Here it is.. mah first ever Fanfiction. I've been a long time read of fanfics, but its only been until recently that I've set my mind into writing one. A couple of notes:
This takes place after Revelation, so if you haven't watched that, you probably won't understand what's going on.
This'll focus heavily on Wash and his interactions with the various Red and Blue Team Members, with special emphasis on Tucker and Sister. Don't worry, the other's will get attention too! )
This is my first fic, so comments or any kind of criticism (as long as its not flaming) is welcome and encouraged. So without further ado, here we go!
Freelancer Program Simulation Outpost-17 Valhalla
Agent Washington peered up at the sky in Valhalla (or Valhallagecallit, as certain people had christened it). He was probably paranoid. No, scratch that, definitely paranoid.
Project Freelancer (what was left of it, anyways) thought he was dead, and they certainly wouldn't have any reason to be snooping around the Red or Blue bases in a chilly, boring, wet, valley that probably didn't have a piece of tech that worked anymore (excluding Lopez, who was now sharing a computer hard-drive with Sheila. Wash didn't think either minded the arrangement, but Caboose had thrown one or two fits over it).
His new life wasn't bad, at least, he thought, no one was trying to kill him. Nor was any rogue AI attempting suicide while in his head. Hell, the worst he had to deal with was Donut constantly pointing out (bitching about) that Wash shot him. Wash, at this point, would be happy to turn the pink soldier into Swiss Cheese.
…...
"CABOOSE!" No response. "CABOOSE! YOU'D BETTER GET THE FUCK UP HERE NOW!" Tucker yelled once more. He saw the slightest shadow out of the corner of his eye. He calmed a little bit, though his patience wore thin. When you get down to it, Tucker thought, He's just a big kid. With a gun. In the (fake) army. But still, a kid.
"Yes Tucker?" The blue rookie asked timidly, just barely peeking around the corner.
Tucker motioned to his in-helmet radio. "That was Simmons. Someone tore apart the Red's computer. Have any idea who?" The rookie slowly shook his head. "You sure?" Caboose kept shaking his head. Jesus, he's probably forgotten what we were talking about. "Do you think the fact that orange juice was found in one of the ports is a clue?"
The blue trooper perked up. "Orange juice! Tucker, I… I LOVE orange juice!"
Yep, he's forgotten. "Caboose, focus. The Red's computer. Broken. You did it. Me annoyed."
"Oh yeah," Caboose sighed. "It's Lopez's fault. "
"Goddammit Caboose, when you will get over that?"
"When Lopez understands that every relationship has boundaries, and exchanging data with another person's girlfriend is not..." Caboose paused for a moment, as if thinking his sentence over, "...cool."
Tucker sighed. "Caboose, its time to get your head around it. She's a computer. Lopez is also a computer. It makes sense that they're... bonding." Tucker thought for a moment, wondering if he should let loose his favorite one-liner. Fuck it, he thought, I'll do it next time.
"You know they say the more things change the more they stay the same?" Fuckberries, Tucker had forgotten about Doc, who had just relayed vital (useless) intelligence over the com-link. The purple-clad medic was currently laying in his cot downstairs, reading an inspirational book of some sort. "You should really try thinking out of the box Tucker. In fact, I was just reading-"
"Y'know what, shut the fuck up Doc. Sometimes you can be as aggravating as Caboose. I mean, it seems like, no, the FACT is that the only other sane person here is Wash."
"Hey, where is Wash?" Out of everyone else, the medic had the most respect for Wash. It might have had something to do with the two being stuck together for an extended period of time (to Doc, it seemed like forever) in the desert. Well, the Meta was there, but he wasn't really one for conversation (Wash somehow understood the monstrosity's various snarls, but Doc had no idea how. Maybe it was one of those translator balls…)
Tucker snorted, "He's off being moody somewhere, like he usually is. Dude's gotta learn to kick back."
"Doesn't seem very healthy. Maybe he has some unresolved issues with Epsilon? We should schedule an intervention. Caboose, go get some pencils. We each need to writer a long, pointless essay telling him how concerned we are."
"Okay!" The blue rookie shouted with glee. He liked having new things to do. Plus, whenever Doc was around, he said nice things. Caboose didn't usually understand them, but he appreciated it anyway.
"Doc, what did I say about shutting the fuck up? Now you've got him started, and he's gonna be talking about it until he remembers he can't even write. Which will be never." Tucker hated it when things got like this. Wash was a better mediator than him.
Doc raised his hands in defense, "Okay, sheesh. Don't get your sword all twisted up!"
"Bow chicka bow wow!" Doc stared at Tucker blankly after the poorly thought out sex-joke.
"As I was saying," Doc continued, "You don't need to get all bent out of shape over something that'll blow over in five minutes. Church."
"What is that supposed to mean?", a distraught Tucker yelled as Doc walked back downstairs.
…...
Once again, Wash found himself staring down his battle rifle's scope, scanning the skies.
No, they wouldn't be anywhere near Valhalla. As far as Wash knew, the chairman was too concerned with the Director's trial and sentencing to be worried about a couple of rogue simulation troopers. Right?
And yet, Washington had this nagging feeling in the back of his head, that something was very wrong. It was all too easy.
"Wash, you're gonna learn when you work with us, there's no such thing as 'too easy', really isn't. You're just being paranoid."
That was when he spotted the surveillance plane.
…...
The Chairman marched down the halls in his refined, British-style. He very much looked forward to seeing Agent Washington's body. Not so much that he could see what was recorded in his communication logs, but so he could simply spit on it. Agent Washington was a failure. To the director and now to the Chairman. He should known better than too send a degenerate like David Whatshisname after something of so high a value. Even if he was the only one who knew Epsilon's location, there were other ways to acquire that information (torture came to mind).
So the last thing that he was concerned with was "cause of death." Nonetheless, it is what protocol dictated.
"Greetings Medical Officer Manning. Please state subjects name and cause of death."
The medic, clad in white armor with red trim, hesitated. "Subject: Agent Washington. Cause of death: Mechanical failure."
The Chairman was very, very unhappy about this.
In a dramatic huff, he turned to one of his various assistants. " I'm going to need every available resource remaining from Project Freelancer, be it manpower, vehicles, intelligence, or whatever! Also, I'm going to need you to contact Holding Facility 436. I'd like to speak with it's..." the slightest grimace was visible on his aged, English face, "detainees."