spankbanks | forever open rp post (2016 edition)

If Felix could have witnessed firsthand how well his little porn show had turned out, he would have laughed and enjoyed it for all it was worth. Turning the Rebels against their precious captain? Yes, absolutely worth it.

Even if Fishsticks hadn't mentioned that they needed Doyle dead. Which meant the sword was basically useless, and so Felix's satisfaction had fallen by the wayside. Not to mention, Locus had been more of a pain in Felix's ass, not so easy to redirect with his focus on the Meta and Agent Washington.

Felix was feeling, well, just a little unraveled. But he kept it in as best he could, focusing on trying to win this stupid little war of Hargrove's. They had plans to launch an attack on Armonia as soon as possible, but that meant securing some more weapons that weren't totally fried because of the alien tech.

He'd taken a small strike team - without Locus or Sharkface, who were doing similar work - and was working on the temple. Being who he was, though, the soldiers weren't exactly paying attention to how far he'd strayed.

The sword was still firmly kept on his hip, but the sound of footsteps had him pausing as he secured weapons.

"Daniels? What the hell are you skulking around for?"

Even as he spoke, though, his hand was moving to the pistol on his opposite hip.

Yeah, no. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. The closer he got, the louder the mantra was inside his head, the more anger he felt, the more he relived that moment back on the cliff. This was his only shot at vindication and he wasn’t going to fuck it up again. He was done fucking it up.

He was done.

Tucker wanted nothing more than to say something when he heard that voice, wanted to tell him to eat shit and die while fucking his dead grandmother, but he kept his mouth shut for once. Wash was probably finding his letter now, if not soon. He would be following him here. He would try to get him to stop this stupid mission, and—

Tucker pulled out a grenade as he slid along a wall, hearing Felix’s words, judging where he was without looking around. Fine. Cool. He could do this. He had to do this. Kill him, get the sword, get everyone’s trust back. Three point plan. Fucking easy. He’d be back in time for dinner.

He pulled the pin on the frag grenade, palming it as he leaned around the wall. There was barely a pause before he chucked it at Felix. He hoped. He fucking hoped something so simple would work, but he knew it wouldn’t. Guys like him were notoriously a pain in the ass to kill.

But then again, so was Tucker.

Main thing was to finish it as fast as he could before any fucking reinforcements came.

It's Felix's paranoia that saves his life at this particular moment in time. When the grenade gets chucked at him, he takes a half second to realize what it is before he throws up his hardlight shield, knocking it away. Then he immediately dives for cover.

Okay, not Daniels then, he thinks as he rolls behind a square display paneling, crouching down and throwing up his shield as a second protection measure. The explosion still rattles his bones but not nearly as bad as if he had actually been hit with it.

He doesn't come up instantly. Who the fuck was chucking grenades at him? Was it one of the Freelancers? Or was it a sim trooper, a rebel?

He peeks over the top of the paneling, pistol gripped tightly in his hands and he doesn't say a word, let the asshole come to him first.

No, not Daniels. Not some shitty pirate. Not one of his fucking lackeys, but one of the motherfuckering ghosts coming back to haunt him.

...

Shit, he had been hanging around Wash too much. That was melodramatic even for him.

He waited for the explosion, heard it, felt it roar up the floor through his legs, and he stayed where he was. Did Tucker think it killed him? No. Of course not, and if it had been, how disappointing. He'd have to talk to Kimball about their standards when buying fake mercenaries in the future.

He knew he shouldn't say anything; the air of What If was his best defense, but fuck that. He never listened to rules, to that sort of crap to start with, and he wasn't about to now. That old anger was still there, still gripping him, still holding on, and--

"So, remember awhile ago when I talked about teabagging your useless corpse?" he called out, maintaining cover. "I came to collect. Totally not sorry about not calling first."

Tucker. Of course it's Tucker. Where the hell is his idiot team, that fucking Tucker snuck up on him. Felix frowns inside his helmet, feeling the old familiar rage burn through his own veins. Stay collected, Felix.

"Oh, see, Tucker, I don't think you've contacted my people about that. I think I'd remember a date with you," Felix says with a little smug tone. He listens for Tucker's response, trying to figure out where he is. He doesn't have that much to hide in, after all. And he's an idiot.

"Oh, you mean all the people that are protecting your ass right now? Those people?"

Getting Tucker to talk was always one of the easiest things in the universe; Tucker knew that, his team knew that, his enemies knew that, everyone knew that. This was no different, would never be any different, and it was no different than dangling a carrot in front of an ass. Well, in more ways than one.

His hand curled around the sword at his hip, pulling it free and feeling it come to life in his hand. Fuck, that felt better, even if it could cast a little more light, a little more direction to where he was. He took a deep breath, smirking a little, before he grabbed a piece of concrete that had been blown free in the explosion and just tossed into the room, curious if Felix would jump at it. They were both firing (stabbing?) blind here.

"Don't tell Locus you want to date me; he'll get jealous."

Tucker's stupid little sword is such a bad idea right now. There's lots of blue light, but it's not the same as the light from Tucker's sword and Felix keeps his mouth shut about commenting about it, instead pulling a grenade out from his belt.

Tucker tosses concrete into the room, and Felix jumps a little, cursing.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not practically married to the guy the way you are to Agent Washington. Shit, if I'd put on the guy's old armor you would have been slobbering all over my dick instead of me having to convince you to do it."

Of course, he means Wash's blue and yellow armor. Still, after speaking, he pulls the pin from the grenade and tosses it around the corner, towards the source of Tucker's sword's glow.

It was the worst idea, but he didn't care. He couldn't care, because he had to do something, and the sword felt fucking good in his hand. Fucking right. This was Star Wars level shit here, and he was a damn Jedi.

But then Felix just had to bring up Wash, didn't he? Something constricted in his chest, and in that moment he saw red. Motherfucker didn't have a right to say his goddamn name after everything he did to them, put them all through. Sure, maybe he was protective over Wash, but that's....that's because they were friends. Teammates. His fucking leader. So yeah. Yeah. It made sense. It wasn't about tha--

"Son-a-bitch."

He heard the grenade drop and he was already running out, trying to avoid it because not everyone had stupid shields. The explosion behind him pushed him forward, sent him rolling, but it was in the open, without somewhere to hide.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Somehow, he had managed to hold onto his sword, his fingers tight around the handle, the blade still on. One hand found the ground as he pushed himself up, trying to roll, to get to his feet, to do anything.

Felix hears the sound of metal armor on metal ground, and he moves forward. Tucker is disoriented, and Felix should kill him, take his gun out and shoot him -

But no. Tucker's been a pain in his side for a long time. And more than that, he has the sword. And if he takes the sword and kills Tucker, then they don't need Doyle's stupid sword. They'll have another usable one right in front of them.

So he's not gonna do it the easy way. He's gonna make him hurt for it.

"Hello, Tucker," Felix says cheerily, just before he pulls out a knife, trying to jam it into Tucker's sword shoulder.

forever open rp post (2016 edition)

that someone starts w a F

Fucklix

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feel free to have tucker get outta this!