Triple Point

Chapter 58: Captain Wyatt

27 NOV 33AE, 2140 MT

Phoenix Base Camp, Arizona

All Camilla had wanted was to get a couple of snacks from the mess for her squad. After all, there was not much else she could do, given the situation.

The past few days had been rough on them, especially the younger ones. While Pala tried their best to maintain a tough front, Camilla could tell the long days and continuous fighting were getting to them. Caffrey was worse off, and the teen constantly looked like he was two seconds away from throwing up.

Mack did his best to look after their emotional well-being so Camilla could focus on just keeping them alive, but even he was struggling with how all of the Org's healers were stretched thin, and how many times he tried to heal someone who was already too far gone. After the day's missions, none of them seemed willing to eat anything; the least Camilla could do was see if she could snag some of the cookies Pala and Caffrey liked.

But on her way through the camp, her path was blocked by a crowd of guardians, most of them jeering and shouting. Camilla was too lazy to find an alternate route, so she settled on trying to squeeze around the rowdy gathering as quickly and discreetly as possible. Without using her abilities though, she eventually got pushed to the center of the huddle, just in time to witness an argument escalating.

"You may not realize this, you nub," one of them said, the uniform jacket tied around her waist indicating she was a first officer. "But unauthorized civilians aren't allowed on base, even when the base is no more than a concrete shithole."

"I'm no more of a nub than you are," the man opposite of her sneered. With his jacket slung over his shoulder and the distinct southern twang in his accent, he looked like he was trying to mimic a cowboy of the olden days. "Donahue, was it? Aren't you the one from Jersey that almost leveled the Statue of Liberty? Isn't that why you're here?" With his free hand, the cowboy gestured around them. "You can't topple any of the bases if they're already reduced to rubble."

The jab looked like it stung Donahue a bit, but she only laughed it off with a sharp cackle.

"And what about you, Ngo?" she replied. "You shitty little cowboy wannabe. Aren't you the one that nearly started a civil war at the Dallas Base after sleeping with almost every person that worked there, all in the one year you've been there?" She smirked. "If that isn't a sign of self-esteem issues, then I don't know what is."

"It's not my fault people love me," Ngo retorted bitterly. "What does it matter anyway? As long as I can carry out orders, it doesn't matter what I do in my free time, right?" He sneered. "Or who, for that matter."

"It matters if you're bringing in unauthorized personnel into camp," Donahue replied. "How do you know she's not with Exodos? What if she's planning on killing you when you've got your pants hanging 'round your ankles?"

"Then obviously I'll just have to kill her first," Ngo said confidently.

Donahue laughed again. "Please, like you could kill anyone. I saw you the other day, at the battle in Tempe. Even after those asshats destroyed an entire university, you still froze when you had to kill one of them. Hell, if I hadn't been there, you'd be sleeping in a black tent right now, you pathetic coward."

Ngo froze, then glared furiously at Donahue. "You shut the hell up."

His reaction only spurred Donahue on even further. "Why should I? It's not like you can make me."

As soon as she spoke, Ngo threw a shockwave of air at her, the attack hot with his rage. But Donahue seemed to expect it, encourage it even, and she braced herself immediately, crossing her arms in front of her face for protection. Ngo continued to throw one attack after the other, but after the third one, his intensity had significantly weakened, and Donahue easily used her super strength to charge at him.