[Out on the Plane, a strange recovery bed appears, complete with an armored Freelancer clinging to the edges off it. He's screaming and suddenly jolts and flails until he tumbles off the bed and falls silent. He doesn't move right away. Then finally, he lets out a groan]

Ugh... My head...

[He's still not right, he can feel it. The others told him he'd have a headache and stuff, but this... There's something wrong with him. Why does he keep having these weird flashes...?

Slowly, he tries to get up, but his limbs feel so heavy. It's a struggle to even touch his helmeted head. And he's hungry too. Just how long has he been out??]



[ooc: So, Wash has gone through with his surgery to get Epsilon implanted in his head! Surgery...was not effective, though. I figure the MoI has crashed, but Wash doesn't exactly know what's gone on, not being stuck in the recovery room as he is.]

[A few pieces of pink foil-wrapped chocolates rest around a special thermos Wash uses for his "special" meals and accidentally left in the Plane kitchen. He's glad it's still there. But those chocolates... It's not the first time he's seen them around the islands that the Plane has become, but he's seen them enough times that he...actually wants to try one. Someone may be trying to leave them for him, and maybe if he tries one, that'll satisfy them. Of course, it could be a trap. Or they...could just be chocolates and nothing more. He takes one out along with his thermos and has a seat while he drinks and mulls over whether he wants to open the foil wrapper or not. (And so it warms up a bit.)]

[A few minutes and an empty thermos later, he still hasn't touched the chocolate. He frowns at it, then realizes how stupid it is to be hesitant about one little thing like this.] Oh, what the hell.

[He grabs it, the foil crinkling as he peels it away and sees a milk chocolate within, and a hint of peanut butter hits his nose before he pops it into his mouth.] Hmm, not bad.
[Considering he rarely has sweet things, there isn't too much for him to compare it to. And considering he hasn't changed in any way--thank god--he gets up to wash his thermos and debates a trip to Eithan's house.]

I wonder who's been putting the chocolates out...

[His cheeks start to flush a bit, but otherwise, he feels all right.]


[ooc: Unfortunately, the chocolates have been having an effect on him, and it'll be evident to him and anyone he meets as he'll be infatuated with them on sight. Cue the awkward! (And if anything happens that you don't like, talk to me. I have no limits for him, so slap him, kiss him, try to drown him, whatever, it's fine with me~)]

The snow's still here?! Seriously?!

[That's the very brilliant exclamation and observation from Agent Washington as he stares at the white stuff on the ground. He just wanted to go Eithan's house, get a drink--and hopefully run into the man himself. Wash has something very important to talk to him about, especially with his surgery coming up in a couple days. That's it. But now, he's gonna have to make sure to dry off his armor before he goes back, and take the proper rust prevention precautions. He grumbles and starts to run down the procedure in his head, helmet tucked under his arm as he starts trudging through it, his feet sinking practically down through what must be at least six inches of snow.]

At least it's not snowing more, but...this doesn't seem to be melting. [He sighs. This brings back some early training day memories. He did well enough, but until the grappling hook incident, a couple other fresh and young agents knew him for sliding down a hundred food snowy slope on his ass into the middle of a pack of sim troopers. Nothing gets one to learn cold weather combat techniques faster than wanting to avoid that kind of thing again. Still doesn't mean he has to be fond of snow.] Great.

[Continuing forward across the Plane, he tries to ignore the cold biting at his nose and ears, but after a moment, he grumbles and starts to put on his helmet--but before it's even over his head, something happens. He doesn't know how or why, but he suddenly finds himself having a really close look at the inside of his helmet, coupled with a plummeting feeling as the cold hits all over his body--and then he's in the snow, his face pressed against something vaguely soft.]

What the he--! [But he stops himself right there. That voice. Was that his voice?? Did something on the Plane shrink him? He can smell his shampoo and sweat from the helmet lining, so he must be inside, but how? He struggles to move, but things don't feel right. Not at all. And goddamn is he cold, no thanks to the snow. He tries to move and stretch his arms, realizing they've been tucked up against his body, and finds that they move weirdly.]

[Then he realizes why. He turns his head, seeing that his nose, in addition to being longer, has turned from a pink to a grayish-yellow. And he notices that he's clinging to the inner lining with a claw...] What the fuck? [Yep, that squeaky, high-pitched voice is his. His heart is positively racing in his chest and he begins to flail around under the helmet, snow immediately flying around as he tries to get out from under it.]

What the fuck did they change me into this time?! [At some point in all his flailing, he manages to kick his helmet radio on, so even if people aren't around to see a random steel and yellow helmet in the snow, they'll hear some very squeaky cursing over the radio...]


[ooc: Unfortunately for Wash, this isn't an experiment.]

[After seeing Riku's double, or other self, or...however it all works out, Wash knows it's only a matter of time before he encounters one of his own. So far, he's done well avoiding one, but he'd be stupid to believe that he can avoid it forever. Things...never work out that way. But he's ready for it. He's kept a stock of extra magazines, a rifle, and a pistol that he's picked up off an enemy in the past in his room at the mansion for these occasions. It's a good thing, too; he only had his armor and a straw on him when he first got to the Plane and the stars briefly went out.

So when he finally sees another figure dressed in steel and yellow armor, he immediately draws his pistol and takes aim.]

Hey.

[The double starts to turn, but Wash squeezes off a shot before it can move any more. The bullet strikes the back of the double's head--but it does nothing except to knock it forward. A cruel chuckle emanates from it.] Oh, I wondered where you were hiding.

[Wash's blood runs cold, his aim faltering. It's one thing to see a friend and their double, but it's another hearing and seeing one that has the same voice as you. The double faces him now, a soft yellow glow illuminating its helmet visor. Wash remains silent as it reaches up and takes the helmet off. Sure enough, same face, but it wears an expression that he rarely wears these days: a toothy grin, fangs proudly visible. The pointed teeth aren't the only reason why he doesn't smile much, or take his helmet off back home unless he's only around South and York, though...] Wasn't hiding. [Not exactly a lie. He's just been good at keeping moving and not staying in one place for too long.] Being a walking nightlight, I thought I would've found you sooner.

Sarcastic jokes. How original. We'd never crack one of those. [The double rolls its eyes, sighing under its breath as it turns its helmet in its hands, the visor facing Wash.] You and I both know why we do that. [It makes the helmet nod.] As far as you're concerned, you're still hiding. Live a little for fucking once! Here, you can be free. No Director to disappoint. You're right to hide it back home; he would turn you into a test subject and you'd never see any of your friends ever again--what remains of them, anyway. [The helmet drops to the ground, the double casually stepping over it as it walks towards Wash. He doesn't budge, however, his hands tightening on his pistol.] You really should've told them about what you saw Connie doing that day. Maybe she'd still be here instead of with--

[Wash shoots the double in the head again, but despite the lack of helmet, it still does no good.] You don't get to talk about her. Or any of this!

[The double touches its forehead, rubbing the spot where it'd been shot.] Of all people, I thought you'd understand. Maybe you need a little blood to help clear your mind. I bet you're looking a bit pale behind that helmet.

[It's lunchtime back on the Mother of Invention, well, for some of the crew anyway. Others are stuck in training or out on missions, or just aren't hungry. For Wash, it is definitely time to eat, especially if his datapad reminder is correct. Which, it is. He knows he really doesn't need to have the schedule, but making it part of his routine has helped him accept that what happened to him is permanent. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't have all of his lunch with him there back in his reality (for very obvious reasons), so he brings his tray of food and one of the mess hall tables from one of the corners of the hall back with him to the Plane.

And there he sits now, occasionally eating an apple and taking a sip out of a cup with a yellow silly straw sticking out of it. A tall thermos sits closed near the cup and the rest of his tray, but he's hardly touched any of it yet with the exception of an apple and the half of a fish sandwich that looks like he'd torn pieces from it.

He's not alone, though. A tiny green dragon, that he accidentally hatched upon his arrival, has taken upon itself to find any way it can to sleep on him and is currently draped around the upper neck area of his armor, its head tucked up against his throat. The little creature is snoring in his ear, but he actually doesn't mind its presence because every now and then, the dragon's chest will rumble in such a way that reminds him of a cat. Unconsciously, he smiles faintly every time he hears that sound. He misses his old cats.

For now, though, his attentions aren't on his lunch or his new companion. They're on his helmet and a specific slot he's trying to find in it.] Come on, it should be around here somewhere... [He's muttering under his breath, not wanting to wake his new little friend. He frowns, then reaches for his cup to finish the rest of blood inside, the straw slurping noisily the second it runs out. He freezes, waiting to see if that'll be enough to wake it. A little grumble and growl emanates from the dragon, but thankfully it hasn't woken up yet. Took enough to calm it down before, he thinks to himself as he glances forlornly at his half-eaten sandwich, then to the small scorch marks on his gauntlet.]

[There comes a time in every adult's life when something comes along and renders them completely and utterly child-like. Such things don't really happen for Wash, however; he's far too rule-minded and serious about most things to let himself go like that. And besides, it's not...really easy for him to anyway. He tries, and those who have known him for years in Project Freelancer know he's, well, a bit awkward and dorky when it comes to some things. (And gullible, which certain Freelancers know all too damn well.)

But this new thing? Ohhh, oh, it makes him happy and he's having no trouble showing it.

He stands at the top of the coliseum, a bulky-looking thing attached to the back of his armor. It's a shame he has a helmet on. He has this nervous but wide grin on his face. Ever since he saw Tex using one of these, he's wanted to try it--and now he can. They've had their initial training courses, sure, but a time will come when they will have to use these things in the field, so...why not practice...? He knows he shouldn't bring equipment like this to the Plane, but really, he's brought various guns, ammo, and other training equipment here and hasn't gotten in trouble for it yet. Borrowing the jetpack for a while will be just fine. (And he reminds himself that yes, it's okay. It will be fine and in no way will this get him in trouble with the higher-ups. Seriously.)

Peering over the edge, the ground seems like it's farther away than it was before, but that's okay! The jetpack will break his fall! (Of course, it helps that he didn't really hear too much about the incident with Georgia when he was first testing the equipment out. He wouldn't be anywhere near as excited to use it.)]

Watch out below!

[His warning given, his eyes flicker over to the jetpack indicator in his helmet visor, reaffirming for himself that it is indeed in full working order and he's not about to jump and break his legs doing this. At least this is nothing like the skydiving training they did, he reminds himself. Nervously, he inches closer to the edge and takes a deep breath...]


[ooc: the Freelancers have moved up in their canon to the end of S9! ~Stuff~ has happened, and more stuff is to come, but for now? JETPACKS! \o/]

[While Wash is happy to have his memories intact, he sure as hell isn't happy about being stuck on the Plane again. At least this time, he has a full set of gear on him, even a couple of extra clips. Never can be too careful these days, not when something like the Machine is in his life. He has a couple MREs to get him through the first couple of days, as well, but he knows that will not be the case for everyone. He doesn't even know how the others are doing elsewhere.

What he does know, though, is that not everyone is armed and trained as he is, and there could be people in trouble--or worse.

Hefting his rifle in his hand, he clears his throat, then flicks on the loudspeaker in his helmet.]

Attention please! If you don't know who I am by now, I'm Agent Washington. I don't know what's going on here like the rest of you, and I don't know how long we're going to be here, so we need to gather supplies and establish a base of some sorts until things improve and we can go home again.

I'm looking for able-bodied volunteers to go out there with me to gather things we will need like food, water, maybe even some bedding if a couple of you are up for checking out the hot springs hotel out there, but be careful. Something's in the water and there's a lot of it. Bring any kind of light source and weapon you can get your hand on. It just might be the thing that saves your life.

If you stay here, see what you can find for things to sleep on, and see if there's any leftover food in the concession stand or elsewhere in the building. Be extra careful if you go around here on your own. And don't leave the building if you don't have to, and if you absolutely must, don't go alone.

So. If you want to come with me, gear up now and meet me over there by the front entrance. I'm leaving in two minutes. [He'd leave now, but he'd rather wait to make sure everyone who wants to come gets out so they can travel in a group. With his little speech made, he switches off the loudspeaker and turns to wander over to the door.]

~*~*~*~*~*~

[Elsewhere, North is inside the door of the library, looking out at the Plane beyond. He's quiet as he watches the various gages and read-outs in his helmet. He doesn't see anything wrong except for the water. Everything reads the same as it did before--and that's what bothers him. He's short a fifth of a clip from taking out the creatures that showed up out there, and he doesn't know how many more are there or where.

After another moment of checking his trackers, he turns and looks around the library. He can't be the only one who wants to go out.]

Hey, we're going to need some supplies soon, so I'm going out there. If anyone wants to come with me, you're more than welcome to. Safety in numbers. Just be prepared to run if things get too hairy out there.


[ooc: Have a joint Wash and North entry! I've put Wash in the theatre and North in the library, so please be sure to let me know which one you want to interact with!]

[Even before his visit with York, Wash has felt...off. And a bit itchy, which really fucking sucks when one is dressed in armor the majority of the day, but his left leg has felt ridiculously itchy all day when he hasn't been distracted with sneezing and his occasionally stuffed nose. But not too long ago, all that became this...tingly feeling, and times, like his whole body was being twisted into knots.

Now...normally, Wash would have just gone back to the medical bay on the Mother of Invention, but since he came to the Plane to look for South, that's what he's going to do. It wouldn't do either of them any good if one was missing.

Unfortunately, he has no idea where the hell she can be since she isn't in her normal spot, so he's been stuck wandering around the Plane with all that weird pain shooting through his body.

Yeah, they're gonna have words later.

He's so annoyed and worked up about finding her that he doesn't quite notice how much he's suppressing the pain and the tingling until it suddenly hits him all at once while he's finishing up his search of the theatre. His breath is knocked out him as his knees weaken, his vision dimming--and then he collapses to the lobby ground.

A few minutes later, he comes to, but he feels very, very weird. He doesn't feel that pain anymore, but as he starts to move again and lets out a groan, it's a much, much deeper voice that he hears.] Ugh, what--[His eyes pop open in surprise--only to be further surprised by the different HUD in his helmet, and the strange four-digit hand moving towards his face.]

Whoa! [He sits up, backing away from the hand until he realizes that it's his.] What--what's happened to me?! How did this happen? [As he speaks, the four mandible-like lips on his face move. The sensation is...well, "strange" doesn't properly describe it. His hand moves under the front brim of his helmet to feel his mouth.] --Is this my face?

[He jumps to his feet out of a very strong desire to just get the hell out of there before something else happens, though a small part of him is left wondering if the theatre always had that stale popcorn smell or not. Never the less, he runs out of the theatre, knocking the door off its hinges.

Anyone nearby will see a tall gray and gold-armored alien leave the theatre instead of the armored Freelancer who went in there minutes ago, or one can find him out on the Plane elsewhere when he's calmer.]



[ooc: Say hello to Elite-Wash! The Elites/Sangheili are really the only alien race we've seen in RvB, and in that universe, they're sort of at war with them but one has been (will be?) used for training exercises in the series (and made mpreg canonical--er, long story for another time), but the Elites have only ever sounded and acted like this. Thank god the Plane translates everyone or else he'd just be saying "blargh" or "honk" the entire time.

Anyway, Elite-Wash, and his conveniently changed armor, is over eight feet tall, has a super deep voice, is far more agile than a regular human, and his senses are sharper. He does not have any guns on him, contrary to the picture and icons I'll be inserting into the comments. He does have a rash on his left leg that is much lighter in color than the rest of his brown-black skin, so feel free to notice that at any time. And for the sake of ease, feel free to catch him at any point after he flees the theatre; just give me a heads-up about how much time has passed since then and whatnot. And yes! That should be it.]

[this time, Wash arrives on the Plane unarmed, all weapons left safely behind on the Mother of Invention. not that he needed to be armed right then, not during a mission briefing. in fact he would still be there if it weren't for one single reason: someone who should be there isn't. and this fact alone bothers him...]

Where the hell is she?! Damnit, of all the times to come here...

[...probably more than it would have prior to their first gaining access to the Plane. he grumbles a bit under his breath before he regains his composure. he'll just have to search for her and bring her back.]

[while he's here, though, he can take care of another matter. he removes a small datapad from a compartment in his armor, the device's screen glowing softly once he turns it on. it isn't the first time--nor will it be the last--that he's had to do something in secret and keep it from his friends. at least he doesn't have to worry about the insurrectionists and what they might be doing to get into the program, but here...it's another matter entirely. and from the people he's spoken to and what he's seen so far, he's definitely convinced something must be done, especially since he still doesn't know what happened to cause all that noise recently.]

[but he can't do it on his own. so, while he's searching for a certain colleague of his, he can at least speak to people about helping him with a side project. hopefully he can meet people who are interested in protecting others on the Plane...]