Who: Agent York and Leon Orcot When: During the Rift Plot Where: Random Street What: Battling bots Rating/Warnings: Low, cartoony violence and some strong language? Status: Complete
There was only so much craziness Leon could take. The weird creatures pouring out of those green… whatevers (the media called them “freak tornados” which Leon didn’t buy at all, but he had started calling them that in his head for a lack of a better term) was enough to make his head spin. He’d done his best to make sure people got to safety, but now he was ready to go home, have a couple of drinks, and complain about his day with Bart.
Or, at least he would, if it wasn’t for the group of teenagers (they had to be teenagers, given the quality of the insults they were yelling at one another) who were blocking the street. There was a line of cars in front of him, some of them honking angrily at the group.
Leon scowled, then got out of his car. He walked up the line of cars. “The fuck do you kids think you’re-” he started.
And then one of the blue ones shot a gun. For a heartbeat, Leon thought that this was part of the prank, until he noticed one of the red ones fall down dead.
James wasn’t used to this. He’d been a military man for quite some time now, and after the explosion--after the chemical burns that took his left eye and his career--he wasn’t really sure who he was anymore. So finding himself would be easier on his brother’s couch in Orange County than trying to find lodging, a job, shopping, all on his own. Sure, Veterans services were excellent, but nothing beat Family.
Only, coming to Orange County was… interesting to say the least. Proving to be dangerous now, with paranormal, supernatural events happening left and right. Green slits in the air were releasing monsters, and though he wanted to stay at home and hide until this was all over, there was no one else in his house. Being around people was helping him deal with the insanity. He had to walk, though, as he didn’t have permission to drive yet after his injury.
He rounded a corner, witnessing a whole mess of stopped cars, and saw some guy in front of a group of… suits of armor? One of which lifted a gun?? One of the red suits of armor fell over after a blast of light. This could be a dangerous situation, so James started forward, to see if he could help.
The blue ones were chanting something that sounded a whole lot like “Kill the Reds!” now, which was more than a little unnerving for Leon. Was this some sort of cult? It was hard to believe that it wasn’t related to the green tornados that were spread across the county. A cult from someone’s dream world?
But then a bullet flew through the windshield of the car in the front of the line, and the driver screamed.
“Shit,” Leon said, rushing to the driver’s side door to open it. “Get out and get inside somewhere,” he told the terrified person, who seemed frozen to their seat. At his words, the person fumbled with the seatbelt before finally scrambling out of the car. “Sir! Please step back,” Leon called to the man who was now walking toward the fray instead of away from it like any sensible person would be doing.
James had to step aside to let some frightened people past him. He closed a car door after a pair of anxious looking teenagers fled, and moved around to the sidewalk. “How can I help?” James asked, glancing up and down the street. People were a little panicked, it seemed--and rightfully so, and James wanted to make sure no one was hurt as they all fled.
Leon looked at the guy, almost annoyed at first before he took a better look at the guy. He bit back his ‘you can get the hell out of here’ when he saw his bearing. He wasn’t panicking, and he wasn’t some scared civilian trying to help when all they’d do would be get in the way.
Another volley of shots rang out and Leon ducked behind the car. “We can start by getting all these people away from here before they get caught up in the crossfire. Right now, those guys just seemed focus on taking each other out, so we can leave them to it.” When one side was dead, well… Leon didn’t want to think about what the surviving side might do then. That was a bridge he wouldn’t worry about until he had to cross it.
Yeah, that second look would probably tell Leon loads about the guy. James was, up until very recently, a Marine. He had squared shoulders and confidence in his gait, even when the world was shattering around him. His voice was calm and low. The only thing that might catch the cop off guard was the man’s face. A quarter of his face was covered in thin, pale scars from the explosion of a chemical bomb too close--and his left eye was white.
“What are those things?” James asked, even as he moved over to start waving scared people down the sidewalk. It was actually easier than he’d expected to corral the terrified civilians.
“Probably exactly what they look like,” Leon yelled over the gunfire and scared screams. “A bunch of guys in weird looking armour shooting each other. It’s not as weird around here as you might think.”
Really, the citizenry of Orange County was probably getting used to running away from calamities by now. With everything that went on around here, it was kind of a surprise that they needed people to guide them. Then again, when people were scared, all sense of reason usually left them. They were probably grateful to have some level headed people around to tell them what direction to run.
Gunfire and screams were enough to send James--York--into PTSD flashbacks. But something inside him tightened when there were people who needed help. Something inside kept him focused, dealing with the issue at hand rather than curling into a ball and rocking back and forth in shock. He helped usher a handful of screaming children onto the sidewalk, and showed them the direction to run--away from the Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots at the end of the street.
“No, I think it’s almost exactly as weird around here as I think,” he replied to the other man. The street was mostly empty by now, and, thankfully the sci-fi suits of armor were still focused on each other, though their numbers were dwindling more on one side than the other. “That’s part of the reason I’m still here.”
Leon glanced over at the armoured weirdos, frowning slightly. There was definitely a lot more blue bodies lying on the ground than the red ones. What would happen when there weren’t any blues left? Would the reds be content with that, or would they start going after anyone else that wasn’t dressed in red?
Could Leon even do anything if they decided to start in on the rest of the county? He hunkered down behind a car that had already caught a few stray bullets. “Yeah? You know about all the shit that goes on here?” Leon didn’t think he’d seen him on the Network, but then again, it wasn’t like he paid much attention to anyone who weren’t his friends. “If that’s the reason you’re here, then you’re about as crazy as those guys,” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to the direction of the firefight.
“I’ve got a vague idea, yeah,” James said, taking a wary eye at the blues knocking down the reds. He’d been told that insane shit happened in Orange County, but he hadn’t listened--hadn’t believed it--and now he was seeing it first hand. He should have listened to Carolina, but then he wouldn’t be here to help these people. And he did feel like he was doing some good. He was able to help people out of their cars and down the street.
“Well, I had to be sure,” James argued, moving back up over to the other man now that the street was mostly clear of civilians. He folded his arms across his chest and frowned up at the soldiers shooting at one another. Something about it felt vaguely familiar. The armor did. Something about it. He turned his face so he could see the other man, looking at him with one blue eye, one glazed-over and solid white. “And if I wasn’t, you’d have to deal with screaming civilians without any assistance.” Then he broke into a smirk.
That eye was kind of creeping Leon out. Not so much that he couldn’t repress any urge to show it on his face, but despite all the things he saw, eye injuries always gave him the willies. “Thanks for that, by the way. I fucking hate dealing with panicked citizens, so at least I only had to deal with half of them. I’m Detective Leon Orcot, by the way. When we make it out of here, I’ll buy you a drink.”
Eye injuries gave most people the willies. James had taken to wearing sunglasses most of the time to hide it, but the pair he’d bought were ripped off his face and thrown to the ground by his infant nephew, and broke. So now he was off to get a new pair. ...after dealing with red and blue clad robot soldiers.
“Master Sergeant James Duggan, Marine Corps.” James realized now was not really the time or place for firm handshake greetings, so he kept his body tense and ready--just in case those robot things turned their attention this way. “My squad called me York.” There was a beat while the last of the red robots hit the dirt.
“When we make it out of here, I’ll take that drink,” James said. He took one-half step back not out of fear, but out of squaring himself and preparing for a fight. If those robots were coming toward them? They were in for one hell of a fight. They’d taken out all of the reds, but there were only a handful of blues even left--and they looked kinda banged up.
“Marine Corps, huh?” Leon asked. Reminded him of someone else. Dave - no, wait, Wash. Washington. Did all the Marine Corps just go around naming themselves after locations? Now really wasn’t the time to ask. As he squatted behind the car, one of the blue guys came around the car. Leon made eye contact with him. Or assumed he did - he couldn’t really see anything through the helmet.
“Hey! Hey guys! There’s a couple of noobs ov-” the blue guy started, though his sentence cut off as Leon shot him through the head. There was a time when Leon would have hesitated a little longer. A time before his dreams, and D, had changed his line of thinking. A time before his childhood friend had killed his partner, before turning the gun on himself, all because Leon hadn’t acted fast enough. But that time had passed. Besides. They probably weren’t any more real than the zombies he’d fought in the city morgue with Liv.
Still, the guy’s call had attracted the attention of the few remaining blue guys, who all started to close in on Leon and York’s location.
York took a quick count. Including the ones on the ground, there had been six blue robots to start. And it looked like there had been six of the red ones, too. But they were down to three blues. Until Detective Orcot shot one in the head. Make that two. With guns pointed up at them. The first energy beam, laser blast, sci-fi, techie junk stuff came whizzing past his ear, and James decided to dive behind the opened door of a car.
“Those weapons don’t seem to need reloading,” James called to the detective.
“There’s two of them. Our weapons shouldn’t need reloading.” At least, that was the hope. Leon had become quite the marksman since he’d started shooting with Riza, and he was ready to use those skills.
But shit. Fucking laser beams? Was this fucking Star Trek? He shot at one of them again, though this time his bullet missed the visor and instead glanced off the helmet, leaving the guy unharmed.
“Your weapon doesn’t need reloading,” York corrected him. He was unarmed. But his fists were lifted, just in case it came to that. When the bullet bounced off the helmet, he frowned. “Between the plates,” he called out to the detective once more.
Leon did a quick double take, taking in James’ lack of weapon. The hell was this guy thinking? He wasn’t even bringing a knife to the gunfight. He frowned when York called to him, but even though he didn’t exactly like being told what to do from random guys on the street, he could see the wisdom in it. He took a steadying breath - this wasn’t anything different than shooting with Riza at the range - and fired, taking out the second armoured weirdo. “The fuck are you doing here without a weapon?” Leon asked, taking his eyes off the last guy to look at James.
God damn this felt… all too real. Too familiar. James hadn’t had any of those crazy Dreams he’d heard about, but it was linked to the insane shit that took place around these parts, wasn’t it? At least, that’s what Carolina and Wash had tried to tell him. And now he was in the thick of things.
“I’m new!” He called back. “Believe me, I won’t be making this mistake again.” He had that concealed weapons permit, and fuck if he wasn’t going to use it. Though, he’d probably have to get to the firing range. He hadn’t fired a weapon since he lost use of his eye. Things sure did change.
A laser beam (wtf?) smashed into the window of the car next to York and shattered it. The man ducked down further, being rained on by small cubes of glass. Now this was triggering some of his PTSD, and he was freaking out just a bit.
Leon ducked back behind the car when the laser beam went through the window, though a moment later he was back out, weapon already in his hand. It took him only a moment to adjust his aim before firing again, this time cleanly shooting the man through the visor.
He took another cautious look around to make sure that they hadn’t missed someone, and then let out a heavy, relieved sigh. “You alright there, James?”
“I’m good! I’m good!” James called out, though his face was a bit scrunched up. He was taking shallow breaths and trying to force himself to breathe deeply and slowly. The sound of the lasers, the crashes, the distant screams… it was so different and yet so familiar…
He opened his eyes again and turned to look at the other man. “I’m no use to you like this. And the street’s cleared of civilians. I say we fall back and regroup.”
“I hope ‘regroup’ is military slang for ‘get drunk,’” Leon teased. Luckily, his car was far down the line of cars and had hopefully escaped the scrimmage unscathed. Part of him was almost tempted to relieve one of the blue guys of their laser weapons, but he had to remind himself that he was a cop, not a scavenger, and stealing weapons from the dead just seemed like a bad idea.
Still, he wasn’t in much of a rush as he turned back to his car. The danger was passed. At least, Leon assumed it was . Until, from behind him, he could hear the obnoxious voices again, not unlike those annoying seagulls from that movie about a fish, just with more homophobic slurs and death threats. Very slowly, he turned back around, getting an eyeful of both the red and the blue guys back on their feet.
Appropriating weapons to protect civilians seemed like it might be a passable idea. As Leon thought it, so did James. But he came up with the same conclusion. He had no idea what that armor was, or where it came from. It could have something odd attached, like a defense mechanism. Hold the gun the wrong way and get shocked or whatever. No, he’d pass. The street was safe for the moment, and that’s all they could ask for.
James nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the robot guys getting back up. Then he turned and quickened his pace to catch up with Leon. “Let’s go get that regroup drink. On me. Just… you drive?” Because James didn’t have a car. He wasn’t allowed to drive until he’d jumped through about eight hundred hoops through the VA. He didn’t have a car.
Leon hesitated for just a moment, looking over his shoulder. There was a part of him that wanted to stay, to set up some kind of blockade and protect people, a part of him that at one point he probably would have listened to. But it was drowned out by the much louder voice that told him to get out of there, that he was not going to be shooting off stragglers all fucking day, and that if someone was dumb enough to wander too close to these guys, it was their own damn problem. Anyway, someone had probably already called the police anyway.
“Yeah. Wait until you see her. My Stella’s a beaut,” Leon said, almost proudly as he beat a quick retreat to his car.