he says, trying out this new mission statement, it's so alien on his tongue but it feels like he's finally found the right thing to do. He pulls a knife, gets ready to phase through the glass with his new power.

All right, then. Carver draws a flashbang, holding it up and counting down with his fingers. They go on three, like they always have. They know how this goes.

It feels good to have a mission again. Something they can do with their hands.

Carver counts down. And then he wrenches the door open and throws.

Bossie rushes in, goes through the wall and makes himself solid just in time to grab the nearest robber's gun, to beat the man with the barrel of his own rifle then yank it from his hands.

A little shock and awe never hurt. And God, it sure does make shit fun. What's life without a little risk? Sometimes Carver thinks he's a ghost drifting through the world until something collides with him and forces contact.

Case in point. He slams bodily into the nearest target, not even bothering to draw his own gun. The target lifts her hands, no doubt trying to zap him with whatever mojo she's got -

And nothing happens. There's a split second of hesitation and Carver slams her head into the wall once, twice, and then she's falling. He tackles the second, grinning under his mask.

For once, it feels good to be alive.

Bossie could start shooting but instead he uses the gun as a blunt object, knocking the first assailant unconscious and no doubt giving her a terrible concussion but she'll live. Then he rounds on the next one, who lashes out with fire from his fingertips, but Bossie is as insubstantial as smoke and it goes through him.

He rushes forward, turning solid at the last second, taking the robber to the ground where he can straddle the man's chest and pummel him.

Two down by his hand, two by Bossie's. Exactly as planned. Carver laughs under his breath, softly, and twists to sweep the third's legs out from under him. The man's hands crackle with electricity right up until they don't. And that's fun, too. That little moment of confusion before Carver's fist goes into his gut.

Carver breaks his nose, just because.

Bossie has rope, he'd taken it in case they needed to rappel, but he uses it now to tie the thieves up.

He looks at Carver, grinning behind his mask. "Anyone hurt?" A kick to one of the thieves' ribs. "Who shouldn't be?"

And just like that, it's done. Carver kicks the guns away, pocketing an extra pistol for Bossie, and then reaching for his zipties. He had time to get some gear, though not a full kit. He's almost sorry the engagement ended as quickly as it did. These fuckers barely put up a fight.

Carver does a quick scan. None of the civilians are bleeding, at least that he can see. "Nope, all good. Secure the weapons, then we're gone. Two minutes, go."

He's quick and professional, two minutes is a deadline and he'll meet it.

But once they're outside he gushes, "We need to find another bank robbery!"

They get out clean before the sirens even get loud enough to worry about, hurrying out and up. Getting clear. It's like a job from before the world ended, only nobody dies. Nobody even shoots at them.

Carver laughs, stripping his mask off and clapping his hand to Bossie's shoulder. "Damn, son, you're getting into this!"

"I feel great! I guess I haven't punched anyone in way too long," like that's the thing that has him buzzing and not the fact they just saved six people whose only real sin was going to the bank at the wrong time.

It's just Carver so he pulls his mask off and his eyes are shining, he's grinning. "I bet there's crime all the time in this city."

"That's the adrenaline, baby," Carver crows, grinning so wide it hurts his face. But it feels good to move, to be alive. There's not even blood on his hands this time. Or if there is, it's so faint he can't notice it against the black of his armor.

He offers out the pistol, though.

"Here. Arm up. We gotta get a police scanner."

It's been so long since he had something good that he half expects Carver to say no, this is the end of the ride, they saved those people but they can't fight anymore robbers.

Instead Carver gives him a gun and says they're going to scope the cops and he grins. "Hell yes!" This is righteous work if there ever was any.

Carver laughs, grinning wide. This feels good. Not much has lately. "C'mon, let's get to high ground and get a sense of this place. And figure out where we get a scanner."

"Preppers have them," he says thoughtfully. "Think there are any preppers in town?"

"There's always preppers. Any idea how to find them?"

Carver was never one for social media, really.

"Army Surplus Stores," Bossie says. "It's where I met them in the old world." Some of them had been veterans too, people Bossie cautiously asked questions of before enlisting, but most of them were just strange, paranoid outsiders.

Not unlike how Bossie is now, come to think of it.

Army Surplus. Carver sucks on his teeth, considering, and then nods. All right. "We'll have to change into civies again. But find me a couple and we'll go. We'll talk to folks."

He pauses.

"Actually, I guess we could just as Harold. He's got money, he can buy that shit."

Bossie had been prepared to steal. To follow some old timer back to his camp and take it. But that twists unpleasantly in him to think of doing so he looks up at Carver when he suggests a simpler way, and he laughs.

"Fuck I'll never get used to having an ally. He set us up with backstories, you know that?"

Carver huffs at that. "In this day and age? It takes some getting used to. And he did, yeah. Shit's wild. I'm respectable now."

Or something like that. On paper, at least.

"Aw he messed up then," Bossie teases, bumping his shoulder against Carver's. "No one's gonna see you and think respectable."

"Excuse you," Carver drawls, mock-affronted. He hip-checks Bossie, though not hard. Certainly not with malice. It's the sort of play that he missed from back home, or at least from the better days back home.

It feels strange to fall back into it now, like none of the bad stuff happened. But maybe it's better not to think of these things.

"I look very fucking respectable. I pay taxes and everything."

Or his alias does, anyway.

"Oh, padding Uncle Sam's wallet, huh?" He shakes his head, grinning. "Mine is a retired cop. I got out when I started ghosting through walls and shit."

Carver's eyebrows lift. "Shit, he made you a cop? Goddamn, you're square."

Weirdly it suits Bossie, though. Protect and serve, as they say. He seems to fit the shape better than most things they tried before the world ended.

"Retired soldier for me," he adds. "Kinda like before. Never miss with the classics, right?"

"Fuck you," he laughs, agreeing. Cops are nerds.

"See, no one can look at you and help but think that dude was special forces," he teases. "What else did he give you?"

Carver rolls his eyes. It's true, though. There's a part of him that gives off that vibe, the mask stuck too throughly to his skin to ever pull apart. And in truth, he doesn't mind it. That vibe gives him armor. Gives him strength in the moments when he doubts, even if only in the recesses of his own mind.

Better to be a soldier than the alternative, which is dead. And he might still be that.

Carver clears his throat. "Dunno if this was Harold or the AI, but apparently me and Shaw are divorced. Got a good laugh out of that one."

His grin turns downright impish. "Shaw, huh? You saying there's nothing there?"

Carver elbows him. A little harder this time, but only a little. "Shiiiit. I got eyes, I know she's hot. But she's on the job."

It's a bad idea to mess around with teammates.

"Uh huh," he drawls. "I think she's got eyes for you too. I talked you up--you can thank me for being a good wingman now."

Did he, now? Carver snorts, leaning against Bossie. This is familiar, too. Joking from the old world, playing coy about all the pretty people in their orbit. It doesn't mean much, he knows. They have responsibilities. Roles to play.

Doesn't hurt to look, though.

"She does look good," he admits. "Especially in a tight shirt."

"Not my type," he admits, but a little shy, like he knows he's admitting too much by saying it. Pope wouldn't want to hear it. "I keep waiting for my brain to catch up to me. That it's safe to look at people now, you know?"

Carver tilts his head, expression softening a little. There were a lot of things they never said out loud, not explicitly. Things that lived between what was said and what was understood. He hums a little, accepting it. He knew, he thinks, even if Pope didn't.

"There's time," he replies gently, or as gently as he can. "This takes some getting used to. I know."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

My head is spinnin'

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject