#multiwarfare

@multiwarfare

Woods' sight trailed to Bell. There was palpable tension in the air. Hudson was very much against Bell and there was ample reason to be tense given the circumstances around her. Adler said he had things hand in hand with that stoic tone in his voice, not once having doubts about the situation, but whatever they did to her you had to ask if it wouldn't bite them in the ass.

Might as well enjoy the Hudson stress. Prick deserves high blood pressure. Woods let out an humored chortle

[ CATCH ]:          sender, noticing the receiver’s legs beginning to give out beneath them, rushes over to them and catches them before they collapse to the ground.

Fifty feet. That's all Phoenix needed to last before she could let herself fall apart unwind, let herself collapse onto the nearest flat surface. It wasn't that she was injured, just... lightheaded after a hard workout session. But she was fine, it wasn't a big deal. Or so she thought, until she started to stumble, streaks of black bleeding into her vision.

Maybe this wouldn't have happened if she had just remembered to eat something earlier in the day, or at the very least noticed when her prosthetic started to slip from her stump. Or the fact she apparently wasn't the only one around.

She's freezing cold, how ironic, as the brain fog leaves as quickly as it came, lets her feel a little more grounded. And the first thing she noticed was the other woman keeping her upright, presumably the only reason why she hadn't just ate shit a few moments prior.

"Thanks.." Phoenix mumbled, forcing her breathes to slow as she grabbed onto a nearby shelf to stabilize herself, trying to get away from the physical contact that, while needed, was more suffocating than anything; claustrophobic. Keenly aware being upright wasn't something that was a real option at the moment, she slowly lowered herself to the ground, pulling her left knee in close to her chest.

@multiwarfare (farah) - for dis!

“Don’t let the boys know I might be playing favorites, or they’ll never let me hear the end of it about not getting them the ‘really cool secret CIA toys that go boom’, to paraphrase.”  

Never mind the number of favors she had to burn for the supply order, but there were too many eyes after the hearing. They couldn’t risk a third attack on Urzikstan soil, and luckily a lift on the list order was definitely going to make this easier. “Formally I’m supposed to make sure you understand that this is an apology gift to hopefully mend relations. Informally I can tell you that’s a load of bull coming from most of the marines, but you didn’t hear it from me.” 

"As you don't know me." But who was to say they didn't know each other well enough with the things they had gathered on the other? "But I've known those who have worked alongside you, just as you may have known those working alongside me."

He knows to not trust lightly, to not hand over things on a silver platter. Yet, there are things he has to share, things he must give out to keep the wheels turning. Bell might be almost a complete mystery, but her subordinates, her abilities...

He initially expects for the woman to reject his offer. It was already a bit much that he'd barely present himself – donned with a mask and formal attire hiding practically every organic part of him, aside from his eyes. He was, by all means, a presence that did not inspire trust – but Farah wouldn't let herself be persuaded by appearances. It was one of the many aspects that made her such an excellent leader. Atom could respect that,... and he had quietly settled for honoring his words, display loyalty, even if it was just for this mission together.

A small nod comes with a small grunt of acknowledgment. He clicks on his communicator for it to voice a mechanical ["thank you"] back at her, before it was onto business.

He'd call it amusing, maybe, if it weren't so annoying. Bell always knew just which buttons to push to make him have the worst time. And he wasn't having it, not now, not ever.

"That's a lot of confidence for someone who can't even trust their own mind." Or country, he keeps to himself. Though, of course, he says this because he knows it better than anyone, despite whatever front he puts up. There's a nonchalant demeanor to him, annoyance hiding behind dark lenses and a lit cigarette he moves to hold, smoke exhaled right out – a more delicate action than whatever else he thinks or does.

she's  still  responding  slowly,  even  if  there's  not  much  to  ponder  upon.  she  has  her  instructions,  and  in  case  of  her  health  being  at  high  risk,  she's  allowed  to  spill  the  secrets.  not  like  she  needs  their  approval.

fate  grunts,  collects  the  blood  from  her  mouth  and  mixes  it  with  saliva;  spits  to  the  side  and  raises  her  emotionless  sight  at  valeria.

❝  they're  called  kortac.  ❞  she  says,  voice  raspy.  this  time  it's  not  special  forces,  another  elite  task  force  or  shadow  company,  but  different  private  military  contractors  on  makarov's  case,  though  this  information  is  not  spilled  just  yet  (if  it  will  be,  at  all).  el  sin  nombre  is  just  a  suspect.  ❝  if  you  don't  know  them,  use  google,  ❞  fate  adds,  just  to  poke  the  bear  a  bit  more.

HIS LEFT KNEE SHIFTS AS HE FIXES HIS POSTURE, staring at her with an indecipherable expression resting in the dark flecks of his eyes. Ghost's folded arms move with a subtle shoulder roll, deciding to withhold his answer for the next half a minute. Except the ensuing silence feels like it's stretching for longer than thirty seconds, creating a vacuum in the stagnant air.