Author's note.

What's Up PEOPLES?

I've gotten a lot of messages and comments on how I should continue into the Recontruction series. Don't worry, I'm working on that. For right now, however, I've made a story that details the in between of both. You know how the Teams were separated in the time skip between the Chronicles and Reconstruction? Well, in order to make time and still satisfy people, I've decide to write about the events that led up to the transfer. A kind of way to make the characters grow out of WarBound and prepare them for the next biggest adventure.

And Interval is almost a small story in itself, not attached to WarBound or the next series. So be prepared to be reintroduced.


Disclaimer

The Halo franchise belongs to Bungie and Microsoft, Red vs Blue belongs to Rooster teeth. This is a fan made story.

Flamers and such, take a hitch-hike through the galaxy.


Count 1

There was a canyon in the middle of nowhere. A mere crevice to the miles and miles of unbigotten fields of other canyons that had possibly littered the area. The cliffs within this small canyon were large and tall, a deathtrap for anyone to try and climb. The only truly apparent things within the canyon were two bases, exactly the same exterior as well as interior, though the equipment was different.

These bases were different. The one in the sun had red banners hanging from its slanted outer walls, and the one in the shade had blue banners. The two bases were separated from about two or three miles of grass fields and small hills. It never rained here, never snowed, it didn't even get dark. Night time was virtually nonexistent on this part of the planet. The sun was constant on the canyon.

Focusing on the red bannered base, or Red Base, three soldiers with several verities of red colors on their full body armor were standing on the base's roof.

"Hey," said the maroon colored soldier. He was sort of tall, thin and lanky despite the small amount of bulk supplied by the armor's suit.

"Yeah?" said the orange clad soldier. His overweight belly came over his armor's pelvis plating. The third, a pure red clad, shorter than the rest though having more developed muscles than the maroon clad and a defined M6D pistol strapped to the thigh, gave a nod that their attention was grabbed.

"You guys ever wonder why we're here?" asked the maroon clad.

"No," said the red clad before the orange could say anything.

"That's it? No?" said the maroon clad.

"Uh-huh."

"No weird theory or anything?"

"I just said no dude, I just don't care."

"I'll agree with Deanis for once," the orange clad said nonchalantly, "I don't care either."

Private Deanis wore the red armor, standard to Red army. She was considered several things by her teammates, Red team's greatest fighter next to Sarge, a rotten bitch, a man by a few. Basically the only reason she was considered the greatest fighter is because she's will to get down on her hands and knees, and fight to win at almost any cost. At least, that's what she thinks.

Down around Red team's territory, a swift wooing noise came around. Down below was a levitating vehicle, purple in color and alien in design. The Ghost, though known as a motorcycle by the few on Red team, was one of three vehicles that Red team owned. Right now, the rookie private, clad in pink and on his day for patrols, was driving it, as always. Private Donut, the tallest on red team and sometimes considered the most clueless. His feminine nature causes doubt in his masculinity, just as Deanis's masculine nature makes others doubt her woman.

"How much of Lopez do you think Sarge has done?" Asked Deanis.

"He said he got the chest down," replied the clad maroon, Private Simmons. Second in command, and the royal kiss ass, "I think he's doing one of the arms. He said he might fix the Spanish problem though."

"Lopez is faking it," said the clad orange. Private Grif, lazy bastard and prick. He often has Deanis on his throat most days.

"Dude it's programmed, "Deanis said, "How the hell could he fake it?"

"Maybe he's programmed to fake it."

"Wha- Why the fuck would someone program something like that?"

Grif shrugged, "People do the strangest things."

"You're an idiot."

Donut passed by again. All the guy was doing was going around in circles, for hours upon hours until dinner. There wasn't any lunchtime in Blood Gulch, you went without. Unless you were Grif, and ate no matter what time of the day and at whoever expense. There were times that Deanis went without breakfast, which was advised against by the local medic.

There was an explosion, and it rocked the base. Grif fell to the ground, Deanis and Simmons shaken kept balance. Another explosion and Deanis knew where it came from and what was happening.

"Fuck! Surprise attack!" She yelled. In a short distance, Blue team's tank fired again at Red base. Deanis fell to her knees.

In the past few weeks, the blues had not come out to fight or battle, even when Grif or Sarge threw insults from across the canyon. Deanis figured that something was defiantly up, considering that there were battles between Red team and Blue team at least once or twice a week. Some form of revenge, Deanis had thought, something had been bound to happen and it did.

"What in Sam Hell is goin' on out here?" Sarge's southern accent carried from at the foot of the base.

"We're getting fucking attacked!" Grif yelled, as another missile rocketed the base. Deanis hit the ground, but not before following procedure and covering her head and laying flat. Without some sort of rocket launcher or Donut's good arm, they were thoroughly fucked.

Speaking of the clad pink, Donut drove the Ghost from behind the red base. He fired bright blue plasma from its guns, directing it towards the tank. It was enough distraction.

"Sarge!" Simmons said from the roof's floor, "I suggest we get the Warthog and-"

"Way ahead of you Simmons."

Sarge pulled up at the bottom of the base, driving a metal jeep with a mounted gun where the back seat would've been in an ordinary car.

"Simmons, you and… Grif," Sarge said, though he sounded like he was spitting out Grif's name, "Are with me, Deanis you take our little bad boy."

"Yes sir!" They said in unison. Simmons popped up and ran down the ramp, he had to drag Grif along, to who was suborn in coming off the metal floor. Deanis took the opposite direction, running at full speed without trying to crash into something accidentally. A near slide down the ramp, and Deanis ran to the back of the base.

Sitting away from the combat situation, stood a small four-wheeler vehicle, the M274. An ultra-light all terrain on all fours, with passenger seat and a need for speed. Sarge likes to call it a "Mongoose", which it is the usual name for the vehicle on a regular battle field anyway. Deanis didn't know how Sarge had built from the original warthog that had been destroyed when Lopez had activated its fail safe, or how he even got the plans to make this four-wheeler.

Since Donut had the Ghost, and Grif and Simmons and Sarge usual got the Warthog, it seemed natural that Deanis got the Mongoose, she even called it before it was named. The first time Deanis took it on a patrol spin, she ran head long into the base, causing a concussion that lasted several hours. If she hadn't been wearing a helmet so thick, it would've cracked open her skull. The Mongoose was right to its reputation, a fast little fucker. Overly light and under armored too, one explosion would destroy this vehicle and its occupant. Since Deanis's reputation to go in head long into dangerous situation, thinking or no, they put her to this thing.

Deanis got in and started it. It rumbled under her seat, purring at its front. She put it on full force, and the Mongoose kicked forward with what seemed like inertia's downfall. Deanis received a kick as the vehicle moved faster than she could. It as a thing that has to be timed, otherwise it would flip on its side and cause more damage to itself than whatever it runs into. Deanis whipped around the base, and into battle.

The front of the base had a small crater from the missiles hitting it repeatedly. A stronghold at the max, something admirable despite the location. The Blue's tank was busy trying to aim at Donut's Ghost. Deanis couldn't see the occupant of the tank, but it was probably Caboose, Blue team's blue clad and completely hopeless rookie. Deanis sped past. The Warthog was riding along, firing at an individual soldier. Blue Clad. Caboose.

Hold a minute, Deanis thought, if Caboose is there, then whose piloting the tank?

Something clicked in Deanis's helmet. The internal speakers to her built in radio crackled to life with white noise in the back ground of whoever was speaking.

"-Deanis look out!-"Donut's voice said quickly. Deanis caught his warning only a few second late. Coming up fast, was a blue soldier, clad in aqua and with a sniper rifle. Private Tucker was holding the long-ranged weapon like a base ball bat. Aw shit. Deanis turned sharp as Tucker swung. The butt of the weapon barely missed her, but that doesn't mean something didn't happen. The Mongoose fell to its side under her weight, and skidded forward. Deanis skidded with it, lucky that the metal didn't catch her leg or break it.

So she knew that the tank wasn't occupied by Tucker. That left three others, or two since Doc doesn't like fighting. Something yellow in color came up above Deanis's visor's vision.

"Hi there!"

Fuck.

The yellow clad, Grif's sister, more commonly known as Sister anyway, pointed a M6C pistol at Deanis's head. Deanis smirk humorless, and smacked the barrel aside, surprising Sister. The distraction was enough for Deanis to pull her own pistol out, and aim. She didn't give Sister the satisfaction of a remark as she pulled the trigger. The bullet bounced off the side of her yellow helmet, but it was enough for Sister to pull back, holding her head.

Deanis got up as fast as she could, feeling a bruise on her thigh from her skin impacting the ground hard. She could ignore it, but it'll impede her in battle. She'll have to get Doc to see about it.

With a few almost limping steps, she went to Sister and punched her guts. The yellow clad fell over, almost whining a moan if that was possible. Deanis looked away from the fallen… Soldier wasn't quite the right word for Sister, as she doesn't have any sort of military material. The battle still raged, the Warthog was playing hit-a-Caboose. The Ghost and the tank, not so much. The tank fired, and the missile hit the ground close to Ghost's floating feet. It flipped over, Donut and all.

"Donut!"


Wow, what a come back. I think

- The Counts are meant to count to the moment of the transfer and for the new series to start.

- Sarge Built a Mongoose in the Official ending for both he Chronicles and WarBound. Since everyone has a vehicle, I figure, just give it to Deanis.

Read, Review, Whatever.

Interval - Count 01