Agent Carolina accepted York's outstreched hand as the tan armored Freelancer hauled her inside the troop bay of the Pelican, both parties eager to leave the city below far behind. Once she was inside the Pelican, Carolina made quick strides to the cockpit area, afixing her helmet to her head in one smooth motion, well, it was smooth at least to the point at which it sealed with a low hiss.

Wash watched the proceedings with his usual keen eye before his gaze met that of the odd blue fellow in the ODST armor, the gray and yellow clad Agent cocked an eyebrow at the man whom merely shrugged. Washington, in need of an outlet other than staring at the walls of the troop bay, turned to Agent Maine who'd taken a considerable amount of punishment in the team's escape, especially to the throat. It was amazing he was still alive, let alone still standing unaided. Wash stooped a bit to get a look at Maine's throat, which was splattered a dark crimson, though biofoam injectors had stopped the bleeding, all that was left was the darker dried blood and the stench it gave off. The agent reached into one of the seemingly dozens of pouches that dotted his armor before retrieving a standard-issue medkit and it's hearty dosage of morphine, Wash flicked the tabs open with his free thumb while his other hand got to work selecting an appropriate field dressing, "Alright, big guy time to get you patched up."

Maine grunted in protest, shaking his head no.

Washington's eyes narrowed beneath the unfeeling golden visor, Maine had always had a dry and husky voice when he'd spoken, which was quite rare, but his sudden resortion to gutteral grunts pointed towards lasting damage, Wash swore under his breath as he wondered how he'd have to explain this latest screw-up to the Director. Honestly, it wasn't his fault, wasn't anyones fault but the Director had a strange ability to implicate everyone on the team in on even the slightest of mistake, Wash always hated debriefings for that very fact. But his mind was forced to other topics as he heard York ask, "What the hell was that?"

And Carolina bite back, "What the hell was what, York?"

Washington bit his lip as York replied in a tone that simply radiated how he felt about the current topic, his usual sunny attitude hidden like the sun is hidden by a storm cloud, a night and day differece, "You know damn well what I'm talking about. Don't try to be coy with me, I'm not stupid."

But as per her character, Carolina would deny her mistakes to her deathbed, and as a wannabe gangster would say 'got all up in York's grill' Washington swore if they got any closer their helmets would be threatening to hit eachother, "Listen, York, I won't have my command questioned in front of the rest of the team. My orders are final, and I expect you to follow them to the letter. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am. But I'd like the peace of mind that mine and the rest of the team aren't being endangered by your continued attempts to outdo Texas. Frankly, I'm kinda miffed about this whole thing. Are you just jealous of the idea she might be getting more of the Director's attention than you? Are you just determined to prove you're still the best of the best, is that what's driving this?"

"York, Agent Texas operates outside the chain of command. Outside my chain of command, I couldn't risk her taking the case-" Carolina replied with her usual sharpness before York cut her off in mid-sentence.

"Oh, cut the bullshit. Tex reports directly to the Director, she's like his personal pitbull, if anything the package is safer with her. You need to end this feud before someone ends up dead-"

Tired of it all, North Dakota or North as he was commonly called, stepped inbetween the two before they came to throwing punchs, "Enough, both of you. We have enough problems without you two trying to kill eachother. Okay? We need to work together to succeed, arguing isn't going to change that. Got it?"

Carolina brushed aside North's arm and headed to the cockpit once more, the automatic door sealing behind her, York replied with a simple, "Yep," at roughly the same time, Carolina safely on the other side of a reinforced steel door, he let out a sigh, "Well, shit. That went about as well as expected." The Agent settled himself into one of the jump seats and pulled off his helmet before sitting it on his knee, he gestured to Maine but aimed his question at Washington, "How's he?"

Washington shook his head, "Not good. He's alive, somehow, but the damage is extensive. And probably inrepairable at this point. He might never talk again."

"At this rate we're all going to be missing something. I think you're next on the list, maybe someone'll shoot off your self-doubt and your ability to blame yourself for every little thing."

"Or I'll just get shot in the back, get paralyzed and die working at a desk for command."

"Oooo. Sounds fun."

Things continued as usual for the next hour or so, the usual disembarking from Pelicans, the required trip to the medbay for Maine, a debriefing with The Director and the obligatory trip to the scoreboard.

At least, it was obligatory for the other Freelancers, Carolina had never had the need, always being in the top spot for seemingly as long as the scoreboard existed. Until today, the teal Freelancer standing before the scoreboard, helmet under her arm. Well, the helmet was under her arm, now it was halfway across the room where it'd settled after being thrown.

"Oooo, outdone by Texas. Must hurt to be second best, eh, Carolina?"

The redhead glared over her shoulder at the brown suited Freelancer standing in the corner, arms crossed and head crocked at the scoreboard's screen, "Shut it, Connecticut."

"Easy now, wouldn't want to bust a vein," CT replied, taking a step towards the door, "And please, call me CT. It's so much simpler."