For the request how about some red team locus?
This was a joke. A curse, a punishment to serve as recompense for all the horrors he committed.
This? This was a new kind of hell. He had agreed to help one man on his journey because their interests had correlated and now..
Now he stood before a shell of what may have been a once great and strong man, now broken by the effects of whatever hell he had walked through.
Or, the man had simply lost his mind from his time as a sim soldier.
“We ain’t goin anywhere before we find out who’s leadin the rescue mission.” Sarge insisted, continuing the movements for rock, paper, scissors, entirely oblivious to Locus’ judgmental stare.
He can’t seriously be leading the Red team. Locus frowned at the persistent movements, Sarge entirely engrossed in getting him to participate. No wonder Grif has gone insane.
Sarge stared at him intensely, never breaking stride with the three taps, forming a rock. Locus stared disbelievingly back.
It was at this moment, Locus realized, he would have to join the Red team so it would have some form of competent leadership. That is, if they even made it out of this situation alive.
Slowly and deliberately, almost as if he was readying to take out a target, Locus raised his hands, clenched a fist, and performed the customary rock, paper, scissors movement. Eyeing the fist Sarge had just made, Locus swiftly straightened his hand out. Paper beats rock.
“What? Impossible! I demand a rematch! Best out of three.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Locus replied smoothly, “I’ve already freed Agent Carolina and Agent Washington. Where are the others being kept?”
Sarge grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly. “Temple has them in the detention center, a few levels down.”
“Let’s get moving,” the mercenary smirked beneath his helmet.
Maybe joining the Red team wouldn’t be as bad as he had initially thought.
