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South’s gun tapped Tex on the side of her helmet and the former freelancer whipped around a second too late. South’s foot came out and caught her by the shoulder, pushing her chest into the dirt patch where she’d set up, far away from her target but not far enough from his twin.
“South,” Tex grumbled, managing the smirk and the taunt and the way South jabbed her heel into Tex’s ribcage, the reaction she hoped for. “Burying my face in the dirt doesn’t have the same effect when I’m in armor,” Tex said, calm, mocking.
“Really?” South said, every ounce of venom still in her words, like they were still in the locker room staring each other down. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s feeling pretty fucking amazing.” She jabbed the end of her gun between the armor plates on Tex’s lower back, as if there was still skin there. The metal against metal sound was ignored, expertly, the kind of easy selective hearing that comes with years of practice.
“What do you want?”
“You first, number one. Oh, how the fucking mighty have fallen.” She pushed her foot into Tex’s chest some more, trapping her arm and shoulder splayed out and away from her weapons.
Tex raised both arms forward, palms out, side of her helmet still leaving an imprint in the ground. “I just want to talk.”
South stared in silence. She hummed, like a chuckle, and lifted her foot harshly. “But you didn’t want to talk to me, right?”
Tex got up, slowly, deciding to sit and bringing up a knee to rest her left arm on. “It wasn’t the plan.”
“No shit.” South looked past Tex at the small form of her brother, his face illuminated by the glow of Theta. “But you got me. And I got you. Some short straw, right?”
“How the hell am I a short straw?” Tex said, instinct, and with another kick that lands straight in her face, Tex knew she’s been spending too much time with jokes of soldiers in a box canyon.
“Take your pick,” South spat, bringing her foot back in place as Tex pointedly sat up, mechanical. “Because you’re the first real reunion I’ve had from the good old days. Because you are the fucking reason my brother and I are still “North” and “South”, like we’re a goddamn compass instead of human beings.” She inspected her gun, a controlled show of nonchalance. “Because so many people are fucking dead now. Because you’re fucking Agent Texas.”
“I never meant for-”
“Spare your good intentions for the fuckers who believe in them, Tex.”
“Right,” Tex said, remorse gone because this was South. This was South with a gun pointing at her, ruled by some residual anger that’s had years to build up. “That’s not you.”
South sat down on a nearby rock, resting her arm on her knee. Feigned relaxation. It was insulting that she thought Tex wouldn’t see right through it.
“It’s a new look for you,” Tex said, falling into old habits. It was easier to play South without the undercurrent of Omega. Easier to take her time and guide the freelancer to her own explosions. “Being protective.”
“There’s nothing new about it,” South said and it was strained, words coming out through her teeth. “You haven’t seen me in years.”
“What exactly did North tell you?” It wasn’t said with concern, more like curiosity, and South stayed quiet. “On the ship.”
“We had some sibling disagreements,” South answered, gruffly. “We’ve had time to work through them.”
“Where’s your AI?” Tex baited.
South’s visor glowed as she cocked her head to the side with such reflexes that Tex knew she was waiting for that question. “Workin’ on it.”
“Working on it,” Tex echoed, smirking. “Does that mean they’re making you one or you’re getting ready to take one?” South was silent, glaring. “Wow. Sore subject.”
“You don’t care, you fucking robot.” South said, and with a kick off of the rock, she was standing over Tex.
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Tex smirked. Easy. Waving her hand lazily towards the freelancer.
“Don’t act so fucking smug, you’re not the only one CT talked to.” South’s words bite like her tone, and Tex just stared up until the woman started laughing, harsh, sharp, humorless. “You thought I didn’t know?”
“You knew?” Tex moved, slowly, like she’s asking permission but before she could get up. South tapped her gun against her armored leg again and Tex settled back down. “You fought…”
“Yeah,” South nearly yelled, keeping herself in check just in time. “Imagine that, someone who doesn’t give a shit about your tragic robot backstory, just how many of my friends you got killed. What’s your score, Tex? You still good old number one cunt?”
“Please, tell me who I’m responsible for, Saint South Dakota.”
South threw the punch and Tex moved, easy, because dodging anger is something she’s gotten good at. The punch hit Tex’s jaw and she turned, giving South the satisfaction of contact, giving herself the advantage. “How about CT, you murdering bitch?” She stood over Tex, chest heaving, leaving herself open to so many attacks it almost felt cruel to take a shot. “How about Carolina? How about my fucking twin brother?”
Tex hesitated, leg already primed in position. “North’s right there. You can literally see him through the trees, South.”
“Don’t play dumb,” South muttered, changing her stance, backing off and guarding again. “You killed him years ago. He’s just dying slow.”
“You’re the one who nearly shot him,” Tex defended. “I remember-”
“You remember fucking leaving me with my brother’s gun pointed at my chest and that cocky smile while he bought you time to do fuck all and crash the spaceship. Yeah, I remember it too. I remember how many people fucking died, but you didn’t stick around for that part. Never say goodbye, never stay long enough to see them die, right, Tex?”
“Shut up,” Tex muttered.
“What about Carolina? And Maine, or whatever the fuck he calls himself now? And York? York, your bestest deserter buddy, do you know where he is?” She stood up, feet wide and planted. “Do you even fucking care?”
“York is living his own life like he wanted.”
“York is breaking into crappy apartments and paying for shitty coffee with pennies while he chases every rumor that Carolina somehow survived that drop like she’s fucking Wolverine or something. And more than that, you haven’t even bothered to fucking look him up, because it’s damn easy. He’s really good at picking locks but he’s shit at closing doors behind him.”
Tex leaned forward, careful to watch how South’s hand wrapped around the trigger to know when to stop. “You’re angry because I’m not sentimental? You?”
“Damn right, I’m fucking pissed you don’t give two shits about all the people whose lives you ruined. And now you’re sitting here being all cocky, not even fucking pretending to be a person anymore, asking me to let you whisk my brother away in your web of what’s Right and Wrong like that shit even means anything anymore.”
“You’re not going to let me speak to him.”
“Fuck no, that shit is not happening on my watch. Listen, Tex, I don’t give a fuck what you do with your little robot life, but stay the fuck away from me and mine, alright?”
“You and yours,” Tes repeated and stared at her, making a clicking noise with her tongue. “And who’s part of that?”
“Start with me and North, and then go to everyone you fucking know.” South sat down again, gun tapping against her heel. She stared at her brother for a long time while Tex just sat, looking at the woman she used to so easily dismiss. “Who are you looking for?” South offered.
“Wyoming.”
“Fuck Wyoming,” South spat.
Tex sat in silence, recognizing the permission just granted. Almost like a truce. “I thought North could help. That he’d want to help.”
“You thought wrong.” South got up, with finality, turning her back to Tex with unjustified bravado and walking back into the trees she came from. “Maybe you need a lockpicker, though,” she said.