The ground sent waves of pain through his body when he hit it, back arching slightly in reaction. Fuck, that hurt. He watches that train continues on, and away from them now. Faintly aware of the fact that it was not only Carolina that he was against now. How unfair.
Sharkface rolls over and forces himself to his feet, staring at the ground for a moment as he tries to stay upright. Which, fails. He goes stumbling to the side for a moment, then falls over again. On his hands and knees, he lets out a soft snarl of pain and annoyance. Fuck them, fuck everything about them. They took everything away and he wanted them dead. Why wouldn’t they let him win.
He reaches up and rips his helmet off, keeping it in hand as he manages to return to his feet again. Carolina said something, but he didn’t quite catch what exactly was being said. His breath had become ragged- there was no way he was going to survive this. A sneer is shot at the trio.
Did he even want to survive? There wasn’t anything left for him- though his thoughts wander back to the beginning of this little fight, to what Carolina had said. It hurt, but they had gone through the same bullshit he had. They had lost their friends and family while fighting for something- they were just soldiers on two sides of a conflict. A stupid conflict, at that.
Slowly, he drops to his knees and tilts his head slightly. It was time for this to end, time to let go of all that. This wasn’t right- killing all these people. He never wanted to see innocent lives lost, for any cause. That’s why he was here, to avenge the innocent and the ones that he had loved. But, killing more innocent people would be nothing but hypocritical.
“I accept your apology, Carolina. If you spare me, I can help you take care of Locus and Felix, and stop them from trying to kill the people here- and any others that they might hurt. There has been enough innocent blood spilled because of us, and I want to end that.”
Okay, note to self: It hurt like a freaking bitch to leap from a train moving at high speed. Then again, she very much doubted it hurt anywhere near as badly as being unwillingly flung from the aforementioned mode of transport after being sandwiched between two metal slabs of door, courtesy of your own grappling hook.
It wasn’t like Sharkface had left her with any choice in the matter — though, admittedly, it had felt somewhat satisfying to dish out a little payback after the bastard had flung her off that cliff.
Even now as she struggled to right herself Carolina could vaguely hear the words she'd spoken prior to their fight drifting through her head, like wisps of fog straining to be heard over the screams of her body and her need to focus on the current situation.
‘I'm sorry for what we did to you. To your friends.
You were on one side of the fight, and we were on the other.
We thought we were the good guys.
I ' m s o r r y .’
Mostly, the apology had been given to buy herself and the others more time, but another part... Another part had been spoken with genuine sincerity, and the notion that she was stalling didn’t take away from the fact that she’d meant it. The former Insurrectionist hadn’t bought it though; sure he’d faltered, but only for a second or two, and then he was on her again like a rabid wolf intent on going in for the kill and ripping her to shreds no matter the cost, even pursuing her after she'd jumped onto the train.
He hated her. He wanted her and Wash dead with every fiber of his being and every breath that left his lungs, which was why the relenting statement that left him as he too fought against gravity's effects caught her thoroughly off guard, leaving her speechless for a good several moments.
It was only after she was able to stand with a soft grunt and the assistance of Washington that she hazarded a response, her own breaths coming out in shallow, rapid pants as she stared across at him, her shoulders squared and chin lifted in an open display of defensive body language. She was wary — no, more than that, her skin practically crawling with suspicion and skepticism, as it had every reason to. He looked and sounded so utterly broken now though, defeated, even the inflection in his tone betraying that. Logic screamed that he was still a threat, but instinct combated that feeling with something else; something which was holding her back now, preventing her from putting him down with a remorseless ease that she would have done many years ago.
She would hear him out, but if he so much as made a single wrong move towards them, there would be nothing she could (or would) do to keep the individuals on either side of her from pulling the trigger.
“What makes you think we can trust you after all of this? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do the exact same thing you were so willing to do to me not five minutes ago.”
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