Dervish
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The Striker Team Waits Pt 2
Callan | Sander
๐: ๐๐๐ก๐ฅ. ๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐๐ค๐๐ ๐ฃ๐, ๐๐๐ฃ๐ช๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐ ๐จ๐ / / ~๐๐๐๐
Collab with @Baklava @RedDusk
The sound of helicopter wings was deafening to all but her thoughts as Callan stepped on, doing her best to brush aside the pinpricks of anxiety that followed her as it rose into the air. She'd never ridden on a helicopter before, but that wasn't important. Shouldn't be important. Up in the air, she was able to match the images on her phone to the city below. She listened to the vaguely familiar voice of Angelique, paying even closer attention when Marcus's message followed. Should she message them to call on her if they need help?
No, she decided. The sooner she took out Factory, the sooner everyone would be safe. Focus and prioritize. Stick to the plan. Leaning forward in her seat, her hand gripped the edge of her chair and tightened just enough to bend the metal frame.
It was a long way down, but also-- she did her best to count them all, but gave up-- watching everyone surge forward towards the horde of clockwork animals wasn't helping. She caught sight of Marcus's APC disappearing behind a building that seemed precariously close to one of the few massive "collector" bots and couldn't seem to tear her attention away after that. She held her breath and watched, crushing the seat further.
Sander blinked at the metallic grey beneath his feet, twisting his restless fingers together as the fire flared in the space between his ribs. They were on their way, so he had to get ready. He had to loosen his grip, just a touch. Just in case. And already, it took conscious effort to stay in one spot. His gaze flitted, and he caught sight of Callan's fingers bending the metal frame of her seat right next to him.
โYour seatโฆโ -Against his better judgement, he spoke up โโItโsโฆcrooked.โ
"Wha-- oh." Callan inhaled sharply and shook her head, immediately letting go of the seat. "Shit," she muttered, looking between the seat and the last place she saw the APC.
"You're alright?" -Crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
Callan looked at him before leaning back in her seat, uncertainly prevelant on her expression. "Yeah. I'm-- I'm fine."
โNervous?โ -The blood high let Sander be bolder than he ever could, so he ventured โโSomeoneโs waiting for you too?โ
"Oh," Callan seemed surprised by the question. A small smile wormed its way onto her mouth as her gaze dropped to the floor of the helicopter. "N-no," she chuckled, "Not really."
Was that fair? Marcus had promised he'd come out alright if she did-- that was sort of like having someone waiting for her. But she got the feeling Sander was referring to something a little different.
โNervous, then?โ -Sander cast a meaningful gaze toward a distant looming figure.
She followed his eyes to the clockwork creature; her heart beat wildly in anticipation. The familiar rush from the first night was suddenly there to numb her concerns-- if only for a moment. It was a partial lie, but the words felt right. "Not at all," she grinned more genuinely.
โGood to know.โ -Sander nodded, though his eyes still trained on the mound of misshapen metal that was their target โโโฆI think you will do alright. You are strong.โ
She laughed. His assurance was comforting, though she felt it was a little misplaced. "You're damn right!" She nudged him lightly with her elbow, the adrenaline spurring her on, "You'll do alright, too, Sandy. Gotta get you home for Christmas, right?"
Sander blinked first at the half-forgotten nickname, then later at the nudge on his arm โโSandy?โ -He asked, mildly surprised.
Callan raised an eyebrow at him, "What? You don't do nicknames?"
โUh no. Itโs justโฆโ -It took a few more moments before Sander finally let a smile bloom on his lips โโIt has been a while since anybody called me that.โ -There was a note of sadness in that smile, too, but he turned his face away, staring at their target once more.
Staring at all the grossly unkempt features, Makoto felt particularly unnerved. Everything from the garden to the classrooms seemed so terribly in need of care. Makoto had kept up his mother's home for years and was very often complimented for being such a diligent worker when it came to such things. Before he was old enough to work, he even had a bit of a service going. He was no stranger to yard and house work, but he had no stake in this school. Why should he bother with the sweeping, dusting, repainting, and weeding? Just to name a few on a long list of things he saw needed fixing.
They should really hire someone, he frowned.
However, Makoto was far from being a germophobe and purged the issue from his mind as quickly as it had appeared in favor of blossoming curiosity. As persistently underwhelming as everything seemed, he had a feeling something strange was afoot. Unsure of whether or not this something was good or bad, he instinctively took a step back. Whatever was behind that door, he didn't want to be the first to fall victim to it.
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