cactusy | IC contact for lastvoyages

[ He smiles to himself, then chuckles. ]

Thanks. My partner back on the force would disagree with you, but- maybe I've gained some skills in the past decade or two.

That does remind me- I might need a slightly different schedule, once we get back to it. I've taken a job at Veterinary now, helping out with the kennels. I'll send you my shift times.

[She nods in response, eyes forward as they approach the Enclosure. She doesn't hesitate, though her expression is not just still, but frozen as she unlocks the door.]

Sounds like a good job for you. And B's a good guy.

[She pauses for a moment, the door to the Enclosure unlocked but not opened yet.]

I don't know if you can tell how much you've...

[She trails off, not sure if how much you've helped me is exactly right here, because it's not as if he's made any concrete improvements to her situation (how could he have?). But hearing him tell her about the things inside her that she can't properly feel had meant something, something big, and she doesn't know how to even begin to properly acknowledge or repay that.]

[ Will smiles at Shaw's assessment that it's a good job for him. He really does think so, too, and it'll probably help stave off some of the 'people problems' he has for a bit. But Will's eyes are focused forward too, on the Enclosure. His posture suggests a sort of alertness that's ready for anything.

So when Shaw keeps going, talking about him for some reason, he turns towards her to study her face. He's usually good at telling what people are getting at...unless it's about him. Then it's harder.

But he can tell it's important for her, so he looks to the side, thinking back as to what she might be referring to. Learning about Root presents itself, like a card being flipped over, and the tension in his face eases. ]

I don't know if I can tell, either. But I'm glad, if I've made a difference. That was- [ Oh, how does he put this? ] It was somehow surprisingly difficult to change anything in my world. There was far too much apathy.

Dealing with other people's emotions isn't exactly my favorite thing. But it sucks when people can care, but choose not to.

[Meaning: she may be apathetic towards more things than most people, but apathy still sucks.

Stepping back, she nods him towards the door.]

You go first. Set up some kind of scenario, but don't tell me what it's gonna be.

[ He nods at her in confirmation. It's the choosing that bothers Will. ]

Okay. I've never actually programmed it, so-

[ He might end up with something weird. But he heads in and finds the button and the stairs. He trusts the voice command option more than he trusts his typing ability, so he presses the button and speaks quietly into it, requesting an active shooter 'shooting gallery' style simulation, set in an office building and with multiple 'hot zones'.

He watches reality rearrange itself into something resembling his request, complete with a small gateway with an assortment of guns at the entrance. He hums for a moment, and then opens the door back up. ]

Okay, it's all set.

Stay out of my way.

[She tells Will as she moves past him and into the room, her own personal handgun already held at the ready. Dubious word choice aside, her tone is neither angry or dismissive: she wants him to hang back because she's concerned about him inadvertently being hurt if this goes south, not because she's concerned he'll mess up her game.

As soon as she's in, she tenses immediately. She can't help it. Active combat zones are a piece of cake, but her brain would be throwing up alarm bells even if he'd presented her with a peaceful meadow scene.

But tenseness or not, mental screaming about how wrong this is or not, she's able to level her gun smoothly, aiming and firing at the knee of the first target that pops up.]

[ Will nods, happy to stay out of her way. He'll walk slowly as she makes her way inside. He figured giving her something to actively concentrate on and that was at least somewhat familiar was a good call.

He's glad to see the targets look similar to what he had in training back home- some are wooden boards and some are pictures printed on carbon fiber sheets. So even if the office space feels real, at least it isn't people running at her or something.

He doesn't pick up a gun from those on offer in the entranceway. He's not here to be a threat, certainly. He just follows behind quietly, keeping an eye on Shaw. ]

[It goes well, at first. Shaw has always been a battering ram, powering through things that should take her down, and this is apparently no different: as much as the Enclosure bothers her to the core, it doesn't kill her ability to get the job done. She might not be able to imagine herself ever kick back and relax in here the way most of the rest of the Barge seems to, but at least this is a strong sign that she'll be able to handle an emergency in here, if need be.

Until one particular target pops up: a board bearing the image of a tall, salt-and-pepper-haired man in a suit. It's not Reese. It doesn't even much look like Reese, superficial similarities aside. But the image sends a shockwave through her all the same, and she gasps, rocking backwards on her heels. You've killed fake Reeses before, and now it's time to do it again, her brain says. The Barge did this to mess with you, because it's not real: not the Enclosure, not anything outside of it, not any of it. You're still strapped to a bed right now, under Samaritan's control, and Greer is watching this on a screen, laughing at how well his torture is working.

She lifts her gun and sinks three shots into the target's center mass. The hesitation lasts only a few seconds, but a few seconds can mean the difference between life and death in a real combat situation, and Shaw knows that she's already failed her own test.]

[ Will sees the hitch, but he doesn't do anything right away. He waits to see how she handles it, if she keeps going or if that was a total fail state for her.

He continues to walk up from behind, his hands in his pockets. ]

[She keeps going, regardless of the slip, and she successfully sweeps the rest of the building without incident. When she's back to where she started - all hot zones cleared, all targets neutralized - she comes to rest by the front door, planting her hand against the wall and finally taking a breather.]

[ Will stands nearby, giving her a minute to breathe and- maybe- relax the tiniest bit. He doesn't expect it'll help. ]

You're an even better shot than I expected.

Thanks.

[She says quietly, focusing on keeping her breathing even.]

I need to get out of here.

[ He nods. ]

Yep. Let's go.

[ He heads over to the entrance and holds the door open for her, leading back into the Barge. He's not sure just how much work she's doing keeping herself together under there, but he thinks it's probably a lot. ]

[Ah, right - the door. She can just walk on out, from this not-real office building right back into the probably-not-real Barge. Her pace is quick, arms folded tight across her chest with her fingertips shoved into her armpits.]

Could've been worse.

[She says, once they're back out on the deck. It's not optimism: it's realism.]

[ He figured she might've forgotten, but he hadn't been sure if she was just testing herself further or something. ]

It really could've.

You need anything? Water?

What would you have done if I'd attacked you?

[She asks instead of answering, closing her eyes in an effort to stop her head from spinning.]

Run for the exit.

[ The corner of his lip twitches up. ]

I've crawled away from plenty. Didn't expect this would be any worse.

Why do you think you might've attacked me?

[ He's not implying she shouldn't be worried, he just doesn't know what exactly would be going through her brain in that situation. ]

I've done it before. Hurt people I didn't want to, in fake scenarios that messed with my head enough.

[She looks over at him, finally.]

Running's good, but I probably still could have killed you. If we're going to be patrolling together, I should teach you some tricks to disarm me.

[ Will nods, looking serious. ]

Yeah, something more formal and less...training from twenty years ago would probably go a long way.

I have had a lot more hand-to-hand encounters than expected, the past few years, but those were pretty unique circumstances. Serial killers approach things a little differently.

How much does it hurt you to hurt somebody else?

[ He opens his mouth, stops for a moment, then closes it. ]

It's already done all the hurting it's going to. Depending on the person, I might have to worry about liking it too much.

[ And since he's pretty sure he knows what she's getting at: ]

I wouldn't enjoy hurting you, but I would if I had to.

But your-- empathy thing. Having to hurt me wouldn't make you hurt?

[ Will shakes his head, looking slightly apologetic. ]

I'm too used to chasing murderers. I mean, I'd empathize with the victims too, you know? I've gotten used to enacting the violence I need to in order to save other people from those fates.

I don't know if that means I'm desensitized now, or if I'm broken. But either way, I can do it.

That's not a bad thing.

[In this context, it's actually something of a relief.]

Wouldn't want to ask you to potentially do something like that if it'd hurt you, that's all.

Thanks.

[ Simply said, but after a moment he realizes he might need to explain. ]

That's more consideration than anyone back home would've given me.

IC contact for lastvoyages

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