DISCLAIMER: -Yawn- I do NOT own Final Fantasy. There, I said it. Not happy? Well piss off! It's called 'FANFICTION' dumbass! Oh, and I don't own Halo, Red vs. Blue or Final Fantasy (I think I already said that but it bears repeating just to be sure)!

A/N: Don't worry, I am NOT dead. For some strange reason this idea came to me after waking up in the middle of the night. What if the characters from Red vs. Blue were dumped into Spira? Cue evil grin. AU set post Season 10.

"Normal talking."

'Normal thinking.'

"Junior talking (translated)."

'Junior thinking (also translated).'

CH. 1: THE DEVICE

Yuna and her friends had just finished destroying Vegnagun, and beaten the vengeful spirit of Shuyin, reuniting him with Lenne. With the two lovers now at peace, Spira was once again spared from certain destruction. Now, as she was about to leave the Farplane, Yuna couldn't help but think that this all started with one little sphere. A sphere that she had thought contained images of her guardian, her first and true love, Tidus. She couldn't be sure that it was him, but that didn't stop Yuna from joining her cousin Rikku and setting out to find Tidus. Only to learn that the one they were seeking was Shuyin.

As she walked along the path to exit the Farplane, Yuna couldn't help but think that it was all so unfair. Why was it that she had to do so much and still not get the one thing she'd wanted most of all? It was unfair. That's when she heard it. She heard the 'whistle' that could only come from one person. Yuna stopped in her tracks and turned around, seeing Bahamut, the Fayth that had helped her defeat Sin two years ago, standing right behind her. "You want to see him again?"

"Him?" Yuna asked, partially not trusting her ears. Could it be that the Fayth were going to bring him back? The whistle echoed through the air again.

Bahamut asked Yuna. "You want to be with him, right?" She heard it again, the whistle.

"Y-yes!" Yuna let out. She missed him. Her friend, her Guardian, her one true love. Though she enjoyed being with Rikku, and their friend Paine, deep down, Yuna was still hurting over his 'passing'.

"I can't make any guarantees…" Bahamut replied nearly causing Yuna to have a heart attack from grief. She was feeling hopeful, and now Bahamut was saying it might not happen. It wasn't fair. But before Yuna could retort, Bahamut, seeing the look on her face, continued: "But we'll do our very best…" And with that, he disappeared.

XXXXX

"Gather around, people," Sarge snapped at his squad. "Hustle up, you idiots!" Grif, Simmons and Doc double-timed down the ramp next to the gatling-gun and met with Sarge down by the motor pool. Donut came in from his post among the rocks to the left of the base to join them as well. But, for Grif, it was almost more than he could take.

"Ha, ha, whoo," he grunted as he tried to catch his breath. And he was running downhill!

"Wow, Grif," Doc said in a surprised voice. "I know you're not the most physically capable person in the world but, holy cow. You really need to pick up jogging."

"Kiss my ass, Doc," Grif snapped back. "I don't need advice from a Track pansy."

"Hey, Track helped me with my confidence issues and it is good cardio. You could take a lesson from that."

"And not eat a whole fucking box of Twinkies for breakfast," Simmons added.

"You should try going vegan," Donut chimed in with his two cents. "Low fat, high fiber. Plus the clear conscious of not having killed any animals to feed your appetite."

"Can it, you twits," Sarge snapped. "We're not here to discuss Grif's diet. And I don't care."

"Gee thanks, Sarge," Grif replied.

"Shut up, fat ass," any compliment/help from Sarge about Grif was always a prelude to an insult. Always. It's like Rule #34 of the internet: No exceptions. "I called you all down here to unveil a new weapon I've designed. It should help us when we get our next mission…"

Ever since the Blood Gulch veterans finally took down Project Freelancer and wiped their records clean, both teams joined forces to form a heroes-for-hire company. With Carolina and Church off on their own adventure to secure the technology from Project Freelancer, the two squads needed something to both occupy their time and support themselves. It was Wash and Sarge's idea after they settled into the abandoned crash site of the UNSC Diadochi.

They organized their Private Military Company, or PMC, into two squads, red and blue obviously. As a job came along a squad would be assigned. Whenever a job came in they'd either alternate between squads for the job or, if it was a big job, both squads would go and work together. Sarge wanted to call their outfit 'Red Rules-Blue Sucks, Incorporated'. Instead, they called it: Exile Solutions, seeing as how they were pretty much outcasts from the regular military.

Of course, since they weren't exactly professional soldiers Wash came up with the idea of the squads spending the time in between jobs running war games and other training exercises. That way Wash could actually train them to fight like real soldiers. It still took a lot of effort, and copious amounts of patience on Wash's part, to make any headway.

Tucker was probably the best off out of them all. Wash ordered Tucker an M739 SAW light machinegun making him the group's fire support. The former Freelancer surprised everyone when he helped Tucker improve his sword-fighting skills so he wouldn't just rely on 'swish, swoosh, and stab.' But, after a few weeks Wash guessed that Tucker's skills were almost at Freelancer-level.

Sarge was the second best fighter of the group, but he still tended to be eccentric when it came to tactical planning. And the occasional uber-widget. But thankfully, Wash recognized the potential for 'unconventional' tactics. He'd been at the receiving end of a couple himself and they seemed to work…sometimes.

Tucker managed to call in his kid Junior. After a few awkward reunion moments, and calming down a flabbergasted Wash, they ordered universal translator implants for their ears, that way they could understand Junior. He'd gotten a little bigger, too, and was assigned to the blue squad as a sniper.

After Tucker and Junior, Simmons was the next best off in terms of rifle marksmanship, but still needed practice with the rocket launcher. Grif was almost worthless with a rifle, so Wash issued him an M7 SMG. But the fat soldier had good aim with the Meta's grenade launcher. On the downside, he seemed to be a constantly poor runner. Donut was decent, he just needed practice. Doc, being a medic didn't need combat training. And Caboose…well…Wash managed to get him to the level where he wasn't shooting his teammates. It's important to set realistic goals and work incrementally. He wasn't a miracle worker by any means.

Wash rounded out the armaments by ordering himself a suppressed M6C-SOCOM pistol and a single-shot, under-barrel grenade launcher for his battle rifle. He also equipped Junior with a suppressed M7S SMG. Everyone else kept their standard M6H pistols.

And since most of the really dangerous jobs were always being taken by bigger, and better funded organizations they had to make do with the odd, wacky and bizarre jobs that seemed to pop up: cleaning up after the escape of rabid alien-rabbit-hyena hybrids on a science planet; raiding an energy drink factory to obtain evidence of the illegal use of steroids in their recipe; babysitting a politician's prized pet Chupacabra and making sure it didn't eat any of the cattle of the neighboring ranches…well, you get the idea.

Occasionally, they'd get a job where they'd have to actually battle real enemies; usually pirates and criminal gangs and the like. One time they had to fight off a pretty vicious cartel that was trying to over throw a small colonial government. But, thanks to Wash's training they were able to pull through and get pretty decent pay.

Now, back to the Reds…

"You built another super-weapon?" Simmons exacerbated. "Sarge, don't you remember when you tried to build the tachyon-death-ray cannon?"

"You tested it on Mittens," Doc whined.

"But instead of dying," Grif added, "Mittens turned into a giant, fucking sabre-tooth-bitch-cat and we had to get the blues to use their tank to kill him." 'But, the steaks that night were delicious.'

"All he wanted was a ball of yarn," Doc continued to whine over the passing of his pet.

"And I never understood why people insist on continuing to use poor, defenseless animals as test subjects," Donut complained. "And you guys didn't have to have a barbeque, either!"

"He wasn't very defenseless after being turned into Catzilla!" Grif snapped at their effeminate squad member. "Besides, we needed new blankets anyway. Wool sucks, dude."

"Fur is murder!"

"Shut up," Sarge grunted. "The test may have been a failure and I would've corrected the deficiencies if Wash hadn't torn it down."

"Deficiencies?" Simmons asked rhetorically. "The thing turned a three-pound kitten into a fifty-foot-tall, carnivorous monstrosity and the back charge knocked you unconscious for a week!"

"Like I said, just some minor technical glitches. But, we digress," Sarge moved over to a crate. "This device is different. I've already incorporated the changes I would've made to the death ray cannon and now…"

"Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute, Sarge," Simmons interrupted. "First you built the death ray, fucked up the test firing, came up with the corrections, built an entirely different weapon and then applied the corrections to the same?"

"Exacto-mundo, Simmons."

"I do not have a good feeling about this, Simmons," Grif muttered.

"And we are not testing it on another animal!" Donut snapped. "I've got PETA on speed-dial. One phone call and they'll be on your ass, Sarge. All over your ass!"

"And I can't stand to lose another kitten!" Doc whined again.

"We won't need to," Sarge responded.

"Once again, Caboose," Tucker's patience with the dumbest soldier in history was almost constantly hovering near the breaking point. The duo were observing red base from a pile of debris adjacent to both bases. "This is a recon exercise. That means you're supposed to be quiet."

"Well, I hate the silence," Caboose whined. "And I'm hungry."

"You could've eaten that hot pocket I gave you before we left, you idiot."

"But it was still cold. You can't eat a cold hot pocket." Sometimes Caboose wondered why everyone insisted on being so stupid. "That's why I'm waiting for it to heat up in my pocket."

"Why the hell do you have it in your pocket?" Once again, Caboose never failed to confuse the absolute shit out of Tucker.

"It's called a hot pocket for a reason, Tucker." Caboose replied matter-of-factly.

"Caboose, you make it hot by cooking it in the microwave!" Tucker tried to get through to Caboose's primitive mind. Emphasis on 'try'.

"Well then they should've called it a microwave pocket, instead!" Duh! Right?

"Jesus…Caboose, just go back to your post."

"But the birds in the nest are making my ears ring." Caboose was full of complaints today.

"How the hell-you know what? I'm not even gonna bother asking. The answer wouldn't make any fucking sense." Tucker went back to spying on the Red Base with Junior's sniper rifle. Junior swapped it with his mommy's/daddy's SAW as he and Wash went to check the other side of the box canyon. "Now, just, go back over there," he pointed to spot just out of ear shot, "and keep an eye out for Wash and Junior." Caboose shuffled back over as Tucker zoomed in on the Reds. "Now, what are they up to now?" He noticed the jacked up crate they were gathered around. "Knowing Sarge, that's probably something bad."

Over to the side, Caboose spotted Junior and Wash coming back from their own recce through the ravine that cut through the canyon. Mission complete, Caboose went back to Tucker's side. "Do you miss Church at all, Tucker?"

"No," Tucker replied with a slight groan. "And don't even start with that again, Caboose. We've been over that a hundred times."

"What about Carolina?"

"Especially not her!"

"Wha-? Oh come on, Tucker," Caboose was flabbergasted. "She's a lady and you like the ladies."

"Yeah, she's about as lady-like as Tex. You remember her?"

"Yeah. She was really scary. But she's sleeping now in computer heaven."

"Computer, what?" Tucker shook his head, feeling the oncoming of a headache.

"Besides, I think you and Carolina would've made a cute couple. You both wear baby-puke-colored armor, you both like to blow stuff up. And you both like vanilla lattes!"

"Caboose will you sh-wait. How the hell do you know that she likes vani-?"

"Report!" Wash barked interrupting the conversation.

"Son of a bitch!" Tucker jumped up in surprise. "Caboose!" He glared at the team moron/mascot. "Why didn't you tell me they were back?"

"You told me to keep an eye out for them," Caboose replied. "You didn't say anything about letting you know when they got back." Everyone deadpanned. "Details, Tucker. I. Need. Details."

"Oh for shit's sake," Tucker groaned as he gave Junior his sniper rifle back.

"What's going on at Red Base?" Wash asked once more as Tucker shifted his SAW in his hands.

"Well, from the looks of it," Tucker replied as Junior peered through the scope at the base. "Sarge is up to his old shenanigans again."

"Not another experimental weapon?" Wash hung his head in annoyance.

"Afraid so," Junior confirmed. "He's built another device. I hate it when he does this."

"We all hate it," Wash agreed. "Well, let's get down there and find out what it is. And maybe, we can destroy it when they're not looking."

"Totally!" Tucker liked that idea. "I'm still pissed about last month's saber-tooth cluster-fuck."

"You know," Junior spoke up, "I can just shoot it from right here." The alien-human hybrid said as he zoomed in on the crate, his finger gently massaging the trigger. "That'll break it and teach those shisno, fuck-nuts a lesson."

"As impressive as that would be," Wash said taking the lead. "We need practice sneaking into an enemy stronghold. Remember how you guys fucked up sneaking into that old crone's mansion?"

"Mansions are tough, dude," Tucker replied.

"She was deaf and half-blind but you still managed to alert her the second we got inside!"

"And it didn't help that she ran over Grif with her Rascal Scooter," Junior added with a slight chuckle. "Funny as shit, but still…"

"That was just pathetic," Caboose said solemnly. "Even I know that." And with that the Blue Team began their infiltration.

"Wait, wait, wait," Simmons recoiled after Sarge finished his briefing. "You mean you don't even know what this thing is going to do?"

"No," Sarge clarified. "I have a theory…"

"Yeah, and by theory you mean 'anywhere from a giant explosive device to a brown note generator'."

"Exactly."

"Sir, first of all, that's not a very scientific theory. And two, there's no fucking thing as a 'brown note'!"

"Then how do you explain how Grif soiled his pants on the Crone Mansion mission?"

"She was screeching like a fucking banshee!" Grif replied. "I mean it was like: 'Gyaaaccchhh! Aaaaahaaaahhhheeeeecccchhh!' I still get nightmares about it." Even just imitating the shriek got Grif shivering slightly.

"Grif," Doc spoke up. "If it makes you feel any better, I was scared, too. Remember how I patched you up after you got run over? I was still shaking."

"I know," Grif growled in response. "You nearly cut off circulation to both of my legs and my dick when you applied the tourniquet!" That was not something anyone should have to experience. "Oh, and you didn't have to announce to everyone that I had shit my pants."

"Just trying to help," Doc shrugged. "And I was trained to talk out the symptoms and injuries as I go to make sure I don't miss anything."

"Soiled battle armor is NOT a symptom or an injury!"

"Grif," Doc drawled on, "I'm the medical professional here, and I'm pretty certain that uncontrollable bowel movements are considered a symptom."

"Yeah," Sarge chuckled. "A symptom of being a pussy."

"Okay, Sarge," Simmons spoke up again. "Not saying that we should, but where do you intend to test this…thing?"

"We are NOT using any of my kittens again!" Doc protested.

"Still got PETA on speed dial!" Donut sided with Doc.

"Doctor Virgin - Medicine Bitch, you and Queen Donut of the Jungle shut up," the Red Team leader shot back. "I'll show you all where we'll test it. This way," and with that he led the reds past the caves to the engine launch platform on the other side of the base.

The Blues saw them move away from their hide in the refugee camp site in front of Red Base. "Okay," Wash whispered. "They won't be gone for long, they'll be back soon. Unless they start bickering about random shit again."
"That's a likely probability," Junior replied.

"That may be true, but let's not take chances." He turned to his team. "By twos…"
"Just like Noah's Ark," Caboose whispered.

"Shut up," Tucker groaned.

"Leap-frog formation…" Wash continued.

"I don't think those were on the Ark," Caboose added.

"Shut. Up." Tucker growled through clenched teeth.

"Tucker and Junior first…"

"Let's not forget the Unicorns this time!" Caboose protested.

"Oh my God," Tucker held his head. "Can I shoot him?"

"Just move it!" Wash snapped. And with that Tucker and Junior dashed forward and hid behind the Warthog. "Caboose! Move!" Wash led the resident idiot up to the crates. The pair ducked behind the boxes and Wash looked to ensure the Reds were still preoccupied. "We're still good." He waved Tucker and Junior up to their position.

"What the hell is this thing?" Tucker asked as they examined the 'device' in the crate. It looked less like a piece of genuine military equipment and more like something some middle-school student made for a B-Grade, high school sci-fi play. There were wires haphazardly arrayed throughout, a pair of Tesla-coils jutting out the top, a microwave oven, a Hemi-diesel, a couple hydrogen-fuel-cells, a wind-up monkey and a whole bunch of strange tubes, gear boxes and fuck-knows what else.

"Two words," Wash replied after looking the device over, "Bad and day."

"That's three words," Caboose spoke and everyone ignored.

"It looks like some kind of thermonuclear generator…"

"I hear a 'but' coming," Wash said.

"Bow-chika-bo-ow!" Tucker was jabbed in the gut by Wash's elbow.

"But with all the random-ass shit attached to it, I don't know what the fuck to expect of this,"Junior added.

"Think you can dismantle it?" Wash asked as he too looked over the contraption.

"I don't think we should even try."

"Just leave it to Sarge to build something that's too dangerous to even destroy," Wash added with a sigh. "Let's see what we can gather from their conversation." He turned to Caboose. "Caboose, you stay here and don't, touch, anything!"

"Okay," Caboose nodded. "Don't touch my anything." The other Blues just groaned, realizing that it would be the best they could do. The trio then snuck up to the ramps to spy on the Reds.

"Ooh," Caboose rubbed his aching tummy. "I'm hungry."

"Psst!" He heard a whisper off to the side.

"Huh?" He turned to see a kid wearing a purple hooded jacket. "Hello!"

"Psst," the kid motioned for him to follow him to the other side of the device.

"Are we playing hide and seek?" Caboose asked as he followed. "I love this game!" When he rounded the device the kid was standing there. "You're not hiding very well." The kid didn't say anything. He just pointed up at the device. "Hm?" Caboose looked and saw the microwave. "Yay! A microwave! Now I can cook my hot pocket!" He turned back. "Thank you for-" But the kid was gone. Caboose didn't even notice the oversized firefly that was flying away. "Huh? Where'd he go?" But, the infantile-minded Blue soldier just shrugged. "Oh, well. I'm starving." And with that he put his hot pocket into the microwave.

"Wait," Simmons stopped Sarge in mid-sentence. "You're saying the trigger mechanism is the microwave?"

"The countdown timer, yes."

"That was my microwave!" Grif bitched. "I was using that microwave! Why didn't you use Doc's? He never uses it!"

"I needed something that I knew would work. And because it'd piss you off. Heh, heh."

"Let this be a lesson to you, Grif," Donut put his Nutrition-Nazi hat back on. "Eat healthy, properly cooked foods."

"Shut the fuck up. I refuse to take nutrition advice from some ass-clown named 'Donut'!" Grif shot back angrily.

"Okay, Sarge," Simmons was an expert at tuning out bullshit. He's had lots of practice. "Where did you want to test this thing?

"Well, in order to get a good gauge of the effects of the blast…"

"Assuming that it is a bomb…"

"We need to mount it somewhere high. I don't want to risk damaging our base. And I don't want the Blues interfering. That means…"

"You want to test the device along the Big Arch?"

"Not along it, Simmons," Sarge clarified. "On the top of it."

"Seems like the same bad idea to me, sir," Grif added.

"At least it's not one of my kittens," Doc joined in.

"Shut it!" Sarge snapped. "I will not tolerate my subordinates second guessing my work! Now the way I see it going down is…" He stopped when they heard a thunder-like rumble come from their base.

"What the hell was that?" Simmons asked.

"What the hell was that?" Tucker asked when they heard thunder coming from Red Base.

"I don't know," Wash replied.

"Uh, boss…" Junior spoke up when he saw the Reds heading back to base.

"Oh, crap. Here they come. Withdraw!" And with that the trio moved out towards the refugee camp. "Caboose! We're leaving! Move it!"

"But-!" Caboose was about to protest. The microwave only just began to start shaking. That meant the hot pocket was almost done…right? He looked back and saw the device shaking even more with electric bolts dancing across its surface. "Uhh…yeah maybe I should…" He took off. "Running, running, running, running!"

"What in sham-hell!?" Sarge barked as Caboose disappeared into the debris camp. The Reds ran up to the device. "Which one of you idiots turned the machine on? And whose fucking hot pocket is that?" He turned to his most hated soldier and growled, "Grif?"

"A hot pocket!" Donut snapped. "Really, Grif!? Have you learned nothing from me? Shame on you!"

"Don't look at me!" The orange member of Red team snapped. "It's not mine!"

"None of us did!" Simmons snapped. "We were all with you, Sarge!"

"So who sabotaged us?" Sarge asked looking around but not seeing anything. Not even the retreating Blues.

"Sarge!" Grif shouted, pointing at the device. "How do you turn it off!?"

"You can't!" Red leader snapped, turning back to his least favorite subordinate.
"Sarge! This isn't the time to get over-protective of your mad scientist creation!" Simmons screamed as he began to look the device over, trying to find an 'off' switch, and failing.

"No," Sarge clarified. "I mean I designed it so that it can't be turned off."

"You mean you have no idea how to stop it?" Doc asked.

"I needed to take precautions," Sarge explained. "If I were ever possessed by another A.I. I wouldn't want to risk the enemy using my knowledge against us."

"That is the dumbest fucking thing ever!" Grif shouted. "Of all ti-!"

"Um, guys," Doc interrupted when he noticed the device getting really animated. "I think we have a problem here…"

"I think we've got a problem here," Junior observed from the abandoned hanger where their Mongooses were hid. The others looked back and saw the device pulsing with light. Pulses that were getting faster.

"That's not good," Wash said.

"Aw, fuck-berries!" Tucker swore. "Did the Red's turn it on already?"

"They didn't get to it until after it started shaking."

"But, the only other person who was near it…" Wash stopped himself in mid-sentence as he and the others turned to Caboose. "Caboose?"

"Um…" He replied nervously. "I…"

"I thought I told you not to touch anything!"

"But I was hungry!" Caboose complained. "So I used their microwave to cook my hot pocket!"

"Why did you have a-?"
"Dude," Tucker interrupted, "don't ask."

"You didn't use the microwave on the device did you?"

"If I did…" He examined everyone's tense body language. Why they were tense he wasn't entirely sure. So he just gave them the truth… "It was only because I was hungry."

"Son of a bitch!"/"Son of a bitch!"/"Son of a bitch!" Cabooses teammates swore.

"Son of bitch!" Sarge shouted. "It's about to blow!"

"What do we do?" Grif asked.

"Grif, you and Doc wait here. You two come with me," Sarge said dragging Donut and Simmons away. "Get in the jeep," he whispered to them.

"Uh," Grif shook nervously as he stared at the device which was beginning to glow. Doc noticed the others climbing in the Jeep and decided to bolt for the Red Team's Mongoose. "Guys…this thing is-!" He was cut off when he heard the Warthog's engine turn over. He turned and saw his team tearing off without him, and Doc peeling off on the bike, kicking up dirt into Grif's face. "You back stabbing, cock-biting, MOTHERFUCKERS!" He screamed at them as he chased after them.

"Wash," Tucker pointed to Red base. "The Reds are hauling ass outta there!" Wash looked and saw the device beginning to draw objects towards it.

"And I think we should emulate them," Wash said turning to the bikes. "Let's get the fuck outta here!" And with that, the Blues mounted up on a trio of Mongoose's and sped off.

"Doesn't look like anyone is home, Carolina," Church said to the Freelancer as they pulled up outside Blue Base.

"Where do you think they are?" The daughter of the Director of Project Freelancer asked. "Think they're off on a mission?"

"I don't know," Church said looking at the Blue motor pool. "If they are, they left the tank behind."

"They better not have left Caboose behind, again," Carolina growled folding her arms across her chest. "Like they did with 'Operation Red Bull'."

"No offense, Carolina," Church replied as the hologram of a miniature blue soldier armed with a sniper rifle turned to face her. "But I never would've pegged you for the protective 'big-sister' type. But, no. Remember what Wash told us over the radio?" Carolina looked to the side, recalling the conversation. "Not only did Caboose catch up with them, but as they were leaving the factory, he set it on fire!"

"Yeah, and it exposed an underground strip poker league," Carolina nodded with a slight chuckle. "Who would've imagined?"

"Yeah, he's really fucking annoying at doing that." At that moment they heard a rumbling sound. Both turned to look in the direction Red Base and saw a bright, pulsing light beginning to emanate from the other side of the central ridge. "Wuh, oh…"

"I've got a bad feeling about this…" Carolina said lowly. Everything went blank white as a loud 'DING' echoed through the canyon followed by a powerful rush of wind.