Full Synopsis: In another world, the news of Felix and Locus' departure from Chorus makes its way to the tiny planet's last lines of defense. The information gives the forces a renewed hope, a new directive, and… a new trap to stumble into. Scattered, they are forced to hold their own in a very unforgiving world. [Canon divergence from Season 13]
I wrote this last year as Season 13 was progressing and it was an absolute blast to play around with in real-time with the series. It was also my first time really trying out a truly ensemble cast for RvB and I was extremely proud of the results. I hope it's still enjoyable for all those reading!
Red vs Blue and related characters © Rooster Teeth
story © RenaRoo
Divided
Chapter One: Armonia
He blinked away the haze in his sights. It hurt, but it wasn't anything more than he had been trained for, that he hadn't felt before. And if anything, the pull and surge of the neural implants was disturbingly routine in many ways.
"Just a moment more," Doctor Grey called from behind him. "Wow, these are incredibly advanced. It's hard to even resist looking into them more thoroughly."
"Well, as long as they're still connected to my brainstem, I'm hoping you find the strength," Wash replied dryly.
"As long as you're more handy with them intact!" she sung back before roughly slapping her hand on Wash's shoulder. "Ha, I'm joking. You're safe with me, silly. And also, you're done."
Humming in response, Washington gathered himself and raised out of the chair, rotating his shoulders. It'd been a long examination, but hopefully everything had checked out. Locus had given him more than a fair share of lumps in the assault on the radio tower.
Agent Washington had quite the inspiration for returning the favor sooner than later.
"Thank you, Doctor Grey," he said formally. He would have tried to work up the energy to smile at her, but the long hours he'd put into instructing the Chorus troops made that feel like a difficult measure.
Not that she would have needed it. The tiny doctor had smiles in spades. Her bright white teeth shown back at him as she put her hands on her hips. "No, thank you, Agent Washington! You mustn't underestimate what an honor it is to practice on our planet's greatest heroes!"
Swallowing dryly, the former Freelancer looked toward the door, reaching for his discarded helmet. "Yes, well. Let's hope that we actually earn that title, Doctor."
The sound of an explosion could not have been more convenient if Wash had set a grenade himself.
Cursing under his breath, he latched the helmet on and grabbed for his gun. "Starting with cleaning up whatever mess my men started this time," he hissed. Without any hesitation, he began to run out of Emily's quarters, only looking over his shoulder to call back, "You might need to be on standby!"
"Oh no worries! I'm well equipped for a Code Caboose!" she shrilled back in return.
"No," Wash groaned to himself, "No one's ever really prepared for a Code Caboose, Doctor Grey." He would know, he had spent a few years with him at that point.
He had spent a few years with all of the Reds and Blues - sometimes friendly, sometimes not. And yet they still managed to surprise him almost daily. Now with Carolina and Church back in their ranks, Wash found that he never knew what to expect.
Except for bickering. That was just a given.
"When you say 'alien artifact' it translates to 'deactivated', which doesn't get transported. When you say 'high powered laser gun and assault rifle' that translates into handle with extreme caution, how do you not understand that distinction yet?"
"It's not a distinction, Simmons, it's a basic level of comprehension. And basic level of comprehension, if you haven't noticed, is a few levels above what Caboose is capable of."
"Hello! Am I talking now?"
"NO."
"Oh, well, alright then. I will go back to shooting -"
"Shut up, Caboose."
"That's why I'm not yelling at Caboose, Grif! I'm yelling at Donut."
"Me? What did I do?"
"You gave the gun to Caboose!"
"Come on now, guys. I think we're all observant enough to know that I can't be responsible for handling every man."
"Bow chicka- you know what. Forget it. I'm zoning out now because every time Donut's involved with my phrase it's predictably wrong. I don't even know why I waste it around you guys."
Slowing his run, Wash sighed, his grip on his rifle loosening as he entered the storage garage the Reds and Blues had commadered beneath Central Command. Predictably, the misfit soldiers almost immediately refocused on him.
Wash sighed, shoulders sagging. "Who got shot?"
"Hello, Agent Washington!"
Groaning, Washington rubbed his visor rather uselessly and slowly walked past the other brightly glad soldiers to make his way to Caboose, still laying on the floor with his bloodied boot off. "I suppose in some way this is poetic justice," he muttered.
"No, Agent Washington, this doesn't even rhyme," Caboose said, rolling his head toward Wash as the Freelancer knelt beside him.
"Ho ho, I can lay you down some sick rhymes right now," Tucker cooed from behind Grif and Simmons' duo. He began to lean forward, arms out but Wash raised his hand to halt him before he ever got started. "Ah, man."
"Later, Tucker," Wash humored as he reached into his back pouch, grateful that time with Caboose had him prepared for weapon discharges. "It doesn't look that bad. Do you want the blue gaze, Caboose?"
"That would be awesome!"
"I hope you carry more than that into the battlefield, Washington," Sarge's gruff voice called as he stepped past his men. "I would bleed out before the enemy and my ancestors before I ever thought of utilizing such garish field equipment!"
"Oh, please," Grif grunted.
"No. I would hope you all carried your own preparations," Wash said without so much as looking over his shoulder at them. "Sarge, Tucker, it's good to see you back in Armonia. And unusual. Did everything go well with Carolina?" Or did she send you back packing? goes unsaid.
"Oh, that's right. Wash! We're looking for you!" Tucker said, slapping his hands together.
"You are?" Wash asked. "You didn't even leave the garage. Why am I not surprised."
"Hey, now you're found. As far as I can see, that's an accomplished objective," Simmons snapped back.
"Awesome! Go team! Great job everyone!" Donut called out, elated.
"Oh, now it's cake time?" Caboose shifted to jump up until Wash grabbed his arm and, as gently as he could while still keeping the excitable soldier's attention, pulled him back to a sitting position.
"Private Donut!" Sarge howled, "There will be no orders of celebration until every last one of our enemies are lying in pools of their own blood, face down in the battlefield!"
Cutting the gauze, Washington eased Caboose's arm around his shoulders and helped him up. He turned and looked to the other Reds and Blues. "Okay, you've officially got my attention. Why were you looking for me?"
"Well, not to get too excited," Tucker began, his toothy grin visible even past his bright visor. "But Carolina, Doyle, and Kimball need you. We took a base and got some info. Turns out Felix and Locus aren't on Chorus anymore."
Wash felt his face drop. "What?"
"The cowards turned and ran!" Sarge hackled.
"Yeah, dude, they need you in the war room!" Tucker continued, nearly bouncing with energy. "We're going to try and win this now!"
Vanessa Kimball was not an easy woman to address normally. Doyle couldn't help but feel that receiving this news was really the first time since their armies' union that they even approached being on the same level.
"The pirates are still a problem," Kimball reminded him lowly. "And with that equipment - if they're still manufacturing it even without Felix and Locus - we have more than enough of a problem on our hands."
"Yes, but without centralized leadership and without Felix and Locus, our forces - under the command of Agent Carolina and the Reds and Blues, of course," he noted with a look to the fully armored Freelander in their midst, "-have proven to be more than adequate in handling these barbarians!"
"In small numbers."
Jumping slightly in surprise, Doyle quickly turned on his heels to watch as Agent Washington entered the premises.
"Oh, good! Agent Washington," Doyle greeted, his nervous laugh just skating beneath the level of obvious. "So glad you could join us!"
The larger of the Freelancers nodded. "Doyle," his head jerking toward the women present, "Kimball... Carolina. Church, I'm assuming."
"Here, asshole," Church responded, a dim glow from Carolina's shoulder emerging. "But busy."
"Charming," Wash returned flatly.
"Epsilon is running correspondence between us and the outpost my men are holding," Carolina explained more thoroughly. "He's feeling a bit stretched thin. And cranky."
"Hey, I'm fine. Didn't I say I'm fine? I told you I'm fine."
Wash crossed his arms expectantly, making Doyle feel relieved that at least one of the present leaders was more familiar with the Federal Army's perspective on issues. And seemed less comfortable with the persistent presence of AI and stranger circumstances than the rest of the PFL army.
"Tucker told me that you think Felix and Locus are off Chorus," Wash said. "Do we know why?"
"No, but neither do their men," Carolina answered. "Believe me. We've had our share of getting them to talk."
"Not to mention the tactics used at the last several outposts we've taken have been lacking, among other noticeable differences," Kimball added. "My soldiers have reported several times coming across half assembled bases in the last raids."
"And just from experience, I couldn't imagine Locus allowing such performance within his own ranks," Doyle chipped in.
"Felix only cares about money," Kimball continued darkly. "If they weren't about to get a paycheck..."
"Maybe that would have been the case before we bruised their egos," Washington reasoned, "but now? Now it is a matter of reputation and pride. And even for Felix that's going to mean far more than any money Hargrove is pulling from them."
"But they are gone," Carolina spoke up. "We're certain of it."
"We just don't know for how long," Church spoke, finally showing up at full glow. "Listen, we've got these remaining scientists and pirates on the run. Their weapons are cool, but they don't know their butts from holes in the ground right now. And their asshole mercenaries are nowhere to be found."
Doyle turned more fully to Washington, his time to contribute fully upon them. "Agent Washington, the majority - if not all - of the remaining forces of enemies are gathered at the last of the radio jammers across Chorus. Even with the return of our former confidantes, should we take that outpost and control it again-"
Wash's face tilted back, realization dawning. "We can send out signals into UNSC territory again. Contact the authorities."
"We could end this war and save Chorus," Kimball agreed. "But... we would need a full siege. And we would need to act now. And I'm not certain we're prepared."
"Look, there's lots of ifs here," Church spoke up. "There's a lot, and to be honest, we might lose a few good people out there. But if we can take this radio jammer, I personally can see to it that the entire UNSC knows about everything - about Chorus, about the mercs, and about Charon. About Hargrove. And it'll be a lot faster and a lot less deadly than if we sit around on our butts and wait for those bastards to come back and act first."
"Of... course we will still protect Armonia with a small infantry," Doyle reminded them.
Kimball visibly bristled even in her armor. "Of course you would," she gritted between her teeth.
"It's not a bad idea," Washington urged. "But, Kimball, if you will lead the troops you will also have the both of us and our men backing you. And we'll do everything we can to minimize damages."
Slowly, the tan and blue general nodded, seemingly finding the information acceptable.
"Alright. Alright. We can do this."
Doyle breathed with relief. Of course they could.
"And finally we will assert our position as undeniable and unavoidable victors in this conflict when we aim our shotguns at the belly of the enemy and leave them with a reminder of their defeat! And by reminder I mean an impressive amount of lead filling those bellies!"
"Oh my god, how much longer can he go on with this?" Tucker asked, rounding to Grif, Simmons, and Donut. "It's been hours."
"It's been more like minutes," Simmons corrected dryly.
"But yeah, he can go on for hours," Grif countered. "I suggest learning to fall asleep in your helmet with the shield up. It's done wonders for me over the years."
Sarge ground his teeth. "Grif! Are you paying attention to these battle directives?"
"Directives?" Grif asked, facing the newly appointed Colonel. "Uh, if you happened to be giving directives, maybe. But all you're doing is saying what you usually say when you talk to us. So no."
"You wouldn't be listening even if they were orders, Grif," Simmons snarked.
"No, you're right, Simmons. I wouldn't be. But since I know how much you pay attention, why don't you tell me what Sarge was saying."
"I can tell you what Sarge was saying!" Simmons bristled. "It uh. Was an inspiring and stirring speech about the Red - I mean Chorus army. And how. Um."
Grif stared at Simmons long enough to make the maroon space marine fidget. "Literal years of listening to his tantrums and you can't even fake your way through this? Really, Simmons? Years of ass kissing down the drain-"
"Simmons!" Sarge interrupted. "Is it true you haven't been paying attention!?"
"Well. I mean. I haven't not been. It's just that there's a lot to think about in these dire times, Sir."
"Things that don't include your speeches," Grif surmised dryly.
Sarge sputtered, cursing that the Generals had demanded a common law for all military personnel to unload weapons within the Central Command, and also Grif, before turning toward the last of his men. "Donut! Tell Grif and Simmons what they just missed!"
"Oh, man, you guys! You just missed this awesome speech Sarge gave!" Donut responded quickly. Then, for a beat, he took a breath.
"And, Numbnuts?" Grif demanded.
"He pointed out a major flaw in the pirates' armor. They really don't articulate well with the midriff."
"Dammit, Donut."
"And then he talked about-"
"Don't finish that thought."
Sarge gripped his shotgun ever tighter. "Absolute insubordination! Nothing makes your false promotions more glaringly false than your inability to take the chain of command seriously!"
"Pay attention, old man, the only one given a false promotion here was the one who demanded it in exchange for helping this planet," Grif ground out.
"Hey, guys, when was I promoted?" Donut asked in earnest.
"You weren't, shut up," Grif ordered.
"This is exactly what I mean! You don't give orders, Grif!" Sarge bellowed. "I do! And you're insistence on not listening and giving your own orders is confusing Donut!"
"Well, that's not wrong," Donut agreed. "I am confused."
Before another word could be shouted, Washington cleared his throat, drawing the Red's attention to his entrance.
"Oh, thank god," Tucker breathed from the corner of the garage he and Caboose had retreated to. "I wasn't going to stand another minute of All in the Famliy." His head tilted toward Caboose. "And I'm pretty sure Caboose wasn't able to hear himself talk anymore. We had only minutes before his brain didn't realize it was still working and cut off vital systems."
"What's the news, Wash?" Simmons asked.
"Simmons!" Sarge cried out. "Now you're doing it too? Oh what will become of the Red Army?"
Washington looked at them for only an instant before turning toward Tucker and Caboose. "Kimball is leading as many troops as we can spare to the coordinates you two and Carolina uncovered from the last raid. Hopefully by taking the main tower, Epsilon will be able to transmit off planet and contact the UNSC past Charon's blockade. Right now Kimball is gathering her soldiers and prepping for transport. We should get ready to charge with them. We've dealt with these guys enough that we'll be able to curb the battle into our favor with minimum damage."
"Right," Tucker responded, brandishing his sword with a wicked grin for extra effect.
"Yes! Okay good. What should I do, Agent Washington?" Caboose asked eagerly.
"Caboose, you're staying by me at all times," Washington responded immediately. "Come on, Tucker, we need to get ourselves and Caboose ready."
"Ugh, alright," Tucker said, resigned, before grabbing Caboose's elbow and leading him toward their barracks.
Wash stepped after them before pausing, turning back to Sarge. "Sarge. Uh. Prep your men as well. I guess."
"Wash. Why?" Grif groaned.
"Absolutely," Sarge responded before turning once more. "Grif, you're slouching!"
Donut wasn't exactly familiar with the transportation cubes - he probably had the least experience of his friends. But he knew they weren't exactly a pleasant form of transport.
And the more people the worse the pull was supposed to be. When it was the ten of them, the cube had felt like their insides had been turned in and out before returned right back inside. Not the best feeling ever.
So as the near hundred of them gathered - Red, Blue, Fed, New - as garish and unpresentable as their clashing colors might've been, Donut had to wonder if it wasn't the impending hurdle that was making him feel so uncomfortable rather than the Federal Army's bland stripe patterns.
Kimball was shouting orders, with some soldiers - the News the guys had been training in particular - in full attention. The Federal soldiers... less enthused. And for the second time that day, Donut wondered if he should have paid more attention.
"Are you ready?"
"AH!" Donut shouted, turning quickly only to be met by Wash. "Oh hi, Wash! Yeah, I'm ready. I'm just not a big fan of these cube thingies. I mean. They completely waste your diet, you know? I don't watch my carbs just to have my stomach turned inside out on them!"
"Yeah, I'm not a fan either," Washington admitted. "But they're efficient. And so far, they've been safe."
"It's just that popping noise, you know?" Donut continued. "It's like an explosion in your face. And I've had enough of those."
The Freelancer agent didn't quite flinch, but he shifted his weight heavily, nodding darkly.
"Oops, sorry!" Donut responded brightly. "I was just keeping up conversation-"
"At the ready!" Kimball shouted over the soldiers, everyone forming tighter lines.
Five cubes lifted in the air.
"Here comes the boom," Donut groaned.
"NOW!" Kimball ordered.
Donut tensed for the vacuum of energy to yank at them. Instead he was met with a fiery steam that blasted through the ranks. He hardly took a breath to scream when he felt the weight of Washington's armor knocking into him, blasting them into the distant wall together.
Not far off, Lopez's yelps in Spanish were heard, the crashing of the pending vehicles bursting around them. Soldiers yelled.
Donut's visor cracked just before he was lifted and carried, half dragged, from the inferno. By the time he adjusted to the crack in his vision, he could see that half the building was in flames... half was gone - like a surreal painting, the building was cut in half, sliced with the brick and mortar shaved from the very streets.
"Donut! Donut!" Washington laid him out on the pavement. "Status, soldier!"
"Ow?" Donut responded, eyes locked less on Wash than on the flaming robot nearing them, shouting in Spanish before turning to look at the destroyed garage.
"Oh god," Wash muttered, turning to look at the building. "What the fuck just happened?"
Donut hoped it wasn't a real question, because he was quite sure none of them knew.
