I'm trying my hand at a sad/depressing story today. Anywhere, it is.
Wash stood before the battle field that was now coated in dead bodies. The battle had been hard and long, and he hadn't gotten out unscathed. His armor was dented and covered in blood, a bullet had made its way into his right shoulder and another into his left hip, and his helmet had a huge crack going straight across his vision. Agent Washington looked down at the body right near his feet. Dark navy blue that was covered in blood with a knife piercing through the stomach. By him lay a brighter blue soldier that had his own energy sword going through his head.
A few feet away lay two soldiers, one orange and one maroon, and both were holding brutespikers in a death grip. They lay side-by-side with many bullet holes in their armor that had gone through and killed them. Not to far away from them a pink soldier lay with a gravity hammer laying loosely in his hands as he lay with a bullet right in the middle of his brain, for it had not gone all the way through. Much farther away was a blood red soldier that was covered in needles that were slowly disappearing as time went on. These six men had fought bravely and with more heart than any other men he had ever seen.
He could still see how Grif and Simmons had stood with their backs pushed up against each other as they fired on enemies, how Sarge had sniped an enemy who was going to kill Grif, getting a thankful salute in return. He remembered how Caboose and Tucker had been throwing insults at each other as they fought, laughing the majority of the time. Donut tended to make funny comments that had all the men on their side laughing in good humor. But that's when it started, Caboose went first and Tucker followed suit, Donut got sniped, Grif and Simmons got mauled by bullets, and lastly Sarge got shot by the needler.
And now here Wash stood. He was alone in the silence of death and pain itself. He slowly took his helmet off and looked over his team one last time, looking back at the small amount of men that had made it through, all covered in scars and blood. He sighed and looked back at his dead team again. He closed his eyes and remembered, remembered all the good times he had with that gang of idiots he had found.
He remembered when he had first met Caboose, how stupid he had been and the comment he had made about the brother he didn't have being dead. Then they met Church, who turned out to be the Alpha AI, and he joined them on their mission. Then there was that time Church went flying off the grave-lift and complained about it angrily. And when they went after South and the Meta, getting Delta back and then going off to find the Meta once more. That's where he met the reds, who were just as stupid as the blues. They went on a crazy adventure to stop the Meta, destroying all AIs and information on Project Freelancer in one go.
The after being in prison, and some weird adventure the reds and blues went on, Wash joined the Meta in an effort to get Epsilon back and defeat the Simulation Soldiers. After much time spent with Doc and the Meta they found them, fighting off Tex just to get to it. After the Meta had turned on him the Simulation Soldiers saved him and killed the Meta. Then they took him in on blue team just to save him from being in prison again. Wash didn't know why they did it, but they did.
Then Carolina came along, and they were thrown into another grand adventure where they had to find Church again and the Director as well. While Carolina learned to trust Church Washington learned how important the teams had become to him. He aimed a gun at Carolina just to protect them, then followed them into hell to help them again as they fought against the robot Texs. All that crazy stuff and they still made it through, but even heros have to die someday, no one can live forever.
Wash felt a tear slide down his left cheek at the memories, but he also smiled as he opened his eyes and looked at his fallen team. He had learned so much from them and he wouldn't have traded the time he had with them for the universe or anything in it. He was going to be taken to jail for the crimes he had committed, but he didn't care. Right now all he knew was that his team lay dead before him, no longer to see the light of day. Wash sighed and turned to the men that hadn't died yet, they all looked up at him with a tiring look in all of their eyes.
"Agent Washington," one of them asked, stepping forward. The man was shorter than the others and looked younger too, his short hair was so covered in dirt and grime that it was hard to tell what color it was and his eyes were an icy blue. He held his helmet in his left hand, leaving it to dangle in the air, and he gave Wash a look of a man who had just died, seen hell, and come back to life. "Can we go now?" Wash looked at all the men and nodded.
"Yeah," he responded as a pelican came towards them. It had the UNSC symbol on the side and Wash heaved a heavy sigh, knowing was was coming. "Let's go." They all walked towards the pelican and entered it as guns pointed at them, every soldier with a weapon jumping at the sight of Wash. He sat down by the man who had asked the question and they shared a look. They were going to jail now, but they had done the right thing and they knew it, nothing could change that.
Wash's right hand reaching into his armor and pulled out a chain that hung around his neck. There were seven dogtags on there now, each one belonging to a member of his team. Grif's was all battered up and had stains on it from food and beer, Simmons was neat but battered as well from age, Donut's was the nicest looking as it shined and shimmered in the light, Caboose's had faded crayon colors on it and Tucker's looked like it hadn't seen the light of day in years. Sarge's was thick and very damaged, obviously older than the rest, and on the bottom it read 'whoo-rah'.
Wash sighed in a sad manner and put them back inside his armor, twisting his helmet back on. He closed his eyes and he could see them, all of them, his team. Grif, Simmons, Sarge, Donut, Caboose, and Tucker. All standing there in the back of his head. Grif would probably be smoking with Simmons going to grab it out of his mouth, Sarge would be yelling at them while Donut and Caboose looked over at them with a confused look on their faces. Tucker would be snickering with an arm around Wash's shoulders while the ex-freelancer scowled. That's what a photo of all of them would look like.
Wash sighed yet again and looked around at the men inside the pelican. A soldier standing by the hanger door was looking at him as if he knew exactly what was going through his head. Wash looked at him a moment before looking away and at the floor. Now he knew how Carolina felt, why she had become angry and bitter, but he also knew what it felt like to be a leader. To watch your team fight for their lives and end up losing them. And he swore that if anyone ever said anything bad about simulation soldiers, he'd punch them in the jaw.
Simulation soldiers may not be the greatest, they may not have the best training or weapons and they may not even seem like real soldiers. But the ones he had known for so long were kind and welcoming, loyal but not in a needy way, and they were the nicest bunch of people he had ever met. They were best friends but at the same time they knew when and how to keep their distance from each other when the time called for it. They always had each others six not matter what. Their joking on the battlefield had become normal and Wash didn't know how he'd go on without hearing their laughter or their stupid jokes.
They always seemed to be able to lift Wash's spirits even in the worst of times. On Valentines Day, when Wash was thinking about Connie, they had all planned a game day and hung out together in the canyon. They played tug-of-war (which the reds won), went rock climbing, and did a bunch of other stuff that was fun. Wash chased Tucker around the canyon after he had dumped water all over him and everyone had laughed.
Wash also remembered when Caboose had found out about his cat posters or when he had given him the 'whirly-twirly-straw'. Or the time Grif cut himself and he had to lend some blood to save him. Oh! And when they had run that crazy course around Valhalla on their truce day and Tucker had fallen face-first into the mud. Or the time when Grif and Simmons had been on patrol and got the shit scared out of them by Tucker and Caboose who had played a prank on them by painting their masks funny colors and screaming like lunatics.
They day they had all done drawing (prior to Caboose's request) and that other time he, Tucker, and Caboose had gone on a hike in the woods as a sort of team bonding thing. And of course he couldn't ever forget the time he, Caboose, and Tucker had chased the reds around with knives at 3am on a Saturday morning. Needless to say they hadn't been very happy with them after that and declared that they would get them back, but they never did end up doing it. They had watched many movies and Donut and Caboose had many get-togethers that sometimes ended up with everyone together hanging out, that was always fun.
Wash felt another tear fall, and another tear and another. They were his team and now that they were gone he didn't know what he was going to do, he really didn't. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, he was going to miss them right down to the atoms in him. There was all so strange and yet it had become normal to him, their arguing like music to his ears in the morning because it meant Tucker and Caboose hadn't killed each other yet. Wash often wondered about Carolina and Church, but hadn't heard from them in the longest time. Perhaps they were dead. But if they weren't dead and he met up with them...
..what was he going to tell Church...?
And that's a wrap. I admit that I cried writing this *sniffles*
Thanks for reading, please review, and have a bow chicka bow wow day.
Perla: And may it be the best day ever, of all time.