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snowyfrostshadows · 4 years

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Glass Hearts in Porcelain Towers

In old movies from Earth, it's not unbelievable for a evil branch of government or corporate giant to destroy the life of some average smoe by killing a loved one. The heartbroken underdog then swears vengeance, overthrows the corrupt institution no matter the cost, and saves a million others from that pain.

Put like that, Mark Temple is a hero.

It's as the flagpole is being stained red with blood and the life fades from Biff's eyes that Temple realizes he's in love with his best friend.

Far, far too late to do anything about it, but in his defense, his love for Biff had been such a constant subtle presence in his life, that it had been far too easy to pass it off as something else.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious that the love Temple had felt went beyond friendship, beyond brotherly companionship when Georgiana had entered the picture.

She'd been fine, at first. But the longer she stuck around and the closer she and Biff got, the more he'd disliked her. Only now, with Biff dead in his arms, did Temple realize he'd been jealous.

He wasn't sure if he was pleased to be here instead of Georgiana for his friend's last moments or disgusted with himself for taking any pleasure from Biff's dying breaths.

...

He was....happy.

Not that he was thrilled with the reality of his closest and longest friend dying in front of him, but, it was better that he was here for Biff's last moments and not Georgiana. Georgiana would ruin it.

Fall apart. Be no comfort at all.

But he was so much better than that. Stronger.

Temple grabbed Biff's hand and squeezed it. "I promise. I will make this right."

Biff's fingers gave a small twitch, perhaps as an affirmation of hearing his promise and then he's gone and with him, Temple's whole world.

----

In the days, weeks, months following Biff's murder, Temple discovers that as dramatic and meaningful as 'I will make this right' are to say to a dying friend, they don't exactly lay out a guideline on how exactly to do just that.

He wastes countless hours holed up in his room drawing up plan after plan, each more outlandish and asinine than the last. It's not until a couple of years pass that a path finally opens up for him.

It starts, like all great epics, with a news cast.

At first glance, it's a puff piece. A bunch of soldiers receiving medals of great bravery. And then the details break clear like the dawning of a new sun.

The soldiers are a bunch of SIM Troopers like himself and the other residents of Desert Gulch. Unlike them though, they saw through Project Freelancer's games and joined together to bring the whole thing down.

Temple is in awe.

These men were picked up, played with, thrown aside and then fought back and won.

And now, they're pointing out the path he and the others must take.

They did the hard part. They revealed Project Freelancer to the world as the sham it was.

Temple and the others; they can do cleanup. It was the very least they could do.

For the first time in a long, long time, Temple feels alive. Finally he has a way to fulfill his promise and avenge Biff.

He assigns Gene to find and dig up everything he can about Project Freelancer. They discover how vile and twisted the whole project was. How they would set up multiple bases of SIM Troopers just so their agents could come along and toy with them for their own sick amusement.

Hundreds of brave volunteers tricked into being nothing more than glorified, living, training dummies for a small handful of fully funded sadists.

The UNSC itself isn't much better. They knew what Freelancer was doing. Funded them.

It's enough to make anyone's blood boil.

But it's fine.

He has a plan to make it all right. The UNSC can burn right alongside the ashes of Freelancer as far as he's concerned. It is the barest of what they deserve.

The only drawback to his grand plan, is that most if not all of the very top brass, the highest agents of Freelancer, are already dead. The knowage that he will never be able to personally make Biff's murderer pay is crushing.

But it's fine. It's fine.

He'll just make whose left suffer all that much more to compensate.

Loco, genius that he is, comes up with the bright idea of locking their targets in their armor to avoid a fight. Gene expands on that idea of just leaving them in the armor for a slow, painful death with the added bonus of easy transport and cleanup.

Temple can't help loving the idea.

A painful, drawn out death is the closest these monsters will ever feel to the pain they caused him.

So while Surge, Cronut, and Buckey go to recruit all the poor lost souls Freelancer broke and threw aside, and Loco and Gene develop and test their freeze tech on Lorenzo, Temple draws up plans for their new secret lair.

Barracks for their soon to be army, nicer quarters for himself and his team, a lab big enough to keep Loco happy, and, his personal favorite, a nice, big trophy room to entertain his soon to be captives.

Biff would be pleased at their progress.

And then, a year into construction of the new base, Temple receives word that the ship carrying the Reds and Blues to their final retirement has gone down with zero survivors.

It is a devastating turn of events and a disappointing end to his idols' legacy, even if Surge insists a blaze of glory like a ship crash is one of the top five ways to go.

Temple allows himself one day of mourning for their loss before speeding up work and the hunt for former freelancers begins in earnest.

And it's fun.

More fun than he's had in ages.

No matter how many times his team tracks down a former freelancer, nor how many times they insist they're retired or 'didn't know what the higher-ups were doing', he never gets tired of watching them freeze with a simple press of a button. Of hearing their tough guy talk fall into confused pleading.

It doesn't take long before he starts waiting for their target to strike the perfect pose before freezing them. It's the one mercy he gladly provides. If you had to stay in one pose for all eternity, then it better be a good one right? Something bold and action-y, as a reflection of their lives. And well, he'd hate if all his trophies looked the same. They'd be so boring to look at.

His absolute favorite encounter is Agent Illinois.

The man had to have been an absolute idiot who somehow stumbled his way into the program.

Because the first thing he does when he sees a group of angry SIM troopers is not to fight, but to get up and offer them a drink.

It's almost tragic, but the offered glass of alcohol in one hand, the easy, light pace of Illinois's walk is too beautiful for Temple to not press his button. Especially as he's likely to never get this exact position from anyone else ever again.

So he locks the former freelancer in place, laughs, and carries him onto their dropship.

The liquid in the glass quickly spills out, but Temple is quick to reassure him they'll refill it back on base. He is, after all, a very considerate host.

After the initial capture and settling in, however, Illinois loses any charm he had when they first crossed paths.

He doesn't say a word as he's brought into the trophy room. Nor does he rise to any of Temple's jabs of sharing the same fate as his former teammates.

If it wasn't for his armor broadcasting his vitals, Temple would think he was dead after the first few hours.

It's not until day three, the day that death usually sets in for the former freelancers that he even speaks at all.

"Why?"

Temple pauses in his usual idle talk of how things are going on in outside world to stare at his captive.

"Why...all...this?" Illinois rasps, voice weak from disuse and lack of water.

Temple gives him a thoughtful look before shrugging. Why not be truthful with a dying man? This agent has been kinder than the rest, not interrupting him, or swearing that any day now they'd break free and kill him. It's only fair he returns that kindness with a last request of sorts.

"Do you know the difference between you and I? It's really quite funny. One of us got to fight in the actual war and be a big hero and the other? The other got to play living test dummy for the first. And just like a test dummy, it didn't matter if I got hurt or killed if it made you better.

"I'm just cashing in my due. I had to watch my best friend die so now you and all your stupid friends can join him and apologize!"

It takes a moment for Temple to realize the weird wheezing in the room is Illinois laughing.

"I'm sorry...mate...but that's...the longest...go-around...I've heard...for someone...to say... they're a...sadist."

Temple bristles. "Call me a sadist, but I'm fixing this corrupt mess you and the other freelancers started! I'm in the right!"

Another dry, broken laugh escapes Illinois and Temple sees red. Faster than he can blink, he slams the butt of his gun against Illinois's helmet.

"If this was an attempt for me to release you, you sorely miscalculated."

"Hah...hah...haaaaah. Give me...some...respect....We...both...know...you can't...free... someone who's...already...dead...."

Temple doesn't step back from Illinois because he's unnerved by the amused tone from the man. No, that'd be stupid. He steps away because he's done here. And he runs a very tight schedule with the Blues and Reds and their small army.

And he most certainly doesn't bolt from the room as Illinois's broken ghost of a laugh fills and echoes through the room. He's just busy with a lot of other things he has to do.

An hour later, the vitals for Illinois flat line and it's not relief fluttering about his chest but satisfaction. For another monster slain, another Freelancer down, the universe just a little bit safer.

----

A couple months pass after that. The hunt for freelancers has hit a dead wall as either the few remaining have gotten wise to something picking them off and have gone off the grid or Temple and his team have killed them all.

Sad, but probably for the best in the long run. There is another, bigger target that he really should be focusing on.

It is on one of the days he's going through blueprints with Loco that Buckey pulls them out of the lab and to a tv. All of Temple's protests die in his throat as he catches sight of a familiar group on the screen.

The Reds and Blues are alive.

Somehow, against all odds, they'd survived the ship crash. And then proceeded to take apart another corrupt organization-this time Charon Industries.

For one, glorious moment, Temple felt that same wave of awe and admiration for his heroes as he did all those years ago when he first came across their story.

And then he sees a very familiar sickening shade of cyan armor among their ranks and the world is turned on its' head.

The Reds and Blues, his idols, his heroes, his very inspiration for everything are friends with Biff's murderer.

'Maybe they don't know what she did' a hopeful part of him thinks. 'But they revealed Freelancer for what is was. How could they not know?'

Eyes still on the screen, Temple turns slightly towards Buckey and growls "Tell Gene to get me everything on the Reds and Blues. There's been a slight change of plans.''

----

They're idiots.

A fact that becomes abundantly clear after listening to hours of audio and pouring over page after page of requests, reports, and even notes on the Reds and Blues. And that's not even the worst thing about them.

No, the worst thing is that not only were they favored by Project Freelancer, they were hand-picked to be copies of his team.

Every single one of them has a counterpart similar enough in personality it's creepy.

Even Biff.

All to keep a digital copy of the very head of the whole project entertained.

Temple stews and locks himself in his room for a full week to think over how best to deal with this disappointing setback.

For a long time, he considers just killing them outright.

Theoretically, it shouldn't be hard.

A bullet to the back of the head, replacing one of their own and then slipping a knife through each of their ribs. Hell, he could probably even get all of their food poisoned.

But somehow, somehow, they survived a crash from fifty thousand feet in the air.

A feat no one else on board managed to match.

So chances were, a bullet or knife or poison may not be able to do the trick.

....armor locking might.

They could live forever and still not be able to move a muscle.

It's a brilliant plan and he's so so close to incorporating it into their plans already in motion when a small shred of doubt wiggles itself into his conscience.

These men tore down Freelancer. Started him on his path. Gave him purpose. And he wants to return that goodwill with venom?

...

Everything points to them being idiots, so it's likely they don't even know their 'friend' is a freelancer who kills and ruins lives for fun. And it's because the Reds and Blues are so trusting, that she's alive and practically gift wrapped for Temple to kill her himself.

Ultimately, he decides to offer them an olive branch.

They've done so much for him, it's only fair he offers them something back in return.

----

More intel is gathered on the Reds and Blues. If he wants them to accept his offer, join his team, then he is going to stack his hand with every card in his favor.

-He learns they've killed at least four freelancers themselves while still keeping two alive and within their ranks.

-They cared deeply for the Director's digital copy, going so far as to 'save' it multiple times.

-The copy is currently 'dead'; moreso from being an outdated faulty piece of tech than ever actually being 'alive'.

The lack of the digital copy turns out to be their ticket to reeling the Reds and Blues in. With just a little prodding, Loco is able to cut up audio files of 'Church' and formats them into a distress call and then broadcasts it throughout space.

The others doubt the broadcast will work without set coordinates but Temple knows it will. Somehow, the audio will find them and they'll come running and he'll welcome them with open arms and a smile.

----

It ends up taking a few months longer than Temple thinks it would. By the time they set foot at his front door, he's nearly done putting the finishing touches on his greatest achievement. A few more days and they would have missed it.

And while he easily wins their trust with a little air show and some theatrics he can't help being... disappointed by who all shows up.

The Freelancers are easily taken care of. And best of all, the Reds and Blues don't even notice they're gone. Proving to Temple they were merely saving them for him and absolutely will join his vendetta.

However, they brought a reporter with them and she won't stop poking her nose in every little thing. And their orange solider, the one he was most curious to meet, seems to have quit.

He can't even dispose of the reporter because every time he tries to, their maroon solider has pulled her aside for yet another interview to complain about the missing orange one.

If it wasn't for his two brand new captives (one of which is Her) to torment and final checks to see through, Temple is fairly sure he'd lose it.

Besides, it'll all be worth it in the end. (Until suddenly it isn't)

The truth comes out and Simmons, Tucker, Caboose, and Donut throw his generous offer in his face and decide to stand against him.

Not even an hour after that little confrontation, Surge alerts him to the presence of an intruder.

Who, on the camera feeds is walking around the base like he knows the place. And even though he knows, he knows Biff is dead, his very first thought at seeing the orange armor is thinking it's his old friend.

But it's not him.

Because Biff would never pause in his duties to scarf down a plate of fish with terrifying speed. Nor would he get the bright idea of suddenly shoving his body into too small a space for absolutely no reason.

Most damning of all, Biff would never tell him to fuck off before he even had a chance to open his mouth. But Grif does. Even after Temple and his men spent so much of their precious time pulling his fat ass out of their vent.

So he drags the Reds and Blues' orange fuckup to join the rest of them. He can't even enjoy watching his captives hope for rescue fall because Tucker's cursing Grif out and Grif is ignoring all of them in favor of trying to pull some touchy-feely crap.

It's sickening.

And he can't help it, really he can't. The betrayal and utter dismissal from his former heroes hurt. And the temptation of hurting them back, ripping their little world apart in kind is too much.

So he indulges. Reveals the message from 'Church' was a lie to trick them to meet him. Pounds it into Caboose's think skull until he gets it because he has the decency to not sugar coat the uglier side of things no matter how stupid his listeners are.

And finally the mood in the jail cells is what he wants.

Crushed. Despondent. Cursing his name because he's won and better than all of them combined.

Temple rides that high as he leaves and gets things packed up. He's not even upset when he fails to get any word from Withers confirming Sarge killed the reporter and her cameraman.

Even if Sarge had a change of heart and went crawling back to his team, it doesn't matter. Temple's done here and ready to destroy the UNSC's base on earth.

There is literally no way anyone can stop or even catch up to him in time.

Except the Reds and Blues do.

Not only do they hijack what was supposed to be a dropship full of the last of his army, they manage to outfly nearly every torpedo he throws at them. And even when they ARE hit, they walk off another crash because apparently, a thousand tons of twisted steel and fire is about as life-threatening as a buddle of wet tissue paper to them.

A part of him wants to stay behind and finish them himself, but he's so so close to finally avenging Biff. So he orders Cronut and Lorenzo to direct the men stationed outside of the base.

Over one hundred men with an abundance of tanks, jeeps, guns, and ammo against a measly seven. It should be an easy win.

Should be if everyone on this stupid fucking island but him wasn't an idiot!

Because just as Loco's finished the machine, Surge comes running in to announce the Reds and Blues have made it into the building.

It becomes a mad scramble after that.

Surge, Gene, and Buckey all head off to separate areas to try and somehow contain this clusterfuck and stop their 'guests' before they reach the very heart of the building and destroy all his hard work.

At best, the three of them with the help of their many subordinates will be successful. At worst, they'll merely be obstacles distracting the Reds and Blues just long enough for Loco's doomsday device to go off.

He doesn't want to take any chances though and heads to the heart himself. He will be the final obstacle that they simply can't get past.

And at first, it does seem to be that way.

Tucker, Caboose, Sarge, Donut, and even the reporter surround him, as if they have any sort of high ground here. As if they can actually win when victory and revenge are so close to his grasp.

But even when he's losing, Temple has a card up his sleeve which he happily plays.

With just a simple press of a button, he has them all frozen in place. Well, those who could be a threat anyway. Caboose and the reporter can still move but the reporter's smart enough not to do anything to escalate the situation and Caboose is too stupid to come up with a plan that won't end with his friends' blood on his hands.

Everything is going wonderfully.

And then, right as he's in the middle of explaining that his hands will forever remain clean because the world, nay, the universe will believe the Reds and Blues, the Heroes of Chorus were behind all of this and everything left of the UNSC will collapse in on itself, he gets interrupted by Grif the lazy, fat one of the group of all people.

He'd be more upset if the disgrace to the color orange didn't fall flat on his face trying to swing in to save the day.

Out of the goodness of his heart, Temple offers him the chance to stand with the rest of his stupid, meddling friends instead of dying by his gun right where he landed.

Only, Grif doesn't....take the easy out.

He rises, focuses a hard look at Temple, and refuses to move.

Even as Temple has his gun pointed at his face, finger tense on the trigger, the two of them standing so close, Grif would never be able to dodge a bullet in time.

It's almost.....noble. Familiar.

'What are you doing, Mark?'

Temple flinches and blinks and suddenly it's not the fat lazy knock off of his best friend looking back at him, but the real thing.

And he can just see Biff's expression behind the helmet. His mouth is turned down slightly like he's looking at a puzzle he's trying to figure out and his eyes are lidded in that way they only get when he's faced with something he doesn't understand.

'We're friends, aren't we? You wouldn't kill me, right? We have each others' backs, we always do. What is this Mark?'

Temple's hands shake and he can feel himself taking a step back when that reporter throws him back to That Day and suddenly his whole body is shaking. He looks away for one second, aiming his gun at her to shoot her first when Biff, no, Grif tackles him to the floor where he loses hold of both his gun and the only thing keeping the Reds and Blues in place.

Then Loco runs into the room calling for Caboose as if they're all friends and the last several hours never happened. And while he can't get the controls for the armor lock again, he does get his gun back just long enough to shoot Loco before he can be tricked into revealing how to shut his machine off.

Because he refuses to lose, to let everything he's worked so hard for go up in flames!

But Loco ends up being his only kill for the day as Tucker turns around and knocks the gun of his hands and kicks him back like a wannabe freelancer. Adding insult to injury is the fact that for whatever stupid reason, Loco decided to make his doomsday weapon into a time machine just so Caboose could say goodbye to an unfeeling computer program.

Any hope he had of things finally going his way die with the revelation that ~surprise~! The reporter has been carrying around an ai strong enough to dismantle a super weapon with no ill effects this whole entire time!

He can't even sneak away when it's all over as Tucker grabs hold of him, only knocking him out because Agent Carolina of all people insists they're too good to just outright murder people.

As if that wasn't a laugh and a half.

His army.

Surge.

Gene.

Loco.

All gone because of them.

It's almost a bitter enough taste to drown out the blandness of the fish the small number of them left get in prison.

Almost.

The only thing Temple really tastes anymore is the ash in his mouth after watching years of hard work and planning go up in flames before his very eyes.

It would have been kinder just to kill him. If the situations were reversed, he would have.

#tw: language #red vs blue #mark temple #my fics #temple's kinda a fascinating character #like he's an utter mess don't get me wrong but as villains go he was i think a pretty good one

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