[ No, Sharkface thinks, no, we're not done. We're never done until somebody's dead and broken on the ground. Them's the rules, soldier. He and the sergeant were close once. His sister, his teacher. She was the one who trained him not to fight - UNSC got that part down early - but to win. Sergeant Layben who took down a Brute once with nothing but fury and her blades - took its head - but she called herself Chica because she fucking could. Painted her nails before every drop even though they'd be ruined before she finished suiting up but she said that wasn't the point, and then she'd bully him into giving up a knife so she could sharpen up her eyeliner pencil.
Time and time again, he backed her. Time and time again, she taught him all the tricks he'd ever need to survive. And then she died, ugly and brutal, and now there's nothing left of her but the lessons.
Sharkface picks himself up, laughter bubbling in his throat before he kills that noise. Felix doesn't pull the trigger. Doesn't want to deal with the mess in the aftermath, maybe. Or maybe that'd be boring, who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. So long as there's no bullet between his eyes, there's an opportunity. And that armor, which Sharkface wants more than anything he's wanted in this goddamn place.
It'll be a trick getting it. Sharkface sways a little, dragging a hand through his hair. He considers the merits of going for the baton and trying to bash Felix's head in right here and now.
Nah. Wouldn't work. Play it smart, soldier. He thinks Chica would've taken Felix's head straight off, but then, Chica wouldn't have gotten into this situation on her lonesome. She'd have the whole squad to back her play and here, Sharkface knows his allies won't come if he ends up with a corpse and a bloody rig he can't drag out on his own.
A thought for later. Sharkface just snorts. But then Felix does something unexpected and pops his helmet off.
no subject
Time and time again, he backed her. Time and time again, she taught him all the tricks he'd ever need to survive. And then she died, ugly and brutal, and now there's nothing left of her but the lessons.
Sharkface picks himself up, laughter bubbling in his throat before he kills that noise. Felix doesn't pull the trigger. Doesn't want to deal with the mess in the aftermath, maybe. Or maybe that'd be boring, who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. So long as there's no bullet between his eyes, there's an opportunity. And that armor, which Sharkface wants more than anything he's wanted in this goddamn place.
It'll be a trick getting it. Sharkface sways a little, dragging a hand through his hair. He considers the merits of going for the baton and trying to bash Felix's head in right here and now.
Nah. Wouldn't work. Play it smart, soldier. He thinks Chica would've taken Felix's head straight off, but then, Chica wouldn't have gotten into this situation on her lonesome. She'd have the whole squad to back her play and here, Sharkface knows his allies won't come if he ends up with a corpse and a bloody rig he can't drag out on his own.
A thought for later. Sharkface just snorts. But then Felix does something unexpected and pops his helmet off.
Huh. ]
We're talking now.
[ Just to be contrary. ]