(A/N) Hey all! Sorry that this is going up a but late, but I've just announced the authors for our Grifball fic, which should be up and running soon, so look out for that! This chapter has to be one of my favourites, and I can honestly say that I worry about WargishBoromirFan, or Warg as we call him, because Georgia is more alive in my mind than any fictional character has any right to be. I KNOW you'll all enjoy this, because it is, to be frank, incredible.
Have to say, our new guys are shaping up pretty well! :) To those interested, we're still looking for writers for our X-Ray and Vav fic that we have in the works, so get on down to our forum!
Enjoy!
Chapter Forty-Three – The Modern Prometheus
Agent Georgia
Written by WargishBoromirFan
"I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious." - Albert Einstein
Overall, Georgia would have to mark his first day as an official agent of Project Freelancer as interesting, and the night didn't yet seem out of surprises, even after the paint was chipped off, Maine had been escorted to the medical bay, and Ark had left the rest of the new recruits to catch their bearings on the observation deck while he went to look in on their injured comrade, waving off his roommate's curiosity with a muttered comment to pay attention to the remaining senior Freelancers and catch him up to speed later.
There was nothing saying that they had to stick around; the official introduction to the project ended about the same time that the Dakotas had claimed their last victim. Alaska had certainly ghosted out before the second fight had properly finished, and Virginia and Wyoming didn't stick around to congratulate Penn on his victory, either, so far as the big man in dark blue accepted praise for his win. Agent Pennsylvania took the Director's silent nod as something near criticism as much as a compliment. Penn's eyes narrowed, and he didn't even seem to notice Georgia or the other rookies as he blazed out of the training facility.
But even so, it didn't hurt to see what the unofficial welcoming committee of York and Massa had planned for the rest of the rookies, at least so long as they didn't pull anything too stupid now that the bosses had left with Florida and Carolina in tow. Could be fun.
On one hand, York had given the new recruits a standing invitation for beer and a televised ball game - two things dear to Georgia's soul, even if he'd never heard of the sport in question. On the other, North had been the first to accept, and while the purple-armoured man seemed a nice enough gent when he wasn't handing one one's now completely pink ass, South was the first to refuse, and her brother's response seemed to set her off even further.
"Now here's a show that warrants beer and a bag of chips," California muttered to Georgia, taking in the sight of the top two new recruits turning on each other with just a hint of vengeful glee in his shining blue eyes.
"Well, it ain't really a fair fight," Georgia replied, tilting his head closer to the agent in white and red as they considered the night's impromptu alternative entertainment. North was on the defensive, trying to placate his sister without giving up his own plans, while the sibling better suited for close-quarters combat moved in for the kill. "Ten on South-"
The rest of Georgia's wager was cut off as both male rookies were seized by their shoulders and dragged away from the impending confrontation. "I think we'll have to take a rain-check, York. Thank you for the offer, though." Massa's smile was motherly, in the same way that Georgia's mother's had been with four boys who didn't know when it was better to stop running their mouths and back away. "South, Mich, why don't you come by our place tonight? It'd be nice to get some girl time in, maybe get away from the testosterone for a bit," she suggested with very solid "playful" swats to Georgia and Cal's backs.
Neither of the new female Freelancers looked particularly enthused by the suggestion, South turning from her brother like a coyote interrupted in her hunt, and Michigan glancing between the two women from the corner she had parked herself in as if unsure which of them had the bigger screw loose. The other newbie to have remained on the observation deck, Sota, looked as if he were attempting to use his grey and white colour scheme to meld into the wall. He hadn't even pulled his helmet off yet.
"Sure," South backed off as abruptly as she'd gone after her brother, "No sense in trying to watch their backs. I ought to revel in whatever timehe doesn't spend hovering over me. Let's go out, make friends, swap the latest gossip with Carolina." The taller blonde hooked arms with Mich with about the same gentleness and subtlety as she had delivered left hooks in training, offering the only person she'd known since before joining the project a withering grimace poorly disguised as a cheery smile.
Michigan resisted South's pull just enough to make the purple-armoured woman pause and meet her eye before they started off. Massachusetts didn't release her captives until the other ladies had walked out the door, then patted their shoulders more gently as she let out a sigh. "Well, only one with physical damage today. Have a good night, boys." With that, she turned and followed them out.
North scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. "Sorry, I guess we kinda killed the party mood there…"
"You really are determined to propel yourselves up the board. Guess I'd better watch out," York joked. "Maybe later, then. You guys know where to find me if you need drunken advice." The senior Freelancer offered them a lazy two-fingered salute. "You're lucky to have her," he added in a more serious undertone to North.
"Yeah," the blond replied with a lopsided grin. "She means well. She's just…" North offered a shrug as Cal suggested his own end to that sentence.
"Severely paranoid and co-dependent?"
"I was going to say 'South,'" North responded easily enough. He still looked both ways down the corridors before following York out the door. "Hey, wait up!"
"Guess it's not paranoia if it keeps 'em up top," Georgia said. "Ark mentioned goin' to check on the big guys after their match. Anybody wanna help organize Room 6401 for their triumphant return?" Pulling a roll of duct tape from his in-armour supply kit, the green-armoured freelancer spun it suggestively around a finger.
"You think the Director knew what he was in for, sticking those two in the same room?" Sota wondered aloud, finally coming off the wall. They'd all been warned away from Penn by the more experienced agents, at least while the big blue-armoured man was in a temper. Maine had seemed like the best fit for a roommate on the surface, quiet and bulky enough not to invite attempts at intimidation. Not that such would have worked on Georgia; he'd never feared a linebacker or Jiralhanae he'd ever faced, but his usual tactics did tend to end up with a pissed-off brute running straight in his direction, intent on driving his teeth into the dirt, some yards away from the rest of his head. Maine was calm enough not to invite the same trouble, his every move conducted with such economy that Georgia almost did feel sorry for whoever the bald man went loose upon.
Trouble was, when Maine did let loose, it had been with the blue monolith of easily conducted rage standing in his way. And Pennsylvania hit back hard. Maine had put up a good fight, one that Georgia would be proud to give, but the senior roommate had come away the bloodied victor. And while there was always the chance that the two of them would be spending plenty of time by themselves in the hospital wing, eventually, Penn and Maine would be pushed back together in very small quarters, one bunk next to the other, metal walls, hard floors, and a thick titanium door.
Georgia wasn't sure if enough duct tape existed in the universe to fix this.
"Well, maybe they'll keep their fighting confined to their room," California suggested. "Just have it out now and then be all hunky-dory once the bleeding stops. At least the rest of us won't necessarily have to listen to the bedlam in the animal house."
"Least we can do is help mark territory," Georgia said. Arkansas had been muttering about the two bigger agents lacking boundaries, and if all else failed, there was always the method Georgia and his own brothers had favoured to denote demarcations of personal space. As long as it was installed by an objective third party, everything should be equal, and Ark's visit might at least keep Maine distracted long enough for Georgia to put it into play without any worries from that end. Now there was simply the matter of making sure Penn stayed out of the line of attack for long enough… If the big blue guy had anybody who could keep him calmed down, Georgia didn't know it. Even the Counselor seemed to stand back from that one. Georgia didn't mind running interference, but then who'd be in charge of installing electroshock wires calibrated to respond to two different specific armour sets in opposite hemispheres of the floor? Wouldn't want it to just zap anybody who walked in. Then one might as well just prop the bucket of used motor oil over the door and have done with it.
Sota shook his head, still considering the roll of tape twirling about Georgia's finger warily. "I don't want to get involved, there. Those guys are more trouble than they're worth."
"Come on, they had t've said that 'bout just about any of us. Doesn't make us bad people." A brewing problem between comrades might offer Georgia a puzzle for his downtime, but there was nothing like someone saying that it couldn't be solved to really bring his focus upon the issue.
"Yeah, they probably say that about some of us more frequently than others." California rolled his eyes before throwing his helmet back on. "I'll stop by the med bay and see how Maine's doing before we see if we can find somewhere to catch the game."
"Say hey for me," Georgia said, going through a mental list of all the more experienced Freelancers who might be of help; at least California would be providing some moral support while leaving before he'd gotten any damning concrete evidence in case of later interrogation. Maybe Carolina or Florida could corral Penn; Alaska might know where to find some extra conducting line on short notice… And sooner or later, he'd need some way to enter into the room to set it up and C4 tended to leave such an obvious trail…
"Hey for you," Cal responded automatically, raising a hand in farewell. "You coming, Sota?"
The taller man in white and grey shook his head. "I'm gonna hit the showers," Minnesota begged off. "Then probably go to bed. It's been a long day."
"Hey, out here in space, the day never ends, right?" Cal leaned back through the doors for one last crack. Georgia and Sota followed him out, fanning off in their separate directions.
Georgia wasn't quite sure where to start, so he fell back on an old engineering reflex - when in doubt, hit the motor pool. From there, he could scramble up some supplies and maybe get some of the gossip on where the rest of the veteran Freelancers spent their downtime. The training floor seemed conspicuously empty after Penn's victory, but one dark look from the Director and the rest of the agents decided they'd had enough practice for one day. Sure, it'd be good to get some trick shooting in - there was a freestanding range somewhere around here, too; Georgia would have to see if anyone had decided to relax with a nice bullpup and a box of clays - but it wasn't worth it if the bosses didn't even stick around to see what he could do. A little time underneath the ol' bus would be just as calming and net him the wiring needed for when he could sneak into Maine and Penn's room and get it organized for them.
It took him a couple wrong turns to find the entrance, but his sense of smell had led him to the confluence of oil, petrol, and steel that was the collection of tanks, planes, and troop carriers, even in the mute recycled air of theMother, HUD unnecessary. The Close-Quarters helmet was nice for combat, offering better protection from shocks and jolts than the traditional Mark VI and a better range of vision than the Explosive Ordinance Disposal type he was used to, but it just wasn't quite as comfortable as his dented old EOD mod from the frontlines. He just needed to break this puppy in. Maybe even break it down, when he had time, but that project was pushed very far to the back as he wandered into the pool.
"Ah, now this is a place to spend a Friday night," Georgia sighed in wistful pleasure as he took in the half-dozen Pelicans, double row of Scorpion tanks, and fleet of Warthogs interspersed with custom and half-assembled vehicles. Between here and the armoury, it was like having his own toy store. He hadn't even been down to the Mother of Invention's main engine room yet, as Carolina didn't appear to find it all that needful to a rookie Freelancer's daily routine. "Maybe later," he promised the closest jeep, patting it fondly upon the fender. Right now, Georgia was here for wires and gossip. "Now there's a beaut of a lady," he said, raising his head and voice in the direction of a pilot and Pelican he recognized from landing.
"If you're giving up and trying to sneak a ride home, there are better ways than trying to butter me up," 479er shot back, not looking up from maintenance of her bird.
"Oh, her pilot's here, too." Georgia couldn't help but grin. "Not to worry about that, Miz Niner, but I was wonderin' if I could pick your brain for a minute."
Niner snorted, eyes on the diagnostics readout. "Think it'd take you longer than a minute to get anything, but if that's as long as your attention span lasts, why not?"
"Wondered if you might be able to give me a better idea of where and how the other Freelancers end up while they're off duty. Figured you and 343-R would be the ones to ferry 'em to shore leave." While the occasional poke was all in good fun - bit of maintenance to one's sense of humour, in Georgia's eyes, - it didn't do to make the people one depended on feel completely unwanted. Couldn't accomplish thrilling heroics without anyone to properly appreciate how grand an effort they truly were, after all.
"You think we have time to take you kids on field trips in the middle of deep space? Or that I'd waste my free time hanging out with you?" Niner snorted. "That's real cute, newbie."
Well, he had suspected that shore leave was pretty rare, outside of missions. Carolina and Penn, at least, had seemed so fixated on what the next target would be that Georgia figured they'd be doing something Freelancer-related even when there wasn't a project in the works, but they were heading up the leader board, so there probably was something to that laser focus of their tightly-wound springs. They just didn't look like they got out enough. "I just figure you notice things in this ship that we don't, seeing as you're around here more and get to look into places we can't mosey 'round that often."
"You would be surprised," was all Niner was willing to respond. "The Director favors you Freelancers a whole lot more than us mere pilots, for reasons he doesn't bother explaining to me. Go bug somebody who cares, rookie."
"And where would that person be?" Georgia continued with shameless guilelessness.
Finally, he'd provoked her enough to make eye contact. She just gave him a flat stare, but it was a start. "Do you listen at all?"
"Every word, Miz Niner." He leaned forward, grinning despite himself.
"Will you at least go away if I throw a stick? Or do I need to break out something heavier?" She cocked back with an extra screw in hand.
"Well, some electric transduction cable would be nice," he said, catching the screw in his helmet before it hit him in the face. He hoped it didn't ding the visor. Niner chucked pretty hard.
"Next time you want to mooch, fill out a goddamn requisition form." A tangle of wire was hastily dumped atop the outstretched green helmet and the pilot shooed him away. Well, he'd gotten half of what he'd come for, at least.
Maybe he should try to track down Penn and look in on Maine; it'd be easier to set up if they had signalling frequencies placed in their boots instead of trying to look up their individual armour channels. Might be able to borrow Maine's key, too, depending on how many the painkillers the medics gave him for that hand. Besides, Ark would say it was just the proper thing to do, checking on a wounded teammate yourself…
Well, as long as he could still make the personal space a nice little surprise. He'd start on the shock transponders now, put them in when he could get to both Maine and Penn before either of them got back to their room, and make sure he laid down the duct tape boundary. He had to be fair, after all.
Equipment and supplies to hand, Georgia headed on back towards his own room, rattling the unattached screw in his helmet with each step. He leaned against the bulkhead, balancing the cable under one arm as he fiddled with the lock to the door, mind on assembly, when he heard mutterings further down the dormitory corridor.
"Clever, MOI, but you must have something for me," the deep voice spoke to no one that Georgia could make out. The senior agent's glacier eyes were focused some middle distance past the ship wall, so far appearing to ignore his fellow Freelancer as Georgia hastily dumped his supplies and attempted to catch up with a prime source of data. He'd heard around that Alaska could tell one just about anything one wanted to know about the daily bustle around the ship; it was mostly a matter of getting him in a mood to talk and not break one in half.
"Hey there, Alaska, innit? I'm Georgia; pleased to meetcha. How goes the ship maintenance you got going on here?" Unsure if he would be getting in the way, Georgia chose to bend over at the kneeling man's right side, further away from the wall, head cocked approximately parallel with the floor as he peeked around Alaska for the issue.
Now certainly, Georgia well understood the observational portion of a mechanic's day - the time spent staring at some broken bit of rubbish and willing it to give up its secrets before one had to give up, curse it, and bust it apart for scrap - and more than one of his college year-mates had been religious about their conversations with whatever equipment they were in charge of keeping running. But usually, unless it was just a fond cuff to the paper tray as one was passing by, actual labor generally required tools - a readout monitor, screwdrivers, at least a couple spare paperclips and a roll of duct tape - and Alaska carried none of these in his possession. He didn't even have a panel open, and there was nothing about this section of steel to separate it from any other part of the bulkhead. Maybe he was just checking for dents; there were a lot of pilots who got all hot and bothered about a harmless little shrapnel ding or burn mark, though this interior crew-level corridor seemed an odd place to find either finicky ship owners or firefight debris.
Alaska's gaze snapped to focus on the unwanted interloper at last. "I was speaking with the lady. You have interrupted her."
Georgia's head swivelled slowly, body still hunched forward. Though the new Freelancer was no pencil-necked weakling, - he'd been on the varsity football team; a third-string safety rather than a linebacker, but big enough to look most men in the eye nonetheless, - Alaska made him slow when affixed with that cold blue glare. "Didn't hear anybody else talkin' to you." Nor was there any woman in the immediate area, and with his helmet off, it seemed less likely for the giant to be communicating over the radio.
Alaska stayed quiet for approximately three breaths longer than was comfortable, eyes still focused on the new meat. "Doubtlessly she would withhold conversation from a boor such as yourself; the others would be wise to follow her example." The dorm hallway remained oddly quiet, no one else in sight. Surely Sota should be stumbling back from the showers right about now, or the girls would be loud enough to be heard out in the hall… How far was the rec room from here, again? Georgia couldn't hear the game broadcast.
"So who is this lady, then? 'Moi?'" Foreign languages, outside a few choice curses, had been left forgotten several alien battlefields back, but the word conjured a hazy memory of some musical a former girlfriend had dragged him to a couple years ago. "You talking to your feminine side, Sir Lancerlot? Didn't look like you had one."
Alaska stood up. The black-and-red-armoured man was a little taller, definitely broader about the shoulder than Georgia had remembered from their brief contact earlier in the day. Penn and Maine might overshadow him, but not by that much. "I would advise you to control your tongue before someone does it for you."
"Can't learn that much if you never ask," the younger man shrugged with scrape-grace good humour. "I just like takin' the direct route."
"The most direct route would be a blow to your larynx, as it is currently unprotected by bone or armour. There is, of course, a good deal of skin and muscle before one reaches your tongue proper, but it would at least cut off further vocalization." The big pale man in red had a very worrying way of staring at one's throat, as if contemplating the best method for removing it. He didn't so much as twitch a finger, but somehow that made it worse. "Be assured, the extra effort world be very little trouble for me."
"Good for you." He was not going to so much as blink at this uncomfortable attention. All right, Georgia had blinked, but somebody had to every hour at least. "Don't suppose you'd be interested in joining me in a wiring session later tonight?" Team bonding activities were always good for defusing tension. "After you've finished talkin' to your lady friend, of course."
"I shall see you around the ship." Alaska nodded once, slowly, not in enthusiasm but dismissal. Those glacier blue eyes never left Georgia's.
Georgia shrugged, deliberately turning back to his room. "Well, I was gonna leave Penn a little post-victory surprise, somethin' really electrifying, but it is hard to find a way in and I don't know when he'll be back."
Alaska was silent for a few minutes more. But out of the corner of his eye, Georgia could see his lips twist in contemplation. "Your gift to Agent Penn involves several meters of un-insulated metal wire?"
"Housewarming gift for him and Maine, really. Y'know what they say about good fences," Georgia clarified.
The twist in Alaska's lips almost resembled a smile. "Your way would be easier if you opened your ears and listened. I can assure you time to attempt the access codes before he arrives."
"Mighty nice of you, Alaska." The big man could be a fount of helpfulness; one just had to learn how to approach him. He'd already turned back to his conversation with the wall by the time the new Freelancer in green and pink had opened the door.
Georgia cracked his knuckles, beginning work on the transponders on the littered desk that would serve as workbench as much as anything else. Having just moved in, it wasn't too crowded yet, but he also hadn't quite decided on proper places for all his little toys. A couple small items had technically rolled into Arkansas's side of the room, but what Ark wasn't there to see couldn't hurt him. Boundaries were all well and good, but sometimes a man just had to reach past them to achieve greatness.
It took him longer than he'd planned to get a decent prototype working; he stripped out of the armour and ran some water over his face as much to have an excuse for why it'd had taken him so long to stop by the med bay as much as to get the grease off, forcing his unruly hair under a ball cap. The coveralls and t-shirt felt light after being in the armour so long, almost too light. A tool belt containing the modified spark plugs alongside his usual necessities certainly offered a little reassuring weight, as did the pistol tucked into the right leg pocket. He wasn't planning on having to use any of them, but it never hurt to be prepared. The addition of an old, well-worn penny into the left-hand waist pocket completed his ensemble; he might have been beaten out on the floor, but as his grandfather had always said, with a penny in his pocket, he'd never been broke.
Never knew when a little extra copper-zinc alloy would come in handy, either. Good conductor.
He whistled on his way down to the medical bay, keeping his eyes open for anyone else who might be haunting the halls, Penn and Alaska, especially. Passing by Massa and Virginia's room, he thought he heard at least one voice, but there was no one else out and about at this hour. Apparently the medics hadn't released Maine tonight, and Ark was loyal enough to try to keep vigil until they did. Well, maybe he could at least give his roommate a break in the watch, if it'd make Arkansas feel better to know that there was somebody there; it was only a broken hand, nothing life-threatening, after all. The potential threat to Maine's life was only his roommate.
The medic on duty considered Georgia somewhat suspiciously over his coffee mug, but waved him past when Georgia opened his hands and announced his intentions to check on Maine. Maybe he was getting a lot of visitors tonight; all the better for both of them.
"Hey, y'all, how's it going?" Georgia knocked softly upon the door as he opened it, catching sight of Arkansas slouched in a chair near the front corner, still in his armour. Maine grunted with a noncommittal shrug, waving his bandaged hand.
"The doctors say that the cast should come off pretty soon; they're just keeping him overnight for observation since those little bones aren't easy to set straight," Ark translated. And for a field soldier, especially a brawler like Maine, it was important that all those joints moved freely without any extra give. "You just missed Cal, earlier."
"Glad to hear he stopped by," Georgia replied, pouncing upon a chair of his own and pulling it up to Maine's other side across from his roommate. "They treating you pretty well, here? Been through a lot of hospitals, myself, and I can tell you that state o' the art equipment doesn't always mean good service. Or food." Speaking of which, he really hadn't eaten anything since lunch, which was several hours, a good long tussle, and a fair amount of effort spent bent over his makeshift worktable on a project ago, as his stomach was suddenly reminding him with vengeful force. "They served you dinner here yet?"
"'Sokay," Maine mumbled with another lift of those big shoulders, turning his gaze more toward his feet than his visitors. For such a fearless bruiser, the bald man could be awfully easy to discomfit when faced with the direct onslaught of Georgia's companionability. He had reacted rather uncomfortably to Florida, as well, as if he didn't know what to do with a social situation that didn't involve weapons - or at least not weapons pointed at people. Maine waved vaguely at a mostly empty tray - to Georgia's small, selfish disappointment, the pudding was long gone. "Be fine."
"So how about you?" Georgia turned to his roommate. "Cal give you the chance to get to get down to the cafeteria?"
Ark raised a dark brow, giving Georgia a long, piercing look before rolling his eyes. "Let me guess: you're hungry and looking for someone to play delivery boy."
"I just figured you haven't eaten, either." There were some advantages to military life; Georgia for one was not going to skip on freely available resources just because someone thought he was above a pantry raid. "Come on, Maine said he's gonna be fine, right, man?" This at least earned a thumbs-up from the one free pale thumb. "The doctors say he's gonna be fine, so why don't we get a bite and come back later if you really wanna baby-sit." This earned Georgia annoyed looks from both other men in the room. "You want us to bring you anything back, Maine?"
The grunt in response was not only negative, but rather verging upon hostile.
"We'll let you catch some shut-eye, then, and see you in the morning," Georgia said with a wave, ghosting a transponder out of his tool belt in a practiced sleight of hand and passing by the discarded Mark IV suit to toss it down a white boot. "I know everybody's probably already tellin' you this, what with the fight and all, but as good as you stood up to him, I wouldn't come too near Penn for a while. Don't think he should come too near you, either," he added with a tip of his ball cap and a quick wink, which seemed to mollify the wounded man somewhat. Maine's farewell was silent, stone-faced, but a nod all the same.
Arkansas chewed his lip as he exited behind Georgia, eyes on the man beyond the door. "I'm really not trying to get involved, much less baby-sit," Ark spat the final word, "but we're all going to be on the same team, right?"
Georgia bobbed his head, trying to offer him some encouragement. "There's bound to be a little hazing and head-butting while we all find our way in, but we're gettin' there."
"I wish we could skip that and just act like soldiers. We're the best of the best, right? That sometimes ought to include discipline." Ark shook off his preoccupied air rather unsuccessfully, but at least caught even with his roommate and attempted to offer a more chipper tone. "Thanks for coming down, though. I was hoping that as long as Maine knows he's got friends here, he won't be quite so likely to do that again."
"At least he knows he's got backup."
This didn't seem to reassure Ark in the least. "I guess I ought to go check in on Penn, too, so that I don't look like I'm playing favourites."
"After dinner," Georgia insisted. He really ought to be able to find a mess hall, even at this hour, - it couldn't be too far from the medical bay. Ark'd probably know.
The workout and long day were starting to get to the armoured Freelancer's stomach as well. He looked somewhat distracted by the idea of food. "Maybe we'll see him there."
"Or if not, you could help me into their room and we'll install something for both of them," Georgia suggested. There were advantages to rooming with a guy with lock-picking paraphernalia tucked under his desk. Which Georgia had only seen because he was trying to tidy up after his own personal useful hobby. And only recognized because of that night in junior year when he and a couple of buddies had taken up the proud tradition involving a bulldog, gold paint, a tuba, and wood-grain alcohol.
"Hey, when'd you get the chance to go through the personnel dossiers? You know I only use my powers for good, man." Ark elbowed him.
"I have my ways." Georgia mimed adjusting a pair of invisible spectacles further up his nose. While he made a very poor impression of the Director in rumpled, half-zipped mechanic's coveralls and a graphic tee, it never hurt to borrow just a little of the mystery. Ark raised an eyebrow, poker-faced as he attempted to figure out whether or not Georgia was serious. "Besides, this mission's not just for good, it's for awesome."
"Let me consider it over a full stomach. With details." Ark led them back into the cafeteria. While relatively quiet, Georgia was pleased to see the hall wasn't completely dead. Night crew members wandered in and out of the kitchen, some just pausing long enough to refill a mug of joe, others sitting down to poke suspiciously at a late-night dinner. A cafeteria was a cafeteria, but overall, the grub here seemed pretty good, even when one was forced to reheat it oneself - at least they had chicken.
Georgia heaped himself a plateful while explaining the very basics of the plan to Ark. He tried not to get too technical with laymen, knowing how his most of his family phased him out when he started talking shop.
"Georgia…" Arkansas took a bite of his roll while digesting his thoughts. "How do I put this gently? You are nuts. Completely bonkers. But if you can shock people through their armour, couldn't you rewire it to let them set off an electric shock out of their armour? Like lightning fingers or something?"
"Huh." That did present some clever possibilities. After all, Penn and Maine would see each other in places besides their room, and other agents might find it useful on missions, if there were some way to power it on the move… A slow grin blossomed on Georgia's face, not exactly refuting his roommate's declaration. "Ark, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
