Chapter Text
~
There's something inside you that isn't right
There's something that haunts your dreams at night
There's something that you have lost
Bringing It Down - Starset
~
Breaking into the small base was easier than Carolina thought. It was like they left the door wide open with the porch light on, waving at her to come inside. Even in the dark, she could see the main living quarters of the base, even though she didn't want too.
It was a pig sty.
Wrappers and bottles littered every surface. This was not a very typical base she was used too. Most of the units kept up regulations. Cleanliness is next to godliness, she could hear her mother's voice above her as she helped her clean up the toys that escaped from the toy box. The last happy memory she had of her mother before she left for deployment only coming home five months later in a box. She wanted to grieve, but her father's sobbing voice carried on through the foggy morning made her stick out her chest and be strong. Lost in thought she didn't feel the butt of the gun against the back of her skull. If it was from a normal human, it would have just been a glancing blow. This had some power behind it even for a Sim.
"Got her! Can I have a cookie now?"
Before she blacked out completely, she heard a familiar voice sigh, "It isn't her, but we could still use her."
***
Wash double checked the complex knot keeping his former team leader affixed to the heavy metal chair. The sun was just starting to drift through the window, creeping light shining across the room and inching up her leg.
He held back a growl as he stared at her. Memories of her mocking grin when he failed a mission or when he took a punch rattling what little senses he had left during punishment training.
He has a soft spot for Carolina, like a bruised piece of fruit.
She always had an entitled air about her. Better than the shifters on the team, acing all missions, and held the highest scores during training. She mingled with the others, but just enough to make it look like she was apart of the team. To him, she was only there just to show face and gloat.
He tamped down the shift under his skin. Not a good time. Perhaps tonight. A good run under the stars, tail in the wind and nose in the air would do some good.
"So, not her I'm guessing." Tucker sauntered into the room and slumped down on the couch, old training shirt riding up as he scratched at his belly. A bottle rolled into his leg from across the pillows. "Oh! Whiskey for breakfast?"
The sloshing the golden liquid made Wash's throat ache. "Tempted, but I'll decline for now." He looked back at his charge who started to groan as the sun flitted up her stomach.
"If she isn't Tex, who is she? Another of those Freelancer freaks?"
His snorted at the term 'freak'.
Tucker and his team was no better. There were genetically enhanced to be training soldiers for the Freelancers, Sims for short. Extra strength, but not so much in the intelligence department.
"She isn't Tex, but she is supposed to be dead. Must be a zombie."
"There better not be a mother fucking zombie in my goddamn base!"
Ah, there was sleeping beauty now. For a cyborg, he was a little buggy and had a terrible fear of something that doesn't exist. Wash would have said the same about himself twenty years ago. Werewolves don't exist. Didn't exist, but existed now. "No worries Church, they eat brains. You'll all be fine." He patted his back as he entered the room.
"Hey, up yours asshole." He peered down as Carolina looked up. "Huh, it is a zombie. Well, just don't let Caboose make friends with it. I'm not changing its damn littler box." He pulled at the short goatee as she tried to lunge, stopping short of her ropes. "Wa ho ho there. Wash is super at bondage; you're not moving an inch until you say the safe word."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Washington leaned against the filthy counter, "Keep that up and I'll tell Caboose that you have a fun switch in your anus."
Tucker snorted whiskey up his nose with laughter.
"Alright fuck you buddy. You do that and I'll shove a silver bullet up your ass."
Fighting with her restraints and looking a bit more than aggravated at the display in front of her. "What do you want with me?"
"Prisoners don't get to ask the questions, especially ones that break into our base at night." Walking forward, he saw the sun beam now creeping slowly up her chin. He was going to enjoy this way too much. "Guys out, interrogation time."
Caboose was fully suited, looked in with a bit of concern in his voice. "Don't hurt her too bad Mr. Agent Washington. She doesn't feel like a mean girl."
"Caboose, what did I tell you?" Church's voice taking on a screechy quality, leaving the room to get his gear on.
"That there are only mean girls." He picked up his training rifle and waited a patiently as he could for Church.
"Ugh...call me back when the mess is cleaned up. I hate blood." Tucker removed himself from the couch with a grunt.
Tuesday mornings was running in the armor and he had to rig a muffin on Caboose to get the other team to chase him. Blue team somehow was the only ones to get muffins in their supply drop making the Red team envious. Even with Freelancer down, Command was still mind fucking people.
"You're a fucking soldier!" Church screamed from another room as he jostled with his armor. It clanged as he lost balance and slammed into the wall, sliding down with a metallic squeal as he cursed for someone to pick him up.
"I'm a shitty soldier!" Picking up the muffin box and some string, "Besides, don't see your ass in here."
"Dude, I saw enough blood with Tex. I like to avoid it."
Tucker made some quip about periods which Caboose asked if that is when they breathed fire.
No buddy, they breathe fire...all the time.
Somehow, Church was the only one who had an idea of who and what Agent Texas was. Wash would ask only seeing the blood drain from the other man's face, then his head dropping with a sad shake.
When hacking the main computer, he only got a glimpse of the surface of hell itself. They had all the information from psychoanalysis, strengths, weakness, how to push them harder and how to make them hate each other, but the information on Texas was secured that even he had trouble getting into.
The Freelancers were united as a family unit, held together by something no other person in the universe could even comprehend, even more than the enhanced soldiers. Then the trails and missions started. They were selected by personality traits to what form they would be shifted too. He was a social creature, wanting nothing more than to please the 'alphas' and to keep the unit working. Sadly, they thought it best to isolate him and kick him down to omega status.
A lone wolf.
Pushing down the sentimentalism, he looked into her angry face.
Oh that angry face.
It reminded him of her disgust of the shifters on the team, always throwing a snarl their way when things didn't go exactly as planned.
Lower class to her pristine lineage. Fucking vampires.
She had no need to fight shifting. Fight the animal inside screaming for release only succumbing to the mind break and becoming a rampaging murderer who could discern friend from foe. Like Maine.
"Carolina..." He drawled out her name, watching the tick in her cheek from the mimic of the Director's voice. "Do you know why the sunlight doesn't hurt you unless you are injured?" A slight hitch in her breath was the only tell. She would have not have found out since they were forbidden to go outside the base without armor. Everything they learned about themselves was on a need to know bases and they didn't need to know anything.
Finally, Wash thought. I know something you don't know. "The white blood cells can't take it. It isn't the injury that kills you but your blood. Turns into an explosive, like nitroglycerin." Rolling up his sleeve, he half shifted his right arm. The crackling of his joints sounded like party poppers in the tightly spaced room. Her eyes widened and she exhaled slowly, a calming maneuver that wouldn't work this time.
Fully shifted, it would have been a perfectly formed paw. Black, furry, and soft to the touch. Silent while treading the dry leaves of the woods or fresh powered snow. Half shifted; it looked as something from a horror movie. Black veins, gray skin and the claws that would match his favorite knife. It took time to master, but it was oh so worth the pain when he looked into his quarry's frightened eyes.
"Now, what would happen if you have a puncture injury in direct sunlight?"
Eyes wide, she glanced quickly down and back up. Carolina was covered in sunlight. She wouldn't whimper. That's not how an alpha goes down.
She gave a primal scream, one last push of strength against her bonds to save herself, but they didn't budge. With a defeated breath, she looked through her eyebrows, "Do your worst."
Shrugging, he slashed at her face with outstretched claws and watched as her blood sizzled in the light. Giving her a few seconds of pain, he tipped her chair back- slamming her hard into the floor, the wounds now shadowed by her knees in the air. Her head bobbed a bit as she caught her bearings, sucking air through her teeth as she fought through the pain of her burns.
Wash crouched by her and slapped his open palm next to her ringing skull, claws scraping against the concrete floor. The venom poured from his voice, "Do you know that's how York died? Took an armor piercing bullet through and through the chest. Sunlight turned him into a bottle rocket." Eyes gold with rims of black bored down into her shining emeralds as the pupils pulsated with fear, loss, anger.
That name. It always broke her.
"So, how did you live. How did Maine rip out your throat and yet you still live?" Voice was half calm half screeching. Why did she have the live and not York? Or North and South?
Her pupils pinpointed and he could see the tips of her fang on her lips. "He missed. His teeth got stuck in my armor. I beat at his nose till his shook me loose. All I remember is the roars as he threw me off the cliff."
She turned her head away from him, not letting the sadness show to him. She was Agent Carolina, she didn't show weakness.
"I don't remember how, but I wondered to an abandoned base over the ridge. It must have been days later. My brain went into preservation mode. Who else was going to try to kill me? Why did they want to kill me? Why..." her voice stilled and got so small, "why did the Director abandon me?"
Ah, the Director. She wasn't going to say it.
Relaxing his posture, Wash leaned into her face. She continued to stare out the door. A sudden compulsion pushed him forward as he licked the blistering marks he created on her face.
Burnt blood. Salty and smoky. There was another element that he just couldn't put his claw on. Old and familiar.
"Stop! My blood will-"
"Kill me? Lies daddy told you." Leaning back against the table leg, he relaxed his hand snapping back to human. He flexed his fingers as the joints popped. Her shock filled the air with a thick ozone that permeated his skin. Night couldn't come fast enough. It made his skin itch.
"How...."
Again, he knew more and it tickled at his spine. "The dear Director, even though tested on you and used you, also had a twinge of parental instincts. Telling you that your blood and our blood were poisonous to one another was to keep you out of trouble. We all know you and York shared with each other, probably thought because you were both vampires it didn't matter." He exhaled slowly, remembering the story. "But one of our missions went array. He took too many shots and was down. I got to him and gave cover as Maine dismantled their forces.
"I can still hear his voice, 'tell her, tell her I'm sorry. Fucked it up big.' I ripped off my gauntlet as Maine came back to assess the damage. He tried to stop me, but York was dying and I couldn't help but try. I gave him my blood as we waited for pick up."
Looking at her cheek, it was a little red but healed. Standing with a small pop of the knee that just refused to heal, he tipped her chair right side up. Her appreciative grunt turned to shock as he cut her ties. He was quick with the knife. There were always at least five live blades on his person at all times...except when he was in wolf form. His teeth and claws were enough. He balanced the knife on the tip of his finger as he flipped it, catching the handle and sliding it smoothly into the sheath under his shirt.
She rubbed her numbing wrist, "He was at the med bay when I came from my mission. Never told me that you gave him blood, just the fifteen bullets and super awesome scars. They never did though...scar that is." Her eyes flitted upwards towards him through her lashes, her lips pulled tight.
"We made a pact not to talk about it. I wanted to look and see if the research was wrong. Took me forever to hack the system and find out the details. But, it was all for naught." Running his hands through his thick hair, sadness and anger clutched at his throat, "Most of us would be dead by the end of the week."
Shoulders slumping, her posture seemed to slacken as the words left her lips, "Who...and how did they die?" Wash knew this was going to suck. He pulled a glass from the cabinet and slammed down the bottle of bourbon. Top shelf Scotch was his favorite, but 'never look a gift bottle of booze in the mouth', York would say as he slid a shot towards him. It was usually vodka.
God he hated vodka. He would chug Maine's Jaeger before vodka. Literally, right out of his hands while the seven footer gave him an incredulous look.
"I was seriously ready to torture you. Really, thanks for taking the fun out of it by the way."
She scoffed as she leaned on the counter. "Sorry to be a constant source of disappointment."
Pouring her a shot and taking the bottle for himself, he rubbed the scars on the back of his neck. Funny how York wanted scars, he was nothing but. Patch of gray hair grew from a bad slash he took from South during a training exercise. Arms ribboned, legs marred, his chest savaged and his back...oh his back was nothing but a grand canyon of ridges in soft pink flesh. They healed slowly and he estimated that the ones on his back would probably take a century to go away, if he lasted that long.
Taking a long draw from the bottle he hissed a little from the biting burn of the alcohol. All they could get was the cheap stuff, but it was better than nothing in this little hole in the ground called Blood Gulch. "So, that last day. Well, you were preparing for leave for some mission by yourself which felt weird. Maine's headaches were getting worse and worse. His other half was screaming at him to let it out. All of ours did, but his was a roar. Deafening him till it just...snapped." He snapped his fingers in emphasis.
Dear God did it snap.
Carolina tentatively sipped her glass. He made sure to keep it full, it was going to be a long day and they both needed it. So much for torturing her, now he was torturing himself.
"He changed. Surrounded in snow he blended in and you were in his sights as you left. It didn't matter who it was, we were all targets to him. I was suiting up when I saw North and South running with guns to outside of the vehicle bay. When I finally got out there, North's neck was already snapped as he was hanging from Maine's mouth and South...she fought so hard."
He began to pace behind the short counter. The scene replaying like a black and white film behind his eyes. Every gulp of bourbon added color. Added clarity. Made it worse but made it palatable, easier to say out loud. "She changed form and was biting the back his neck, trying to get him to let of her brother's body. The crunching of his teeth as bit through the armor still wakes me up at night."
He looked over at Carolina as she held the full glass in both hands. She was looking down and he could see the soft plops of tears dripping into the bourbon. She sniffled softly and threw the glass back, slamming it down and pushing it towards him. Nodding, he refilled and continued. "I was able to shoot him in the stomach making him let go of North. He hit me hard with a back paw and I landed against a tree. Survival took over and I changed.
"The first time hurt, never felt pain like that before. I scrambled out of the armor as my body shifted and I was on him. South was trying to protect her brother not realizing he was dead. Her eye was clawed out, her teeth were broken, but she saw me and pushed herself up to fight one last time. I was fresh and took to his throat while South tried to snap the back of his neck. It didn't work; her teeth were too far broken down. He was three times the size of a normal polar bear and all the testing they did to him made him brutally strong. He ripped her off his back and slammer her into a rock. Her back snapped.
"I clinched harder, but his throat was too damn thick. I was alone. I should have let go and took a defensive position. Never got the chance to though. He began to tear my spine out with his massive claws. Didn't get it, but did a fine job making me let go. Wyoming finally took the shot that bounced off Maine's skull. I took the opportunity and slammed my body into him as he stumbled over the edge. I blacked out and found myself in the rehabilitation tank sometime later. I was the only one that survived the fight."
Her voice was small, shock strangled her usual bite. "None of that should have happened."