Title: Red Vs Blue: Aftermath
Disclaimer: Halo=Microsoft/Bungie, Red Vs Blue=Rooster teeth, Me=Nothing :(
Spoilers: This story takes place after Revelation so there might be a few spoilers in it.
AN: Hey Everyone, I thought I'd try writing an RvB fic. It's going to be a one-shot for now but if I get some good feedback I might add a few more chapters. This is my first RvB fic so please let me know what you think.
Location: Outside Blue Base, Valhalla.
"Why am I here?"
Agent Washington thought while standing on the upper level of blue base. He had been staring out at the landscape for about an hour while thinking about the events of the last few weeks. Since he took the blues' up on their offer to help him fake his death and join their team things have been uncomfortably quiet for the former Freelancer, true he no longer had to worry about being imprisoned, or worse, for his failure to re-capture the Alpha, he never actually taken into account for the fact that there wouldn't really be anything for him to do.
Most days since their return he would busy himself with checking their weapons and ammo caches, running routine perimeter checks , ignoring Caboose's idiotic dribble, and marvelling at Tucker's ability to turn even the most mundane statement into some sort of sexual innuendo.
"I'm a highly trained operative and I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of idiots, defending a useless base from another bunch of idiots," he said out loud, unaware of the approaching figure behind him clad in teal armor.
"Yeah, a highly trained operative that spends most his days sulking about how dull his 'new life' is," Tucker said as he walked up beside his brooding teammate. "Seriously, if I knew you were going to be such a whiney bitch about it I would have voted to leave your ass behind. But since you're here, do you mind helping me with something?"
Wash seemed to perk up at this. "What is it, are the Reds' attacking?" he asked, hoping for a chance to take some of his frustrations out on some moving targets.
"Nah, those guys are still keeping to themselves," at that Wash's shoulder slumped. "It's Caboose, a few days ago he went into the storeroom and hasn't come out. When I first tried to check on him the door was locked, I think he might've gotten himself stuck."
"When was that?" Wash asked while not bothering to even try and sound interested.
"About two days ago."
"Two days, and you're just now asking for help?"
"Yeah, at first I thought it was kind of funny but now I need to get some polish out of there."
"Polish, you aren't worried that Caboose might be hurt or anything?" Wash asked then paused for a second before adding, "Wait, why do you need polish?"
"I'd like to give my sword a good once over, you know make it shine."
"But it's an energy based weapon; do you even need to polish your sword?" Wash asked with barely a hint of curiosity.
"Well I wouldn't if there were more women around here, Bow-chicka-bow-wow."
Wash sighed. "Remind me not to talk to you again... Ever," he shook his head as he spoke. "Well I guess we should make sure he isn't dead," with that he turned and started into the interior.
"If he is, how do you want to split up his stuff?" Tucker asked as he began to follow Washington back into the base.
"I'm still not talking to you," was his only response as he continued walking towards the location of the most inept of his new "team".
"Maybe prison wouldn't have been that bad," he thought while tuning out whatever Tucker was saying next to him.
Location: Outside Red Base, Valhalla.
"... Grif."
"Huh," mumbled the sleeping form the orange armored Red Team member.
"Grif, wake up," Simmons said with more than a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"No Mommy, I don't want to wear that dress to Grandma's house. Make Sister do it," he said sleepily.
"Grif!" Simmons yelled as he gave his friend a kick to his ribs to rouse him from his nap.
"Ow!" Grif yelped as he looked up at the maroon armored Simmons standing over him. "What the hell did you do that for Simmons?"
"What the hell are you doing taking a nap out in the open right beside the base?" Simmons asked.
"What? I was tired," he responded while getting to his feet. "Besides, it's not like I have to worry about Sarge yelling at me. Man I tell you, him finding out about Red and Blues being the same has been the best thing to happen to this team. It's like he doesn't give a shit anymore."
"You mean like you," Simmons pointed out.
"Exactly, he hasn't ordered us to do anything in weeks. He just keeps himself hold up in his room, I haven't gotten this much rest since I was in art school."
"Wait, you went to art school?" Simmons asked surprised.
"Yeah, I was too lazy to get into a real college so I decided to try an art school. But I found the workload too demanding so I just slept through all my classes," Grif added as he stretched.
"Okay then... Anyway, you do have a point about Sarge," Simmons said trying to change the topic. "He hasn't been his normal commanding self, maybe we should contact command. They might have to send a replacement for him, or maybe promote someone from within the team," he said excitedly.
"Who like you? Dream on Simmons," Grif said sarcastically.
"That's Sergeant Simmons to you, now drop and give my twenty!" Simmons ordered back.
"How about I give you forty," Grif said as he lay back down on the ground and proceeded to go back to sleep.
Location: Inside Red Base, Valhalla.
In the hallway outside of Sarge's room the only thing that could be heard is the sound of faint grumbling coming through his door when all of a sudden came a muffled "That's it, I got it". The door flew open and out stepped the red armored leader of the team.
"Grif, Simmons," Sarge called out. "Argh! Why it is those morons are never around when I need them," he said to himself as he started looking for his subordinates.
Location: Outside Red Base, Valhalla.
As he exited the base Sarge came across Simmons and Grif.
"Simmons, what the hell is that dirt-bag Grif doing?" Sarge bit out as he saw him curled up in a fetal position.
"Oh-ah, napping sir," Simmons said snapping to attention. "May I say it's good to see you out and about again, do you want me to wake him up for you?"
"No Simmons, I got this," he said as he toward over to Grif. He then lifted his right foot into the air and brought it down on his chest, crushing the air out of his lungs.
"Ah! (cough) Can't... Breathe," Grif said, now very awake.
Sarge kept pressing down on him for a few minutes before allowing him to shakily get back up.
"Well done sir," Simmons said. "That is a very effective method, sir."
"Ef- (cough) Effective my ass!" Grif complained. "He could have killed me."
"We should be so lucky," mumbled Simmons.
"Hey!"
"Alright, can it you two," Sarge said to break up their little fight. "Now listen up, while you two baboon-headed nincompoops have been wasting time doing god knows what, I have been busy at work putting the finishing touches on my master plan."
"Ooh, I like plans," stated Simmons.
"Unless this plan involves any sleeping, than I'm out," Grif said.
"Err, Grif!" Sarge warned with a growl before clearing his throat. "As I was saying, I have a plan. For far too long we have lived under the oppression of the Blue menace, so I have come up with a whole new strategy to take em out once and for all. I call it Operation: Flaming Dirt-bag."
Grif sighed. "I'm going to regret asking but what is Flaming Dirt-bag?"
"I'm glad you asked Grif, first we set you on fire and then send your corpse flying towards Blue Base with the man-cannon. When the Blues' are busy examining your burnt remains, me and Simmons burst out of hiding and ambush them. Do you have any questions?"
"Well, it's an excellent plan sir but I think you may have over looked something," Simmons said hesitantly.
"Oh, and what might that be?"
"Other than the fact that we'll be outnumbered 3:2, I think you may not have taken into account that agent Washington would probably kill us without breaking a sweat," Simmons explained while trying to sound respectful. He then added, "Sir."
"Why do we need to attack the Blues anyway?" asked Grif. "I mean, you know we're in the same army so what's the point, haven't we wasted enough time fighting them?"
"That's exactly the reason we need to beat them," Sarge said. "Otherwise all our efforts will have been for nothing. Now, Operation: Flaming Dirt-bag was only one part of my master plan. Come into the base and I'll explain the rest to you," he said as he turned and entered the base.
"Yes sir, looking forward to it," Simmons said as he followed.
Grif sighed again. "And I was looking forward to getting another twenty hours of sleep too," he said as he reluctantly followed the rest of his team in.
Location: Inside Blue Base, Valhalla.
"See I told you, it's locked," said Tucker as Washington tried to open the door to the storeroom.
Wash just ignored him as he punched a code into the keypad. He then stood back as the door opened with a whoosh.
"How the hell did you do that?" Tucker asked.
"Emergency door override, it works on all the doors in the base," he paused for a second. "How do you not know that, didn't you go over any of the base instructions?"
"Hey, I've been busy," Tucker said defensively.
"Busy with what?" Wash asked. "From what I can tell all you do around here is crack smartass remarks and 'polish your sword'."
"Hey, it's not my fault the ladies like shiny things. Bow-chicka-bow-wow."
"I hate you," Wash said as he turned and entered the room in search of their blue armored comrade. "Hey, Caboose you in here, is everything alright?"
Suddenly, Caboose appeared from behind a wall of boxes.
"Heeeey, agent Washington. Um, everything is Fine. Uh, thanks for checking..." he trailed off. There were several moments of awkward silence before he continued. "Well, gotta go," he said as he slipped back behind the boxes.
"Hmm, I wonder what he's up t-" Wash mused before being cut off by Tucker who was now standing beside him.
" Well, I found the polish. Thanks for the help see ya," he said while heading back out the door.
"Wait, aren't you curious about what Caboose has been up to this whole time," he asked Tucker.
"Nope," was his reply as he rounded a corner and disappeared from view.
Wash looked at the door, at where Caboose went, and then back at the door. "Fuck it," he said and left the room himself.
Location: Blue Base Storeroom, Valhalla.
When he heard Washington leave he let out a sigh of relief. Caboose then moved some boxes out of the way to reveal a small shrine dedicated to Church. It had a few of his former possessions arranged around a metallic ball with a partially glowing eye.
Caboose knelt down toward the ball and whispered to it, "Don't worry, I'll remember." The glow seemed to intensify at his words. "And soon, you will too."
Location: Freelancer Containment Facility, CLASSIFIED.
A man in a suit was sitting in a chair in front of a reinforced glass window with two guards at either side of him. Behind the glass was a lone figure strapped to a metal table with four guards in every corner of the room, their guns pointed at the ready to shoot their captive at a moment's notice.
"The Director isn't happy," the man in the suit spoke up. "Not only did he loose both the Epsilon and Tex A.I.'s but his plans have been set back due to the charges command is bringing up against him. Of course we both know, even though he has been set back, the Director isn't a man who gives up easily. And he isn't one to turn away a valuable resource such as yourself," he waved a hand towards the captive.
The guard to the man's right talked into a radio for a moment. He then lowered and whispered into the man's ear.
He nodded and then continued talking. "Things are still moving ahead, and there still could be a place for you in our little organization if you wish agent Maine, or would you prefer to remain here?"
The Meta gave a low growl of acknowledgement.
"I thought as much," the man said as he stood with a smile. "You'll be hearing from me again soon," he said as he turned and left the room with the lights shutting off behind him.