Chapter Text
Years of slashing throats and living in the glory of death’s shadow and he still isn’t ready. He isn’t done. See, the thing about Felix is, he’s got Plans with a capital P, he’s going places, he’s bad with failure because he’s good enough he's never had to learn how to lose.
Maybe that’s why by his fourth week of imprisonment he’s had over twenty-two failed jailbreaks and seventeen attempted assaults on guards, each ending in a beatdown far worse than whatever he’d managed to inflict on his captors.
That itch, that terrible burn of inevitably, is starting to wear him raw. He’s lost fights before but this? This is the UN-motherfucking-SC. This is bigger than him, bigger than Locus, and some part of him knows that this time, there would be no sunrise. No second chance.
Nothing but death.
Fuck, Felix can’t even breathe right anymore, his bones aching with wounds he’d fought tooth and nail to earn, each pained intake of air causing his fractured ribs to throb.
So when the Chairman sends for him, offers him not just his life but a chance to tear apart everything the bastard’s ever built- even if the arrogant prick doesn’t realize it yet- Felix doesn’t hesitate to say yes.
‘Sides it’s not like he actually has a choice. Like fuck he’s dying on this damned space station in the middle of who the fuck knows at the mercy of a balding prick who's probably never held a gun in his life.
And someday, after he’s free, he’ll come back here and remind everyone on this fucking station exactly why he needed to be covered head to toe in shackles even after they broke his wrist.
The thing about dicks like Hargrove is they don’t see people like Felix as human, as anything other than blackened gears and twisted cogs born only to run their monstrous dreams, nothing but a means to an end. The Chairman is far too arrogant to think a ex-vet turned space thief could fuck him over, and someday when the bastard slips up, and he will slip up- men like Hargrove always do- well fuck, now that’s a vendetta he’s really going to enjoy fulfilling.
The offer is simple, infiltrate the elusive Director’s project, figure out what the fuck he’s doing with the Chairman’s shit, and report back. If he does his job well enough, his record will be cleared and he’s free to go.
The last part is without a doubt complete bullshit but hey, why look an obvious trap in the mouth when you can make the whole operation backfire? In retrospect, attempting to rob Charon had probably not been the smartest mission he’d pushed Locus into, but it’ll make every painful second in his cell worth it when they pull it off anyways. Sure, it’s going to take a lot of time and a fuckload of risk, but Felix knows if anyone can, it’s them.
And that’s another thing. Locus… didn’t get an offer. It’s just Felix here, alone and handcuffed to a chair, with the balding fucks face frowning through every screen, that condescending voice thick with disdain. It’s in that moment that he decides when he cuts out the Chairman’s tongue, he’s going to give his longest monologue yet, as vengeance for every second he’s forced to listen to prick’s unbearably irritating accent.
He doesn’t let himself think about Locus still rotting somewhere in the dark, alone and broken with someone other than Felix tearing him apart piece of by piece.
That’s workable, though. He’ll get Locus out because as annoying as the fucker is, he’s good, and Felix knows with what he’s planning he needs someone he can trust- to some extent at least- watching his back.
Felix doesn’t know anything about the Director other than the Chairman hates him and they’ve got some petty nerd feud going on or something, but that’s also workable. He can figure the guy out once he’s in.
Speaking of which, apparently the Director slips up too because the Chairman’s managed to locate one of his agents, holed up on a space station nearby. Apparently Charon’s fuckups that can barely be called soldiers actually managed to injure the guy, but he's locked himself inside the main control room, causing a temporary stalemate. At least until Felix arrives.
Felix’s orders from there are vague, either save the agent’s life and hope to fuck he lets the merc tag along on goodwill or some shit, or think of something else that’s not, you know, quite a retarded as the Chairman’s sarcastic suggestion.
And not only does he have to basically wing what’s probably the most important mission of his life, he has to do it all alone. And if that’s not bad enough, the agent- New York or something? Must be a code name. Or some severely retarded parents.- has likely already called for backup.
Meaning Felix has to beat a group of New York’s super soldier friends to finding him first, and somehow befriend him before they arrive.
Okay, so not that great odds. But still better than execution by firing squad, so. There’s that at least.
And if Felix is anything, he’s a survivor.
Plus he’s fucking good at his job, that’s why he’s out here in in a small jet flying towards what looks like nothing but a hunk of metal floating in space instead of rotting away inside whatever hole they throw criminals in on Charon’s station.
Instead of wasting away wherever Locus is.
Guess I was better after all, partner, he thinks forcing the dark twist in his gut into grim satisfaction.
~
Okay so, this New York dude is actually kind of genius.
Which probably surprised Felix more than it should’ve considering all these fuckers are basically super soldiers, but honestly, after being around Charon and UNSC dicks for so long he’s kind of forgotten what competence looks like. But York, he actually seems pretty smart.
The guy is completely surrounded, but he’s somehow wired the main room’s lock to a high powered explosive- Techie, then- meaning that even if his attackers manage to crack it to get in, they’ll blow themselves up alongside him.
And Felix knows better than anyone no amount of money will ever buy loyalty like that.
This… could be a problem. How the fuck was he supposed to get in without setting off the bomb when the fuckload of soldiers surrounding the station couldn’t? From what he’s heard over their comms, they’re not even close to figuring out how to disable it.
The Chairman had refused to give him clearance- fucker wanted to prevent the whole thing from looking staged- meaning Felix had been forced to fight his way through a shitload of UNSC soldiers surrounding the agent’s hideout.
Fuck, if it wasn’t for the biofoam and other tech shit the Chairman had given him, he’d probably already be dead.
Luckily it looked like the agent had already cleared out everyone inside, now all Felix had to do was follow the trail of corpses to the control room.
Which was. Still. Fucking. Locked.
Except it wasn’t because when Felix finally managed to find the right door, a black ugly thing with ‘Control Room’ written in tiny white letters, it opened the second he touched it.
“What the fuck?” Okay, so maybe the Agent had covered his trail or some shit. To mislead any soldiers that managed to get in. Switching the signs wouldn’t have been that hard-
“Over here!”
Which wasn’t actually helpful in the slightest since the only light on the entire station came from the tiny red warnings scrolling across the screens. Felix was forced to blindly walk forward until he hit a wall, jerking towards the sound of the door slamming shut behind him.
“... What the actual fuck?”
There’s a second of nothing in which, even though he’d never admit it, he almost wished Locus was here too, before there’s a flicker and the whole place lights up.
It’s… a complete fucking mess. Screens are cracked, lights are smashed, and the entirety of the room is barely bigger than his cell.
Also there’s another man in the room.
Power armor. Huh. The gold looks eerie beneath the flickering of the remaining lights, but his pose is casual, a weird slouch over a cracked desk, and he doesn’t seem to have a gun.
“Sorry about the mess, if I’d known you were coming I’d have cleaned up,” the tone is almost jovial, which manages to throw the merc off even though he’d never let it show.
Felix blinked. “Agent New York?”
“Well if you want to be formal about it. You can just call me York, though.”
… Okay. Well then. “...What are you doing?”
“It’s kind of a funny story, actually. So a buddy of mine, real important guy, told me he left something of his in this room. Told me to go get it back. Turns out the guy who took it from him? Didn’t like that. And now I might be ah, how do I say it? A little… stuck. It’s okay though, I got a ride coming to pick me up. Sometime soon. … I think.” York shrugged, not seeming the least bit concerned about telling a stranger so much information.
“Are you hurt?’
“Nah, they only managed to graze me. What about you?”
“I’m fine.” Felix took a step towards York, relaxing his posture into something more friendly. “Did you let me in?”
“Yeah, saw you fighting those guys out there. Thought you might be my backup? I was told I’d have backup,” York added almost as an afterthought. “... You are my backup, right? You seem confused.”
“Uh no, sorry. I’m a mercenary, actually. I heard them talking about you over the comms.”
“... Oh. A mercenary, huh? So you do shit for money?” York paused, leaning forward, his tone slightly more aggressive than before. “You’re not here to steal my armor, are you?”
“What the fuck? No!”
York rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly. “Oh okay. Sorry man, had to ask. Wait… then why are you here?”
Felix fidgeted uncomfortably. “I’m supposed to prevent the guys trying to kill you from getting your armor,” he half mumbled, happy his helmet hid his pleased grin. Man, I am fucking awesome. I’d like to see Locus try to think of this shit off the top of his head.
“Wait so… you were hired to protect me? By who?”
“Well… not exactly you…”
“Oh. Oh.”
“... Yeah.”
“But you’re not going to try to kill me for it?” York’s hand hovers over his armor protectively.
“Jesus christ, no.”
“Okay, then I guess you’re cool,” York says casually and leans back against the wall. “Wait, who hired you?”
“The Chairman, actually.”
“Aw man, that guy’s a dick.”
“Are you kidding me? Try working for him. He threatened to throw my partner and I in prison if we fucked up our mission.”
“Man, that’s cold.” York shifts, gesturing to table. “Come over here. This way if the door is broken down, we have, like, five extra seconds.”
“... Great,” but he moves closer anyways. “But if they get through, won’t the bomb go off?”
“The bomb? What bomb?”
“I heard the soldiers outside complaining about it. The Chairman mentioned it too. It’s the only reason they haven’t busted in here yet.”
“Oh that?” York lets out a snort. “Dude, there’s no bomb. Wait- that's the reason they haven’t broken in? I just shouted that down the hall while they were chasing me.”
“Are you- Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah man, sorry to disappoint.” York shook his head. “Man, these guys are even dumber than I thought.”
Felix resists the urge to slam his face into the desk. “Jesus fucking christ. That doesn’t- how the fuck did that work?”
“I didn’t think it would, I was half joking.”
“Oh my god, we’re fucked.”
“Hey now, we just gotta last until my ride gets here. And I guess since you’re not my backup, them too, when they come.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I highly doubt anyone else is coming,” Felix replied testily.
“Okay maybe so, but see, we still got my ride.”
“No we don’t York, you have your ride, I have years of jail time in a cell half the size of this room unless I somehow get you to the Chairman unharmed.”
“That sucks,” York said unhelpfully.
Felix stares at him. “Seriously?”
“Nah, I’m just kidding. We’ll take you back to base, get you patched up-”
“-Still not injured-”
“-And send you on your way.”
“Did you not hear what I said? If I don’t bring you, and more importantly your armor, back, I’m fucked.”
“Hmmm. Well, from what I saw from the security footage-”
“-But every screen in here is broken-”
“-You’re a pretty decent fighter. Maybe we could use you. Or something.”
“I guess,” Felix tilts his head in faux consideration. “But what about the Chairman?”
“Remember the buddy of mine I mentioned? So, he’s actually my boss. And he could probably pull some strings. Or something.”
“Uh, are you sure? I mean, we kind of just met.”
“True, but hey, nothing speeds up bonding like probable death,” York nods knowingly, “It’s how I made all my friends.”
Felix snorted, “Great. Sounds like fun.”
They both startle at the sound of something large crashing outside of the door. “Ah crap, I think we’re about to have company.”
“You think?!” Felix is on his feet in seconds, gun in hand, tensing at another loud thud. “Fuck.”
“We could try to squeeze through the vents?”
“There are vents?”
“Probably?” York glances at the ceiling uncertainty. “There are vents on space stations, right?”
"Jesus Christ."
“Hey man, it’s not like I live here! What about if we-”
“BREACH ON THREE!”
“Guess they figured out there’s no bomb,” York mutters, dropping down next to Felix.
“Or that, even if there was one, it only activates if they fuck with the lock. If they just break down the fucking door, problem solved.” Fucking dipshit. He should have known better than to expect competence at any level, super solider or not. For fucks sake this guy was an idiot. Currently he’s beside Felix, stretching out his arms.
And he still. Doesn’t. Have. A fucking. Gun.
“Dude, where's your weapon?”
“What, besides these guns?” And the idiot actually fucking flexes. Or at least, he tries to. Dumbfuck must’ve forgotten about his armor and now he just looks even more ridiculous.
“NOW!”
The door shudders from the impact and Felix shifts his weight to his heels, ready to jump. He briefly notes York’s already comfortable enough to turn his back to the mercenary, as if they hadn’t met literally ten minutes earlier. Fucker’s lucky I need him. Otherwise I’d have slit his throat the second I heard his stupid fucking voice.
The door finally breaks, wires crackling as the electronic hinges fizzle out. Light pours through the opening, almost blinding in its intensity.
The first guy through barely makes it a foot before a knife through his socket sends him crumbling to his knees. Felix is already moving by the time he falls, another knife slicing through flesh and bone as he stops thinking and just moves.
Guns fire but he’s faster a whirlwind of knives and speed, slamming the corpse of their comrade into a different soldier's face, his knife lodged in their throat before they can even scream. He’s dimly aware of York behind him - where Locus should be- taking on three guys at once, with nothing but his hands.
This, this, is what he lives for. The control, the fire that burns only at the threat of eternal night racing through his veins, his body a blur of orange and death and power. He fires up into an attacker’s throat as he shoots another through the gap in the first’s legs.
And then he sees York and holy shit.
Because the idiot is actually… good. Maybe even better than good. Gold flashes as fist meets face, so hard the soldier actually leaves the ground, crashing back as York moves on to the next, twisting wrists and catching fists as he tears his way through men twice his size without pause.
The agent knocks a gun out of a soldier’s hand, kicks the legs out of another, and catches the pistol just in time to shoot a third. For a second their eyes meet and even through his helmet Felix knows, somehow, he’s not the only one having fun.
There’s a crackle from the freelancer’s comm and York jerks up. “Rides’ here! We just need to make it to the front-” he stops himself because he must have realized there’s no way in fuck they’ll last on an open field. Half the reason they’re alive is the soldiers can’t fit through the hallway more than three at a time, but out there, out where Felix entered… They’ll be mowed down the second they leave.
“I have an idea,” he says aloud, darting away from the incoming soldiers. “Your friends have a ship, right?”
“Well, I mean, yeah,” York chucks a chair down the hall before diving behind a splintered desk. “Wait, why?”
“We could blow through the wall and your ride could catch us in open space.” Felix almost hoped York would say no because in all honesty, as far as shitty ideas go, that one was pretty bad.
But York only pauses long enough to nod. “Huh. Okay.” Felix has time to wonder why the dumbfuck hasn’t picked up a gun from any of the fallen soldiers before he adds, “Sure. Better than waiting to die in here. You got any explosives?”
Felix is just about to reach for a grenade when he sees a soldier behind York aiming from around a bend, out of the agent’s eyesight. Perfect.
He waits until he hears the gunshot to launch himself towards the agent, just a second to late to knock him out of the way. York lets out grunt as he’s hit square in the back, dropping to his knees just in time for Felix to knock them both out of the way of more bullets.
“Dammit! Are you okay?”
“Uh, I think I just got shot?” The agent’s words are blurring together and he sounds distant. “Aw crap, Lina’s gonna kill me.”
Felix can’t help rolling his eyes because of fucking course that’s what he’d be worried about while bleeding to death in the company of a total stranger. Pissing off some bitch. He hoped the other agent’s were a little smarter because, fuck, as much as Felix likes it when things go right, actually having a chance to play is always more fun than winning before the game’s even begin.
It takes him a few seconds to figure out how to staunch the bleeding with his hands, but York’s breathing evens out so he figures he must be doing something right. It takes him even longer to figure out how to apply the weird healing strips the Chairman gave him, but he takes the thinning flow of blood as a good sign. “Hang in there, Agent, I’m going to get us out,” he says as dramatically as possible on the off chance York can still hear him.
Okay so, maybe chucking every grenade he had at the wall was not the greatest idea of all time, but desperate times and all that shit. It doesn’t quite make the opening Felix intended, which was actually kind of disappointing because if he’s going to be a dramatic fuck he’s going to do it right, but the hole’s just big enough to squeeze through so, you know, could’ve been worse.
He has to kind of wiggle York through the mess of metal and wire, stopping as they reach the end of the station, and the vast expanse of open space.
There’s no ship.
Stars flicker and burn far, far away and smoke makes the galaxy look like drug induced whirl of fuckery, but there’s definitely no ships.
But then a gunshot sounds way too close and Felix has a moment to curse York and his fucked luck before he launches them both into space.
They don’t fall.
They just- exist. For a moment there’s nothing but silence and stars, and Felix loathes it. The emptiness, the nothing, the-
They’re on a ship.
Felix, in all honesty, isn't entirely sure how it happens. He thinks he sees a soldier in what’s probably aqua grab York’s arm and he tightens his grip on the agent because like fuck he’s being left behind now. Aqua yanks both the agent and the mercenary behind them, their jetback igniting the blackness behind them in flame.
So, turns out the ship was above. In all fairness, he probably wouldn’t have seen it even if he had remembered to look up because space is pretty fucking dark, but it was still embarrassing on principle.
The second they land and the deck closes behind them the newcomer takes one look at York and the red-stained gold of his armor, and lets out a curse.
“Told you she’d be pissed,” York stage whispered as if the other freelancer wasn’t standing less than a foot away. “Don’t worry though, she’s way nicer than you’d think,” he adds despite Felix having known her for all of five seconds.
“What were you thinking?”
“All good things,” York replies, as unhelpful as usual. God he’s barely known this guy for an hour and he already hates his annoying fucking guts.
“And who, York, is this?” Aqua storms towards Felix and he pushes himself to his feet so he can meet her glare.
“Oh, he’s a buddy of mine. We’re real close,” York’s tone is obnoxiously casual and Felix decides letting the agent speak for him also gets a place on today's list of shitty ideas.
“I’m a mercenary,” he takes a step forward, keeping his hands spread so as to look as nonthreatening as possible. “I was hired to keep Charon’s hands off your partner’s armor. Helped him out as best I could after he got shot, but without much medical experience, there wasn’t much I could do.”
“Actually, whatever you did probably saved his life,” Aqua’s voice gives away her frown, as she types something into what appears to be a scanner, ignoring York’s slurred, “Partners, huh? I like the sound of that…”
“Happy to help.”
Felix watches her apply some weird glowing shit to the wound before turning back to him. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m sorry?”
“This mission was top secret. None of those soldiers should have- this doesn’t make any sense. No one but us should’ve had any idea York would be on that station.”
Felix gets the feeling she’s not really talking to him but he answers anyways, allowing a small bit of edge into his tone, “If you don’t mind me saying, maybe you’ve got a rat.”
The startled head whip is worth the obvious glare she’s giving him beneath her visor. “I didn’t ask you. And I can promise you, trust isn’t a concern with the members of our organization.”
“If you say so, agent,” he says, leaning back against the wall.
Aqua lets out a weird combination of a snort and a huff before turning back to York. “The biofoam will keep you stable until we land, just try not move.”
“Can do,” the agent replies from the floor. “Wouldn’t want to worry you.”
“I’m not worried.”
“No need to get defensive.”
“I’m not being defensive.”
“No, you totally are. And now you’re being defensive about being defensive. It’s like, defensive-ception,” York says seriously enough Felix actually bothers to wonder what exactly the Chairman put in those medical strips.
“No I’m not,” Aqua replies, miffed.
Jesus fuck these people were unbearable. Felix interrupts before York can continue their annoying debate. “Will he be okay?”
“Yes. As long as he avoids making more terrible decisions in the near future. Like injuring himself further by leaving the hospital before he recovers.”
“Hey it’s not like I wanted to get shot! It just kind of happened! And I only did that one time!”
“For a game of poker. And you tore all your stitches.”
“Okay maybe, but I won twenty bucks so, worth it,” York tries to pump his fist but just ends up awkwardly flopping his arm.
Thank god Aqua ignores him instead of continuing their ridiculously irritating banter. “As for you, though your help with Agent York is appreciated, I can’t allow you into headquarters. You could be a liability. We’ll have to leave you behind soon.”
“What? That’s bullshit, I saved your guy’s ass! You can’t strand me in space!”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Neither do I, actually,” York adds because he’s an unhelpful piece of shit that Felix is really going to enjoy killing. “Which is weird because I really thought we were bonding back there.”
“It’s Felix. And you said your boss could help me. Pull some strings and shit.”
“I’m his boss,” Aqua said coldly.
“No, but he’s talking about the Director,” York explains. “I called him my boss earlier.”
“Holy shit, you guys work for the Director?!”
“York!” Aqua shoots her partner a glare. “What part about top secret don’t you understand?”
“I’m going to guess the secret part,” Felix snapped. “Come on, you at least have to give me a ride to, I don’t know, anywhere that can sustain human life.”
“Hey did I mention it was the Chairman who hired him? Because if I didn’t,” York said sounding completely wasted, “It was the Chairman who hired him.”
“What?!” Aqua sounds almost alarmed, which is good because it means she’s not a complete retard.
“Yeah, like I said earlier, I was hired to keep your partner’s armor from falling into the wrong hands. Which apparently the Chairman considers yours.” Felix is actually kind of grateful York’s such an idiot because otherwise Aqua might have actually listened to his confused, “I’m pretty sure that’s not what you said.”
There’s a moment of silence where Felix has time to imagine how fucking great it would feel if he could slit the gold agent’s throat, before Aqua finally speaks.
“The Director’s going to want to hear more about that,” she glances at him uncertainly. “There’s no reason the Chairman would try to interfere with one of our missions.”
“Well, I’d be happy to tell him what I know. But to do that,” he makes sure his voice is just the right amount of smug, “You’re going to have to take me with you.”
“Hmm.” She stalks closer until she’s less than a foot from his visor. “Guess you’re right. The name’s Carolina, by the way,” she says as strikes him between the eyes, hard enough to make him stumble. He doesn’t see the electric charge, more just feels it as his legs give out and darkness blurs his vision.
His last thought before he falls unconscious is that he already fucking hates freelancers.
~
The counselor is fucking terrifying.
Felix has known people like the Director before, the kind whose arrogance drips from each elongated symbol, who walk with a sureness of their own security no real man of war ever can, who’ve forgotten what’s it’s like to be told no.
Life as a mercenary would’ve been a hell of a lot shorter if he hadn’t learned to deal with that type early on. After all, combat skills have never proved quite as useful as his tongue in this particular line of work.
He’s good at reading people, better than good, really, and he’s had a shitload of practice too.
But the counselor?
Felix has no fucking idea what to make of him.
His voice is so controlled it almost reminds him of Locus, but there’s something far more dangerous in the apathy, in the utter emptiness of his words. Despite his partner’s best efforts, Felix can tell when he’s annoyed or angry or whatever he’s feeling, but honestly, if the counselor was imagining how nice the mercenary’s blood would feel under his nails, he’d be none the wiser.
It’s the emptiness, Felix decided as the man continued to drone on. As if everyone's just a fucking experiment waiting to happen.. York could’ve easily died on that mission, in fact he probably would’ve without Felix’s help, but that didn’t seem to phase the counselor one bit.
Because apparently the whole thing was a fucking test.
The station had nothing of actual value on it, the hard drive the agent had quite possibly risked his life to retrieve was worthless, nothing more than a false objective.
The job offer is far too based on luck for Felix to consider it a victory. It’s only because York was being tested that there were cameras present to film their fight. His skill and quick thinking to save York had impressed the counselor, who had suggested the idea of considering him as an agent to the Director.
It wasn’t real, though. Felix could tell by the Director’s drawl he’d have to prove himself or some other bullshit like that before he’d actually be in. Right now, he’s a fucking test run. Another experiment.
After all, it’s easy to take risks when you’re not the one in danger.
One way or another, Felix will be leaving. Whether it’s on a mission or in a body-bag is up to him, the Director had informed him.
Welcome to Project Fucking Freelancer.
~
Felix doesn’t entirely hate York now that he’s gotten to know him.
There's something about having control over another being, of twisting poisoned words around someone else's heart until they forget how to breath without your whispered venom, that absolutely invigorating sense of power that's truly better than anything money can buy.
He'd known people like York before, the kind who've wrapped their humanity, their goodness, around them like a shield. The kind who heal as fast as they crack, who can lose everyone and everything but their smile.
In a way, York will be harder than Locus ever was. The thing about people like his partner is they don't crack, and they can't heal. People like Sam die piece by piece and then all at once, leaving Felix to take the shattered parts and force them back together into someone, something better. And by the time Sam realized what was happening, there wasn’t enough of him left in Felix’s monstrous creation to stop it. Locus had watched Sam die without so much as a flicker.
But see, York isn't like that. Fuck, Felix has only known the guy for a week and he can already tell he keeps his steel around his conscience, his soul, and not his heart. Meaning there's no way Felix will be able to turn him, to break and remake like he'd done with Locus.
So that means someday Felix is going to get the pleasure of sticking a knife through York's eye and out the back of his skull. He might not hate the agent, but he’s annoying enough Felix is damn sure he’ll enjoy every painful second of his new ‘friend’s’ death. York will die with his back turned, just like Siris had all those years ago.
He’s yet to really meet the other agents, or even see Carolina since the bitch had knocked him out, but he can’t say he’s not looking forward to it. Following York around like a lost puppy is starting to get increasingly more irritating every day. He can only handle people who make gratuities quantities of bad jokes in small amounts.
So when York finally offers to take him down to the training room- he’s still only allowed to leave his cell room if accompanied by another freelancer, or in other words, York- to watch Carolina train, he’s already said yes before the agent even finishes his question.
Besides, Felix has been wanting to see her fight her ever since she’d hit him. Waking up strapped to a bed with the counselor and the Director leering down at him had managed to freak him out a lot more than he’d like to admit, and that electric whatever-the-shit used to knock him out had fucking hurt.
He’ll make sure she pays for that later.
Which might be difficult because apparently she’s the leader of these fuckers, but hey, fancy titles never stopped bullets. She’ll die all the same.
For now he lets York lead him through some obnoxiously confusing hallways until they reach a dome-shaped arena below them. He doesn’t see Carolina yet, maybe she’s putting on her armor or something.
York’s not wearing a helmet. Or any armor, really.
Felix will never stop being surprised by the sheer stupidityof other people, no matter how many times it’s thrust in his face. For fucks sake, what kind of super soldier leaves himself open around a man he’s known for barely a week? Felix doesn’t even know the guy’s real name.
None of which seems to concern York, who leans casually against a wall and gestures for him to come closer. “She’s about to start.”
Carolina is in a crouch, waiting while a series of floor-guns and weird circular holograph things organize themselves. Three faceless robots stand further back, holding an odd collection of knives and guns.
“Starting round in three,” an automated voice states blandly. “Two.” The guns cock. “One.”
And then it begins.
There’s a moment where Felix forgets how to breath because jesus christ.
See, the thing is, Felix doesn’t do respect.
People just- they don’t deserve it. Never have. Sure, he can appreciate skill as well as the next guy, but honest, real, admiration? Fuck no. So you’re good at something. He’d watched thousands of good, sometimes even great, fighters get sliced to shreds or burned to ash by the hundreds, a flash of plasma and game fucking over.
If they were weak enough to die, they didn’t deserve his respect. No matter how good they’d been, in the end all that really mattered is they hadn’t been good enough.
But watching Carolina he almost feels... awed.
She’s not good. She’s not even great. She’s just… better.
Carolina is the best he’s ever seen and he’s killed monsters with the power to turn entire planets to ash.
She’s blocking attacks before they’re even complete, twisting and turning and weaving a dance of grace and power so perfect he almost forgets he came here to prepare for the day he’d get the chance to watch her die.
And then he sees York.
He’s watching Carolina like she’s the most beautiful girl in the world, something soft in his surprisingly bitter gaze. There’s a small smile on his lips, so gentle and pure it’s almost cute.
Oh. Looks closer at the longing in the agent’s gaze. Oh.
Felix watches him watch her and feels something vicious building in his chest.
Now this…
This is going to be fun.