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pyrecoren:
date and location: august 26th, the east side status: closed for @curiouscalculations
At ten minutes into the mission, Pyre knew he was going to have trouble concentrating, and it wasn’t going to be as simple and easy as he imagined. Between the constant stream of unnecessary banter in his ears–much of it rudely directed at him, and the confusion of the group he was sure he was supposed to be a part of leading, nothing seemed to be going well. Of course, their instructions were unclear. Scope it out, take things that look valuable. Directions, sure, but Pyre definitely preferred going in with a detailed plan. At least they had the armor on; it made him feel a little more secure.
“Shit,” Pyre jumped at the sight of someone coming up out of the corner of his eye. Of course, it was DATA, and Pyre was sure he had a smile on his face behind the mask. DATA wasn’t the worst out of the crew–he didn’t have the capability to hate Pyre, after all, but still, everything bad that had happened to Pyre in the past two days seemed to go back to the night DATA found Pyre in the galley.
“DATA, not now. We need to concentrate,” Pyre mumbled, straightening up. He was not interested in dealing with DATA, not now, not when so much relied on him not to be at all distracted.
The mission, DATA knew, was most likely going to end in failure. Limited knowledge in every aspect necessary for their success would not allow them to gain any advantage. Although they had yet to run into any other alien life, the reading of his armor’s sensors when paired with his own analytics showed that the building was not unoccupied. Whether their company was opposed to their presence would determine the probability of their survival. The only hope they could hold was that of minimal damage, both from the resulting anger of the benefactor and the likely injuries that would develop as a consequence of the possibly hostile environment they found themselves in.
The strained voice heard over the comms halted the friendly greeting sitting on the tip of his tongue. Swallowing the cordial words with a sinking feeling in his gut, DATA moved his covered gaze away from the man he thought was quickly becoming a friend to survey the hallway of the facility. “My apologies,” he said, his voice short over the buzzing background static ringing through his ear.
Bringing up the limited blueprints provided prior to their arrival, DATA searched for some way to be useful for the quasi-leader of their mission. “If we continue down this hallway, we should approach a juncture that will allow us to continue to the West Wing: our desired destination.”