revenance_rpg | Not As Planned

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Not As Planned

Characters: Wash, North, and Epsilon
Content: North is confused, Epsilon is shut down on account of being a jerk, and Wash is on the verge of a furious breakdown. Let's see what happens, shall we?
Location (including world): First District, Traverse Town
Time of Day: Afternoon, after this post
Warnings: Definitely language.

Wash just about ran through the street, barely a few feet behind his bat. Fang had found Epsilon and was leading the way, at least as far as Wash could tell. He was trusting the bat on this one - right now, he was so frustrated and angry and upset (though damned if he allowed himself to acknowledge that one) he almost couldn't think straight. Damn it. Damn it. Why Epsilon? Why now? He'd just barely started getting used to having North around again - something he'd never even dreamed of having - and now Epsilon's presence meant he'd have to answer all those questions he'd been avoiding, if only to keep up the illusion of Everything Being The Same, because sometimes lies were easier and he just-

/The schematics were faulty, Alpha. The plan didn't work. Agent North Dakota is dead./

He winced, swearing under his breath, but his stride never faltered. He'd learned to cope with Epsilon's memories - that didn't mean they didn't still hurt.

It didn't take long for Fang to lead him to the robot body, where a very upset Pricklemane bristled and hissed and spat at the sight of him. "God damn it- look, I'm not going to hurt him, okay?" Wash tried, patience worn to the point of snapping, but he couldn't kill a Spirit, especially since it belonged to someone. "I just. Couldn't let him talk."

That sounded bad even to his ears, and evidently the Pricklemane agreed, because it was not backing down. Lucky for Wash, Fang decided to take matters into his own...wings...and squeaked at the Pricklemane, distracting it and evidently explaining just what was going on. It was enough to let Wash get close to Epsilon.

This robot body was going to be too big and too heavy to move on his own. He could start Epsilon again, but then that wouldn't solve any of his problems - he'd just be facing a rebellious AI face to face instead of over a network - and that still wouldn't change the fact that Epsilon had talked to North, and-

His breathing had never slowed once he'd stopped running, he realized. In fact, he was starting to feel like he couldn't breathe at all, like his helmet was too constricting, like everything was trapped inside his head once again-

/Agent North Dakota is dead./

With a strangled half-scream, he tore his helmet off his head and let it fall to the ground at his feet. "God damn it, Epsilon," he gasped, "God damn it! Why did you have to show up? I was- I was fine!" That was a lie. He wasn't. He was pretending to be fine because there were questions he didn't want to answer, questions about AI and betrayal and insanity and death, and he couldn't avoid them anymore. Not now. "I was doing fine!" His voice was rising and he was beyond caring. "And you- when you show up, everything just- my life goes to hell when you're around- I- you- God damn it, Epsilon! Why couldn't you have fucking stayed put!"

He gasped for breath, rage spent. That was it. He was done- or at least he thought he was, until the memory of Alpha's torture, of Alpha's frantic grief at the thought of losing an agent seared across his mind. He let out another short, strangled yell and forced the memory down. He didn't ask for those, didn't try to bring them up, and they came at the worst goddamn times, and he couldn't deal with it now.

It took him a good half a minute of doing nothing but breathing, gasping for breath and then slowing as he finally calmed down, before he could get himself under control again. With one final breath, just to steady himself, he bent down and picked up his helmet. How the hell was he going to do this?

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Wash hesitated, just for a moment. It was a tough question - it was the tough question - but he'd set himself up for it. North needed to know this in order to understand why he acted the way he did now.

"Nothing good," he replied, voice flat, and he couldn't quite keep the tinge of bitterness out of it. "Epsilon was...unstable to begin with. When they put him in my head, he unraveled. And he took me with him." He stopped, winced, gritting his teeth as put that thing down I'm going to be late I hate goodbyes flashed unbidden through his head. It took an effort to shove the memories back well enough to speak again. "It...I was certified Article Twelve for a long time. There were days I didn't even know my own name." He stopped again, forcing himself to keep his cool, to not get caught in memories, his or otherwise. "Epsilon...someone gave him somebody else's memories, taught him to be a different person. That's why he calls himself Church, and I think that's why he's stable enough to function on his own."

He winced again, grateful for his helmet and for the fact that his back was still to North. There was no way to field this question but head-on. "North, before we arrived here, I hadn't talked to you in years. It's...been a long time."

Years.

The word rang in North's ears and he almost didn't want to believe Wash. But Wash didn't seem like he was lying, and North didn't think he would lie about something like this.

"Article Twelve? Really. Wash, that's..." North didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," He finally managed. "I guess I had no idea."

North couldn't even begin to wonder what that was like. Theta was stable, he knew that much, or at least, he assumed so. He'd felt anxiety before because of his AI, but he couldn't imagine unraveling. And the fact that Wash had to face that.

He put his hand on Wash's shoulder, somewhat annoyed that the armour was in the way.

"I'm sorry, Wash. I get the feeling I wasn't much help."

"It's not your fault. No one knew." Wash was damn certain of that - if the Director knew the kind of information Epsilon had contained, he never would have authorized the implantation. It didn't make anything better, but it was at least one surety in this mess. "They were worried, after Carolina's reaction to Eta and Iota, but no one really knew." Plus, despite the risk, he'd been excited, looking forward to a Delta or a Theta of his very own. Wash sure as hell hadn't known either.

He'd been too caught up in memories to notice North's approach; he just felt the pressure on his shoulder that meant that something was touching him and that never ended well-

He was a full two steps away with his knife in hand before the thinking part of his brain caught up with his startle reflex. It took him a moment to stop, to forcibly calm himself down and put the knife away. If North didn't already know how much of a mess he was, that was a pretty good indication in and of itself. "It- it's fine," he replied, scrambling to pick up the thread of conversation like nothing was wrong. "There's nothing you could have done."

The moment Washington took out his knife, North took a few steps back and reflexively threw up his hands, showing he was unarmed. Not entirely true, as his sniper rifle was on his back, but he wasn't about to reach for it.

That didn't constitute fine to North, and he was glad for the visor blocking his expression. He hated the idea that this had happened to Wash, and his head was reeling from all this information. He felt stupid as well, for ignoring those feelings of uneasiness he'd had about where things were going.

"It's not fine, Wash. Something like that isn't fine. There's gotta be something I can do. I mean, I feel useless right now."

It was only in this conversation that Wash was starting to realize just how often he was insisting he was fine and, more to the point, just how different his definition of fine was after everything that had happened with Epsilon. "You know what, you're right," he replied tersely. "It's not fine, but it's as fine as it's going to get, and I've come to terms with that." That was a lie - there were days when he wasn't anywhere near fine - but that wasn't anything North needed to hear right now.

"There isn't, North." None of them liked being told they were useless - no highly trained and specialized soldier likes to come up short - but right now it was all Wash could think. The time when he could have used support from his friends had long since passed. "That window of opportunity closed a long time ago."

North's heart sank. He couldn't fathom the idea that there wasn't anything he could do for Wash. That Wash had gone through hell, and that by coming here, North had missed out on all opportunity to help him. And then he had to wonder what his future self had been doing that had prevented him from being there for his friend.

If they ever met, he and future North were going to have words.

"So, what happens now? You're absolutely sure I can't do anything, even with being here now?"

If there was nothing he could do, should he just leave?

His first response was no, North couldn't do anything, it was way too late to fix him or prevent what happened, quit worrying about it and just let him go...but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Now that North knew the truth, or at least as much of the truth as Wash was willing to tell him at the moment, there was a little part of Wash that didn't want him to leave. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking it couldn't get worse - it could always get worse - but maybe he just wanted that support.

"Yeah, there is," he said instead. "Don't get shot. I'm going to reactivate Epsilon, and odds are he'll try to kill me. He's a pretty fucking terrible shot - the closer you are to me, the less likely you are to get hit. You might want to put Cactus behind you too."

The fact that Wash didn't want him to leave was enough for North at the moment. He had questions, a lot of them, but he could set them aside for later. If anything, he was getting a second chance, or a least a chance to redeem his future self, and he wasn't going to screw things up this time.

"How bad of a shot are we talking here?" He asked, taking a few steps closer to Wash, and calling Cactus over. The pricklemane scampered over to North's feet. Just how badly did Wash and his AI not get along?

"And Wash? Thanks."

"I once saw him empty an entire clip at point-blank range and still miss his target." Okay, that had been the Alpha, but if Epsilon had inherited the Alpha's experiences through the lens of Caboose's point of view...yeah, there wasn't much hope for him there. "So like I said, pretty fucking terrible. If you're still worried, you can have Theta prep the shield." Though it wasn't likely to come to that. He waved at Fang, and the bat returned to him, perching contentedly on his shoulder. Fang had done a pretty good job of keeping Epsilon's pricklemane occupied and preventing it from attacking Wash; he owed the bat a cookie or something later.

There was a beat of silence after North's words. "Don't thank me yet," Wash finally muttered, then raised his voice. "Program Epsilon. Command: log on."

There's a few moments. Then he moves to get his sniper rifle ready, aiming at Wash. He shouldn't miss at this range. "I didn't ask to end up here, asshole. Just like everything else you put me through. I was at peace before I realized someone had dome to let me out of that storage unit."

Now, he's just fucking pissed and lifting his rifle into position, firing repeatedly at Wash. Oblivious of North. Also not thinking how dumb this is.

When Wash said that this guy was a bad shot, he wasn't kidding. North was amazed at the directions the bullets were flying in, and he was honestly surprised some hadn't rebounded back at Epsilon. Still, they didn't seem to be in any imminent danger, and he was bound to run out of ammo sooner or later.

He found it hard to believe that this guy was supposed to be the same as Theta.

"Would it be worth putting up my shield, or would that just make a bigger mess?" he asked.

Wash wasn't worried about the sniper rifle; in fact, after a few seconds, his mind wasn't on it at all. He stood stock-still as the bullets whizzed harmlessly past him, still processing what he'd heard.

Somebody had removed Epsilon from the capture unit.

"...what?!" he demanded, the word short and sharp and nearly ripped out of his mouth.

He'd thought it wasn't possible. That unit was dead - he'd seen so himself, though that was through a haze of pain and fading adrenaline, and hadn't Simmons been the one working on it in the first place? And now it turned out that he'd been wrong. He could have completed his deal with the Chairman. He could have gotten out of this. He could have had his own name back, his own life, his freedom. Instead, he'd taken the second option, he'd assumed the Alpha's identity, he'd gone into someone else's life...and someone else had removed Epsilon from the capture unit.

Deep down, something inside of him, something that assured him he'd made the right choice for the situation, that told him this was his life now, broke. He'd been expecting to snap; well, there it was.

He surged forward, knocking the rifle out of Epsilon's hands and the robot's knees out from under him, forcing him flat on his back on the ground and keeping him down with a knee planted on his chest and a hand on his throat. "How the fuck did they get you out," he snarled. "Tell me!"

Epsilon starts struggling under Wash. "Someone got me out. I didn't want it. I don't know how. I just know I thought the unit was breaking. And then the sky split with Caboose looking in."

"Let me up."

Almost immediately North was trying to restrain Washington, knife or no knife. He wasn't used to his friend's hairpin trigger, but he knew how to break up a fight, or a beating.

"Wash, relax. Let him go. He obviously doesn't know much," he said, trying to pull the other man off Epsilon. "Give him a chance to explain."

If worst came to worst, he could always just separate them with his shield.

"Caboose?!" That was the last thing Wash had expected to hear. "How- he-" It didn't make a goddamn bit of sense, how could Caboose ever-

The next moment, North was on him, pulling him away from Epsilon, saying exactly what Wash had just realized: Epsilon didn't have any answers. Wash wasn't going to learn a damn thing from him, other than what he'd just heard. On top of that, Epsilon knew things that could shatter whatever friendship Wash had with North, if Wash hadn't already done that himself by flying off the handle just now.

The situation was out of his control.

He quit struggling, slumped, allowing North to pull him off the robot. Once he was back on his feet, he did his best to shake off North's grip. "Let go of me," he muttered.

Epsilon pulls away, moving to get to his feet and grab his rifle, eying Wash warily, trying to decide which way would be safest to run.

"I don't know. Just leave me alone."

"Not until I know you're not going to do that again," North replied, though he had a feeling that wasn't going to happen. And if it did then he was getting Theta to activate the dome shield right away.

"Are you okay...Epislon, right? I don't think we ever actually met."

"I'm not," Wash insisted, the edge returning to his voice as he pulled harder against North's grip. "There's no reason to. Now let go of me." He wasn't planning on going after Epsilon again - the AI couldn't give him any answers, and Wash didn't even have any words for him at the moment - but there was still something in him screaming to get out of North's grip, something that still equated physical contact with injury and pain and wanted to prevent that.

Looking at North, but it's pretty obvious he doesn't want to be here. "I am the Freelancer Project AI Epsilon. And I am undamaged." There's a growling pricklemane moving in to protect his partner. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be going. And I'm sorry, I don't have answers. Just questions."

North gave Wash a stern look through his helmet before relaxing his grip.

"You and me both, man. It's good, that you're not hurt."

He didn't really know what else to say. He didn't want to keep Epsilon around if he didn't want to be there, and he was scared of Wash going off again.

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Not As Planned

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Takedown done with mun permission

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