[video] Checking In

[whyarewehere]

[ It’s that time again, gang! Grif’s broadcasting from scenic his room. You can tell it’s Grif’s room because it is an absolute disaster area. There’s all kinds of empty containers strewn everywhere, a pizza box, his other uniform (it’s rumpled and in serious need of a wash), and scattered bits of an orange suit of armor. Of note to those who’ve born witness to this appalling scene before, the far wall has a shiny little plaque on it. That’s new.

All of this is visible in the frame because Grif’s slouching back in his chair with the comm propped up on his desk. He’s a scruffy, somewhat flabby guy swiveling his chair lazily to and fro with one leg while eating… something as he talks. With his mouth full. Because Grif. ]

Alright guys, it’s come to my attention, as the one who tries to keep track of this shit around here, that we have new people. And when we have new people, that means we have new superpowers to figure out how they work.

[ Because clearly, clearly Grif is the only member of the team to take an interest in others and what they can bring to the table. It’s not that he’s nosy and just wants to know if anyone has eye lasers yet. He just gives and gives for this group, he swears.

Grif deigns to swallow before he continues. ]

So: New people. Lay it on me. Who are you, and can you do anything awesome? If it’s not awesome, make it sound awesome, cause that’s what I’m here for.

I’ll start for you:

[ He thumbpoints at his chest, getting space twinkie crumbs everywhere because he’s using that hand. ]

I’m Grif, Doubletime if you want to be that nerd who uses my code name, and I’m pretty much the fastest thing on this ship. Which is awesome.

[ He pauses for a moment, then adds, ]

…And the rest of you should probably come say hi? Tell them stuff? And tell me about the mission because I was stuck back here babysitting the ship and I mean... I took a lot of good naps, but...

[ He shrugs. Then he finishes off the space twinkie, balls up the wrapper, and throws it over his shoulder where it lands on top of the orange helmet. He is not even remotely concerned by this. ]

((( This is a free for all mingle post! Grif will reply to everyone who responds, but if you want to have a character jump into a thread with anyone you are absolutely welcome and, in fact, encouraged. This is set after the end of Lantern Plot, so characters who've been away on that are able to tag in too. )))

Comments

[unrecovered]

[This is some kind of cosmic joke. At this point, Wash is sure of it.]

[There's more than one thing to consider here. For one, Grif is talking like he's been here for a while. On the one hand, it doesn't sense; on the other hand, given when and where they are and the name of the entity that dragged them here, Wash is fully prepared to accept some form of time travel bullshit at play here. For another, it sounds like a mission just ended, and that's something he should catch up on, if only to be better prepared for the next one when it comes up.]

[But most importantly - the one thing Wash can't get over:]

You got super speed. You got super speed.

[Cosmic. Fucking. Joke.]

[whyarewehere]

[ Whoah, hey! Armor! Grif doesn't recognize the colors this guy's running, though. He's definitely not a Red or Blue. For all he knows, this is someone from the Chief's world. All in all, no reason to get too friendly here. ]

What, are you jealous?

[ He grins. ]

[unrecovered]

Grif, I have literally never been jealous of you.

And when have you ever doubletimed anything in your life?

[This is how Red team shows affection, right? Petty insults?]

[...look he's just really glad you're not dead on Hargrove's ship somewhere, okay.]

[whyarewehere]

[ Grif squints, just a little. ]

That's the joke, actually. But, uh. How could you have been jealous of me if I haven't met you before...?

[ The trash talk is certainly very homey though, and he's wracking his brains. Steel and yellow. Has he ever met anyone in steel and yellow? ]

[unrecovered]

[That's the point where Wash's brain screeches to a halt, because there's 'fully prepared to accept some form of time travel bullshit at play here' and then there's this.]

Wait. You don't remember me?

[whyarewehere]

[ Grif's turning up nothing. It's Reds and Blues all the way down. ...And Tex and Wyoming, but he's definitely not Tex or Wyoming. ]

Shooouuuld I?

[ This guy knows his reputation! Grif's obviously missing something here and feels really, really dumb. ]

[unrecovered]

[Is amnesia a common side effect of dimensional travel culminating in near-death experiences? Because they really should have included that in the briefing.]

What's the last thing you remember?

[whyarewehere]

Tex and O'malley getting themselves blown up in a spaceship, if you know who they are. Why?

[ ...He starts thinking. And he groans. ]

Oh my god is this more time bullshit? I hate this crap.

[prettycoolguy]

Spartan Four?

[ The Chief is very efficient when it comes to asking questions. There seem to be a lot of those guys and he doesn't know any of them. ]

[unrecovered]

What? No.

[Which is about when Wash's brain processed what his eyes are telling him and abruptly sputters to a stop. That's Spartan armor. There's a Spartan here. He's talking to a Spartan.]

[That.]

[Uh.]

...what?

[prettycoolguy]

I wondered where you got the suit. If you were one of my team, I'd know your voice. It left one possibility, if we're from the same world.

[ It's hard to judge scale over the comms, so he didn't even have Wash being too short to go on here. ]

Guess not.

[unrecovered]

I think my life would have turned out a little differently if I'd been assigned to a team of Spartans.

[Let's just say dumb shit! That's a great plan of action! Good job. Fuck.]

No, this is standard-issue armor for UNSC Project Freelancer.

[prettycoolguy]

[ "Assigned". Just the language used here reassures the Chief that this guy doesn't know anything dangerous. Good. ]

It would've.

[ He agrees because it's true. ]

I haven't heard of that project, but that doesn't mean anything. You lose track of those when you spend a couple years in cryo.

[ He pauses. Wait. He should probably introduce himself. The Chief supposes his identity might be a little obvious, but it's rude to assume that. And kind of hypocritical, considering how uncomfortable it makes him that he's so high-visiblity these days. ]

I'm Spartan One-One-Seven.

They're just calling me Master Chief, here. Old habits.

[unrecovered]

[Nah, Wash has too much information about a completely different UNSC project.]

That's probably a good thing. Freelancer was a failure on every level.

[...oh..]

Agent Washington. Good to meet you.

[Not pictured: Wash turning off the omnicom and leaning heavily against a wall, trying to process what just happened. Master Chief. The Master Chief. The Time Trapper sure knows how to pick 'em, holy shit.]

[unrecovered]

[He turns it back on less that a minute later, because ending like that is kind of a terrible first impression.]

Sorry. Technical difficulties.

[prettycoolguy]

Not a problem.

[ In the safe, invisible confines of the Chief's helmet, a single eyebrow was raised. He accepts this explanation, though. ]

At least the equipment wasn't a failure if you're still using it. R&D's been trying to scrape out a non-Spartan MJOLNIR variant for years.

[iamresponding]

Yeah, the irony ain't exactly lost on the rest of us.

[The man that responds has clearly seen quite a bit of battle, judging from the long scar on the right side of his face from an old war wound, and the pink, healing skin on the rest of his face from his recent injuries. Hooray for future tech. It's the only thing that made it so his burns aren't going to scar him for life.]

[unrecovered]

[Live through a war, see enough people die horribly from plasma weaponry, watch your best friend come back from a mission with his throat shot to pieces, and you get to a place where other people's battle wounds just don't faze you anymore. Wash has lived in that place for a good long while now. Between that and the built-in poker face that comes from wearing full-coverage armor and helmet, Wash doesn't really react to this guy's scarring.]

[But hey, it looks like he'll heal, so that's good.]

Nice to know some things don't change.

[iamresponding]

Eh, he at least knows how to hustle when it matters. You wouldn't believe it, the way he acts the rest of the time, but he does. Save my sorry ass with that superspeed of his.

He just needs the right motivation.

I take it you know him from home?

[unrecovered]

Like I said: some things don't change.

[There's a note of satisfaction bordering on pride in that statement. When the chips are down, Grif knows how to rise to the occasion. Hell, all the Reds and Blues do - Wash has seen it more than once.]

I do, yeah. We're...in the same unit.

[Let's just put it that way for now.]

[iamresponding]

First of all? You have my condolences.

[He holds a hand to his chest and now that his hand is visible, it's possible to see that it's clearly robotic.]

Second, don't go and admit he's the type to save people or his head'll explode. He hates people insinuating he might not be a terrible person. Goes into fits.

[unrecovered]

[That's the first time he's ever gotten sympathy for dealing with the Reds and Blues. Usually, it's schadenfreude. There's something gratifying about this.]

Thank you.

[He's joking, but there's n undercurrent of sincerity in there that he wasn't prepared for. Where did that come from?]

[But he's right back to joking, because it's easier and that's here they're going with this, right?]

Then it's too bad we're talking about how good a person he can be on an open network, isn't it.

[whyarewehere]

Why do you keep telling people about that?

[ STOP RUINING HIS LIFE RICH YOU'RE NOT HIS REAL DAD! ]

[iamresponding]

Why do you hate people knowing you do vaguely decent things?

[whyarewehere]

Because I hate people. And doing things. That's basic math.