Nevada gave a disgruntled sigh as the older man that none of them trusted in the slightest tried to make a conversation with her, asking more about her name, why they were there, who she was beneath the armour. It disgusted her, hearing the tone behind his words. She tried as best as she could to be as 'nice' as she could to the man, trying not to do anything that might be less than desirable for the rest of the team. She didn't know why he decided to try to get her to talk first. She wished she did, but, at the same time, she didn't all together.
He smiled at her once again, leaning back in his seat, precariously close to the edge. Just one little push, and I can get at least seven snipers trained on our postion... Nevada almost said out loud, forcing her jaw closed. She knew that if she broke out and said something like that, did something like that, then the chances of any of them getting out of there were reduced to zero, especially considering their surroundings: ocean, ocean, and more ocean. Hey, whatdya know? More ocean, she thought bitterly, wrapping her arms across her abdomen. She was going to make herself sick, at this point.
The man was no longer focused on her, giving up, knowing that he wouldn't get anything from the woman other than a few responsive sighs and the occasional muttered answer that was almost impossible to hear over the sound of the engine combined with the waves. From her seat, she could feel the ocean water on her back, splashing up on the edges and down her back, soaking through the fabric under her armour. No wonder I never joined the Navy. She felt her eye twitch at the thought, almost wishing she had. Maybe it would have helped her with her irrational fear of being dragged down to the depths of the ocean, where the light fades and the unknowns come out to play.
She mentally slapped herself once again, shoving the thoughts out of her mind.
The man was quietly conversing with CO, who kept what didn't need to be known out of the picture without appearing as if she was completely hiding everything from the man. She was friendly enough, exchanging a few laughs with the man while the others sat in silence, only casting glances that doubled as silent messages between them. Two of them - Michigan and Montana - were silent, rarely glancing towards the rest of the group. Their gazes were more focussed out on the ocean, scanning across the never ending blue.
Alaska, Iowa, and Nevada herself fiddled with their fingers, their armour, the boat. They didn't know what to do, what to say. Usually, the three of them could spark up a conversation out of nothing, talk and talk and talk without truly realizing where their conversation was going before it was too late to tell. Now, the three of them sat in silence, occasionally swapping glances at each other and the man by the engine. They felt the same way without a doubt: distrustful, paranoid. They didn't know what to think of him, or his so called 'neutral' allies on the rig.
"Is there a leader of this little group ye got here?" They heard the old man ask, leaning forward in his seat closer to CO. She moved away from him slightly, but it wasn't enough for him to notice. She thought for a moment, searching for the right words stored away in her head.
She finally answered after several moments in silence. "No. We're just a team of equals," She said with a small smile concealed behind her helmet, casting a glance over at Nevada, a quick movement that only the two of them knew about. The old man gave a wide smile, something passing behind those sea blue eyes of his
"So, what're ye names?" He said, glancing between the six of them, from CO, to Alaska, to Michigan, to Montana, to Iowa and then to Nevada, resting on her for a few moments longer than the others. She returned the look, then glanced at CO.
"I-"
Nevada cut the other woman off, "Until we know for sure that we can 'trust' you and your buddies on the rig, we'll save the introductions," She said, an irked tone gracing her voice. She didn't realize how defensive she had sounded before it was to late, wishing she could take her words back and find a better way to say them so she wouldn't sound like she was hiding something important. She silently cursed herself for it.
The old man gave another wide, toothy, smile, his eyes set firmly on her form, on her eyes behind her helmet. "Ah, so she 'an talk," He said it slowly, carefully. His eyes didn't drop from hers until they reached the dock, the smile still on his face.
. . .
The man smiled for no clear reason as he watched them step up, onto the dock, from the little boat, the first one off helping the others. The shortest member seemed more stiff and rigid compared to the other five of them, keeping well away form anyone that wasn't on his or her team. She was paranoid, her close second being the one dressed in all blue, a taller one, especially compared to the rest of the group.
All of them had a sense of paranoia hovering around them, stuck to their skin. They had a good reason to remain like that, he knew. He would be the same if they were brought onto an unknown vessel out in the middle of nowhere. He knew that the old man told them what side they were on: neither. He made a mental note to make sure the others kept an eye on them.
"Where do we take 'em?" The old man asked, leading them down the stretch leading into the center of the rig.
He thought for a moment, casting a glance at all of the other monitors showing different sections of the rig. He nodded, smiling. "The old section, the one closest to me,"
. . .
Nevada watched him suspicously, her eyes sliding up and down his figure. He obviously wasn't a soldier of any kind, or at least didn't look the part if he was. The old man was relatively unscarred, save for a few knicks near his elbow and one on his eyebrow. Even so, she kept her distance, dropping back to the middle of the group. The others around them, the soldiers on the rig, stopped whatever they were doing to watch them as they passed, quiet whispers of gossip already passing between them.
She didn't know what to think of it all.
When the old man started conversing with who she figured was the leader of the intallation, she could feel the paranoia growing. She hated being left out in the dark like that.
"Nev," Her own name nearly made her jump out of her skin, even from her best friend and partner. Iowa could clearly see the kind of thoughts that were making their way through Nevada's mind, knowing what they would do to her as she let them roam. "Hey, we'll be okay. We ain't gonna let or guard down, alright? It doesn't look like a lot of these guys have even held a gun in their lives," She chuckled, clapping the other woman on the shoulder with a smile on her face.
. . .
Nevada had almost demanded to speak with their leader just an hour later, almost at the point where she wanted to pin the old man against the wall with her forearm pressed against his throat. She had snapped when he took them to a dorm-like room with three beds on either side of the room, two seperate bathrooms at the back with two entrances from two, walled off, sections of the rig. They had actually provided extra clothing and fresh water for them. She should have been thankful for clean water and a shower, she should have said thank you to someone. No, she was moments away from choking the life out of the man that led them there.
She held herself back, digging her nails into her palm, drawing the faintest traces of blood, a single streak sliding down her bare palm until she grew frustrated with it, rubbing it off on her armour. Iowa was the one to calm her down, keep her from murdering a man who may or may not deserve it, keep her from setting off a bomb when it was easily a hundred to... six.
She didn't want to follow through with what the others were doing, changing into the clothes they were provided. She felt more secure in her armour, less vulnerable. But a push and a slap on the back of the head from Iowa made her do it. She just wished it wasn't a darker shade of tan slacks and a half-length sleeved white shirt. It was comfortable enough, she just didn't like the fact that it left her feeling slightly insecure.
"Why the fuck are we being little tourists on this place, Iowa?" She asked, pulling the woman over to the side. "We are here for a reason,"
Iowa gave her a small smile, pushing her hair back behind her ears. "Nev, we aren't going to get anything done if we don't gain their trust, right? That isn't going to happen with us in armour, showing no signs of loosening up," She was going to continue her little speech before she saw the defeated look in Nevada's eye. She already got the point. Loud and clear.
《♤》《♤》《♤》
A/n: Next chapter will certainly have something more interesting than what this little rushed mess was. I apologize for that.
Goddamn, I've been apologizing a lot lately. I need to stop with that shat, huh?
-Seeks
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Blood On Our Hands (Red vs Blue)
Fanfiction[ Book II ] We were forgotten. Left out of the reports, hidden by coding and machines. If I had known, if I was awake, I probably would have laughed. We were the past, a dark past to the Project. We might have saved it then, but what if they come ba...
