nexus_crossings | The Silence of the Storm

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event

The Silence of the Storm

Rations have been cut. Again. Everyone is on one bowl of watery soup a day. Sometimes with crackers, sometimes not. Most people are too tired and weak to do much more than sit around and talk, and nobody discourages them in the slightest. Work has to be rotated constantly as people weaken quickly, but the fires still need to burn, people still need to guard the cooks and rations, and the sick still need to be tended to. Soon the hardest job is keeping up morale while the big expedition comes back. All the gods and heavens of the multiverse help them if they don’t come back with supplies, and soon.

The boundaries have tightened to an almost suffocatingly small space. It doesn’t take much to imagine where they will be by the end of Winter, which at least makes planning a little easier. People are already relocating to deeper in the Plaza. Unfortunately it means that those who have enough energy to often end up fighting with their neighbours, as the close quarters tests everyone’s patience. There are a few spaces carved out for like minded people to shelter from the dreary situation. Mechanics and those like them have set up a nice little place close to the Crossroads Café, and a break area for those helping the sick is sheltered in a room behind the injured and ill. Zandros moves from groups to individuals, looking for help in creating some form of morale boosting display that will adhere to Isidor's instructions. People are surviving in whatever ways they can, but it's reaching breaking point.

((It's the Final Event Post, everyone! OOC Post is here! This is for those stuck at the hub while the Main Expedition is going on. There will be a second part to this post for the Return of the Expedition. In the meantime, have fun!))

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Natasha hasn't allowed herself to be lead away from the torch line since she and Delia came back with Harley's little group. The healers will have had to do their triage there and either get back to her when they have time or left her to fend for herself with her bruises and lacerations. She's accepted a blanket and rations if they're offered but she hasn't allowed herself to sleep.

Even if she laid down Natasha doesn't think she'd see anything except for the sparking hole she'd put in Blaze's head. No, sleep won't come until she collapses but that isn't yet. She's still holding onto hope that Blaze will be behind them with Ghost in tow.

She tries to reach them once an hour by radio but so far there's been no answer.

"Ms Romanoff." By now Isidor's is a familiar voice. Likely one that conjures up the impression that Natasha is about to be given an order. Probably one she won't like: Go and rest.

For now Isidor just makes her way over to the other woman, arms folded close to keep in a shred of warmth. "I'm glad you made it back." In a rare moment of concern, she asks softly, "Are you alright?"

"Ms. Durant."

An acknowledgement but not an acquiescence. Natasha glances back over her shoulder toward the woman leading all of this. Literally now, with Suou running himself into the ground keeping the Crossroads going as their safe house and Kirk stolen away into the Winter by his magus of a husband. She's heard through the volunteer healers that Steve is still bedridden. With Blaze gone now too, Natasha is all Isidor has aside from Lyall when it comes to help.

The weight in her chest squeezes tighter. Blaze will be back. She has to be. That's what a Guardian does.

"I'm fine. Crew's not all back yet, is all." It's not even close to true, her being fine. But her own deserved emotions aren't Isidor's concern. The woman has more than enough piled onto her shoulders.

Once she's standing next to Natasha she looks out into the snow. So unrelentingly blank it's like a slow cruelty. When she turns back to the other woman she does her best to look encouraging without being insensitive.

"They're trickling back," she says softly. "Get some food, get some rest. If we need to go out there and find them, you'll need all your strength."

By now, Ghost would have responded even if he was mad with Natasha. Wouldn't he? Unless he was hiding and Natasha's attempts to call him would be putting him in danger. If Blaze was alright, surely she'd be calling at least and asking Natasha what the hell she thought she was doing. If everything were alright then by now she would have heard something.

Everything is not alright.

"Has anyone heard from Blaze or Ghost?" Breaking her gaze from the snow to look back at Isidor is hard but Natasha has asked harder questions and told worse lies before. "Anything?"

That's specific, but Natasha's not the only one wondering about Blaze. Almost everybody is, the Durant included. Asking directly about the Exo makes her hesitate though.

"No. Not yet," she admits. "But she'll come back. She's strong."

Still she can't quite resist her curiosity. "What happened when you saw her last?"

"She was chasing down what I can only assume was the leader of the Fallen with a flaming fist and a whole lot of murder in her circuits."

Not when Natasha saw her last, but that's the way she needs to remember Blaze if Natasha is ever going to rest. It's not the thought of lying to Isidor that stops Natasha's tongue. She's told worse lies before. Harder ones to hide. What makes Natasha stop is the worry that her plan might have been found out. That Reynard might have taken more than what Natasha offered for his dues.

That all of them yet may still be in danger. If it saves lives here, then Isidor Durant's opinion of her is a small price to pay. Natasha gets to her feet and lowers her voice.

"We need to speak privately."

Of course she was. Probably saving a whole lot of the convoy in the process. Few things are as good a distraction as charging to cut the head off the snake.

Before Isidor can say anything, however, Natasha's quiet urgence catches her attention. It doesn't matter what it might be about: Natasha's asking for a private talk. That's enough to warrant her immediate attention. Isidor doesn't hesitate in nodding and walking to a room she knows is as safe as any can be right now.

She doesn't stop until they are well past all the crowds and prying ears. After inviting Natasha in, she shuts the door firmly, and steps into the room to lean against a table.

"What is it?"

Natasha doesn't know where to begin explaining all of this. Dealing in information is supposed to be her job for crying out loud but her mind won't leave that moment her finger pulled the trigger. It's making focusing difficult. She has to shut it all out and focus, but that's easier said than done right now.

"I discovered some Intel before the Expedition that I didn't speak to anyone about." That's usually never something anyone wants to hear but given the circumstances Natasha knows she would do the same all over again. "It gave me reason to believe that our enemies had eyes and ears in here, so with Kirk being drug off and the chaos that was going on before the Expedition I didn't risk any leaks."

Natasha looks up at Isidor, her arms clutching each other where they're folded across her chest.

"If Reynard didn't get tribute in Blood while we were out there, people were going to die. The whole expedition, which would mean everyone back here. Or possibly an attack directly here on the base. I don't know which. I only knew that I had to stop it from happening."

Natasha knows just how to grab a woman's attention. Learning someone in her closest circle was keeping things from her is precisely the last thing she wants to hear. Not that she can't understand the reasoning, to an extent. She's got her fair share of ruthless standards and healthy paranoia. That doesn't take the sting out of hearing information was kept from her. There's a cold drop in the pit of her stomach as Natasha continues her confession, but she wrestles with one feeling at a time.

"You should have told me," is the first thing out of her mouth. "Keeping it quiet, I understand, but you should have told me."

The second thing she says, after she suppresses her displeasure into a tense jaw, is, "What did you do?"

She shakes her head. It's not so simple as that, not when Natasha had reason to think their base was compromised. That there was even a chance Reynard or one of his agents would overhear the plans Natasha made alone and in secret to keep all of them safe.

It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

Her radio is a silent accusation in the room. The only one Natasha cares about. Isidor's displeasure she was expecting.

"I took advantage of information he couldn't have and gave him a false tribute."

None of this was supposed to happen like it did. That's part of the reason Isidor hates it all so much. There are no good plans. No whole successes. Only attempts at the best case scenario.

This definitely isn't part of any 'best case scenario'.

Isidor folds her arms to keep her from waving her hands or bundling them into fists. Her eyes burn into Natasha's, fury underlined with anxiety. "Go on."

"Blaze-37 can't die. Not permanently."

Natasha lets a sigh escape her. How could Reynard have found out? She did everything right. Natasha's sure of it. Somehow he still found out. There's no point in worrying about his agents now. He already knows Natasha's gambit and has spoiled it.

"No one in the Nexus knew. The AV field would keep anyone from learning that normally. I only found out recently when she cleared a minefield by walking through it. Her Ghost can regenerate her indefinitely. Even when there's nothing left but ash."

Isidor knows where this is going. Natasha wills her voice not to break. She doesn't deserve the grief she feels over saying this aloud.

"She's also one of Reynard's most vocal critics and foes. So I gave him what he wanted and put a bullet in the back of her head when I was sure Reynard was close by. He'd get what he wanted. And Ghost would bring her back."

Obviously Step Two of that plan doesn't seem to be going according to plan.

"I don't know how he found out. I didn't let any of my intel slip. But he must have. Because she's not back. And I don't think she's coming back."

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heirtothedragonsfire - 2019-04-26 19:38 (UTC) - Expand

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Matt's clearly been to the healers himself, his left arm splinted and immobilized in a sling, and the careful way he holds himself as he moves is plenty of evidence that his ribs aren't unaffected either. He hasn't accepted any pain meds besides the weakest stuff they have, just enough to take the edge off without using up more precious heavy-duty drugs for the seriously injured.

It's not distracting enough to his senses that he can't recognize Natasha, though, her heart rate still elevated as she gazes out past the line of torches, silent radio in hand.

"Keeping watch?"

"Something like that."

Not a lie exactly. Natasha wants to see any sign of the Guardian and her Ghost back in action. Even a poorly timed radio in asking Natasha what the hell she was thinking wouldn't be amiss right now. But instead there's been nothing. No response. Every hour that passes makes the tightness in her chest squeeze just a bit more.

"Expedition hasn't all come back yet. Doesn't seem right relaxing right now."

Not a lie, but evasive. Anxious. Stressed. Not things Matt's used to associating with her, and he frowns, focusing less on what he hears beyond the torchline in favor of what he's getting from her.

They'd known there was a chance that not everyone was going to come back alive. Or in one piece. It doesn't make it any easier to live through, though. And he's compelled to ask, even if it's just to offer a prayer for the lost. "Who're we missing, still?"

Matt asks his question and Natasha's heart rate spikes as her stomach plummets into her feet. She can hear it still. See the coolants leaking and she made the only choice she could make it was the right choice--there was no other choice. Her breathing stays steady and so undoubtedly does her expression but Matt knows better than the even voice Natasha uses.

"Blaze-37 and her Ghost. I think one of the scouts is missing yet too." The Washington kid Natasha could care less about. It's a goddamned blessing that psycho is gone so far as she's concerned. "And Azwel."

Her reaction is so wrong that it cuts right through Matt's pain and fatigue, her heart betraying what her voice won't. It sounds like guilt. Over not being able to save them? Or something else?

"You were there." He feels confident enough in guessing that much. She doesn't strike him as the type to blame herself for not acting if she wasn't able to. Especially if she didn't know any different, at the time. No, whatever happened to put that hiccup in her heartbeat, she was a participant in it.

"I was. With Blaze and Ghost, at least. I don't know about the others."

Natasha hadn't exactly been discreet in sticking to Blaze's back the entire ride up there during the start of the Expedition, nor after the fighting started. Up till the last moments she looked for another way. When none could be found...

"She should be back by now." Ghost should have gotten her up. Unless Blaze is still Out There chasing down the Fallen leader like she threatened to but then wouldn't she reply to Natasha's radio? Even if her memory or something Tony fixed for her a while ago was damaged because of this Ghost knows what happened. Ghost should have gotten her up and checking in.

She's nauseous and exhausted but her mind won't let this go.

"They both should be back by now."

He'd lost track of most of the fighters, once the melee had started. Too much to track the entire battlefield, forced to focus on what was an immediate threat to himself and nearby allies, and he still ended up blindsided enough to bench him for probably the rest of winter. Matt frowns, unable to recall whether he'd heard anything from either of them, during the fight.

He doesn't know Blaze, or her Ghost, not outside what's been necessary for the raid. But she'd seemed a competent warrior, and he would've thought her mechanical body would've given her an edge over the squishier organic fighters in the party. "You got separated," he guesses, hesitant. Something about that doesn't seem right. "When did you see them last? Maybe the scouts could go out looking." Unlikely, though. They'd all known when they left that if they didn't make it back under their own power, rescue was vanishingly unlikely.

"No. We parted ways."

Circuits sparking. Coolant leaking. Ghost's optic widening as he stared up at her. What are you doing, Natasha? And she couldn't explain, not then. Not while Reynard or his agents could hear. How could he have found out about her plan?

But he must have.

Because Blaze isn't here and neither is her Ghost.

"The Spirit controlling the Season was there. Close by. He was watching us, thwarting us. He's the one who assaulted Azwel. He would have buried the entire convoy underneath his wrath if he hadn't gotten what he wanted."

Parted ways.

That sounds ominous even before she continues speaking, and the more Matt hears, the less he likes. Though it makes no difference to him which way he's facing, he turns in her direction more fully, his frown deepening as a shiver finds a home in his spine. Her heartbeat thuds heavily in his ears, an irregular beat of guilt guilt guilt.

"What he wanted? Natasha. What did you do?"

"I gave him a show. I killed someone who can't be killed."

It should have been a show. Ghost knew well enough to make sure it was safe before he resurrected Blaze. How could Reynard have found out? What is she missing? It's sending her round in circles and the guilt only gets worse. But Natasha isn't a coward. She had the nerve to pull the trigger.

She'll have the nerve to admit it.

"Her ghost should have brought her right back once he was gone. I don't know why they're not back yet. This is a woman who clears minefields by walking through them. A life that could be renewed versus everyone else? The choice is obvious."

It's not going to stop Natasha from hurting over it. Blaze is their good friend. When Steve finds out about this...

Edited 2019-04-21 02:08 (UTC)

For a moment, Matt doesn't even know how to respond. He already knew damn well that she's a killer, that it's what she's trained to do, but killing an enemy is one thing. Executing an ally? Sacrificing them to some pagan spirit to appease Winter? That's something else entirely. Even if this ally could supposedly resurrect herself.

Which, apparently, she hasn't.

Matt's jaw tightens, and he bows his head and crosses himself with his good arm, offering up a silent prayer to Saint Michael. Out loud, he says nothing for a long moment, struggling with the disbelief and the anger, and the terrible logic of Natasha's decision. "If she's not back, then she's not coming back."

Natasha doesn't need Matt to tell her how monstrous what she's saying is. The spy is well aware of it already. But she's also apparently just fine with piling on the guilt so she watches every tic and repressed emotion that flits across his face because it's the least of what she deserves and Natasha knows this.

When Nocturnal told her the choice and its consequences would be hers to make, Natasha knew what would be waiting for her if she couldn't find a different way out of this.

"You and I can't know that for sure. But it doesn't look great. And. That's on me."

Everything that comes with it.