#linny meta | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

renaroo · 7 years

Text

Recovery None (57/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Kaikaina/South, Gimmons Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Three former Freelancers were chosen for particular tasks: Zero is to hunt down and destroy the Meta, One is to investigate and recover stolen or missing equipment, and Two is to take down AWOL former agents.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: There is an abrupt tonal shift that can only happen in Blood Gulch and a few other surprises in this chapter I think everyone’s going to appreciate since I’ve been asked about them for more than a few chapters now ; ) But to anyone still wondering, yes, I’m keeping the limited narration for Two chapters down to just South’s POV now. No one will be taking North’s place for the remainder of the fic (which isn’t that much more OH MY GOSH HOW ARE WE FOUR CHAPTERS FROM THE END)

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, @notatroll7, @every-survival, @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, @a-taller-tale, @freshzombiewriter, Yin, irismon, DuchessPoint, and Linni for the feedback!

Recovery Two XVII: Sisters

She still didn’t know what she was doing.

South stood to lose everything and yet all she could think was how hollow of a threat that truly was to her. Everything meant so little when, collectively, she possessed truly nothing of value. Not anymore.

She was still in the canyon, wondering whether it was instinct honed in by years of training or what dwindling sense of self-preservation she still owned, but she had stuck to the shadows, out of sight of all the natives to the canyon, former Freelancers, tanks, and all.

From a distance, she observed things. And even though he was long dead, it was the closest she had felt to North in years.

Can I project now? Theta asked. It looks like everyone is leaving anyway. No one’s gonna see me.

Watching as York and Washington passed through a transporter and Four Seven Niner returned to a Scorpion tank, South narrowed her eyes. “No,” she answered finally. “I don’t need you attracting attention. Either from the mouth breathers here or from the possibility of attracting it.”

Theta sent a shudder through her, from the base of her skull to the tips of her fingers and toes.

“Stop doing that,” she ordered harshly. “Taking hold of my nervous system.”

Sorry, the AI quickly apologized. But I don’t... it’s not a conscious thing or anything, South. I just feel things. And as long as I’m here, you’ll feel them, too.

She nearly rolled her eyes. “I understand how implantation works! I just... Forget it. I don’t know what the hell I ever wanted with an AI anyway.”

You saw us as advanced tools rewarding the best, and you wanted to be the best, he answered. Now that it’s real and human it feels weird to think of us that way.

South hardly kept her eyes set on the scene at Blue Base. “Did I ask for a psychoanalysis?”

Not out loud.

“Well, since you’re suddenly so opinionated, Theta, I’ve got a question for you,” South snapped. “Why are we doing this? Why are we anywhere near this place and not sticking with that plan of replacing an agent of Freelancer and hijacking a ticket off this mudball? What are we doing?”

Going against orders, Theta appeared briefly over her shoulder. “I think you’re interested in that one girl’s big, bouncy boobs.”

“Oh my god, you horny teenager, get out of my brain!” she snarled.

“I could go to your suit more and leave your implants more vacated if you--”

Before Theta could continue, South held up her hand and silenced him. Her eyes darted toward the gathering in the canyon. Sure enough, Kaikaina was heading her way, practically bouncing with every step.

Theta snorted. “Bouncing, I put that on your mind.”

“Go dark,” South ordered.

“Why? Kaikaina has seen me before. She’s the only one who does know about me. Because you wouldn’t let me apologize to York like I told you to let me--”

Looking to the AI’s projection directly, South snarled. “Theta, I will use override commands liberally. I’m not North. I’m not playing around with you and giving you uneven footing in this so-called relationship of ours. Go dark.”

For a moment, Theta seemed to resist before dropping his head and shaking his head. “You’re right. You’re not North,” he said almost bitterly before flickering offline.

“Little bastard,” South hissed. She then looked toward Kaikaina just as the woman got within reach of her.

“How’re you supposed to bodyguard from, like, twenty feet away?” Kaikaina asked breathlessly. “Man. Why’s it so hot in this place? It sucks more dicks than I do.”

“What?” South blinked.

“What?” Kaikaina asked back.

Exhaling sharply through her nose, South leaned back against the rock she had been spying from. “Do you want me to answer those questions in order?” she asked.

“Which questions?” Kaikaina asked.

“The ones you asked me,” South clarified impatiently.

The simulation trooper tilted her head. “Uh, yeah. Generally that’s the point of asking someone questions. To get the answers. Man. Are all bodyguards such sticklers for, like, everything?”

Deciding to humor the only minor relationship she had flimsily constructed in the past twenty-four hours, South began listing off on her fingers. “I bodyguard by surveying and assessing situations from a distance then coordinating action from what I see. It’s hot here because of our geographical location and because while the UNSC decided -- on poor faith -- to terraform this rock for sustainable life, ultimately it does not rotate quickly enough on its axis to give similar diurnal and nocturnal habitats like Earth and our other terraformed colony planetoids. Constant sunlight gives this planet a giant-ass-desert in the middle of the sun-baring side and we’re on the outskirts of it. And, finally, I don’t care whether or not other bodyguards are sticklers, because they’re not your bodyguard, I am. And anyone who isn’t me sucks.”

When South had finished, she took a deep breath and then looked expectantly toward Kaikaina. Even fully armored, there was no hiding that blank stare the younger soldier was giving her.

“Yeah, okay, sure,” she finally responded with a fully body shrug. “Hey, if you’re my bodyguard, should’t you be calling me, like ma’am and stuff? Like making me sandwiches and opening the door when it rings?”

“I’m not a butler, I just save your life,” South replied. “Do you want to be called ‘ma’am’, you’re like... twelve.”

“Uh, I’m an adult. I’m Nineteen, so suck it,” Kai responded. “And I guess I don’t like when other people say ma’am because my mom was a ma’am or a sir if someone was being an asshole about her beard. But when you say it, your voice is, like, all husky and heavy and it’s really hot. So if you want to call me ma’am I’d be down with it.”

“What,” South replied.

“What?” Kai asked back.

“You know what, it really doesn’t matter,” South replied lowly. “Honestly, I’m beginning to think if anything matters right now. And I’m having a hard time finding any evidence that it does.”

“Wow, that’s dark,” Kai responded, crossing her arms.

“I’m a tortured soul, didn’t you know?” South replied sarcastically.

“You’re bitchy, it’s kinda hot,” Kai announced, leaning against the rock as well, close enough to brush arms with South.

“What are you doing?” South demanded.

“Waiting for you to get over yourself,” Kaikaina shrugged. “Or for you to bodyguard me from something epic. I must be super important for them to give me the best Freelancer for a bodyguard.”

Surprised, South turned and looked at Kai. “I never said I was the best.”

“You don’t have to, you’re a complete hardass and you talked circles around those guys back at the other base,” Kaikaina explained. “Obviously my Freelancer is the best one.”

“Your,” South remarked with a scoff. Despite herself, though, she had a smile. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“I know I ma, I always guessed people’s weights right at the circus,” Kai shrugged. “I’m a good judge of character like that.”

South smirked at her. “Obviously.” She then took pause and turned entirely toward Kaikaina. “So what was the deal down there? Why did the Reds split up?”

"Oh, I dunno,” Kaikaina shrugged. “Some of them wanted to follow the space cop to go after some movie director? And that other Freelancer went with him, which makes me think -- a pirate, a guy with a funny accent, and a cop all going to find a director? Total porno. I’d watch it.”

South felt her blood cool in her veins and she grew more alert.

Him, Theta hissed in her mind.

“The Director?” South questioned, hardly able to find words.

“Right, so they went through that portal thingy, but my bro said fuck thaaaaat because it was dangerous or something. Or he’s like still pretending to be in a closet, to which I’m like, Bro, that guy Simmons is, like, hanging off of you. What the fuck. Closet door’s knocked down, Bro,” Kai continued. “So they’re here along with the cool guy in lightish-red armor--”

“The pink armor,” South corrected automatically.

“Shhh don’t be rude, I can’t tell the difference,” Kaikaina hushed her. “Anyway, so they’re all here in Blue Base where I’m here to paaaaarty but mostly I want to watch the one Blue guy give birth. I’ve never seen a dude do it before. But now that they’re doing it, I bet you no one’s going to say shit about me getting a seventh abortion.”

“What,” South said before she could catch herself.

“It’s the way dudes work. Totally. Trust me,” Kai said with a flip of her wrist. “And then the doctor guy is totally weird and says he has to give me a physical as soon as he’s done with the medical breakthrough of his lifetime. Whatever that means.”

“Sounds like he wants in your pants,” South replied without a second’s thought.

“That’s what I think which is like... c’mon. Better pickup lines, dude, but eh. I’ll get naked.”

“Why would you need to get naked for a physical?” South demanded.

“Why would I not?” she fired back. “You’re so weird. And thirsty.”

“I’m not--” South snapped her mouth shut before the conversation could carry on further. “It doesn’t matter.”

Because we need to go after the Director. No one’s more responsible for North’s death than him, Theta growled uncharacteristically in her mind.

South felt the rage building within her, but she looked at Kaikaina instead.

She felt the tug of resistance in her mind, but South pushed off the rock and glanced toward Kaikaina. “Okay, I’m curious. Show me this guy giving birth. What’s he going to do? Squeeze it out his dick or...?”

“Cesearean,” Kai answered, beginning to lead South toward the Base.

“What a wimp,” South remarked. “Women have been doing this shit forever.”

“I told you! That’s how dudes are!” Kai laughed, reaching over and grabbing South’s arm as she continued to guide her.

But North-- Theta began to fight back angrily.

We’re going after the Director for me, South informed the AI, grabbing Kai’s arm back as they walked along. North is dead. Doing things for him isn’t going to bring him back. So when we cut the Director’s goddamn throat it’ll be for everything, and that’s what I’m going to do.

Theta’s buzzing in her mind took up a dangerous tempo. When isn’t it about you!?

Clutching Kai tighter, South scowled. This, you little bastard. This is not for me. North wanted us to live. Going after the Director? That’s a good chance of death. So we’re going to give North what he wanted first. Live a little.

Placated, Theta’s humming returned to its normal rhythm.

Inside of the base, South nearly had to do a double take to make certain that they hadn’t somehow ended up back at Red Base since the interiors were absolutely identical in a very real, very haunting sort of way.

If it weren’t for the blue accents and flag, there wouldn’t have been any difference at all.

The orange armored Red who Kaikaina had said was her brother was standing at the center of the flag room with a cigarette between his teeth. He was staring at the flag almost dully.

“Yo, Broooooo!” Kaikaina yelled out, bounding over toward him. “Why aren’t you watching the dude giving birth? Like isn’t it supposed to be amazing or something? Like where is it gonna even come from?”

“Squeeze it out his dick, that’d almost be anatomical justice,” South couldn’t help but add.

Ow, yeesh, Theta muttered.

Oh, like you have a real one, South admonished him.

“Won’t be the biggest thing I’ve seen come out of one,” Kai shrugged.

“What?” her brother said at the same time as South.

“Whatever, it’s not amazing,” her brother said, pulling his cigarette from his mouth. “Amazing is this goddamn thing right here.”

He waved toward the blue flag and forced South and Kaikaina to take more note of it. They watched it flutter slightly, which confused South almost as much as the moon landing footage because there didn’t seem to be a draft in the base.

“That’s not amazing, it’s fucking boring,” Kai groaned.

“No, it’s not,” Grif said, pointing his cigarette toward the flag. “Good men over the years have died over this stupid thing -- died just to stand in this room and try to get it from Blues. Or the other way around.”

South looked between the two simulation troopers quietly. She felt... something at that point. Not guilt, not anything truly personal. But she felt...

Sympathy, Theta offered.

Gross, South replied. My brother just died, what the fuck do I have to sympathize over simulation troopers for? They’re not even smart enough to figure out this whole thing was fake.

Well, neither were Freelancers until the very end, Theta reminded her.

Taking a sharp breath, South pt her hands on her hips and shook her head. It felt like pulling teeth, but she tried all the same. “I’m... sorry. That you lost people over something so stupid as a flag.”

He turned and looked at her utterly bewildered. “What? God, no. Red Team hasn’t lost anyone over the stupid flag.” He threw down his cigarette and stomped it out before grabbing for his helmet. “I mean I’ve lost half my internal organs and Simmons is half a robot, but not even fucking Donut died over the stupid flag and he managed to get the damn thing. ‘Sides, I said good people. That’s obviously not anyone in this canyon.”

South watched as he put his helmet on. “You’re going to make me regret protecting your sister, aren’t you?” she asked plainly.

“Knowing my sister, she’s made headway on that cause already,” Grif shrugged.

Almost immediately, South opened her mouth to defend Kaikaina’s honor when she realized that the younger woman wasn’t even in the room with them anymore. “Dammit,” she hissed before taking off toward the hall.

It took a bit of searching but soon enough South came across Kaikaina walking down the hall humming to herself.

“Earlier when you were getting onto me for not being close enough to bodyguard you,” South said as she caught up to Kai’s side, “generally that’s a two way street.”

“Pfft, I’m in Blue Base now. I’m Blue Safe. Whoohoo! Go Blue!” she said in response. “Hey, where’s the little gray dude over your shoulder? I bet he’d like to see me naked for a physical.”

“I’m here,” Theta announced, popping up over South’s shoulder.

“Off!” South ordered. She glared at Theta until he complied and then she looked back to her charge. “Theta is like a secret weapon. We don’t flaunt him around because that’d ruin the surprise.”

“We as in me?” Kai asked.

“What?” South asked in return.

“You always say we. Are you talking about me? Should I keep Theta a secret too? Like, he’s my secret, too? Which is cool. I’m great at secrets. Except when I accidentally tell them. Which doesn’t happen a lot. Don’t call anybody from high school. They’re fucking liar bitches.”

The realization of the we cut through South. She screwed her eyes shut, hardly listening to Kaikaina’s words as they carried forward.

Live. Survive. Live. Survive. Don’t think about--

“She meant North,” Theta said, appearing over South’s other shoulder, closer to Kai. “Our brother. He... He died.”

Kai put her hands over her chest, letting out a small gasp. “Why didn’t you tell me you lost your brother? I’m so sorry! Losing my brother would be the worst thing that ever happened to me. Even if he’s an annoying bastard and treats me like a baby who hasn’t fucked the whole football team already.” She paused and looked mortified for a moment. “Did he die going after the flag? Did Dex offend you? I’ll go beat him up for you.”

"He didn’t die over a flag,” South said lowly. “He died over something more stupid... He died counting on me.”

Kai looked at South. “That’s not stupid. That’s... I think that’s something brothers and sisters would always be willing to die for. For the brother or sister, I mean.” She hugged herself. “I enlisted because I wanted to see my brother again. He was drafted because he chose to take care of me instead of going to school and so he couldn’t get out of it. And then he sent all his paychecks back to me at home. Because that’s what he does. He takes care of me. And I want to do the same back. Even if it means dying over a stupid flag.”

South stopped, her head was pounding and her vision blurring. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and rested her shoulder against the near hallway wall to keep her balance.

“I wish it were true. I wish siblings were always willing to die for each other,” South said. “Maybe then it would’ve been me instead of him... I always thought, being a twin was... a hard thing. Everyone always finds a way to put you together. Even in the program. It’s like you’re not considered two people. Even when we were kids, our parents dressed us alike, and when we joined p and got sent to the program, they stuck us together. People thought we were special somehow, I suppose. I used to hate that. All I ever wanted was to have my own life. My own respect. And here I am now... just wondering how I’m gonna live without him.” She waved to the base around them. “I don’t even know where I fucking am anymore or what I’m doing. Not except getting back at all the fuckers responsible for this in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Kai said. “And being an extremely shitty pretend bodyguard.”

South looked up to Kaikaina, tears streaming down her face. Kaikaina was already meeting her gaze.

They kept silent for a moment, South feeling like she had gutted herself and left everything bare, right there on the canyon base’s floor.

Then, unexpectedly, she burst out with a laugh, a grin. Even when she covered her mouth she couldn’t help the choking laughter that came out from her.

Joining in the laughter, Kaikaina moved in closer and pulled South into a hug. South didn’t return it, but she continued to laugh.

Laugh until there were blood curdling screams echoing through the base.

Quickly releasing each other, South and Kaikaina looked around for the source of the screaming. South automatically pulled out her sidearm and cocked it, causing Kaikaina to jump back in even more surprise.

“Whoa, did you have that hiding somewhere or were you that happy to hug me?” Kai joked.

“Stop making me laugh,” South snorted.

"Kaikaina!” Grif came running from the flag room only to stumble to a stop just short of the two women and put his hands on his knees. He was gulping down air like it was a new drug. “I thought... whoo! Running... still... sucks... I thought you were.... screaming... I’m gonna die... running... someday... maybe today...”

“Why would I be screaming?” Kaikaina asked with a shrug. “I’ve got a terrible bodyguard taking care of me, Big Bro. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

South couldn’t help but silently agree and holstered her weapon.

“Plus, if anyone’s screaming, it’s probably the dude shoving a baby through his dick,” Kai continued.

“You know I was joking when I mentioned that, right?” South asked.

“No. Dude, I’ve never seen a guy do this before! You can’t joke with me about things like that. Totes thought you were being real,” Kai replied.

“Well, there’s only one thing for us to do,” South said, leading them toward the origin of the screams. “Let’s go and watch this freakshow for ourselves.”

“Fuck yes!” Kai cried out, nearly skipping by South’s side as her brother followed up behind them, still panting and holding his sides like he had pulled something.

“That’s it, Tucker! Just a few more breaths...” some far too calm voice was saying as they rounded the corner into the medical room.

“This is awesome!” Donut cried out.

South wasn’t sure what she was expecting and Theta’s curiosity was definitely getting the better of her at that point. But it became clear that Kaikaina and her brother also didn’t know what to expect because the moment they caught sight of the cesarean being performed with a reptilian headed creature reaching out of a live human, bloody and letting out a long series of terrible noises, the three of them plus Theta gave out a unified scream of horror and backed away before taking off.

The three of them sat on the top of Blue Base, legs hanging over the side, each busily puffing a cigarette. A Red, a Blue, and a Freelancer -- it was the start of a new, terrible bar joke.

“Welp,” Grif said, flicking the butt of his cigarette over the edge. “Never unseeing that.”

“And that’s why I always go with the abortion,” Kai sighed.

“What,” South and Grif echoed.

Theta sat on South’s shoulder, head propped up on his hands. “Wish I could have a cigarette.”

“No you don’t,” South said. “Also, I told you to stop showing yourself to everyone.”

“What? I’m not going to be the weirdest thing Kaikaina’s brother has seen today,” Theta pointed out. “We just saw--”

“We know!” they all yelled at once.

“There you guys are!!! Wanted to let you all know that Tucker’s doing okay! Or at least he’s unconscious and no longer screaming, and the cute doctor says that’s okay!” Donut called out, climbing to the top of the base with a certain amount of pep in his stride. “Grif! You shouldn’t be smoking! It really irritates Simmons that you’re ruining his lungs.”

“Like I give a shit,” Grif replied.

“Ohhh, is Simmons’ first name Richard?” Kai questioned, leaning over South’s lap to get more in her brother’s face.

Donut stopped and tilted his head to the side. “Oh. I don’t know Simmons’ first name. Is it?”

“You know his first name is Dick,” Grif snapped at Donut. “I know you’ve heard me call him that before.”

Holding up his hands, Donut shook his head. “I so did not know! This changes so many conversations we’ve had!”

“What the-- yeah it better!” Grif snapped.

“Not if we go by the letters you sent home it doesn’t,” Kaikaina sang.

“Oh, letters? Do tell!” Donut cried out excitedly.

Theta looked to South before flickering out.

South didn’t have to ask -- she knew what that look meant. Felt what it meant deep within her own bones. She stood up and threw her own cigarette off the side of the base before putting her helmet on.

The bickering simulation troopers all looked to her in surprise.

“What’re you doing South?” Kai asked.

“Remember how my brother’s dead?” she asked lowly, sobering up Grif and Donut rather quickly. “I’m going to go see someone who holds some of the responsibility for that fact. And will probably either accidentally help my former fellow Freelancers or end up getting them all killed. Either way, I figure it’s a hoo-ra I wouldn’t want to miss.”

“Who’s gonna be my fake bodyguard then?” Kai asked, getting to her feet.

“I’d recommend it not being the guy who had an alien rip itself out of his stomach,” South suggested. “Who knows. That tank seems fairly reliable.”

Donut and Grif looked awkwardly at each other.

“Well, I prefer you and I think you going by yourself is dumb,” Kaikaina argued.

“Wouldn’t be the first stupid thing I’ve done,” South joked.

With a bit of a smile, Kai punched South’s shoulder hard. “Well, don’t die. I’d like the honor of being the last stupid thing you do.”

South’s mouth dropped open and she felt her face light up, but her brain -- outside of Theta’s laughter -- had stopped for all intents and purposes. She shook herself from head to toe before walking toward the transporter. “O-okay then.”

Grif just looked back and forth between his sister and South. “What the fuck just happened?”

“I don’t know, but I liked it,” Donut cheered.

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Recovery None #Agent South #AI: Theta #Kaikaina Grif #Dexter Grif #Franklin Delano Donut #Lavernius Tucker #Frank Doc DuFresne

15 notes · View notes

slendermanlore · 7 years

Text

Slender Man Mythos + Fatalism

Consider this a polar opposite companion post to the “motivational” one. Confusingly enough, some of these can be just as comforting in their own way.

Original Mythos, “Stirling City Incidents”:

“we didn’t want to go, we didn’t want to kill them, but its persistent silence and outstretched arms horrified and comforted us at the same time…”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #18”:

“Something dangerous is going on, and I’m starting to regret ever getting involved with it now.”

Everyman HYBRID, “First Hidden Box”:

“Consider this a place of refuge, not from the waters, but from damnation.”

Original Mythos, “The Tall Man”:

“Because,” said her mother, “there is no reward for goodness; there is no respite for faith; there is nothing but cold steel teeth and scourging fire for all of us. And it’s coming for you now.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #22”:

“Seth is gone. I don’t remember what happened. We were the only two left. And I left him. Brian is gone. Tim, and Jay, and Sarah. Everyone is gone. I just woke up in this house. With the tape. Seth’s camera is gone, and all I can remember from the night is right here. All I can remember at all is on the tape now. I’m leaving this house. I thought I would be safer here, by running away. But everything’s just gotten worse. I’m going back to my home. And I’m burning these tapes. All of them.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Second Hidden Box”:

“Time and space flee every which way, disregarding your beloved logic.”

Just Another Fool, “Untitled”:

“I run. And that’s all I can do. I will run and run and run and die. Perhaps then I will find sanity.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“It was as if my body was trying to tell me something… Not the frantic 'Don't look, don't look, dear god please walk faster,' but instead the eerily calm 'There's no need to look. You already know he's there.'”

Everyman HYBRID, “I’m okay.”:

“And thus the roadtrip continues. Maybe I'd think of something poetic, but I have to keep moving. I have to do this alone. And now.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“The key to not having nightmares is to not sleep at all. Insomnia has its benefits, and flaws. My dreams are starting to creep into reality.”

Original Mythos, “Miscellaneous Journal Entries”:

“I don’t hear the words, but they always stick in my head. I’m going to watch over my son. Until the day I die, until the day he dies.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #23”:

“I’m done with this. I don’t want to know the answers anymore.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Reunion.”:

“Who are you, my dear friend, to reach someone like me? I look forward to our reunion in Hell.

Otherwise, I fear my warnings have fallen on deaf ears. The sight of its black eyes, those markings; this blight is not human, and now has claimed another one of us.

I’m sorry I was too late.

– Linnie.”

Original Mythos, “Fear Dubh”:

“I’ve still got the rosary, and even though people laugh, I sleep with it under my pillow. Because if I don’t, I dream. About the sound of wet leaves sliding softly across a window, and the way he is still watching me, even though he has no eyes.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #####”:

“We will wait for you no more. Control is being taken away from you. From the start this has been a game for us. Not anymore. I'm coming for you. And you will lead me to the ark.”

Original Mythos, “Deadly House Fire”:

“He’s going to come for me, and then he’s going to find you. You can’t stop it, you can never stop it. He finds you, and what he does to you is worse than death.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“He isn't coming. He is already here, and he always has been, and always will be.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Third Hidden Box”:

“There is no veiling your perception as anything more than an illusion.”

Original Mythos, “Fog”:

“The car stopped, the engine revved but to no avail. The battery was the last look into the infinite abyss. He knew this was his stop.”

Everyman HYBRID, CANYOUSEETHEWORDS:

“this is no longer their game. consider yourself marked.”

Tribe Twelve, “Device Findings”:

“You, and everyone you've ever known, are prisoners… bound in a cave and facing a blank wall on which you can only perceive shadows. A brain connected to eyes and nothing more. We have seen what casts those shadows, Noah Maxwell. Why won't you let us untie you? You are quite deserving, after all. The Boardwalk. Bring the journal. That is your homework. However, if you come empty handed, we shall be forced to take… disciplinary actions.”

Original Mythos, “Pyotr”:

“About that time, things started to change. It was not the people so much as the air, which seemed to hold less oxygen and felt static at all times, constantly threatening to send out a spark at any point and any time.

[...]

It is a mistake. It must be corrected. It will come. He will come.”

Dark Harvest, “Log Entry #27”:

“You can’t make them stop, Chris. You and I have both seen what they’ll do to you, and anyone else involved. I’m involved… this is what they’ll do. They’ll kill you the second they get a chance.”

Everyman HYBRID, Twitter:

“YOU STILL BELIEVE THIS IS MERELY THEIR STORY. YOU ASSUME A GRANTED REFUGE? NO SUCH SANCTUARY EXISTS.

YOU COULDN'T SAVE HER. DO THEY THINK THEY ARE ANY DIFFERENT? YOU ARE ALL IN THE SAME. SINKING. VESSEL.”

Just Another Fool, “The Reward”:

“The Earth shifts. The earth shifts. Time shifts. Reality shifts. And he just. Doesn’t. Care.”

Original Mythos, “Small Findings”:

“But I am sure that I cannot sleep or will not wake up. I cannot leave. i can hear the waiting noises just outside. All i can do is wait, and return to this damned drawing, and wonder…”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“I can hear him. I can always hear him, every day. Far, far away, but getting closer with each scratching step. Only a matter of time until he comes back, and I learn everything.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #49”:

“I didn't want to upload it here, but now I feel like I need to in case anything happens to me or the footage.”

Everyman HYBRID, Twitter:

“IN A WORLD OF SUCH UNCERTAINTY, THERE IS ONE TRUTH WE CAN CLING TO: WE SHALL ALL JOIN THE DOCTOR, INEVITABLY. YOU, TOO, SHALL DROWN. vii”

Original Mythos, “Rodzby Incident”:

“when your time comes

Don’t Run.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #52”:

“It might be nothing. He might actually show us something. But if he does try anything, I’m going to make sure that Jessica gets out. Whatever it is that I have to do to make sure of that, I don’t care. So I guess that’s my confession or whatever, about what happened, if anything does happen to me.”

Everyman HYBRID, CANYOUSEETHEWORDS:

“I’m sorry, Jeff. I’m sorry, Vincent. I’m sorry Evan. Most of all, I’m sorry, Jessalyn. I’m sorry, “HYBRIDs” (still can’t get past the nickname). I’ve brought this upon myself. Maybe we’ll speak again someday. Probably not. Don’t follow my footsteps.

Be not like me. I am alone.”

Everyman HYBRID, “77of76.avi”:

“It’s like you’re just going around in circles; you don’t get anywhere. No progress is made. You go in, balls to the wall, but it doesn’t fucking matter. You just wind up in the same fucking spot.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Fifth Hidden Box”:

“THEIR WORLD SHALL PERISH

THEIR WORLD SHALL BURN

YOU, TOO, ARE ON THIS SAME. SINKING. VESSEL.

THE GREAT FLOOD SHALL WASH AWAY ALL THE ASH, READYING THE WORLD FOR ANOTHER GREATER, CYCLE

[EXIT ALL]”

Everyman HYBRID, “Tribe Twelve Envelope”:

“Milo seemed frightened of this man, but also held a sense of… let's just say, concerned respect. Accepted inevitability. This worried me a great deal. He didn't seem eager to rid himself of this man, more so that he accepted this as how things would be and could not seek an accommodating change from its standing.

He went on to tell me that this man had a particular plan for him, for other children, too. They were all to go on a great journey together. The way Milo described it, it seemed like a vacation, disregarding the melancholy nature in which he told it.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“Knowing the slenderman…he wouldn't even strike for weeks, months, even years…he is just letting you know that your time is running out and that he is holding the hourglass”

Tribe Twelve, “The Order”:

“This is exactly what he fucking wants… he pulls us apart.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Twenty-four Months”:

“Three friends, two parents, two loved ones, two strangers, two coworkers, a brother, his dog, and still no resolution.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #60.5”:

“I’m still not sure what to do from here. I don’t like being on my own again like this, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

Dark Harvest, “Log Entry #28”:

“Although the words of the Oracle may protect you from death by our hand, Gorr’Rylaehotep will destroy you one day. Why he hasn’t yet is a mystery but rest assured, your time will come. What we can do, though, if you ever try to uncover the secrets of our Order again, is give you a fate far worse than death. We will kill everyone you love. Your entire family will be destroyed, and your world will crumble. Although we cannot kill you, we will find you. We will take you into our care and make your every waking moment an unending hell! You will be begging for the release of death, but we will not give it to you. We will only bring you more suffering. Think about that before you attempt to contact anyone in our Order again! I hope you heed our words and stay out of our business, or you’ll be regretting it until the day you die!”

Original Mythos, “Nathaniel V”:

“If a magician must face a Transformed man, all logic, honor, and fairness must be tossed aside. The Transformed does not follow any rules that can be known by men.

To decipher them is to risk becoming one of them.”

Tribe Twelve, “Catharsis”:

“Whatever they have planned for me on the 11th, I just hope it doesn't hurt. Comment if you want, I don't care anymore. I'm so sorry for everything guys. I'm so fucking sorry.”

Tribe Twelve, “INTERCEPTION”:

“BUT IF YOU DO NOT/INSANITY WILL RULE YOUR MIND/BECAUSE/DO YOU KNOW WHATS WORSE THAN KNOWING WHEN THE CLOCK STOPS?/NOT KNOWING”

Everyman HYBRID, “Sixth Hidden Box”:

“I know there's nothing I can do to help their memory, but every night, I wake up, preparing for a battle, readying myself to fight for their lives – only to remember that I've already failed them.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“If you get away its only because he lets you, hes the monster in your nightmare who always finds your hiding place.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter

“It's been approximately 3 years since I opened this account. Things have gotten worse each year. The future is pitch black.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #67.5”:

“If Alex is still out there, he’s going to find us sooner or later.”

Everyman HYBRID, “:D”:

“And in that moment, I’ll be there. To piss in your wounds, and to burn you alive. You think you’re untouchable? Not even God can hide from me.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“life is but a dream. what happens when u wake up. how do u know if youre dreaming. questions fuel my insomnia. or am i still just dreaming.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Next”:

“They're all gone. Everyone except for you guys. I'm not going to stop. And if I go next, just don't forget us. [V]”

Original Mythos, “Henry Louis Marshall”:

“The closer you get to him, the more real he becomes. The closer you get to him, the more people die.

If you’re reading this, then I got too close.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #75”:

“It is going to be really weird if it comes to that and we come out on top, though. Because… I don’t remember what all I did before all of this happened. No… well… I do remember that I was living in a crappy apartment by myself doing nothing. So at least now I guess I’m… doing… something… I don’t know.”

Everyman HYBRID, “l'esprit de l'escalier”:

“They won't let me... they won't let me go.”

“I don't think they're gonna let any of us go, Evan.”

“Vinny... I tried.”

“Tried what, Evan?”

“I tried to keep you safe.”

“I don't think anything's gonna do it at this point, brother.”

Tribe Twelve, Ask.fm:

“Are you running yet?”

“in my mind i run miles every day. trying to escape this life. but when i wake up i realize i havent moved at all.”

Dark Harvest, “the last three months - part two”:

“At the time I had no idea that thing was ever in the apartment. When I reviewed the footage, I was both frightened and confused. Why didn’t it kill us like it killed Greg? It feels like it’s just toying with us at this point.”

Original Mythos, “Of the Slender Man”:

“No matter what culture he descends on though, the outcome has always been the same. For in the wake of the Slender Man all that is left is a cold, dark road covered in corpses with agony on their distorted faces.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #80”:

“I left Jay at my house so something like this wouldn’t happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know what to do.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“We have created the Slender Man. Brought him out of the shadows and back into the world.

We have created a monster and we cannot put it back in its cage.”

Just Another Fool, “Laughter”:

“I can hear the laughter. Through this endless night and after. I can hear the singing. Chorus, verse, and refrain ringing.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Lexi”:

“You gotta be able to live with yourself after seeing all this shit. After being involved with the deaths of all these you people; you gotta be okay with it. Otherwise you're never going to get past it. There's going to be a lot more blood. A lot more bodies before this is all over. And you have to be okay with that, otherwise you'll just end up being one of them.”

Tribe Twelve, Ask.fm:

“What gives you the strength to get up and continue with this?”

“it is not strength. it is cowardice. that coward creature in the mirror that was once myself. i am but a witness to his destruction. his slow decay.”

Original Mythos, “Remains of Missing Camper”:

“I think I hear him coming, I don’t feel like fighting or running or chasing anymore. I will lie down and await the peace of death, perhaps I will find repose then. Perhaps I will find home.”

Tribe Twelve, Ask.fm:

“Oh Noah… You will be back to normal i just know you will”

“you cannot reassemble burnt paper.”

Original Mythos, “Comment Chain”:

“Then a crackling breathing is heard coming through the car speakers. You flick the switch but it grows louder and encompasses you and comes from everywhere. Then it slowly dies down and begins to pinpoint itself… away from the speakers.

You realize it’s coming from the back seat.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“hope is but the caged angel. slave to fear. there is no door. no lock. no key. but there are bars to tease. and she reaches out to no avail.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“5 years. this is all a dream. you are all dreaming with me. i cant sleep but i cant wake up. i wake up asleep. nothing is real. where am i.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #85”:

“Alex has destroyed everything I have. I don’t care what happens to me as long as he is stopped. There’s only one way this can end, and he’ll hunt me forever until it does. I have to find him.”

Everyman HYBRID, “Blue room”:

“Just because you're alive doesn't make you a hero. Makes you a survivor. That's not worth shit. I would give anything to just go back and not fuck with this. Not do what we did. Who knows, maybe it wouldn't have even made a difference. You know?”

Tribe Twelve, “DEATHTRAPEXODUS”:

“IF YOU AREN'T BROKEN NOW/WE WILL BREAK YOU THEN/BECAUSE NIGHT IS LONGEST/WHEN DAY DOES NOT EXIST/OUR MASTER HUNGERS FOR YOU/WE ARE ALL CAUGHT IN HIS WEB/AND THE WEB CONSUMES US ALL”

Original Mythos, “Stanley Ercavich”:

“But then she started going on about how it wasn’t an end, but a beginning…fuck it, right?”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #86”:

“This isn’t over. You see how it spreads. If there’s someone left, you have to kill them, and then yourself.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“used to think jumanji cant hurt if you dont play. except the game is in session. i have to roll.”

Tribe Twelve, Twitter:

“used to think this was a nightmare i couldnt wake up from. i was wrong. i wake up from nightmares into more nightmares. im living a lifemare.”

Original Mythos, “Abandoned Journal”:

“The story of the Greens interested me fiercely but nobody in the town was willing to talk. That night, I called my children and wife. I told them how very much I loved them.

And I told them to lock the doors.”

Tribe Twelve, Ask.fm:

“Do You Fear The pain anymore? Do you fear the thought of dead?”

“ive become the pain. death and fear are my friends now.”

Dark Harvest, “2014 - boiler room”:

“I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. I don’t see a point. I’m surviving, but is it worth it? What the fuck is the point if it’s never going to get any better? I can’t fucking deal with this… I just can’t.”

Tribe Twelve, “Pitfall”:

“This is the end! I’m fucking dead! I’m free!”

Just Another Fool, “Journal of Logan Renault”:

“Fate. It surrounds us. Guides us. Draws us together. It is permanent, UNWAVERING AND CONCRETE. ONCE YOUR FATE IS DECIDED, IT is Not about to change.”

Everyman HYBRID, “two thousand three hundred ninety-five”:

“You know what? You are right, though, about one thing. Kinda does look like the only way out. Because what do I have, to make it out of here? To get answers? Cool, got answers. There is no life. Because you took everybody! You know what? If there's a heaven... hell, if there's a hell! It's better than this.”

Original Mythos, “Original Mythos Meta”:

“Nobody knows where it is you are taken to, but nobody ever comes backs, and everybody agrees it's generally a horrible place. And maybe in this place, you can't die. And maybe you also don't need organs or skin or even a body, really, and that's why yours has now been nicely wrapped up and hung in a tree.”

Tribe Twelve, Scriniarii on Reddit:

“Look I've been doing this over and over for so long. I'm tired. Everyone I have ever loved is gone because of me and I'm doomed to relive their deaths over and over every fucking recursion because you can't get your shit together and stop trying to be individuals. Maybe I just fucked this up and we will have to reset again, maybe you just needed this push.”

Marble Hornets, “Entry #87”:

“Everything is fine.”

#Slender Man Arkive #original mythos #marble hornets #Just Another Fool #EverymanHYBRID #TribeTwelve #DarkHarvest00 #slenderverse

5 notes · View notes

lauraramargosian · 5 years

Text

Shawn Mendes credited on Wonder Pets series!

Shawn Mendes credited for the series Wonder Pets and we think it’s quite inspirational.

IMDB shared a little about the series.

Shawn Mendes credited on Wonder Pets series! Check it out right here on positive celebrity gossip and entertainment news!

“Each episode follows the adventures of three classroom pets–Linny the Guinea Pig, Ming-Ming Duckling, and Turtle Tuck–who travel around the globe helping to rescue animals who need their help. Like real preschoolers, these three unlikely heroes don’t have any actual superpowers, but by working together they can conquer any obstacle: “What’s gonna work? Teamwork!”

The Batman: Robert Pattinson lands role!

Nickelodeon Network is the distributor for Wonder Pets!

The show can be watched on Amazon Prime, iTunes, YouTube, Google Play and Vudu!

Shawn Mendes never stops musically or when pursuing other projects that help the world for the better.

Isn’t that awesome though, I mean, it shows kids that animals are truly important and they all need a safe place in the world, right?

Wonder Pets was nominated several times for the Daytime Emmy Awards.

It looks like the kinda show I would let my kids watch. Check out the trailer below!

Wonder Pets

youtube

The post Shawn Mendes credited on Wonder Pets series! appeared first on Positive Celebrity News and Gossip.

No related posts.

from WordPress https://positivecelebrity.news/2019/06/02/shawn-mendes-credited-on-wonder-pets-series/

#Positive celebrity gossip #celebrity gossip #news #love #positive vibes

0 notes

kuuchuuburanko · 10 months

Text

hi and welcome to my post-war delusional slice of life adjacent bleach au

#bleach #bleach tybw #thousand year blood war #gremmy thoumeaux #yuzu kurosaki #gremmy #wandenreich #sternritter #quincy #bleach fanart #gremmy episode is coming in fast and im sorry for the metas/headcanons im about to post here #linny draws #all i ask is for tumblr to remember one tag here and it just doesnt

23 notes · View notes

beyondtherhetoric · 5 years

Text

Sunday Snippet: Home Alone

Most kids want the newest toys. I know I do... I mean, I did. Remember the Nintendo 64? But even the bratty (and resourceful) Kevin McCallister knows what's really important around this time of year. Even if they didn't notice he was missing until they were already on the plane.

This is extremely important. Will you please tell [Santa] that instead of presents this year, I just want my family back? No toys. Nothing but Peter, Kate, Buzz, Megan, Linnie, and Jeff. And my aunt and my cousins. And if he has time, my Uncle Frank. Okay?

As much as we might get caught up in cool new toys around this time of year — believe me, I like new toys as much as the next kid — we mustn’t…

View On WordPress

#christmas #family #movie quotes

0 notes

renaroo · 7 years

Text

Recovery None (56/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Yorkalina, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: I’m gonna go ahead and warn you, this chapter is SCHMULTZZZZZZYYYYYYYYY to the max and that’s not even counting the smut. The hilarious, couldn’t write with a straight face even if I’m hoping you all can read it as melodrama smut. Man this fic is all over the place. AND ONLY FIVE CHAPTERS TO GO OH MY GOSH

Special thanks to @analiarvb, @secretlystephaniebrown, @freshzombiewriter, @notatroll7, @washingtonstub, @every-survival, Yin, TheMightyLorax, MewtheConquerer, Linni, Bluebird202, irismon, Shinji09, Meep, and @a-taller-tale for the feedback!

Recovery One XVII: A Unified Front

Tex resisted the urge with everything within herself to let out a long suffering sigh as she stepped through the transporter and, once again, found herself standing in a foot of snow.

Instead, she settled on a long, drawn out, “Goddammit.”

Which was about as much emotion as her frayed nerves could have handled at that point considering that they were one, made of actual electricity, two, dealing with a lot of bullshit that day in particular, and three, not anywhere near Church by the sight of things.

Carolina appeared behind her and looked more surprised than angry at the circumstances. She immediately turned back and tilted her head at the device behind them.

“Okay,” Epsilon whined, appearing over Carolina’s shoulder, “who sets up a transporter in the middle of the arctic for jollies?”

When Carolina gave him a glance, he raised his sprite’s hands.

“It’s an important question, alright? Maybe not the most important question of the evening, but it’s pretty high up there,” Epsilon defended.

“The most important being where’s the Director,” Carolina reminded him, turning back toward Tex.

Not moving, Tex leered at them both. “The most important being finding Church and that knucklehead Caboose before they get themselves killed.”

“Wait wait wait,” Epsilon demanded, crossing his arms. “What the fuck kind of name is Caboose?”

With a shrug, Carolina looked toward Epsilon. “I’ve heard it before,” she said.

“No fucking way,” he snapped. “From who? Who else could possibly have a name as ridiculous as Caboose--”

Ignoring them, Tex began leading the group forward. “No one placed the transporter in the middle of nowhere,” she informed them lowly.

"Uh, obviously they did, we just went through it!” Epsilon replied testily, waving toward the transporter as he and Carolina caught up.

“What is it?” Carolina asked instead just before the completed the turn around the mountainside. She then came to a stop and dropped her shoulders, looking up to the very monument that Tex had been expecting to see on the other side.

Tex came to a stop herself and scowled at the massive, broken open and exposed hull.

“Whoa...” Epsilon whispered. “Is... Is that...?”

Carolina stepped closer. “It’s the Mother of Invention,” she answered. “I haven’t seen it... I haven’t seen it since the crash.”

The crash that Tex had caused, of course.

“That transporter was cargo that flung out in the crash. I’m sure there’s a lot of that, along with unrecovered weapons and debris throughout this area,” Tex announced, looking toward the ship. By the time she tagged the signs she wanted and looked back to Carolina, the former Freelancer mission leader was looking at the cliffs with Epsilon silently standing by her shoulder.

“Guess I should be considered lucky that they didn’t leave me with the rest of the trash in the snow,” Carolina said bitterly. “Guess I hadn’t been broken just enough to lose interest in.”

There weren’t words for what Carolina was feeling, what she was going through. Tex knew that.

At the end of the day, she had binary to hide behind, pretending those inexplicable feelings of needing approval and hating and loving what was never real, what was never there, could be sorted away and filed as something else entirely.

In Carolina, though, for the first time, Tex knew that those inexplicable, breakable feelings were precisely what made them not only human, but the same. What made them almost sisters of sorts.

"Hey,” Tex called out to her, drawing Carolina’s attention from the ship. Tex narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists. “I know you don’t think much of me, but if there’s any bit of you that values what I might have to say, let it hear this out. You are not trash. You are not disposable. You’re not even the slightest bit wrong. You’re the best the military could have ever dreamed of training, and this fucker tried to take that all from you for his own gain. Not only do you not owe him shit, but he doesn’t deserve your fucks.”

“Stop talking about him like--” Carolina snapped before catching herself. She placed her helmet against her palm and gave a long breath. “Like you know him. Like you knew him before all of this.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tex said simply. “Anyone who can make someone like you feel like trash is the only real garbage here to me.”

When Carolina looked up to Tex, Epsilon was joining her, almost reluctantly.

“I mean that for everyone,” Tex confirmed. She then shoved forward toward the ship. “Now c’mon. We all have more than enough to feel sorry for ourselves or guilty over these days. I don’t see any point in trying to add more to it when we obviously have other shit to do.”

Carolina seemed reluctant, but she pulled out her electric batons and followed Tex. “Alright then,” she answered.

By the time they got to the haul, Tex couldn’t help but run her hands against the twisted, interrupted metal and glass.

She stared at the ship for a moment, just a moment, to reflect on how the damage was all a result of her crash. The crash she had started.

There was a lot of damage, a lot of death, done to a lot of people that were just cogs in the machine. Like her. Like Carolina. Even lower on the totem pole.

“Find something?” Carolina asked as she came up from behind Tex.

Tex glanced toward her and then continued on into the ship. “A way in,” she answered simply.

They walked across the frozen metal, mindful of ice pockets and of the slight confusion of walking on walls and ceilings as they navigated the twisted ship.

After seemingly forever, there was a low, echoing voice.

The women glanced to each other and then armed themselves, readied for a fight as they neared the source of the echo, hearing the words more and more clearly.

“And I make your life-a-living heaven. We do everything together, like hide-and-don’t-seek, your favorite game. And I’m so glad that we found each other and I know you feel the identical-way-as-me! Church, I’m your best friend, that’s what I am to you--”

Tex paused and held up her hand to have Carolina follow suit, standing up with disbelief. “Wait,” she ordered. “That’s Caboose.”

“Again, I just can’t believe that’s a real name,” Epsilon whined.

“Why is he singing?” Carolina asked.

“What’d I tell you about asking questions involving these guys?” Tex said back, giving Carolina a look.

“Right,” Carolina replied in a long drawl before moving forward, turning the electricity down for her batons, but not putting them out.

“Tex didn’t completely follow suit, still holding onto her gun as she walked toward the source of the voice and found herself face to face with a familiar old friend.

“Why, Agent Texas!!!” Caboose cried out. “I wasn’t expecting you here! Church said I had to stop bad people from coming, he didn’t mention anything about good people!”

Tex tilted her head. “Bad people?”

“You think Tex is a good person?” Carolina asked critically.

Both Caboose and Tex looked at Carolina after the outburst.

Embarrassed, Carolina held up her hands and shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. My bad. It’s... Old habits die hard and all that. C-continue with whatever you two are doing. Friendship and reunions and all that.”

Carolina looked back to Caboose with concern. “What else did Church say, Caboose? We need to find him.”

“Why? He’s not lost, he said he remembered everything and knew his way,” Caboose questioned, scratching at his helmet.

“Those aren’t good things,” Tex tried to explain.

“Hey, wait up,” Epsilon said, appearing over Carolina’s shoulder again.

“Epsilon!” Tex snapped.

“No, this deserves some questions,” he argued. “Like how does it make sense that the Alpha remembers shit if I’m his memories? Like what’s that supposed to mean for me? It’s giving me an existential crisis just thinking about it--”

“Please don’t have an existential crisis inside my head,” Carolina deadpanned. “I have enough of those in a week without your assistance.”

Caboose was literally vibrating beside Texas, his whole body was blurring from the shaking. “Church! We found you! And you are so very tiny!!! I will find tiny crackers and feed them to you!!!”

"Okay, this is getting to be a little much,” Epsilon said flatly.

“Aw, you always say that, Church, but you never mean it!” Caboose replied, reaching for the sprite and watching in wonder as Epsilon’s projection was interrupted.

“Hey! Hey! Stop--” Epsilon disappeared and then reappeared on Carolina’s other shoulder. “Don’t do that. It’s annoying!” He looked up to Carolina. “Can’t you help an AI out?”

“And miss where this goes?” Carolina asked in amusement.

“A... I?” Caboose asked.

Knowing where that conversation was about to go, Tex snapped her fingers rapidly and got Caboose’s attention. He looked at her somewhat bewildered. “Caboose, I need you to focus for a moment. Church -- the real Church --”

“Hey!”

“You’ve got to tell me which way he went. It’s very important that I find him and help him, okay?” she said with as much emphasis as she could muster without resorting to casual threats.

“But Church told me to make sure no one followed him,” Caboose said, oddly wary of Tex. For a moment, she thought they weren’t going to get anywhere, but as quickly as he built the tension, Caboose cut through it like a knife and tilted his head. “He went that way!”

“Thanks, Caboose,” Tex said before looking to Carolina. “I need you and Epsilon to stand guard with Caboose.”

“What? No. That’s not what we agreed to when we started this,” Carolina snapped. “I want the Director, and that’s the only reason we’re working together to begin with--”

“And the Director likes to slip out during distractions,” Tex snapped back. She vented and shook her head before trying a more calm tone. “Listen, Carolina... Finding Church... dealing with how he’s going to be right now? Returning here? It’s going to be very distracting for me. I remember why we agreed to work together, do you remember why we’re working together on my end?”

She nodded. “Alright. But you take too long, I’m not going to let you keep the glory to yourself.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Tex replied.

Caboose looked back and forth between the women before waving his hand through Epsilon again.

“Hey! I said stop that!” Epsilon near-screamed.

Tex moved forward in the direction that Caboose had pointed out to her.

It was a long winding hall, and with the way the ship was torqued and not upright, it was difficult to precisely remember what hall led where on the ship. As her own agent, Tex had never had the luxury of investigating the ship much.

And before she was independent, well, that was fuzzy.

All of it but one part.

The familiar pulse of the Alpha -- of Church -- was growing stronger the further she went. But though it led her through the twists and turns, soon enough it brought her to a closed door.

There would have been nothing in it to punch through the door, no matter how reinforced it was. But the door was electronically shut and locked.

Church had closed other people out. And Tex was tired of people barging in where Church felt safe without permission.

“Church,” she called past the door. “It’s me. You can let me in. Or you can not. And in the latter case I’ll just sit out here. And I’ll get annoyed, because I’m impatient and hate being put off. But I’ll wait the whole time all the same.”

For a moment, there was no reaction, and a part of Tex couldn’t help but feel foolish about the whole thing--

Then the door began to open, along with all the ones after it. Her path, with each step she took, turned on the low level lights of the hall and they turned off behind her.

If she had a heart, Tex knew it would be pounding.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself. “Okay. We’ll just take it as it comes.”

"Why are you here!?” Washington demanded.

“Um, I’m on Red Team?” York answered, hands up.

South gave Wash a dead even stare, arms defiantly crossed. “I’m a bodyguard.”

Washington could feel his eye twitching but he couldn’t deal with that at the moment because his teammates, his former teammates, were standing in front of him. In Blood Gulch. In Red Base.

There were hardly words that could express the headache he was experiencing even trying to process everything.

“Those answers aren’t good enough,” Wash warned, cocking his gun for emphasis as he narrowed his eyes on the two of them.

“Well, tough tits, they’re the ones you get,” South snapped back.

York looked over his shoulder and looked somewhat aghast toward her. “Do you have a death wish or something? Fucking hell.” He then turned back to face Wash and forced a smile. “Wash, buddy. Oh my god, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you! You look... Uh. Well that armor’s kinda shitty. But I mean. Look at me. I’m one to talk, right?”

Unimpressed, Wash kept his gun up.

Simmons began sliding toward where the Reds were but Wash couldn’t let that pass either.

“Simmons!” he growled out. “Why didn’t you tell me who the new Reds you were talking about were?”

“Ah!” Simmons screamed, nearly leaping out of his armor. “I didn’t know who they were! I didn’t stay long enough to learn names or anything! I definitely didn’t think you know them.”

“Knew,” Wash corrected darkly.

“Oh, wah,” South scoffed.

“Jesus, woman,” York snapped at her. “Look, Wash, you have permission to shoot her if you want. I would actually feel much better. But let’s reconsider things before putting another hole in me at least. I’ve got my share, I promise you.”

“I don’t think you understand yet how little your promises mean to me, York,” Washington said plainly.

Giving a full body flinch, York seemed like Washington had gone ahead and shot him. “Wash... ouch. I mean... I’m sure things from your side of the binoculars look... unfavorable toward all of us--”

“It does,” Wash confirmed.

"Okay, wow, you’re super pissed,” York marveled. “That’s okay, we can talk through this--”

“No, we can’t,” Wash cut him short. “You’ve not been in the canyon long enough to go that route.”

“What?” York asked.

“What?” South followed closely behind him.

“Wait. Shut up. Ignore that, I don’t know why I said it,” Wash ordered.

“Uh, because he’s fucking crazy,” Grif stage whispered toward his fellow Reds.

“I’m not crazy. Nor deaf,” Wash snapped. “I’m holding former colleagues at gunpoint in fear that they’re double agents and will be doing the same or worse to me the moment I take my sights off of them.”

“Good call,” South said flatly.

“I’m going to die because of you, so while I can, I want to make it very clear, I have always fucking hated you and the fact that we were at semi-peace before it all ended is kinda going to haunt me to my grave,” York told South.

“Honestly, the only reason I’m antagonizing is in hopes he does shoot you out of his obvious paranoia-driven breakdown,” South explained. “I feel like that would make my death worth it.”

Washington, despite himself, felt a swell of nostalgia bubble up in his chest from the MOI. The competetiveness, the need to suck the air out of the room, the antagonism. It was... Oddly familiar and comforting to the point that he let out a laugh.

That grabbed York and South’s attentions as they looked to him.

Wash coughed to cover for himself clumsily and reaimed. “I still need answers.”

“Dude, you got them,” Grif said, waving toward York and South. “He’s on Red Team, she’s body guarding for my baby sister. What the actual fuck are you hoping to get out of them now?”

Looking to the Reds, Wash opened his mouth in shock. “You... Just accepted some random Freelancer you don’t know onto your team? And you didn’t consult me?”

“Of course not, ya dirty Blue!” Sarge howled. “We need the advantage! And Blue Team’s had you Freelancers crawling out of their bee-hinds since the start of this whole mess in Timeline A--”

“I swear to god, if you make me explain that this isn’t an alternate future one more time I’ll take myself out,” Wash said humorlessly.

“Prove it,” South antagonized.

Washington narrowed his eyes at them and did his best to ignore that the Reds were even a factor.

It was back to Freelancer problems, just like it had always been.

Unfortunately, Red Team was very bad at making itself known and Donut, of all people, stepped right between Washington and his former teammates.

“Donut, get out of the way,” Wash ordered.

“So you can kill a fellow Red in front of me again? For no good reason?” Donut asked, crossing his arms.

It had been a while since Wash had seen anyone outside of their armors, and seeing Donut without his helmet -- seeing the damage to the side of his face -- reminded him of the other victims of Freelancer.

The ones beside himself.

Still, it was too risky. “He’s not a Red,” he tried to plea with Donut.

“He? What about her? Why is it he? How am I the one you’re debating shooting when South is right there?” York demanded.

“It’s almost like your charm is actually nonexistent or something,” South said with a raise of her eyebrow.

“That’s grossly untrue and we all know it. Back me up here, Wash. If you only shot one of us, it’d be South, wouldn’t it? Just think about it. I mean like really think about it.”

“If I had only one bullet I’d line the two of you up,” Washington retorted.

“Jesus christ, you’re brutal,” York marveled. “Why did I try to save you again?”

The twitch came back to Washington’s eye, only it was even less ignoreable than it had been the time before. “Tried to save me!?” he cried out. “You blew up the ship I was on and left me in the rubble to be found by Freelancer again!”

York’s mouth opened and then shut.

South raised her brows more. “Interesting.”

Distracted, York pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You are literally such a bitch, you know that? I’m still certain that everything right now is your fault at the end of the day if we can roll back the tapes enough--”

“You say I’m responsible for things one more time, I’ll kill you before Wash grows the balls to,” South warned.

“Ooohhhh,” Red Team harmonized.

“You’re sticking your neck out for this?” Wash asked Donut.

Donut looked back toward the two Freelancers and hummed a bit before looking back. “Okay, honestly just York. Tan is totally a Red color. Unlike Yellow.” He gasped and covered his mouth. “Your stripe!!! How didn’t we see it all along?”

“See what? That he looks like a goddamn road divider?” South asked critically.

“You are terrible at being in a hostage situation,” Wash informed South.

“I’ve had lots of practice with it lately,” she replied dryly.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” York snapped. “Carolina told me about how you were a Recovery Agent--”

Wash dropped his sights. “What?”

York looked back. “Oh, shit. You didn’t know--”

Feeling literally winded, Wash stepped back. “Carolina... Why does she know about the Recovery Agents? She’s-- You two have been together since...” He whirled around on South. “You were involved with Recovery!? And Niner--”

“Holy fuck,” Grif wheezed. “Let’s slip out the back, he’s getting kinda... mindbreaky--”

“Mindbreaky, Grif? Really?” Simmons asked critically.

“We’re going nowhere! It’s about time a Blue was put in their place in front of me! Everyone’s ordered to stay and watch. It’ll boost team morale!” Sarge ordered.

“Wait, he’s a Blue like me?” the weird girl who threw the beer can asked.

Washington threw his rifle back over his back and turned to leave, eyes tightly closed. He was so -- so fucking angry -- he couldn’t handle it. And he couldn’t shoot them still, South was right. At least, not with Donut there watching him like that, with his face scarred like that--

“Every fucking person I knew left me when I needed them,” he said simply. “Every fucking person knew I needed help and they left me to straighten out Recovery and Freelancer and all this shit on my own.”

York was following him, like an idiot. Like Washington hadn’t been fully ready to shoot him right then and there. “Wash, it isn’t like that. I don’t know the whole story for everyone but it’s not the whole story for me. Not by a long shot.”

Stopping, Wash glared over his shoulder just enough to stop York in his tracks. “I don’t care about your story. Your story has nothing to do with me.”

“You’re wrong, it has everything to do with you -- with everyone,” York replied. “Wash, I know you have to hurt right now but--”

“York, you don’t know a goddamn thing about me right now,” Wash snapped. “In fact, you never did. I was just the stupid, lucky rookie who got into the top tier as a fluke, remember?”

“No--” York began to try and argue.

“Your words,” Wash reminded him. “Yours and North’s. While I spent the past year and a half, alone, trying to figure out how everyone else had abandoned the project and me, I got to think about words a lot.”

“I didn’t... We never meant...” York stopped and shook his head before holding up his hands. “Can we take a moment to talk?”

“My moments are all spent up,” Wash snapped. “I have people who need me right now--”

“People? What people? Everyone okay at Blue Base?” Donut asked worriedly.

“Why the fuck do we care?” Grif asked.

“I care! Wait, this isn’t Blue Base?” the girl asked beside him.

“Tucker’s sick, hold on,” Wash said, looking at the message sent directly to his HUD. “Sheila just sent me... No, it’s from Sheila but it doesn’t sound like her at all. Someone’s sending me an update through Sheila. And it... makes no sense.”

“Oh, shocking,” Grif replied. “Something not making sense in this goddamn canyon. Everyone hold their surprise.”

“What’s it say about Tucker?” Simmons asked.

“And is he hot?” the girl asked. “And this Sheila? Is she hot?”

Washington just stared dumbly at his HUD.

“Uh... Wash, buddy?” York asked worriedly. “Everything alright up there--”

“Someone at Blue Base found Doc and invited him over because they couldn’t wait any longer,” he said flatly.

“Oh my god,” Donut said.

“They said the baby was coming either way,” he continued with absolutely no emotion in his voice.

“Oh, Tucker’s a she-Tucker?” the girl asked. “Is she hot?”

“Tucker is not a she,” Wash clarified.

Everyone went silent.

“What the fuck were you two doing in the desert?” Grif broke the silence.

She had forgotten how deep the ship went, how long its halls stretched, but following the lighting trail toward Church gave her a decent reminder. One that Tex, really, could have done without after all the years she had spent running away from what had happened there.

Toward the end, she had sped herself up from a hesitant walk to a brisk jog, ready to find Church and be done with everything there.

And he impatience was rewarded with a soft, blue glow pulsing from a room at the heart of the ship.

Tex stopped herself, feeling inexplicably angered and frightened. She knew that room. That office. That lab.

“Dammit,” she hissed to herself before rushing forward and reaching the room’s entrance.

He was there.

Church stood in the middle of the room, in the midst of a number of monitors and a control panel. There were blue lights pulsing with information and power around the walls, expelling outward from the station where Church stood, his hands motionless on the panels, but his HUD lit with binary speeding by fast enough that even Tex was having a hard time keeping up with it.

“Oh, Church,” she uttered lowly, stepping into the room.

Almost immediately, the robotic body’s head turned toward Tex and she stood by as he eerily evaluated her with his face full of code.

“This is my ship,” he announced, his voice seeping with anger.

When Tex didn’t have a response for that, Church turned back toward the panels and hunched over it more. He was nearly shaking. “I was so good at running my ship. At taking care of my ship. I did everything right. I evaluated everyone in the program. Even when I disagreed, I... I trusted. I trusted he knew what was best. What an idiot. What a fucking idiot! I should have known. I should have been able to predict what he wanted to do--”

Thinking fast, Tex stepped closer. “I’m glad you’re beating yourself up already,” she announced.

Church hesitated an turned his head enough to look Tex’s way. “What?”

“I said I’m glad you’re beating yourself up already,” she repeated, easing closer to the platform where Church stood. “It saves me the time of kicking your ass. Scaring me like this -- running off, getting caught by the enemy, running after a worse enemy, shoving bad shit in your head from this ship without even thinking about it. Those are a lot of offenses, Church. If you don’t get back to beating yourself up some more I’ll have to step in and do it for you.”

His binary sped up all around them. “Are you-- How dare you-- How can you say that it was my fault for not knowing what an unthinkable bastard he really was!?”

Tex stood by Church, towering over him. “Hey, now. I gave you a whole list of offenses you’ve made recently, didn’t I? And I didn’t once mention that on my list, did I?”

He turned to face her. “He... He took you away from me. He took you away and then he took away everything from me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I did the best thing I’ve ever done in my whole goddamn existence. I found you. I found you like it was the only thing I had ever been meant to do. And I was happy. And those were worth my life. Those were worth my loyalty. Why!?”

She stared straight back at him. “I don’t know why,” she said. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember, or you never fucking cared?” Church demanded.

“Hey, fuck off with the accusations,” Tex defended. “Do I have to remind you that you’re not the only one who suffered here? Do I have to tell you that you’re not the only one they tormented? That they used? That they lied to? Because you aren’t. You aren’t the only--”

“I am the victim!” he spat out venomously. “And you’re the reason why!”

"Church--” Tex tried to say warningly, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“You’re the reason why and you don’t even remember and it’s not my fault, you were there. You were always there, I didn’t make you, I just did the only thing I could -- I...” he stopped ranting, the information pulsing out from him stopping, the streams of data halting visibly around them. “I didn’t make you. I just accepted you were always going to be a part of who I was.”

“And they didn’t understand that,” Tex filled in, a faint realization dawning on her. “They didn’t understand what we were. What the others couldn’t be.”

“I wasn’t whole without you, Tex,” Church said softly.

“I...” Tex stopped herself. She had to be truthful. “We both are who we are, now, Church. No matter what they stripped from us. Maybe because what they stripped from us. We’re born out of the choice we made to keep moving forward. To keep renewing ourselves. They wanted to create life. We just wanted to live it. We won.”

“We won?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tex said, pointing toward the security monitors. “I know you’re wired into the security, Church. I know you can see that there are people waiting on us -- people that wouldn’t be there for us if we were just shadows of someone else. If we hadn’t grown to be our own people. We’re different. We’re real.”

He looked her up and down. “Tex?” he asked lowly.

“What, Church?” she asked back, only to be surprised when he reached a hand out to her -- but not the physical hand of his robotic body. It was a projection, data -- it was himself.

“We’re not them... but are we still... can we still...?”

Be together? Be human? Be ourselves? Be apart? Be one? Be whole? Be ruined?

Could they still...?

There was a hum across her body.

All that time and Tex had been right beside Church, taking every step along the way with him since reuniting in Blood Gulch, but it was the first time -- it was the first time he truly was the Alpha.

Slowly, doing the same, she reached forward and pressed into his offered hand.

It was like static, small fireworks between fingertips. All the pieces weren’t there, but it was still familiar. The closer they moved together, the further they were from their robotic restraints, the more a flow of information flowed between them. It was as if the numbers that had been left vacant between them were finally being filled.

“Ah,” Tex couldn’t help but moan out as the collision of information went faster. She could feel parts of her moving through Church, and in return he was moving through her. There was an incomprehenisble noise from as well, and it moved freely.

There was nothing physical, technically their bodies were still three feet from each other. But in that moment, like blazing stars beyond the threshold of space, they existed outside of it all, in one moment Tex felt a shuttering awe take over.

This was what it felt like to be whole. This was what it felt like to be more than human.

A wave of euphoria disappeared and it was then that Tex realized there was something wrong.

“Church?” she asked lowly, finding herself returning to her robotic body. She looked through its optics, checked the range of motion in her arms and hands again. “What--”

You really are dominant personality, you know that?

Confused, Tex looked around. “Church? What the fuck--”

Also, not to freak you out, but I was still synced to the ship, so... uhhhh... our friends out there waiting on us may have heard us on the speakers.

Tex stared at Church’s robotic body still hooked up to the ship. “I’m going to kill you.”

You might have to get in line--

Holding her helmet gingerly, Tex shook her head. “How’re you--”

Hey, I’m talking. I said you might have to get in line. Looks like we’ve got some company that’s pretty interested in that literally internet-breaking sex we just had heading this way. And by that I mean multiple parties.

“If that was sex with you, I think I may have remembered why we broke up,” Tex said, beginning to run toward the door to secure it.

Ha ha, real funny. Bitch.

A smirk was working itself across Tex’s face. “Asshole,” she said almost tenderly.

It was somewhat amazing how just a few short weeks left Wash with the unfortunate conditioning of not running away from a giant tank rolling toward him.

“Sheila!” he called out, waving at her. “What the hell is going on!?”

“Oh, good day, Agent Washington!” Sheila replied happily, still driving toward him. “I am pleased to announce that labor is proceeding very well.”

“Yeah, about that,” Wash said, beginning to grow somewhat wary that Sheila wasn’t slowing down. “That’s part of the what the hell category I was -- Sheila, why are you still coming toward me?”

The tank nodded its cannon down. “Oh, that is not me, Agent Washington. I am allowing the pilot to learn how to manage the controls with me temporarily. So I do believe that is a question best left for her!”

Confused, Washington blinked. “Pilot?”

A few feet from him, Sheila did a sharp turn, lining up her cabin with where Washington was standing. When it popped open, Wash wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t Four Seven Niner.

“Niner!?” he asked in shock. “But... you were--”

Washington was completely taken aback when the woman flung herself toward him and lunged into a full on hug around his shoulders, her arm muscles strong enough to put the crunch on him even in his armor.

“Uh,” Wash fumbled out awkwardly.

“You asshole,” she breathed against his neck. “I am so glad you’re alright, and I’m so, so sorry about so many things. And I’ll answer any questions you’ve got, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know, and I don’t want you to think I’m going to hold it against you forever that you were a little bitch to me back at Recovery when you left me, I’ll only hold it against you for a little while.”

Still awkward, Wash glanced around before refocusing on Niner. “You’re driving our tank,” he stated the obvious.

"Actually, she and I have been talking a lot and she’d prefer to be recognized for her autonomy,” Niner explained. “We relate a lot.”

Wash leaned forward, being pulled by the force of having Niner hanging by his neck. “You called a doctor for Tucker? He’s with him? He thinks he’s pregnant?”

“Yes!” Sheila answered peppily at the same time Niner said, “Yeah I had questions about that, too.”

“Okay, well that could only be Doc then because Tucker is not pregnant. It’s probably something to do with his stupid sword,” Wash announced. He was completely bent over at that point. “Niner do you need me to do something or...?”

“Being self sufficient and autonomous myself, I actually hate when people help me. I can pull myself back into the tank, I got in there to begin with,” Niner said snappishly.

“Okay?” Wash replied blankly.

“But in this one instance...”

With a heavy sigh, Wash wrapped his arms around Niner’s waist, adjusted her and then pulled her into more of a bridal position, ready to put her back in the cockpit of Sheila. “Can you make me a promise that you’re not going to shoot me with our team tank after I put you back in there?”

“Why would I do that?” Niner asked.

Wash glanced back toward Sheila.

“I have learned not to take that bet,” Sheila advised.

“That’s comforting, thanks,” Wash replied dryly. He readied to put Niner back in her seat when there was the sounds of several pairs of feet behind him. He turned and looked in annoyance toward Red Team and friends. “Seriously, we don’t have time to ward off a Red Team Attack. You want our flag, you can take it, but I’m going to pay back anything you do to the base two-fold when I get things settled down.”

“Where’d you get your negotiating skills? From a Russian prison camp?” Grif asked. “I’m actually here because my idiot sister thinks she’s a Blue.”

“I’m here for the team, officer!” Kaikaina saluted with an army salute.

“We’re marines,” Washington pointed out.

“Duh,” she snorted in return.

“Wash!” York’s voice carried before he finished coming over the hill. He then stopped a few feet short. “Niner!!!”

“York!” she cried out before launching from Wash’s arms into York.

Unlike Wash, however, York returned the hug immediately and spun with Niner before coming to a stop, “Niner! Oh my god -- I was expecting Tex here, but I never dreamed-- That means... Carolina!? Is she here--”

“Tex and Carolina went after the Alpha,” Niner explained.

“The whatie whoie?” Sarge asked.

“Of course they did,” Wash sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like we have a man giving birth to something on the base. Which I still don’t believe--”

“Yeah, that’s what I came here for!” Donut announced, raising his hand.

“Me too! That and being a Blue, officer!” Kaikaina called out.

“They think the Director might be there, too,” Niner explained gravely.

York took in a gulp of air. “Okay... well, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that that many coincidences don’t line up at once without an explosion in the process. I’ve gotta get there. Back them up.”

“How? You look like shit!” Niner cried out.

“Okay, everyone agrees that this guy is the bargain bin version of a Freelancer and my job is still at risk to him?” Simmons pointed out.

“Not at risk, Simmons! Completely and thoroughly already lost!” Sarge chuckled.

“Caboose is there, too,” Sheila said. “I do hope there is not truly an explosion. Those are usually costly and devastating to Blue Team members within the blast radius.”

Washington let out a long sigh and rubbed at his visor uselessly. “Dammit. I have to help Caboose. But Tucker--”

“We’ll be on it, Wash!” Donut called out.

Confused, Washington looked at Donut. “You’ll take care of Tucker?”

“Well yeah,” Donut replied with a snap of his wrist. “What’re friends for?”

Words failed Washington, but he knew the answer even if he couldn’t say it.

This. That moment laid out before them. That was what friends were for.

“Sheila, did they use the teleporter?” he asked. “And are the coordinates still set?”

“Yes they are, Agent Washington!” the tank chipped in happily.

“Alright,” Wash said, grabbing his rifle from over his shoulder. “Let’s get our friends.”

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Recovery None #Agent Texas #Agent Washington #Agent Carolina #Epsilon Church #Michael J Caboose #Alpha Church #Agent York #Agent South #Dick Simmons #Dexter Grif #Colonel Sarge #Franklin Delano Donut #Chex #AI: Sheila #Four Seven Niner

13 notes · View notes

renaroo · 7 years

Text

Recovery None (55/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Yorkalina, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: Two days later than I originally planned, BUT in my defense, this chapter, like the whole thing, is just a beast even compared to usual. So hopefully it’s worth the wait lol

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, @every-survival, @notatroll7, irismon, Yin, Kiwibat, DuchessPoint, and Linni for the feedback!

Recovery Zero XVII: Blood Gulch Blues

The moment York staked out the location, he could tell it was probably going to be a bad idea. A terrible idea that was only going to end in tears for all involved.

Mainly him. Because, as it turned out, Blood Gulch was some out in the middle of nowhere place that had two bases locked in a box canyon and, seemingly, no resources of value in the area surrounding them.

He looked through binoculars, trying to ignore how obscured his vision felt without Delta assisting with the deficiency in his left eye.

“No sign of South,” he said with some relief. And, really, there didn’t seem to be much sign of anyone outside of the Reds around their base yelling at some other guy on a cliff and taking turns shooting at him.

He seemed to be screaming NO though, with the way it echoed throughout the canyon walls, York couldn’t be sure. And he didn’t have anyone to quickly amplify the recorded frequencies and determine if there was any other undertones--

“Goddammit,” York gritted out, hitting his palm against the side of his helmet. “Stop thinking about it, York. Get your shit together or whatever South’s doing is going to end up getting us all killed--”

“Okay! Fine, fuck you guys! I’m coming down!” the man on the cliffs finally screamed to the muttering disappointment of those around him.

Seeing everyone’s distraction, York took his chance to move in, and prayed that it wasn’t as dumb of a plan as he really, truly thought it was in his own mind.

After all, that Base had to be equipped with machinery, artillery -- things he was probably going to need to fight against South and get any information from her about Carolina, the Meta, anything.

Maybe even the truth about just what the fuck happened on the bridge when he was facing down death itself.

He needed the equipment. They had it. He just had to be a smooth talker...

“I don’t remember telling you to come down from the cliffs, Grif! Now get back up there!” the only Red with actually red armor. “We need to test out the range of these highly impressive weapons we found in our new-old base so that we can use them against the Blues during their inevitable betrayal!”

“What the fuck are you talking about, old man? You literally ordered me to come down and stop screaming no less than thirty times before you all started shooting,” Grif snapped back.

“Yes, but he didn’t say it after we started shooting, Grif,” the one in pink armor said, waving his gun around wildly. “Keep with the times!”

“At this point not letting us shoot you is a direct opposition to our commanding officer, Grif,” the maroon one said cheekily.

York only peripherally acknowledged the conversation that was happening. His main concentration was on getting down the cliff facing as silently as possible.

His wounds still stretched and pulled painfully against the regular patch ups and medical foam his Healing Unit had continued to dish out for him, making each movement that much more difficult.

Right about then was the time when Delta would start admonishing him for not having more patience or at least some sort of backup plan that would involve less straining of his body.

Again, remembering that sch a voice wasn’t there anymore, York let his already strained grip on the rocks slip and he slid down cliff siding with a slight yelp before landing in a heap at the bottom of the cliff.

“And now I’m dead,,” he said, almost as if it was a genuine realization. And then he waited for the click of simulation trooper guns being trained on him.

Instead, there was just more arguing in the periphery.

“Grif, you have to be the worst soldier that has ever been under my command!” the commanding officer croaked out.

“Yeah, and you can stop yelling now. You’re no longer on the cliff. We get it. You dramatically disagree with ending up back in the canyon,” the pink one said with a flip of his wrist.

“Sarge, hearing that from you may just have made me the proudest I have ever been to be a slob and pitiful excuse of a soldier,” Grif remarked. “And, Donut, what the fuck are you going on about? I’m not yelling anymore. I used up my energy for screaming for the day about three hours ago. So fuck you.”

York opened his eye weakly and glanced over toward the Red simulation troopers who, for whatever reason, were still not facing him.

He might pull out of the situation after all.

“Rude,” Donut remarked.

“Wait, I heard someone yelling, too. Who was that?” the maroon one asked.

Slowly, the entire group turned to face where York had landed just as he was gathering himself from the ground. He flinched and reached for his shoulder in particular.

“I stand corrected,” he muttered to himself. “Now I’m dead.”

“Huh,” Sarge huffed before turning and nodding his head to the other three men. “One, two, three...” Then he pointed at York. “Four. ... That can’t be right. Oops!” he thumbed his chestplate. “Heh. Four.” Then, as suddenly as he had begun counting, Sarge turned on his heels, shotgun out and pointed at York. “And the bruised banana makes five! That’s one too many by my count!”

"Wait, hold on!” York said, holding up his hands as high as he could. “I’m from Command. I’m here to help your team!”

The four soldiers stared at him blankly.

“We better shoot him now, Sarge,” the maroon one said. “You see how well those guys from Command worked out for the Blues last time.”

“Yeah! At least one of them tried to kill us, only for me to kill her! And the other one is a big fat meany!” the pink one chipped in.

“I kind of want to disagree with those two on principle,” Grif announced, “but in this case I absolutely have to agree. Sarge, it’s time to get gun happy. Which, I imagine, is the only kind of happy you have.”

“So we are in agreement, the Freelancer has to die!” Sarge shouted, cocking his gun.

Eye widening, York scrambled to his feet and raised his hands further. “Listen! Listen! You might think I’m trouble, and I can imagine why -- sounds like you guys have had some run ins with Freelancers already.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” the maroon one muttered.

“Yeah, this place is, like, crawling with them at this point. Very suspicious,” the pink one said, tilting his head as he brought a hand to his chin.

“Okay, okay. I totally get that,” York continued. “But that’s exactly why you’re going to need me on your side.”

“Not falling for it,” Grif huffed. “Kill him on the spot, Sarge.”

“Dagnabit, Grif!” Sarge growled, putting up his gun. “Now I can’t kill him, else I’d be giving authority on this team over to you! And there is nothing that will more surely kill the honor of the Red Army than handing its authority over to such greasily unprepared hands.”

“You’re going to get us all killed out of spite!?” the maroon one cried out.

“Spite’s the most powerful weapon he has, Simmons!” the pink one stage whispered.

“Donut!” Sarge snapped.

Donut flinched sheepishly. “Whoopsie! Sorry, Sarge, I misspoke.” He then turned more to Simmons. “Spite is Sarge’s second most powerful weapon. Right after his shotgun.”

“Heh heh. That’s more like it,” Sarge chuckled to himself.

“Listen to me, please! I’m trying to help you,” York continued to exaggerate. “There’s at least one Freelancer heading this way. And she’s a complete and total killer. And I can guarantee that she’ll try to kill everyone in this canyon if they’re in her way.”

They all looked at each other and then back to him.

“Uh, would this Freelancer happen to be named Tex?” Grif asked.

“No,” York said quickly before pausing and letting the information sink in. “Wait. You know Tex?”

Everyone flinched back. “Oh, no! He is one of Tex’s friends! Sarge, we definitely need to kill him,” Simmons called out hysterically.

“Now wait just a minute there, Simmons,” Sarge said, taking his gun off York for the first time since they all started this ridiculousness. It prompted York to drop his hands slightly. “What is one thing that the Blues have had over us since the very beginning of this war?”

Grif and Simmons turned to each other then back to Sarge.

“I can honestly say, in all the time we’ve spent in this canyon, I still don’t know the answer to that question,” Grif replied sardonically.

“Probably the surplus of badass Freelancers and, like, story arcs for all of them,” Simmons pointed out.

“Oh! Oh!” Donut raised his hand. “Sarge, pick me! I know this! I so know this! I know it so much!”

“Alright, Donut, go ahead and answer,” Sarge chuckled.

“It’s Freelancers!” Donut answered.

“That was my answer!” Simmons cried out. “Sarge, he’s cheating!”

"Good answer, Donut!” Sarge said firmly. “And quit whining, Simmons.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Grif grouched. “You were bitching about me whining about being stuck back in this godforsaken canyon. You have, like, no rights to whine over something completely stupid like this.”

“I have every right!” Simmons responded. “I’m being completely neglected on this team as its chief science officer!”

“Yeah? What about being chief science officer has to do with whether or not we shoot another annoying Freelancer in the head?” Grif demanded.

“Well, statistically speaking...”

“Oh my god, do not actually give me an answer or I swear to god I’ll hit you,” Grif snapped.

“You won’t hit me, I’m more than an arm’s length away. It’d require your fat ass to actually move over and exert effort,” Simmons announced.

Grif stared at him. “I dare you to come over here and say that.”

“Boys, boys! Enough! We’re supposed to be listening to Sarge’s judgment and execution of the yellow guy!” Donut called out peppily.

York tilted his head. “I actually consider this more of a tan variety with silver accents, myself. Y’know. Since Yellow is apparently a Blue Team color.”

They all stared at him.

“It is?” Sarge questioned.

“Ha! I told you assholes my armor was orange! All this time, I kept telling you it’s goddamn orange and you kept making your lemon can and banana jokes! Yellow’s totally not even a Red Team color. Suck it!” Grif rejoiced.

“Hm, I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Sarge said before putting his gun over his shoulder. “Or, rather, I shall be appointing you, Official Red Team Freelancer, to remembering that for me!”

Putting his hands all the way down, York couldn’t help but smirk. “I’ll gladly take on that responsibility... Sir.”

Donut clapped. “Oh, wow! Look at us, guys! We resolved a conflict without violence!”

“Yeah, to build our army up to impose violence later on Blue Team,” Simmons grouched.

“Honestly, it’s probably the best executed plan we’ve had in a while,” Grif said. “Probably because Simmons was ignored the whole time and had no part in it.”

The maroon armored soldier bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“No offense or anything, Simmons!” Donut assured him. “It’s just that everyone knows you’re not the best at planning things and strategizing.”

“That’s literally my job description on the team!” Simmons countered.

Seeing an opportunity to win some points early, York raised a finger. “If I may, Sergeant, I’m actually an infiltration and stealth specialist. So you could probably, along with assigning me to remember team colors, talk to me about strategy.”

“Hm,” Sarge said, stroking the chin of his helmet. “I like it.”

“Sarge!” Simmons cried out.

"Look, Simmons, you were the Official Science Officer back when this was a war between the Reds and the Blues. You did poorly enough at it back then, but I could respect the poor performance because the Blues had no such position in their own team!” Sarge explained. “But this isn’t a war about Reds and Blues killing each other, as the Good Lord intended. This is a war now of Reds and Blues and the vastly superior and terrifying Freelance soldiers they acquire on their side. It’s not a coincidence that we’ve been on the ropes since those Freelancers showed up and started hanging out at Blue Base!”

“On the ropes!?” Simmons cried out. “We’ve not been fighting since the Freelancer bullshit started happening, Sarge!”

“Which is a worst defeat than losing itself, Simmons,” Sarge remarked.

York tilted his head. “So... these other Freelancers... what kind of things have they been doing to put Blue Team in a better position?”

“Oh, mostly nothing,” Donut said, waving his hand.

“Nothing?” York repeated in disbelief.

“Yeah, the real problem is they’ve got a tank that talks and thinks for itself, and it ran away with our former robot servant who took care of our Warthog,” Grif explained.

“I can’t believe you all just gave up every vital piece of strategic information we have up to a complete stranger,” Simmons said, aghast.

“He’s not a stranger, Simmons! He’s our new Freelancer!” Sarge declared. “We have to brief him on our situation.”

“Yeah... your situation...” York said warily. “What was that about the sentient tank again?”

“Oh, that’s nothing, we’ve blown it up twice,” Donut shrugged.

“At great cost to ourselves!” Simmons squeaked. “Not that anyone remembers because I’m the only one with a fax machine for an ass!”

“Simmons! Language!” Donut admonished. He then jerked his head toward York. “We don’t know who does or doesn’t have special asses.”

“Hey, phrasing,” York warned. “But in a show of solidarity, I’ll let you know that my ass is special, but in the normal way.”

“Noted!” Donut said enthusiastically.

“And, for what it’s worth, I know about sacrifice,” York said more seriously, nodding to the truly pitiful condition of his armor. “Not to mention, I’ve been fighting with one good eye for years now thanks to... Command.”

Grif was unimpressed. “What kind of bargain bin Freelancer are you? This sucks.”

“I’m the Freelancer that’s going to help you out when South Dakota gets here at any minute!” York tried to argue just before there was a loud rumble from the sky. “What the--”

They all looked up at the ship heading straight for a collision with Donut.

“Look out!” York yelled without a second’s thought, lunging for the soldier and knocking him out of the trajectory of the ship which then crashed into the earth where Donut had been standing.

“Oh, wow!” Donut said underneath York. “You were right! You’re a great asset to Red Team.”

“Hey!” York snapped at a pinch.

“Sorry, just standard protocol of making sure you weren’t lying,” Donut assured him.

There was the distinct sound of air decompression -- the door of the ship was opening. And York knew almost immediately what to expect.

With the sort of speed and dexterity that was already putting strain on his injuries, York whipped around back on his feet, armed with his sidearm and trained on his former teammate.

South was still in that mysterious black armor but her helmet was off -- a critical mistake. She was better armed, though, a rifle trained on York in a much more comfortable position than his own.

The standoff became incredibly quiet.

“Well, fuck,” Grif muttered from the side. “You wanted us to be involved with Freelancer bullshit, Simmons, here we are. Congrats.”

“What!?” Simmons cried out. “You can’t blame this on me! I didn’t let him on the team!”

Donut gasped from the ground. “Simmons! You’re blaming Sarge?”

Simmons went rigid. “What-- No! I didn’t even say that--”

“Sounds like you were questioning my judgment to me, Simmons!” Sarge snapped. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand more than a Dirty Blue, it’s a Scummy Traitor!”

“Ha!” Grif laughed. “You got called scummy.”

York genuinely tried to push the nonsense to the periphery and instead focus on South and his grip on his gun. “South,” he said tightly.

“York,” South replied sharply. “Thought you were dead last time I saw you.”

“Guess you didn’t finish the job as well as you thought you did,” York hissed out. “Delta wasn’t so lucky.”

“Shame,” South said lightly, without meaning. “He really was your better half.”

York figured he was at the end of his rope -- still chasing dumb dreams and not taking the hint that he was done for. It was the only way he could really imagine himself going at the end of the day. He was ready for it. Maybe he’d pop off a few good shots on South before he bit it.

What he wasn’t expecting was the multiple clicks of guns around them, or to look around and see that Sarge, Donut, and Grif had their guns trained on South.

“I’m guessing you’re the killer we were warned about,” Sarge chuckled. “Good intel, Official Red Team Freelancer.”

York blinked a few times. “You’re... welcome.”

South narrowed her eyes but ultimately dropped her gun from its focus on York’s face.

“Can I come out now!? It’s, like, mega hot in here!” a second, unfamiliar voice called out.

Then, unexpectedly, a yellow armored woman with her helmet on her hip and her underarmor cut to a midriff, came out. Her wild black hair seemed near impossible to fit in a standard issue helmet.

“Oh, hey! South, you didn’t tell me there were cute boys!” the woman called out brightly.

York was surprised yet again when there was a clatter of Grif dropping his gun.

“Kaikaina!?” he shrieked.

The woman straightened up and then waved excitedly. “Dex!!!”

“Grif! You know this girl and her fabulous hair?” Donut asked.

“Know her!? She’s my goddamn baby sister!!!” Grif cried out.

Caught in the confusion, York and South glanced toward each other. It was obvious neither of them knew what to do.

“That’s it, I’m out,” Simmons said, storming off in the background while no one paid attention.

Seeing Washington again had been strangely sobering.

There were so many things that Carolina knew she should have asked him, so many apologies that should have been made. But instead her stomach bottomed out and she heard Niner’s voice in her head, chastising her for never going to her fellow Recovery Agent, never helping him out. Never letting him know that for the past year she had been just around the corner.

How could she?

But the worst of it was the noticeable stop and screeching halt in her head that Epsilon had pulled the moment he saw Washington alive and well.

His contribution to her already rising sense of guilt was a near sickening upheaval of emotion and regret that she hadn’t felt since he had last acted up with her.

He knew. He finally knew.

They needed to leave, and it was almost a relief that Epsilon said he might remember just where they needed to go because it got them the hell out of dodge that much sooner.

Of course, things were rarely that easy.

“Hey, listen,” Tex said as they walked toward the ship. “Sheila--”

“The tank?” Carolina clarified, as the weirdness of the canyon had still not completely sunk in either.

“She’s a friend of mine. Another AI. And her saying she’d spoken with the Director... well, it’s something I need to ask her about without other people present who might react badly to the news.”

“You’re friends with a tank,” Carolina repeated, just to make sure. “A tank who can’t tell the difference between the Director and another AI in this canyon.”

“Do you see me picking apart your friends?” Tex asked with a tilt of her helm.

“Fair enough, my apologies,” Carolina replied. “Be quick about it -- Epsilon and I have a lot going on up here.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Tex huffed before turning toward where the patrolling tank had rolled toward.

You can’t blame everything on me for the rest of our lives, you know, Epsilon reminded her petulantly.

"You wanna bet?” Carolina asked dryly.

You’re at least half as freaked out about him being here as I am, so it’s kind of not fair to put it all on me, Epsilon attempted to argue.

“Listen, Epsilon, after the stunt you pulled in my brain back there, I’m thinking I’m owed at least a cover story from you,” Carolina replied defensively. Relief washed over her when she saw Niner’s ship in range. She sighed. “Sorry. That’s unfair. We both... We’re both working on some internalized stuff.”

Yeah, but unfortunately my internalized stuff is your internalized stuff by definition. So you’re right. You deserve at least a cover story, Epsilon replied. He then paused before pointing out, Of course, a cover story is something i won’t be able to do on my own once Niner learns that W... Wa.... he’s here.

Carolina nearly flinched. “Shit. You’re right.”

She was beginning to formulate a good story to tell Niner so that she didn’t come bursting out of the ship on her own and putting the task of setting the record straight for Wash on her own shoulders. It was going to be complicated and involve a lot of subtle mischaracterization of the situation from herself and from Epsilon, but it was all for nothing.

All her plans were put on the back burner when she heard the heavy fall of footsteps behind her and she whirled around on instinct, ready to protect herself.

But it was Washington, who immediately raised up his hands in alarm.

Because of course it was him.

Fuck, Epsilon muttered for them both.

“Hey, sorry,” Washington said, hands still up by he was approaching again. “I was just getting some of the story from Simmons and--”

Not knowing what else to do, Carolina just stared at him with a blank face and hoped it did not betray the torrid emotions inside of her.

Cee, you’re wearing a helmet. He can’t see you.

Shut up, Carolina thought as harshly as she could.

“Oh, right. Simmons was the Red -- the guy with a bad paint job and not laying on the ground whining about dying -- who was with me,” Wash explained.

“Sure,” Carolina responded tightly.

These guys are fucking losers, Epsilon said in amazement. He was doing a good job of distracting himself from the elephant in the canyon. The one in gray armor in front of them.

It was a luxury he could afford so long as he remained nonvisible and silent.

Carolina attempted with some difficulty to not be jealous of an artificial intelligence cohabitating her nervous system.

“There’s some suspicious unknowns in the canyon over at Red Base,” Washington continued to explain. “He said they arrived earlier today before either of our parties got here and that’s... Well it makes me paranoid.”

There was a sardonic pause that Carolina was unsure what to do with. She looked around then back to Washington.

“Am I supposed to say something?” she asked.

“Sorry, old habits,” Wash explained nervously, a forced laugh in his breath. “Usually that’s when one of the Blues chimes in with the fact that they think I’m always paranoid and thus isn’t really that different.”

Only paranoid people talk like this, Epsilon told Carolina. That or he’s scared of you. Because you’re a terrifying badass. Ask him if it’s that one.

She ignored him without hesitation.

“It sounds suspicious,” she agreed. “Do you need us to check it out for you? Do some recon?”

"No!” Wash said quickly. “I mean, no offense, Boss, but you’re... Blue.”

Carolina looked at him dully. “Washington, have you actually gone native in this canyon?”

“You know, surprisingly, I have not gotten to spend a lot of time in the canyon itself when I consider it,” Wash explained. “But, honestly, these aren’t... regular simulation troopers. You would have to know them to understand what exactly you’re getting yourself into.”

“I’ve dealt with ridiculous simulation troopers before, Washington,” Carolina assured him.

“They’re not ridiculous they’re just... unmanageable,” Wash said. He hesitated for a moment before coughing into his fist. “Well, they’re a little ridiculous. But no, seriously, it’s best to let me figure this out so far as whatever is going on at Red Base. What I need from you is to... well, restrain Tex, if possible.”

Well, shit, Epsilon mumbled.

Carolina couldn’t help but narrow her eyes. “If possible!?”

“I mean, it’s completely possible for you to do it,” Wash assured her. I just mean that... Look. One of my guys -- one of the Blue guys -- is down. And him being sick is... Well, I’m really worried about him. Extremely worried. And the medic for this canyon might be wherever you two are heading if I can’t find him at Red Base. And if he is, you have to tell him to come back here and help me with Tucker. And, you know, stop Tex from murdering him.”

“Why does Tex want to kill him?” Carolina asked curiously.

“Because Doc -- DuFresne -- has the Omega AI,” Wash explained. “Or, did. He may or may not anymore.”

“What the fuck has been going on in this box canyon?” Carolina asked critically.

“Believe me, it’s easier to just not ask questions,” Wash said. He paused and looked at Carolina more directly. “If you two are working together, though, why hasn’t Tex told you about Omega?”

Narrowing her eyes, Carolina crossed her arms. “Don’t know. Bet if you asked her she’d excuse it with me not asking enough questions.”

Wash tilted his head. “You know... I have spent too much time standing around in dead end canyons and having little to do with the time outside of talking things out with the people around me--”

“The simulation troopers around you,” Carolina attempted to joke.

But Wash wasn’t having any of it. “No. The people. And it’s not always easy... but I think you’d find yourself a little more satisfied if you two tried to talk. Like... just talk.”

There wasn’t much Carolina could think to say to that, and ignoring Epsilon’s input was becoming a necessity as he kept muttering apologies that were meant for himself or for Carolina herself -- she couldn’t tell anymore.

So, instead, she simply nodded. “If I see a medic I’ll send them your way,” Carolina agreed.

“Thanks, Boss,” Wash said before turning toward a worn dirt path that seemed to take him toward the Red Base.

Fuck, don’t let him leave. Don’t let him go without us making up for anything--

Annoyed, Carolina gritted her teeth. “Shush, Epsilon!” she ordered. After a moment she grunted, smacking her palm against the side of her helmet before looking back to Washington. “Wash!”

Surprised, Wash turned and looked at her with a tilt to his head.

“You.... You’re doing a good job. Being a leader. Looking out for these... people,” Carolina told him. “It’s... very impressive.”

Wash exuded embarrassment and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m not... really a leader,” he attempted to argue flatly.

“Really?” Carolina asked. “Might want to let your friends know that, then. Even Tex seems to trust you more than... Well more than I’ve ever seen her trust anyone.”

“That’s not saying much,” Wash joked.

“Take the compliment, Washington,” she ordered with a smirk beneath her helmet.

“You got it, Boss,” Wash said bashfully before turning and continuing on his way out.

The moment Wash was far enough out of sight, Epsilon appeared over her shoulder. “That wasn’t an apology,” he pouted.

“You can apologize to him yourself once you stop hiding behind my skirt like a scared baby,” Carolina remarked and continued toward their ship and Niner.

“Well... yeah,” Epsilon agreed, following suit. “But, y’know, I wasn’t just talking about my apology there. You keep neglecting the fact that I’m sharing this brain with you. I know things.”

“What I do with my guilt is my business,” Carolina argued.

“Until it’s not anymore,” Epsilon replied, disappearing as Carolina entered the ship and was immediately faced with Niner.

“What’s going on out there!? We’ve been here forever,” Niner snapped. “Are you alright?”

"I’m fine,” Carolina assured her first and foremost. “There’s no reason to worry--”

Niner cut her down with a single stare at that and Carolina simply knew it was better to move on to the next topic.

Which wasn’t going to make their pilot any happier.

“I was spending most of the time we were here catching up with Washington.”

As expected, Niner’s body went even more rigid. Carolina had to worry about whether or not her friend’s muscles ever had a break from their constant tenseness.

It was hard to say whether her wound up demeanor was due to working as Command, having been an ace pilot, or was some innate part of her person that Carolina never got a full appreciation of until relatively recently.

“Wash is here?” Niner asked. “Is he... Is he okay?”

“He’s in an old version of the Freelancer armor and seems to have completely lost his mind so far as going heads over heels for the local simulation troopers. But he seems...” Epsilon vibrated uncomfortably. “He seems almost happy. It was... bizarre.”

“It sounds wonderful!” Niner whispered, almost breathless. “Oh my god, it’s... That’s so good to hear. It’s unbelievably good to hear. Damn. Just... goddamn.”

Carolina couldn’t help bt raise her brows at the reaction. “You were really worried about him.”

“You didn’t see him right before the break out of the Recovery bunker,” Niner said darkly. “You didn’t see how... how betrayed he was. I have a lot to make up to him.”

You’re not the only one, Epsilon muttered quietly in the back of Carolina’s mind.

“He’s alright, and he’s going to stay that way,” Carolina assured her.. “He’s going to be staying here while we take this ship to find the Director--”

“Wrong,” Tex said, emerging from the shadows. “I caught up with Sheila and she’s agreeing to help us make this very quickly.”

“What are you going on about?” Carolina asked.

“Transporters,” Tex ansered. “I’m talking about using the base’s transporters. It’s about time we had the upper foot.”

"Well, this is awkward,” York sighed into his beer. “Also this stuff tastes like piss water, yet it’s the first beer I’ve had in ages so... I’m kind of into it.”

South stood with an even glare at York. Her own beer remained unopened as she stood against the wall. But she didn’t put her attention toward him for long -- continuously shifting back to the strange woman she had arrived with that was surrounded by the Reds.

“Who the fuck joins an army to reunite with their brother!?” Grif was screeching.

“Uh, me. Duh. Obviously,” the woman said with a flail of her hand. “Keep up, Bro. I know your old-man brain is rotting and stuff but it’s getting sad. And gross. Like this old dude.”

Sarge sputtered incoherently.

York looked around the base and then back to South. It was amazing what tremendously underwhelming circumstances the simulation troopers worked in. It made him feel... somewhat funny about their part in all of it as Freelancer’s actual agents.

When South’s gaze still hadn’t left the Reds and her partner, York forced himself to break the ice.

“So... bodyguard, you say?” he asked curiously.

“You want to talk and act like it’s old times, it’s not going to move me,” South said without even looking at him. “I have no sense of nostalgia for the Mother of Invention. And I definitely don’t have any for you.”

Narrowing his eye, York took another swig of beer. “Harsh.”

“Shut up,” South hissed, turning just enough toward York to show him the full extent of her disgust. “I’m not my brother. I never was. I don’t owe you anything. Not even the time of my day. So when I say this, know that I really, truly mean it. The only reason you’re not dead right now isn’t because of these bastards -- I could take you all down and convince Kaikaina it was necessary. It’s because you’re so pathetic right now and obviously hanging together by stitches that I don’t want to be responsible for showing you the mercy of being put down.”

Every word put him on edge, but York did his best to not show it. To concentrate on the location of his sidearm, the next sip of his beer, and the quickest routes to the three available exits.

“So you’re not happy to see me,” York clarified. His eye narrowed. “Wonder if North would be... Seen him lately? Or is he setting up in the canyon walls somewhere with the best vantage point--”

He would have gone for his gun if South had, but he was a little too familiar with the motion of her arm. He figured it’d be more appropriate to roll with the slap so as to not leave more marks on his face than he already had.

The room became eerily silent as all eyes fell on them.

York stood his ground and stretched his fingers, ready to draw at any moment. South seemed ready to do the same.

Suddenly, the tension was cut through like a knife by Kaikaina who cupped her mouth and went “Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Fight fight fight fight--”

“Where did you pick this chick up from? Seems fun,” York chuckled.

“Where’d you finally ditch Carolina at?” South snapped back.

“I didn’t...” York stopped himself. Because he did. He absolutely ditched Carolina, and arguably probably when they needed each other the most. Again. Like always. Fuck. It was so hard to know that the conscience beating him up was his own and not Delta. “We’re momentarily separated. I came this way to head you off. I was worried you were tailing her.”

“God no,” South huffed. “I’ll be happy to never see any of you from the Project again.”

Glancing toward her suspiciously, York gripped his beer tighter, the can began to dent. “I deserve to know what happened to him, South. Did you separate? Are you planning something? Is he--”

“You don’t deserve shit, York,” South told him coldly. She then flexed her jaw some, processing something. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s... The Meta got him.”

Shocked, York lowered his head, looking hollowly toward the floor.

“Guess that makes you the lucky one when it comes to taking on Maine’s ultimate form,” South gritted out, crushing her can and causing the unopened beer to spew. “Lucky. Fucking. You.”

There was a disgruntled whine from across the room. “Why would you waste beer like that!?” Grif cried out.

York and South broke each other’s stares and he ran a hand through his hair. North dead. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that he never even got to ask him why.

Why did he stab York in the back and cause him to lose Delta? There was only one man that York would believe could make the shot that started the end of it all, only one man who would do that for South of all people.

And look at where it’d gotten them all.

“Say, Official Red Team Freelancer!” Sarge called over the room again.

Sighing, York looked to him. “You can just call me York, Sergeant. I answer to it well enough.”

It was about then that he noticed that the Reds’ leader was eyeing South’s charge rather warily. It was enough to make York a little on edge.

“I already am attempting to string together the horrific implications of the fact that there is more genetic material in the universe for the dreaded Grif subspecies,” he announced.

Grif let out a low sigh and downed whatever was left of his beer.

“But I seem to recall your first and foremost duty was to remember what colors represented what teams!” Sarge called out gruffly.

For a moment, York was oblivious to the implications. “Yeah? I mean--” he stared at the yellow armor. “Oh.”

Then Grif and Donut looked to Kaikaina. “Oh.” was harmonized.

York could see in the way South was stiffening, she sensed danger. Her arms shifted and she reached toward her suit’s compartments, to York’s immediate displeasure.

He reached for his own. “South,” he tried to say in warning.

“Why’s everyone staring at me?” Kaikaina whined. “Did my tits fall out again? I hate when that happens. Well. When it happens on accident anyway. Okay, you got me. Not even then.”

York wasn’t sure what was growing to break the tension short of a blow out, but the door to the base’s main room opened and soon enough the maroon one -- who York had all but forgotten was even missing -- was standing there with--

“Wash!?” York croaked out.

Cocking his gun, Washington stared both of his former teammates down.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Wash cried out.

“Shit, it’s the cops!” Kaikaina screamed before throwing her beer across the room. “I’m of age, officer!”

Suddenly, York felt an intense headache coming on.

He didn’t even know what was going on anymore.

"What kind of experiments were they running in a useless box canyon that they would give the bases transporters?” Carolina demanded, standing by the transporter while Tex finished triple checking it for malfunction or interference.

“It wasn’t about the simulation trooper experiments,” Tex answered with a grunt. “The transporters are only at Blue Base. It was always about having close proximity and access to Church.”

Epsilon appeared over Carolina’s shoulder. “The Alpha.”

Carolina did not miss how he spoke almost reverently of the other AI.

“Yeah,” Tex said, standing up and looking at the transporter. “Well, it’s definitely set to the coordinates that it sent Church and Caboose without any signal scrambling or anything.”

Raising her brow, Carolina crossed her arms. “Was that a concern?”

Tex glanced back to her “We’ve had... some issues before,” Tex explained. “But we’ll be on course when we go through it this time.” She stopped and glanced toward the ship. “Think Niner’s going to be okay?”

“You just gave her a tank that speaks in snark,” Carolina replied, heading to the transporter. “You literally just made her year. Now let’s get to it.”

Without any further to do, Carolina stepped through the transporterr and was met, almost immediately, with falling snow.

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Recovery None #Agent Carolina #Epsilon Church #Agent Texas #Agent Washington #Four Seven Niner #Agent York #Dexter Grif #Dick Simmons #Colonel Sarge #Franklin Delano Donut #Agent South #Kaikaina Grif

12 notes · View notes

renaroo · 7 years

Text

Recovery None (54/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: N/A Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: This was a difficult chapter to write mostly because, well, what do you do when you kill a main POV character? You get ridiculous, that’s the Rena way ; ) Oh and also very angsty.

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, @thepheonixqueen, @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, @roosterteeth-rvb-rwby-is-my-life, @every-survival, Linni, Meep, SenpaiGabby, Yin, @notatroll7, and @freshzombiewriter for the feedback!

Recovery Two XVI: No Rest for the Wicked

North! NOOOOORTH! NOOOOOO!

The pounding between her eyes were like little fists attempting to beat their way out of her skull. But South ignored them. She ignored the way the cracks and breaks through her visor and HUD made her dizzy. She ignored how her fist burned from the sparks that had made it through the armor mesh when she slammed her fist through the console.

South concentrated on getting them in the air and away -- far away. Further away than she could have ever managed if she gave even one iota of a fuck about the tantrum the literal child was throwing in between her ears at the moment.

You’re awful! I hate you! You killed him! You left him for dead! How could you? Why would you? I hate you! I hate you!!!

Maybe it was something that they had never bothered to teach her since she wasn’t implanted by the program, maybe it was something they had and she hadn’t listened out of spite during their lessons.

But at a certain point the noises in your brain blur into a sort of cacophony where her thoughts and the thoughts of the AI were on rhythm Where the pulse in the back of her brain lined up with the beating of her heart. Where the outrage and the anger and the hurt and mourning all tuned to a single note and exploded within her.

Yeah. North was fucking dead. And she left him to it.

I hate you, said someone in her brain. But Theta was busy crying audibly on her shoulder. Mumbling and rocking back and forth through his tears. And hers.

“Shut up!” South finally screamed at him. “Shut up shut up shut the fuck up!” Theta cried even louder. South’s vision blurred, her headache got worse. “I’m trying to save our lives so shut the fuck up! Shut up while I get us far away from Charon and North and Freelancer and every single fucker on this planet. Shut up so I can save us! Shut up so he didn’t die for no reason!”

Theta didn’t stop crying. And South didn’t stop hating herself, no matter how many times she checked the miles they had traveled or the scanner for any vehicles tailing them.

Two hundred miles, she flew lower, below detection levels. Theta’s tears weren’t letting up. She engaged autopilot after ensuring that her destruction of the console hadn’t also disabled it in some way. Her cheeks were cold and clammy with the wetness. After she set their course for another two hundred miles to separate themselves from the carnage, South could turn away from the controls. Her arms were shaking now that they no longer had preoccupation.

When all was said and done, South threw off her helmet against the nearest wall and released a deep, curdling scream.

As the helmet bounced back toward her, she kicked it with all her might then ripped the pilot’s chair from the bolts in the floor.

She screamed, she screamed until Theta was no longer crying, until she couldn’t smash anything anymore because there was nothing left.

South screamed until her throat felt torn and her voice was gone. Until the shaking of her knees became so much that she collapsed on the ground and curled into it, head resting against the floor as she let out unfamiliar noises from deep within her chest.

There was nothing left.

She had nothing left.

...

Silence had taken over from the awful screaming.

The ship continued on course without South’s direction.

Instead, she sat to the side of the cockpit, her eyes glazed over as she sat with her back to the wall. At some point, her helmet had ended up back in her lap. It was dented in, broken. The main object of her abuse in the seemingly endless lapse of time.

Her gaze was kept on the visor and its jagged, broken pieces. But she wasn’t looking at the helmet, not really.

Really she wasn’t even looking at it as she pushed her thumbs against the fragile glass, listening to the satisfying crunch as it caved in.

Broken glass littered her lap and the floor.

She was a mess.

Theta appeared over her shoulder. He kept doing that -- showing up from time to time. Without invitation.

He was buzzing with business in her brain, but it was too fast for her, even if she had cared to pay attention to it. She didn’t care what he was doing. He wasn’t screaming anymore and she liked it better when he was screaming at her.

More glass broke off and fell into her lap.

“They keep trying to shut down your armor,” Theta finally said out loud.

“They,” she repeated, tasting each syllable. It was ashen and bare.

South was really getting to hate that taste.

Theta stared at her, his projection crossing further into her field of vision when he realized she wasn’t going to give him the dignity of looking at him directly. “Charon,” he clarified. “They keep trying to shut down your--”

“I know who you meant by they,” she spat back, breaking the glass further in on her helmet. When Theta allowed the silence to take over again, South growled, grip tightening on her helmet until it was shaking. “I guess it’s a goddamn good thing I have you then, isn’t it? How fortunate of me! To have an AI all of my own now. That extra piece to help me climb up on the totem pole of life. Look at me, finally proving the whole goddamn world wrong! At last!” She then raised her helmet. “All it took was my fucking brother!”

The helmet crashed against the other side of the cockpit. Theta was left flickering back into place after his projection had been interrupted.

They stared at each other for a long time, the engine of the ship roaring beneath them.

South couldn’t take it.

“Why are you still here,” she said more than asked of the AI. “Why haven’t you done something smart. Something... I don’t know. Give me a brain aneurysm? End all this bullshit? Get revenge for North.”

“I don’t do stuff like that,” Theta defended, almost sounding offended.

“You could, though, couldn’t you?” South snorted. “It’s amazing. The kind of shit we’re all capable of at the end of the day. Just need a little push. Need a little threat to survival.” Her eyes fell heavily on the sprite. “It’s funny. When I did pay attention to those lessons in Freelancer, they always talked like there was some kinda imbalance. That we were your guardians, that we were in control of the AI. And the way you and North worked, I was stupid enough to buy into it.”

With a thud, South dropped her head back against the wall, her eyes finding interest in the ceiling. “Humans can’t control anything.”

Theta let her stew in the statement for a few minutes before he set off a dazzling spark of fireworks, drawing South’s attention and confusion.

“We control ourselves,” he pronounced firmly. “Humans, that is.”

South scowled. “You’re not human,” she reminded him.

“I want to survive,” Theta said firmly. “What’s more human than that?”

She stared at him for another tense silence before scowling. “What do you want from me?”

“An idea,” Theta said honestly.

“My ideas will get us killed,” she said.

“Or they’ll get us free,” Theta said firmly.

South pressed her lips to a thin line. “I shouldn’t be trusted. I’ll save my own neck above anything else, kid. You know that.”

“I know,” Theta said. “But I trust you.”

“You trust me?” South scoffed.

“I do,” Theta nodded.

"That’s idiotic,” South snapped. “You saw what happens when people trust me, kid. I know you’re not that dumb.”

Theta was undeterred. “It’s my nature,” he said. “I trust you.”

South’s cheeks were beginning to feel cold and wet again. “Can you... Can you scan radio waves? Listen in for anything?” she asked.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Theta said.

“Okay,” South said with a sniff, roughly rubbing her face with her gauntlets. “We need to find another ship. A ship with someone else already in it.”

...

"Okay, this one coming in only has three soldiers boarded. They seem to be the survivors of some place called Valhalla? I guess they’re Reds,” Theta tracked.

The little AI was sitting cross-legged about four feet from South while she continued to break out the glass in her visor. Pressing piece by piece through with her thumbs. Her lap and the floor was covered in shining green.

“No,” she said clearly. “If they managed to kill the other team at their base and there’s three of them, they’re just dumb enough and lucky enough to get a lucky shot. I don’t feel up to a big fight right now. And neither do you.”

He didn’t argue with her, glancing over her before nodding and continuing to scan the the airways.

South stopped her newly formed habit for a moment, looking with some distress at the helmet.

The helmet to her Charon experimental armor. The armor that, in many ways, begun the descent into madness where she currently found herself.

Bearing her teeth, South listened to the satisfying crunch of the glass again.

“Hey, South,” Theta spoke up, drawing South’s gaze.

“What?” she asked snappishly.

“I get that the plan’s to take someone’s identity who’s going to leave the planet,” Theta said. “That’s why I’ve been scanning the radios since we landed. It makes sense... “

Eyes narrowing, South waited for the but.

Never one to disappoint, Theta rubbed his neck. “But, what are we going to do with the real person? The person whose identity we steal? Won’t thy catch on after a while? Isn’t identity theft a big deal?”

“You found someone,” she realized.

“One passenger, heading to Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha. Female. No military experience,” Theta said lowly.

“Good,” South said, getting to her feet. The glass from her lap fell onto the floor in a string of chiming noises. She didn’t pay it any mind. “Get ready to help the ship’s navigation to intercept the other ship. We’ll jump from above and use our grav boots. It’ll be a transport pelican so we should easily be able to access the roof hatch that way.”

South did not miss the skip of a beat in her mind as Theta processed the plan.

“Why do we have to kill someone for that?” Theta asked lowly. “That seems... like a bit much. They haven’t done anything to us--”

“Because I don’t have anything else to do!” South roared, drowning out the noise of the AI in her head.

Somewhat surprisingly, Theta did not disappear, though. He sat before her vision, looking at her questioningly.

It reminded her so much of North, South almost puked.

Instead, she pointed toward the windshield. “There’s a ship inbound for some piece of shit place called Blood Gulch. I’ll take the place of the people on that ship, it’ll work from there. It has to,” she said, upset. “Why? Because we don’t have any other options. This is it. This is the one.” She then pointed back strongly toward where they came from. “That was where he was heading. You saw it yourself.”

Theta tilted his head. “So we’re running away from the Meta now?”

“Yes,” South said. “We’re surviving now. That’s... It’s the only thing that matters.”

Theta somehow refrained from calling her on the obvious. That if she had valued survival to begin with, that if she had given North input, he might have still been there with them.

He nodded instead. “Okay. I trust you.”

South suppressed another scream.

Everything worked according to plan. There was the drop, her grav boots slamming into the metal of the Pelican beneath the autopiloted Charon ship. Theta whispered calculations in the back of her mind since her HUD could no longer project across her visor as he worked.

With the augmented strength of her armor, South nearly ripped the metal clasps off the roof door before dropping down into the passenger ship with a resounding thud.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting inside, but it wasn’t what she got.

“Holy fucking shit!” the naked woman said, gripping her yellow armor. “A ninja!”

South was taken aback more than she would have liked to admit. She stood up and stared at the woman. “Why the fuck are you naked?”

“Have you ever worn one of these things?” the woman asked, holding up the breast plate. “These things are so restricting! I mean, look at these puppies! How’re they supposed to fit in there? I guess I could use some lube. Wouldn’t be the first time I used ‘em on my titties.”

“Yeah,” South found herself saying out of bafflement. “I mean, wait, what?”

“Anyway, I was looking through my bag for the lube -- I brought a ton. So if your tits are having a problem in the ninja armor you could borrow some,” she continued, running a hand through a mess of long, curly locks. “I mean, you never know how much lube you need at an army base.”

South opened her mouth, but she couldn’t find words to come out.

Theta appeared over her shoulder just as stunned.

Head snapping back toward Theta, South leered at the little AI. “Turn off your optical receptors,” she snapped.

“Ohhhh who’s that?” the mystery woman said, raising her brow. “I’ve never seen a gray guy that little.”

“I’m not gray, I’m Red and Blue,” Theta responded, looking down to his projection.

“You can do that?” she asked. “Shut the fuck up! The guy at the recruitment office said I had to pick one or the other. Whoo! Go Blues!”

“Theta, turn off,” South demanded.

“No, little dude, it’s totes cool to stay turned on!” the woman cackled.

"I understand your breastplate is improperly sized,” South said, taking stock in just how true that statement was. “Why aren’t you wearing the rest of your attire?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Because I drop it like it’s hot?” She then looked South over. “Are you, like, some sorta escort?”

“Something like that,” South said, fingers dancing over her gun handle.

“Oh, good. Y’know, I used to be one of those. They dropped me after I sued them to pay for the abortions, though,” she explained flippantly.

“Yeah,” South said before shaking her head. “No. Wait, what? I’m ... a soldier-- aren’t you a soldier?”

“Now I am, hellsyeah!” she said, punching the air.

South gripped her gun. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“Private Grif,” she said easily. “But that’s gonna be confusing when we land ‘cuz I think my bro’s a private, too. So I’m just gonna go by Sister.”

Her grip on her gun slipped at the pronouncement, the gun clattering to the ground.

“Hey,” Private Grif snorted, mid-laugh. “You dropped your gun. Or are ya just happy to see me?”

South stared at her. Stared at... Sister.

She wanted to scream again, but it wasn’t likely to do anything.

“If she has a family member waiting on her, we can’t just... take her place. They’d figure it out,” South said to Theta.”The plan is a disaster. This whole fucking thing is a disaster.”

“That’s what my bro calls me!” Sister claimed with another bout of snorting laughter.

Theta looked at South. “I trust you. What’re we going to do?”

Chewing on her lip, South looked back to Sister. “You have a full name? I won’t go into details but I’m not... comfortable with your nickname.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” she responded with a shrug. “My name’s Kaikaina -- which kinda means sister. So I guess we’ll think of a codename for me that won’t make you uncomfortable. I used to go by Hot Pants--”

“Kaikaina’s fine,” South said.

“And what about you, mystery ninja?” Kaikaina asked, shaking her head to get the curls out of her eyes “You’ve seen everything about me, but I can’t see anything but your pretty purple eyes.”

Reluctantly, South reached up and took off her helmet -- she wasn’t even sure why she did it. Why she... why she trusted so much. But she did. And she looked into Kaikaina’s eyes.

“I’m South,” she said. “I’m your bodyguard. Command sent me. Don’t bother checking in -- it’s a secret mission.”

“Sounds hot,” Kaikaina said, smiling brilliantly. “Like you.”

South didn’t even know what to say to that. She didn’t even know what the fuck she was doing.

She just hoped it worked.

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Recovery None #Agent South #AI: Theta #Kaikaina Grif

8 notes · View notes

renaroo · 7 years

Text

Recovery None (53/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Chex, Yorkalina Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: This is a long one but only because I had WAAAAAAYYYYYYYY too much fun with the banter throughout this one like omg. It was great. I hope it’s half as enjoyable for you guys as it was for me to write haha

Special thanks to @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, @xhauntedangel, @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, @notatroll7, Yin, @freshzombiewriter, @thatgothamgurl, Bluebird202, Linni, and monaman1 for the feedback!

Recovery One XVI: Fulfilling Destiny

Nothing was ever going to convince Washington that this was not a truly, truly terrible idea.

But, as with every other important matter he had concerned himself with since ending up among the simulation troopers of Blood Gulch, he found his complaints patently ignored.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how these people would survive without him, even if they didn’t seem nearly as worried.

When he approached the encampment that Tucker and -- Wash could only sigh every time he remembered Caboose’s name for the damaged but dangerous Sangheilli warrior -- Crunchbite were settled in. The perimeter had proved itself secure an hour before, but Wash was anal retentive about safety.

Or paranoid, as Tucker constantly kept reminding him.

When he got closer, Crunchbite’s unique grunts, honks, and blarghs became apparent in a low, steady stream. Then he moved away from Tucker who, despite all logic when left alone with a crazed and easily angered alien, had only about half of his armor on.

The simulation trooper at least had the decency to look utterly baffled.

“Back off,” Wash said in warning to Crunchbite as the alien’s jaws quivered threateningly at him. “I said back off.”

After a moment, Crunchbite complied and Wash rounded on Tucker.

“Would you stop letting him push you around?” Wash demanded.

“Yeah, sure, Wash, I’ll get right on that,” Tucker replied sarcastically. “Would you stop going off on ultra manly perimeter checks and actually keep me company while we’re with the alien with the huge dong?”

“Stop looking at it if it bothers you so much,” Wash snarked back before dropping to sit beside Tucker, though he didn’t dare remove his armor. All his bones and muscles ached with injuries and overuse.

He must have made some sort of wounded noise in doing so because Tucker was looking at him with even more concern.

“Wash, are you going to drop dead on this journey?” he asked seriously.

“Well, considering I’ve made it this far in my life -- and that’s not nearly as easy as it sounds -- I’m going to say... no. Probably not,” he answered somewhat cheekily. “Sorry to disappoint.”

"God, I’m so sick of your self-depreciating,” Tucker groaned. “It’s like being around Church.”

Wash raised a brow and looked Tucker’s way. “Aren’t you friends?”

“Not according to the jackass,” Tucker replied. He paused for a moment, considering something and then sighed. “Yeah, we’re friends. Fuck. That’s so lame.”

“It’s not like you have many options in that canyon,” Wash admitted. “Though, now that you all know there’s no war against... Blues and Reds, maybe you can make friends with some of them? They seem...” Wash waited for a word to come to mind. It didn’t. “Nevermind.”

“Nah, you have a point,” Tucker shrugged. “And I guess they’re okay. Now that I don’t have to irrationally hate them or anything anymore. Grif’s cool. And who doesn’t like Donut?”

Awkwardly, Wash shifted in his seat.

It didn’t go unnoticed and Tucker turned and looked at him. “You don’t like Donut? Seriously? Who the fuck doesn’t like Donut--”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him! I didn’t say anything!” Wash pointed out.

“Dude, you don’t have to with that expression,” Tucker scoffed.

“I’m wearing a helmet! You can’t see what I look like!”

“Dude, if you don’t think I’ve become a goddamn expert at reading body language through metal suits, you have vastly underestimated my need to check out asses,”

“I don’t hate Donut!” Wash yelled before catching himself. He shook his head and, more calmly, explained, “I don’t hate Donut. At all. But he doesn’t like me.”

“That doesn’t seem physically possible for Donut,” Tucker argued.

“Well, he’s not without reason,” Wash explained.

“What’d you do? Call his armor pink?” Tucker interrogated.

“No,” Wash admitted lowly. “I... shot a Red in front of him.”

“Holy shit, how’d I miss this? Which one?” Tucker asked.

“None of the ones we know,” Wash explained. “It was the Red who shot me -- before I met you all in Blood Gulch. He was working with Wyoming back at Sidewinder and I killed him.”

Tucker blinked widely at him for a moment before snorting, taking Wash completely aback.

“What you killed one dude we don’t know? What the fuck does he care? He blew up Tex, and the Reds had no idea she was a robot!” Tucker laughed.

Wash stared at Tucker for a moment before feeling a frown tug at his face. “It’s... You all thought you were at war. He was protecting people. I know better -- I’m not like you all. I don’t have that excuse of plausible deniability. I...” Wash looked away, thinking about the Red that shot him in the back. “I enabled a system that’s using all of you. That’s demeaning your lives. And I didn’t care about anyone else abused by that system but me. I couldn’t see past my own hindrance by Freelancer, past wanting revenge on someone who was being ground down by it, too.”

Silence fell between them for a long, uncomfortable moment.

“Well,” Tucker said. “Shit. I kinda hate you now, too.”

“You’re hilarious,” Wash sighed. “But, seriously, your first reaction to finding out all of this was fake was to question everyone, to not want to kill the Reds anymore, to reach out. I’ve... God, who knows how many simulation troopers I used as disposable before now.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t kidding, you keep going and I might use my fucking fantastic sword of specialness on you,” Tucker said, his dark eyes piercing through Wash. “That’s fucked up, Wash. But... At least you know it? And look, you’re with me and Crunchbite on some stupid Journey of Destiny or some shit. That’s like... I don’t know. The least self serving thing you’ve done since you arrived at Blood Gulch. Congrats!”

Taking a breath, Wash rested back against the rocks. “Yeah. It’s definitely not a pleasure cruise. I can’t even imagine what my drill sergeant would be saying at me not shooting an Elite on sight.”

“You’re telling me,” Tucker groaned. “It smells so fucking bad and every time I wake up with it hovering over me I want to kick it in its alien john thomas.”

Confused, Wash glanced sideways toward Tucker. “Why is it hovering over you? And why are you just now telling me this?”

“Because you’d come over and try to rescue me or some shit,” Tucker defended.

“Of course I would! That’s the whole point of me coming with you!” Wash yelled back.

"God, you’re so hysterical all the time, I swear,” Tucker said dismissively, beginning to put his armor back on bit by bit.

“You’re... You’re too chill,” Wash responded, as if he had a real zinger. When nothing else came to him, he got to his feet and reloaded his gun. “Shut up.”

Tucker raised an eyebrow at him before pulling on his helmet.

It was just in time as Crunchbite came back from wherever he had gone and let out a long series of unintelligible grunts and honks that Wash was sure Caboose would try to make sense of but left him and Tucker simply staring.

“Psst, Wash,” Tucker stage whispered. “What’s he want?”

“I don’t know, Tucker,” Wash sighed in aggravation, watching as Crunchbite turned and started marching toward the deserts again. “I’m sure it’s just following him. Like we’ve always been following him. This is leading us straight into some kind of trap, I swear to god.”

“Maybe I’m god now that I have this sword and he’s leading me to my worshippers,” Tucker said, brazenly dashing out the sword again.

Wash eyed him. “I’d hope not.”

“What? Why?” Tucker asked. “That is the least pessimistic outcome for this trip that either of us have come up with since this thing started. In fact, it sounds fucking amazing to me. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“You need a boost to your ego about as much as I need another bullet in me,” Wash said flatly.

“Wow, that was almost funny. You adding that to your routine for Hi I’m Wash and My Schtick is that I’m too Serious tour?” Tucker asked just as flatly in return.

“Must you fight me on every goddamn sentence between us?” Wash sighed.

“Oh, absolutely. Or else we’d just be silently walking through the desert behind some half-sentient alien that smells like day old elephant spunk,” Tucker replied quickly. He then let out a loud gasp. “That’s what that smell is! I finally placed it!”

Once more, Washington found himself curling his nose at Tucker.

“How in the world do you know what elephant semen smells like?” Wash asked, immediately regretting the course of action.

“Dude, obviously you need to get out more,” Tucker replied with a wave of his hand.

“That answers nothing. Honestly, it begs more questions,” Washington replied just before there was a mighty roar from their guide. Instinctively, he drew up his gun and stepped between the alien and Tucker, Crunchbite in his sights.

“Dude, what’s he pissed off about!?” Tucker asked, a note of genuine worry in his voice for once.

Squinting, Wash kept his aim up. “I’m starting to realize that you’ve been asking me for translations this entire journey like you actually expect me to have them for you. So just in case I have somehow managed to not be clear enough for you yet, Tucker, let me put on the record now that I have absolutely no idea how to speak outrageous honking alien dialect.”

“Oh, my god, your inability to read sarcasm is only matched by your inability to take rhetorical questions!” Tucker snapped.

In the midst of their yelling, Crunchbite lowered himself, let out another dangerous sounding snarl, and then immediately began bolting toward the desert, honking and blarghing all the way.

Wash dropped his gun some. “What the...”

“I think he thinks there’s danger ahead,” Tucker stage whispered.

“No duh,” Wash fired back before lowering down to a crouch. “Follow my lead. We’re going to follow, in stealth. We don’t know what’s going on here, and I don’t feel like getting shot alongside your elephant splooge smelling alien if there’s a platoon of soldiers up ahead or something.”

Tucker began cackling, though he did crouch and stick to the shadows with Wash. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I just heard Agent Washington say splooge.”

“Focus!” Wash warned before leading the advance forward.

Honestly, considering Niner’s outrage, Tex tried to think of the positives. Like how at least she hadn’t been shot the moment the pilot saw her carrying in a limp Carolina.

“What did you do?” Niner demanded. “What the fuck was that out there?”

“Don’t know,” Tex half lied, putting Carolina on the cot available just outside of the cockpit. “How fast can you fly this thing if I send you the coordinates?”

“Don’t you change the subject!” Niner snapped, reaching their sides and looking over Carolina. “Where’s she bleeding?”

“Nowhere. She’s not physically hurt,” Tex answered, taking note of the dried blood around the cot. They had had their fair share of close calls already, it seemed.

“Then what the fuck happened--”

“Epsilon.”

Both women turned to look down at Carolina. The word had come out like a gasp for air and she bolted up, still rasping for air, her fingers coming up and scratching at the collar of her underarmor.

Tex began to reach to help but Niner elbowed her out of the way and immediately began pulling off the latches for Carolina’s helmet. “Hold on, hold on, I’m gonna help you breathe,” she promised before pulling the helmet off entirely.

Carolina’s green eyes were as wide as dinner plates, darting around. “I can’t hear Epsilon, he was... That screaming, the Alpha--”

Even the bare mention of Church was enough for Tex to want to overlook everything else going on. She sent the coordinates directly to the cockpit’s computer and caused the ship to turn on remotely.

Niner looked back and then to Tex angrily. “Are you fucking with my ship?”

“We need to get going,” Tex said plainly.

"We need to have a conversation about whatever the fuck is going on!” Niner fired back immediately.

“Epsilon,” Carolina continued, her focus was still on Niner, but her hand reached back toward her neck. “He’s not-- What happened to him--”

“I have him,” Tex answered, drawing Carolina’s gaze to her and producing the chip in her hands that held the AI. She then looked to Niner who was still about as angry as Tex had seen her. “Here’s your answer as to what the fuck happened -- it was Epsilon. Just like we were worried about before. Now can you get us to the coordinates I sent your ship as fast as possible? We need to beat an ATV there.”

Niner still glared at Tex suspiciously before beginning to roll toward the cockpit. “An ATV? I could beat an ATV to any coordinates even if we took an hour here.”

Still, the pilot did as told and got into her seat.

Leaving Tex with the elephant in the room.

Carolina was staring at her with a completely unreadable mesh of emotions. Her hand was still pressed to the back of her neck and she stared at the chip in Tex’s hand.

“You pulled him?” Carolina asked, voice almost shaking.

“No,” Tex answered stiffly. “He ejected himself.”

As they stared at each other, lapsing into silence, the ship began to take off. Tex didn’t so much as budge even as the momentum of the ship changed. Neither did Carolina.

“Why would he do that?” Carolina asked almost angrily.

“Don’t know, but it was by far the smartest thing he’s done since you two got a hold of one another,” Tex answered. “He’s not a regular AI. He’s... not even a regular fragment. They’re not supposed to be broken like that--”

"Yes, they are,” Carolina snapped darkly. There was water welling in her eyes, but she quickly rubbed them clear. “They’re all broken. That’s what he does to things -- leaves them broken when they’re not of use anymore. Sometimes he breaks them to use them...”

She was talking so fast that the words probably should have been taken as barely conscious gibberish. But Tex didn’t take them that way at all.

Instead, she listened to the truth of every syllable, and let it burn into her own coding.

“Yes,” she finally agreed. “Epsilon’s broken.”

“That’s why I need him,” Carolina said, sniffing and rubbing at her face still. “I... Thank you. For gabbing him. But when I... When I have more confidence he’s going back where he belongs. With me.”

“No he’s not,” Tex responded. “You’re going to kill each other--”

“No, he needs me,” Carolina argued, her green eyes darted to Tex’s face. They buried into her. “And I need him back. He’s. You don’t understand. He’s on my side. And I can’t let go of him. I won’t.”

Tex stared back, rubbing her thumb over the chip as she tried to think things through.

“I can be on your side,” Tex offered.

“No. You can’t,” Carolina nearly hissed.

“I can,” Tex said firmly. “You know I can. You... You know what happened back there--”

“I made a mistake while I was confused,” Carolina snapped angrily. “Don’t you dare use that to manipulate me--”

“So that’s it. We’re just not going to talk about it?” Tex asked. She wasn’t angry, disappointed some. But not angry. Or surprised for that matter.

"What is there to talk about?” Carolina asked icily. She then looked at Tex with the shell shocked expression fading. “What is there, huh? You’re six inches taller than her. Your voice is different. You’re a computer program. I made a mistake under stress. I need to talk to Epsilon, so give him to me.”

Tex made no motion to offer the chip over.

The tension grew at an exponential rate, Carolina’s shoulders began trembling. “You’re not her! Alright? You’re not! And I am not going to discuss this any further with you--”

“I know I’m no one else,” Tex snapped back. “I’m myself. I’ve always been myself. I’m not what anyone else tries to make me. Never have been. That’s why I betrayed him--”

“STOP talking about him!” Carolina snarled.

“It’s why we’re heading back to Blood Gulch right now and helping Wash protect the Alpha. Because that’s my choice and those are my people down there. Including the Alpha. Including Wash. Including my gaggle of losers,” Tex continued.

“I don’t know what you’re even talking about anymore,” Carolina hissed. “I don’t care who your people are.”

“That’s fine,” Tex responded. “I’m making the point, though, that I know exactly who I am. I fought my way, tooth and nail, clawed myself out of the hell of his making in order to find out just who I was. And I’m goddamn proud and goddamn protective of that.” She tilted her head. “So the only factor I have to worry about is whether or not you know I’m not her.”

“Of course I do--”

“Because he never got it,” Tex said flatly.

Carolina’s eyes were like cool fire. Explosive, painful.

“You’re not my mother,” Carolina said angrily. “She’s dead.”

“I know,” Tex said softly. “And I’m sorry for that.”

“Why are we doing this?” Carolina asked.

“Because I need to make sure -- make for sure for real -- that you know that we’re different,” Tex said simply. “You have a one track mind, Carolina. You want revenge. And you won’t be getting it on my... on Church. My Church. He’s not him. And I’m not her.”

"Good,” Carolina said shortly.

Tex let there continue to be a tight silence again before she moved toward Carolina and held out the Epsilon chip. “Fine. Just make sure he knows the difference now, too. Him being Epsilon does not make him the Alpha or him. And as long as he struggles with figuring that out, this little hiccup won’t be a one off issue for you.”

Carolina quickly grabbed the chip and looked to it before glancing toward Tex again. “Did you know? Did you ever know?”

Staring back at Carolina, Tex squared herself. “Not really. No. Maybe a little. Toward the end, once I... Once Connecticut left me the message to inform me who I was.”

Lip curling, Carolina’s hands tightened into fists. “You killed her. She was doing the right thing. The only one of us doing the right thing.”

“I know,” Tex said lowly. “Now I’m trying to do the right thing.”

They lost sight of Crunchbite fairly early on. That would make sense considering the alien was charging headlong into the desert while Washington forced himself and Tucker to keep to the shadows, moving barely at a crawl.

“This is so stupid,” Tucker whined again.

“Well, I agree. But one of us had to think he was some chosen one and follow a barely sentient monster halfway across the planet,” Wash hissed over his shoulder.

“God, I can’t stand you when you get so uptight,” Tucker said with a giant full body shrug. “I’m just glad that Church isn’t here or else I’d be getting shit from both of you at the same time you two would be strangling each other.”

Wash let out a huff. “He couldn’t take me.”

“Oh my god, did Freelancer require everyone to be full of themselves or is it just something besides banging that you and Tex share?” Tucker snapped.

“We never--”

“Alright fuckers!”

The new voice called out from across the dunes ahead of them, shocking them both. Wash held out his arm as if to stop Tucker which only got an annoyed groan from him. Washington didn’t care. He was staring straight ahead at the source of the intercom.

“I know you’re there, assholes! This is highly classified terrain and you do not have clearance to come any closer to the dig site!”

“Yeah, well, I’m the fucking chosen one, so I think that’s my clearance!” Tucker yelled back.

“Tucker, shut up! You’re giving out position!” Wash snapped.

“Dude, aren’t you listening? They already have our position. If we’re fucked we’re fucked,” Tucker replied sharply. “Like when you fucked Tex behind Church’s back.”

“I didn’t!” Wash yelled, voice cracking.

“What the hell -- chosen one?” the person said, more muddled, probably away from his intercom. “Okay whatever. I don’t give a fuck. Come out with your hands up. Weapons holstered! I’m not even remotely in the area of fucking around!”

“Is that why they gave you the intercom?” Tucker yelled back.

"Tucker,” Wash all but groaned.

“Look, dude, we’re fucked one way or the other, at least allow me to have my sense of humor,” Tucker shrugged before standing up and putting his hands up.

Wash blinked before looking at Tucker mortified. “What are you doing?”

Tucker tilted his head toward Wash. “Uh... Not getting shot? Have you ever tried giving that a chance? Oh, wait. Forgot who I was talking to. Of course you’ve never taken the not getting fucking shot option.”

“I...” Wash began to argue but he found it difficult to parse even in his own mind. With a long sigh, he holstered his rifle over his shoulder and stood up beside Tucker, hands up.

“See? Was that so hard?” Tucker asked.

“I’m a wanted man on this planet,” Wash reminded him. “We may have just surrendered ourselves to being shot regardless. Just in case you forgot.”

“I didn’t, I just remembered that you’re the wanted one. Not me,” Tucker half shrugged. “Besides, do you know how many people there are in the world with armor? I think every goddamn person on this planet is in this armor. You really think you’re the only one with gray armor and a yellow stripe?”

There was an audible sneer from the intercom. “A Freelancer.”

“Yes,” Washington said flatly.

“Oh, well, you’re fucked. I’m just another dumb Blue,” Tucker joked.

“You’re hilarious,” Wash said dryly. He then looked toward the sound. “I’m from Command. I have been hired to transport this Blue from his station to your Command center. We’re merely passing through. There’s no need for alarm.”

Tucker tilted his head even more. “Man, you’re way too good at lying.”

“Tucker, shut up, for both our sakes,” Wash hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

“No. No you haven’t,” the voice on the intercom said, coming forward from the sand dunes and revealing a very familiar brown armor.

Wash visibly flinched at the sight of it -- that armor. Connie’s armor. But it wasn’t his friend wearing it -- too tall and broad. The fit was wrong. And any PFL insignias were scratched off of it.

Apparently sensing the intensity radiating from Wash, Tucker turned more toward the former Recovery agent and said in a highly concerned tone, “Uh... Wash? You alright--”

“Where did you get that armor!?” Wash growled at the man.

“From a friend,” the man snapped back. “And I know exactly why you two are here. You’re here to take what we’ve uncovered from the alien ruins for yourselves. For Freelancer.”

“No we aren’t!” Tucker yelled back. “Wait... Actually I don’t know. Are we? That kinda sounds like a part of the Chosen One journey, doesn’t it?”

Wash was far beyond paying attention to Tucker and the nonsense of their journey anymore. The current threat, and the immediate outrage he was feeling toward this unexpected reminder of the past, was eclipsing everything else.

“You need to remove that armor right now,” Wash said, dropping his hands. “That isn’t yours.”

Tucker’s shoulders raised defensively. “Wash... dude... What’re we doing?”

“You Freelancers are so full of shit,” the man in Connie’s armor snapped. “I’m the one in charge here, and even if I wasn’t, I’d shoot you right between the eyes for what your program did to my friends, did to Connie, and how every second I spend on this soul sucking planet, digging in dirt and securing ridiculous artifacts for these fuckers in charge, I can feel myself go a little more crazy.”

“You should try living here without any supply drops for a few months,” Tucker attempted to alleviate the tension. “If anyone here has a right to be pissed off or crazy, it’s probably me and the others in Blood G--”

“Don’t give him location names,” Wash stopped him short.

“Shut the fuck up, Sim Trooper, I’ve got no orders to keep any of you alive or to salvage your equipment. So when I kill you I’m just going to fuck you over however I want!”

“Bow Chicka Bow Wow--”

“Don’t you dare threaten him!” Wash yelled. “You won’t even have a chance when I’m done with you--”

The mysterious man raised a gun and pointed it right at Wash. “Come on, Freelancer. Make my fucking day!”

Then, Tucker did something outrageously stupid.

“Okay, well, let’s go a single day without Wash getting shot,” Tucker said before pulling out his sword and igniting it.

“Tucker!” Wash snapped, alarmed as the man’s attention fell on Tucker.

“You... You have it!?” the man growled.

“Yeah!” Tucker yelled. “Whatever... it is!”

“The key!” the man cried out. “The one in all the hieroglyphs! The one we need to open the temple!”

“Then you’re going to need Tucker,” Wash said, thinking fast. “Because it only works for him.”

The man in Connie’s armor laughed near hysterically. “You honestly have no idea how any of this works, do you? I don’t need him. I need him dead. That way the key will work for the next person to activate it--”

“No!” Wash roared at the same time as Tucker cried out, “IT’S A FUCKING KEY!?”

Before things could further unravel, there was a familiar honk just as Crunchbite erupted from the sands behind the raving madman in Connie’s armor. Once tackled, the man started shooting and Crunchbite began tearing and snarling and biting the man all over with the very strength and ferocity that Wash had warned Tucker about seeing in the field of the War.

“Holy fucking shit, what is going on?” Tucker cried out, looking to his sword. “It’s a key!?”

Wash lowered to one knee, quickly pulled his gun out from its holster and took aim. “Yes, Tucker, it seems your amazing journey is to unlock something with the key.”

He then took an active shot and drilled the man right through the helmet. He watched as he went from struggling against Crunchbite to going completely limp.

“Oh, man, I’m so pissed about this, I think I’m getting physically sick over it,” Tucker announced, grabbing his sides and sheathing the sword.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Wash replied, getting to his feet and walking toward Crunchbite and their former hostage. “Uh... thank you... Crunchbite--”

The alien held back its head and released a long, single roar, revealing the multiple gunshot wounds across his torso before dropping to his knees and then fully into the sand.

Surprised, Washington dropped down beside Crunchbite and gave him a look over just as Tucker ran over to his side.

“Is he...?” Tucker asked, arching over Wash’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Tucker,” Wash said, looking back to him. “Your alien expired.”

“And my sword’s a fucking key,” Tucker bemoaned. He then glanced toward the man in Connie’s armor. “And just who the fuck is this guy? What was his beef with you and alien shit?”

“I... have absolutely no idea,” Wash replied, getting to his feet and glaring at the man. “I want to say he’s not a Freelancer given what happened the last time I saw that armor it was on a... friend. A friend who betrayed the program. But...”

“But?” Tucker pressed.

“I don’t know,” Wash sighed. “Tucker, have you ever had that feeling that, I don’t know, that there’s something much bigger than yourself going on? That you barely scratch the surface of it?”

Tucker stood beside him, just staring at Wash.

Catching on, Wash nodded. “Oh, right.”

“Yeah, I mean. At this point big conspiracies are the leas surprising thing that happens around me these days,” Tucker grunted before doubling over his stomach. “Fuck. That and intense fucking pain.”

Wash squinted at him. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m legitimately sick, dude, I’m about to throw up in my helmet,” he moaned. “Maybe I’m more upset about Crunchbite sacrificing himself than I thought. Or I’m upset about the key thing. Definitely the key thing HRRK! Good thing our helmets are made for vomiting in.”

“They’re not,” Wash said flatly. “Trust me. Here-- I’ll help you get that helmet off and then we’re going ho-- We’re going back to Blood Gulch. I’m declaring this bullshit over. We gathered nothing from your Chosen One journey.”

As he helped Tucker take off his helmet, the man gave a low laugh. “Well, you know what they say, Wash. It’s not the journey but the friends you make on the way. And the aliens who never spoke the same language as you but smelled like elephant bunk.”

“It’s something like that,” Wash agreed, unable to stop the smile on his face, hidden beneath his helmet. “Hurry up and barf so we can leave the desert. You’re probably dehydrated.”

“God I hope so,” Tucker moaned. “Does dehydration kick you from the inside?”

Wash shrugged. “I don’t know-- Wait what?”

"Tex!” Niner shouted from the cockpit. “Is this the right place? It’s the coordinates you gave me, but it’s just a box canyon.”

Not even bothering to get up from her seat, Tex answered. “Yes.”

Carolina looked up, still sitting upright with her elbows on her knees, head hung so that her mess of hair was strung across her face. When she peered at Tex, it was not exactly a look of appreciation.

“Are you going to stare at me the whole time I’m having this private conversation with Epsilon?” she asked snappishly.

“You forget easily for someone so known for grudges,” Tex said back flatly. “He scrambled your brains and left them with a side of toast a few hours ago. My expectations for how well this is going are not high.”

“He knows what he did and he’s sorry,” Carolina answered.

“Then why doesn’t he say that himself?” Tex asked, tilting her head.

“Because he remembers things and he doesn’t want to see you,” Carolina bit out. “I agree that it’s not the best idea.”

“That’s fair,” Tex said “Not healthy. Not good long term. But it’s fair.”

Neither of them said a word as the ship shifted into landing momentum. When Carolina made it obvious that she wasn’t going to be the one to break the stare, Tex let out a long sigh and got to her feet, reaching for her gun and heading toward the door to wait for it to open.

“I thought these were your people,” Carolina said, grabbing her helmet. “Why do you need a gun?”

“Because I know my people well enough to not trust them,” Tex replied dryly “They’ve killed me twice already.”

“Really?” Carolina asked, grabbing her own weapons. “I might have underestimated how much enjoyment I’ll be getting out of this.”

Tex looked over her shoulder at Carolina. “Your teamwork skills suck. Why were you getting onto me about my ability to work with teams?”

The door opened without Tex getting her answer, and instead she just led the way over to Blue Base. It felt strange in her chest -- like coming home. Tex didn’t exactly have much experience with that feeling, but she suspected that this was what it felt like.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Carolina said, interrupting the moment and drawing Tex’s attention back to her. “Are my scanners correct? Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha? Are they that on the nose?”

"Basic incompetence is the name of the game,” Tex assured her just before there was a familiar rumbling of the ground. “Well, never thought I’d take comfort in that feeling?”

Carolina raised her gun. “That feeling being what exactly?” she asked nervously.

“That is the feeling of an approaching three ton Scorpion Tank,” Tex said.

“And you’re not alarmed because...?”

“We’ve been friends since she killed me the first time,” Tex said.

It was difficult to ignore the look of scrutiny that Carolina was giving Tex as Sheila continued the approach, gun aimed, and stopped short of her.

“Oh! Agent Texas! Is that you?” Sheila asked excitedly. “I have been watching Blue Base as instructed for so long! It is good to have someone back.”

Carolina dropped her gun then and tilted her head in curiosity. “FILSS?”

Sheila’s gun moved from Tex to Carolina then back. “I am confused. That is the second time since my systems update that someone has addressed me as FILSS. But Church assured me while he was here that I go by the designation Sheila now. How odd. I will document these anomalies.”

Tex looked at Sheila curiously. “What-- Wait, first, what do you mean ‘while he was here’? Are you saying that Church isn’t here now? Where the hell is he -- where the hell is everyone?”

"Processing,” Sheila said in a gentle hum before there was an audible ding. “Oh!” Her gun turned toward the caves. “There is Agent Washington and Private Tucker approaching now! How nice to see everyone coming back together at the same time! It is most convenient!”

“Wash...” Carolina said lowly.

“What the fuck?” Tex yelled, storming toward the two of them and ignoring Carolina’s bafflement for the moment, There were bigger fish to fry. “Wash! What the actual fuck is going on?”

“Oh shit,” Tucker moaned, arm over Wash’s shoulder. “Tex made it back before us.”

“Of course she did,” Wash said flatly. “She didn’t have to stop every ten minutes to let someone throw up.”

“Dude, I’m telling you, I don’t know what I ate to give me this!”

"Where the hell have the two of you been!?” Tex demanded.

“It’s a long story, don’t ask,” Wash recommended. He then froze, staring just over Tex’s shoulder. He straightened up immediately, dropping Tucker to the ground with a thud and a long whine. “Boss?”

Tex glanced back toward Carolina. She stepped out to the side more to see Wash more directly and give him a half nod. “Hello, Washington.”

“But... what... I don’t understand,” Wash said, looking more and more confused. “You’re here... but how? Why-- I mean. Hi, I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Same to you,” Carolina said tightly.

Getting angrier by the second, Tex slammed her hands together for a thundering clap and drew everyone’s attention back to her. “Wash! Where the fuck is Church and Caboose? Sheila said they left. Are they in the caves with you?”

“No?” Wash said, equally confused. “They were coming back here with the Reds. They should’ve gotten here... I don’t know, ages ago. I can’t keep track with this sun never setting.”

“You don’t know,” Tex repeated, her temper rising. “You don’t know!? What the fuck, Wash, I left you in charge!”

“You left me in charge while I was dying in a pool of my own blood, as I remember correctly,” Wash snapped back. “I made the best of the situation. We had... distractions thanks to Tucker’s stupid sword.”

“What kind of distractions?” Tex all but hissed.

“Turns out the sword’s not a sword but some kind of key to unlock something we never found because our tour guide was filled with lead before we got there,” Wash answered. “By some asshole wearing Connecticut’s armor.”

“What?” Carolina and Tex spat out at once.

“I ran into that bastard before -- York and I did at least,” Carolina informed them. “He’s one of the Insurrectionists and he was working with North and South.”

“What?” Tex and Wash took their turn saying in unison.

“Is... Is everyone alive?” Wash demanded. “Where the fuck are they all? Why didn’t anyone tell me--”

“Okay we’re getting distracted from what’s important,” Tex growled at both of them.

"The fact that I’m dying?” Tucker complained from the ground where he was now curled up around himself.

“No,” Tex said. She then did a double take and looked at Washington. “What’s wrong with him anyway?”

“If I knew, I’d help him more than dragging him around the desert,” Wash said. “As far as I can tell it has something to do with the alien that smelled like elephant semen.”

“What?” Carolina and Tex asked at the same time.

“I mean... It smelled bad,” Wash said, shaking his head and holding up his hands. “I didn’t think it smelled like elephant semen. I mean, I don’t know what elephant semen smells like. Tucker does. Apparently. It was his comparison, not mine.”

“What the fuck, did this team go completely to shit when I left?” Tex asked almost hysterically.

“Yeah, about you leaving,” Wash said, turning a critical eye toward Tex. “You going to explain yourself or apologize or anything for that? We really needed you. Church really--”

“That’s what I’m trying to keep us on point with!” Tex shouted. “Where the fuck is Church!?”

“I don’t know!” Wash yelled back. “Right now, I’m just trying to get Tucker to the base so he stops complaining. That is my ultimate goal for the moment.”

“I’m not complaining, I’m dying,” Tucker moaned.

“Shut up, Tucker,” both Tex and Wash said at once.

The ground shook once more and everyone turned to look toward Sheila as she approached them. “I believe I can be of some service. Privates Church and Caboose did come here only to leave after I mentioned my conversation with Church during my upgrade. Only Church did not seem to remember what Church told me. He concluded there was another Church and took off with Private Caboose toward where I told him the transmissions of Church and my backup saved files were stored.”

Tex felt her heart -- code or not -- sink.

“The Director? You told him about the Director?” Tex asked, voice tight and full of anger. “Where is he!? How are we supposed to deal with this--”

“I think I can help,” Epsilon said, finally emitting a sprite over Carolina’s shoulder, somewhat putting her between himself and Washington. “I... I remember.”

Carolina looked meaningfully to Tex. “We need to go.”

“I... You’re right,” Tex agreed. She then turned and looked at Wash. “Can you handle things here?”

“I don’t even know what I’ll be handling,” Wash replied truthfully.

“That’s okay, new Blue Teammates! I can give you the rundown!”

Everyone who was not Tucker rolled up in a ball on the ground turned on their heels and raised weapons to face at the new voice in the conversation. The source of said voice cried out and raised his hands, shaking head to boot, nearly knocking off the cheap chips of blue paint on the maroon armor.

“Who the fuck is this?” Carolina demanded.

“I don’t... Simmons?” Tex asked, dropping her gun.

“Yes! I mean... No. Not that Red Team guy. Fuck him,” Simmons answered, hands still high in the air.

“What are you doing here? What’d you do to your armor?” Wash demanded.

“Red Team’s all obsessed with the new people. Not like they took me -- I mean him -- seriously even when he was on that team. So. Y’know. Blue Team, whoo,” Simmons responded.

Tex couldn’t even begin to bring herself to care about the situation any further. She looked at Wash. “If I go get Church and Caboose, kill a fucker, and get back here, will this all be cleared up?”

“Not even remotely,” Wash answered.

“Okay, I’ll be right back. Sheila’s in charge,” Tex announced, walking back toward the ship.

“New Red Team guys?” Carolina asked before looking to Tex. “I thought you said we were only worried about Blue.”

“We’re not even worried about Blue, there’s too many Blue Team Problems to deserve worrying about,” Tex responded. “C’mon, let’s not waste anymore time. Looks like you and I both are going to get what we want at the same place.”

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Recovery None #Agent Washington #Lavernius Tucker #Crunchbite #Agent Texas #Agent Carolina #Four Seven Niner #AI: Sheila #Epsilon Church #Dick Simmons

11 notes · View notes