Hey again guys, Cinderpelt11 here. So sorry I haven't updated for aaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggg geeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssss ! I've been busy with stuff! I will try to update more regularly now so you guys don't have to wait as long for more chapters. Unfortunately for all you warrior fans out there, this Fanfiction will not be about warrior cats. It is however about RED VS BLUE! If you don't know what that is it an awesome halo (Xbox 360 game) based online series. If you haven't seen them then you should definitely check them out. You can find them on youtube and other sites. Anyway, this story is the same time as BrambleStar14's RvB story and we have mixed our stories together :) But this story is all about one agent. Agent ?... This story is actually the sequel to "Red Vs Blue: Lone Wolf" What happens when my OC goes to the Blood Gulch Canyon. But which team will she join? Red or Blue? Btw, to see all the details of my OC check out my profile. Also, my "Warriors Twitter" was deleted for no reason, (well nobody has told me). I am planning on reposting it and getting to the bottom of who got it deleted and why! I apologise if I get important details wrong as I am not that BIG of a RvB fanatic and rely on BrambleStar14 for most of the details. Thanks, Bramble for that little "I can name you all the characters first and last names." (He's sitting next to me as I am writing and he said that). (Yes Jason, I did quote you- deal with it.) I'm pleased how this chapter went so I hope you enjoy it too. Btw you will encounter some members of Squad Bravo (in BrambleStar's words Squad 2) our OC's. If you don't understand what the hell I am talking about then check out his rvb story and my rvb story (Lone Wolf). I've probably rambled on enough now so... on with the story.
Read and review, CinderPelt11 :) x
Disclaimer: I don't own RvB because if I did Caboose would have done something useful, you'd see Maine's face and the Red's and Blue's would need to team up for some spectacular disaster (freelancers), but hey, that's just me. ;)
HANG ON! 2 OF THOSE THINGS HAVE ALREADY HAPPENED! :O I NEARLY OWN RVB! ROOSTERTEETH! SHOW MAINE'S FACE NOW!
Recommended Author of the Chapter: None.
Red Vs Blue:
Fallback
Blood Gulch Outpost 1:
The canyon was having one of its quiet days. Over at red base Sarge's shout's echoed out, "Grif, if you don't go and clean the god damn warthog I'm going to strangle you with my shotgun, to show how strong I am. Then, I shall run you over with the warthog, that you will then clean!" As normal, Simmons voice could be heard,
"Excellent suggestion Sir; you're really proving your phenomenal qualities as leader."
"Why thank you Simmons."
"Shut up you two, Simmons you sound like a dick-tionary! And as for you Sarge, well, I would say you were crazy, but everyone in this damn canyon is crazy. Now please let me eat my oreo's."
"That's all you ever do, fat ass!"
"Do not call me FAT!"
"Or what numb-nuts, you're gonna roll over us? Why don't you just roll on over to that warthog and clean it. Before I do- with your blood!"
"Excellent burn Sir!"
"Thank you again, Simmons."
"GRRRRR!" Grif wasn't the only one annoyed about the noise.
"Guys, can you please turn the volume down, I'm trying to watch Eastenders."
"NOOO!"
"Shut up Donut, don't be a whiny, little girl."
"Yeah, especially, with that armour!"
"It's lightish red!" As usual, Lopez was complaining, although nobody understood him,
"Hola chicos, cállate que estoy tratando de concentrarme. Estoy leyendo (¿Cómo hablar Inglés para principiantes)!"
Meanwhile at Blue Team Base, Tucker was asking Washington the normal question and getting the same response,
"Hey?"
"Nya?"
"Do you ever wonder why we're here?"
"No. No I don't!"
"Oh, err... how come?"
"Well, easy. Project Freelancer was shut down so any survivors scattered. That's why I'm here."
"Oh err uh, well I suppose that makes sense..."
I looked out across the canyon. This seemed like a decent place to stay. Well- it'd do anyway. I guessed it must been one of those red vs blue training facilities. The director wouldn't find me here- and nor would he. I shuddered. Still, thinking on the positive side of things, I heard Wash, and Tex were already here; supposing that they still like me. Even so, I doubt they'd kill me. Not now. Well at least not Wash. After I saved his ass. I wonder which team they've picked. More importantly, which team do I pick? Well I suppose I'll have to see which team I get to first. I soon found out...
Really? I step towards the base, and what do I get? A gun to the back of my head. I have a feeling whoever this is was about to be surprised. I heard a voice. His voice, "Put down the gun, and everything will be fine." I turned. An orange-armoured soldier stood infront of me. I grabbed the barrel of the gun. He stepped back. CRUNCH! I unclenched my fist and all the pieces crumbled out. "Why don't you?" I suppose I shouldn't have. Especially since I was trying to make a good first impression. But I did. I punched him. Then I stamped on his fingers when he reached for his pistol. And I broke his arm. And then I shot his leg. And err... I'm not even gonna mention what I then did. He said faintly, "I'm gonna take a nap."
Here's your nap."
"GRIF!" A maroon soldier ran up to me screaming hysterically. "I-i-is he d-dead?" I sighed,
"No, I just knocked him out. Look I err.. I have-" I shouldn't have even worried. The maroon soldier stared at me as if I should know what to do.
"You knocked him out?"
"Ye-"
"Why didn't you KILL him!? That was a perfect opportunity." Grif? I wondered who this 'Grif' was. "I'm Simmons," he said, "and that useless lump there is Grif. Nobody likes him much. Who are you?"
"I'm Agent Iowa from Project Freelancer," I said. He stared at me.
"Like freelancer, freelancer?... Like- like Tex?" I sighed,
"Yes, like Tex."
"Oh well in that case, welcome to the team – this is red base and I'm Private Dick Simmons, second in command, just to say." I stared at him, confused. Did this mean I was part of the team? I soon found out. He lead me to base just as a red soldier hurried out, panting,
"INTRUDER! INTRUDER! IN-" he started.
"Ummm... Sir?" Simmons said uneasily.
"What Simmons?" The "leader" shouted.
"That's a freelancer, Agent Iowa."
"Oh, err... like- like Tex," he asked. I nodded. He edged close to me and whispered, "are you working for that dirty rotten blue team and secretly trying to kill us all?" I stared at him. "Oh. Well in that case, welcome to the team. I'm Sarge, the Sergeant of Red base and, obviously, I keep order around here. Are you looking for somewhere to stay?" I nodded slowly. "Simmons activate freelancer arrival protocol 5."
"Yes Sir."
"Oowww!" Grif stumbled in, clutching his side. Instantly, Simmons pulled out his gun and shot Grif in the leg.
"No wrong one! I meant protocol 7!" Sarge commanded.
"On it," Simmons said, "hang on- where am I gonna get a shark pit?"
"That is a good point. Oh well, I'm gonna show the good freelancer here round our base." I looked around. Were these guys crazy? Still I guess it was all in a day's work. By now I knew that Tex and Wash were over at blue base. I guess I don't have to worry about them. So red team had an orange soldier called Grif, that nobody liked. Sarge was leader. And Simmons seemed to be a bit of a kiss ass. Who else? A French soldier?
"So Iowa, this is the base. On the left side of the corridor are all the personal quarters. This is Grif's room. I have often dreamed of committing murder in this here room!" he stated proudly, like it was an accomplishment. "But I haven't yet succeeded!" he finished; now looking rather depressed. I turned back to the room. Grif's bed was not made. Last months socks lay on one of the shelves. On the floor, there was a squashed sandwich, mustard spilling out onto the carpet. A cupboard was bursting with chocolate, a pack of half-eaten oreo's falling out. Under a pile of junk, I could just make out the missing piece of Grif's leg armour. And a loose floorboard revealed, quite clearly, a secret stash of food. A sign said, (in case of apocalypse or other).
"What's other?" I asked.
"Umm... maybe best not to discuss that. We get a lot of those," Sarge said quickly.
Worst of all was the smell. Oh god, that smell was disgusting. I quickly shut the door. "And this is Simmons' room." I braced myself for another bomb site but, no! His bed was perfectly tucked in with his 'NO.1: 2nd in command' pyjamas folded neatly at the end. His guns were neatly arranged, hanging from a pristinely clean rack. Just when I thought things couldn't get tidier I saw his wardrobe. It was full with colour co-ordinated clothing- not that that would be hard, everything in there was maroon- (I mean like light maroon on one side, getting darker as you looked along.) Behind it, there was a clearly polished glass container, with hooks, obviously where his armour would go. Everywhere were laptops and various complicated keyboards. Stuff that so far had only been seen at Project Freelancer. How did he get that? Weirdest of all, on his wall was a giant poster of Sarge. It said at the bottom two words, The Best!
"Little rascal," Sarge chuckled, shaking his head fondly.
"Who's next?" I said.
"Donut." He said simply, "he's pink-" I heard an outraged wail,
"It's lightish red!"
"Who?" I questioned.
"I'm sure you'll meet our good buddy later." I nodded as he led me into Donut's room. I stared. His room was multi-coloured. His duvet was of ponies and there were stickers of rainbows and unicorns stuck all over his desk and walls. On his wall was a black poster with pink lettering, reading, 'It's Lightish Red! – Donut' He had three different 3D holograms on his desk. One of him and his cat in a sunny beach scene. He was blonde with sparkling blue eyes. He looked so young, maybe early 20's and he smiled the biggest smile I've ever seen. I looked at the message and grinned 'To Franklin, Happy Birthday. Rusty is missing you loads, love Mum & Dad. Good Luck in the military, xoxox' I looked at the cat. That must be Rusty. He was ginger; the tip of his tail, white. His green eyes looked mischievously at his owner. The next was of Donut, and who I guessed was his Mum, Dad and an even younger boy. Possibly a brother? It was sunny and they stood in front of a sign. 'Welcome to Iowa :)' "Well I have a sneaky suspicion, Donut and I will get on well," I laughed. The third picture showed 12 soldiers. On one side was Sarge, Grif, Simmons and who must be Donut stood together, along with another brown soldier. The complete Red Team? The other team were standing next to a tank and I recognised Wash and Tex, standing together. I saw a yellow soldier I had seen before. On Grif's wall. A relation? I'd have to find out. At the bottom it said, 'Last Summer BBQ!'
Sarge led me out and into the next room. On the door there was a sign that read "Bienvenido a mi habitación increíble, aunque en realidad nadie puede leer esto, jeje :)"
"Welcome to my awesome room, though nobody can actually read this, lol," I murmured. Sarge stared at me,
"But- how did you read it?" he said.
"The translate button," I smirked, pointing to my wrist, "I figured that out before the other freelancers."
"Oh. Well anyway, this is Lopez's room!" Lopez? Of course! The brown soldier, I thought. "He's Spanish," Sarge added.
"That would explain it," I said, pointing to the sign. Inside, where a bed should be stood a recharge unit, standing open, as it was not in use. A robot? I thought. In his wardrobe, instead of outfits, was about 10 sets of brown armour. Along the top were several handmade attachments, including a flashlight, an arm with an in-built wrench and a sound-proof helmet with a note saying, conveniently in Spanish, 'for missions and meetings with Sarge!'
"Never really understood what that said," Sarge said, tipping his head to the side, thoughtfully. He looked at me expectantly.
"Oh, err... my translator seems to be malfunctioning," I explained quickly. Best not to say that one out loud, I thought. At the back of the wardrobe, in a glass container, instead of armour (like Simmons), was various spare robot parts. That confirmed it. Definitely a robot. I closed the wardrobe and looked at his workbench, where the table was in the other's rooms. On it were plans. No! I
thought. He'd missed out part of the equation. I quickly scribbled an extra sum, when Sarge looked away. I smiled, satisfied. There was an upside down mongoose, hanging above it. There were parts on the workbench, which clearly indicated he was trying to attach a machine gun. Next to the door, was a bookshelf full with various books, all different, but with a similar purpose. A few titles included, 'The True English Dictionary.' 'The Ugly Duckling- Spanish & English' and 'How to be like a Human – a robot's guide in a human universe.' On the bed was a book, it looked as though it had been flung down. It read 'Spanish 2 English (written in French)'. A knife was dug into the floor, obviously in anger and frustration. On the walls were wrench's and spanner's lined up in different sizes. So a Spanish robot, who loved mechanical things, I thought.
"Last but not least," Sarge said, "is his 'in-progress' robot dog." It lifted one ear at its mention, before settling down into its basket that had obviously been hand-crafted by Lopez. "I'm still working on a human face for Lopez," Sarge stated, proudly.
He lead me to his room. On his door, was a golden plaque with red lettering, reading 'Sarge- Red Team Sergeant!' "A birthday present from Simmons," said Sarge. He suddenly looked off into the distance, a slight frown on his face and his voice became thoughtful, "it wasn't my birthday," he added. He typed in a code on a little keypad to the left of his door. Instantly, his specially-painted, red door opened. He stepped in and beckoned me to follow. I followed him in and saw that he had shelves and shelves full of trophies and medals. On his walls were military posters, some of him, some of propaganda. If his helmet was off I'm sure his face would have an expression of pride. On his bookshelf, there was several history books of battles he'd fought in. There were also a few shotgun books. ('The Life of the Shotgun' & 'Shotgun's are cool') On top, open, was his autobiography.
"I've read that a hundred times," he declared, "you should read it sometime."
"Perhaps I will," I said, not truly meaning it. I didn't want to hurt his feelings.
"Simmons read it; he loved it!" he added. I bet he did, I thought. Lining the walls, were glass cases, displaying various torture weapons. His wardrobe was pretty much the same as Simmons' although the clothes were red and they were not arranged from light to dark. Like he could be bothered, I guessed. I was also surprised that his laptop was open, obviously recently used. The screen showed images of blueprints. Weapons? His desk was littered with plans of new vehicles. Some were ridiculous and would never make it as far as Lopez' workbench. However, some had potential. One caught my eye. It was of a helicopter with just enough fuel to cross the canyon and just enough fire power to take out the opposing team's base. It said next to it in red lettering, 'Chupathingy'. His window faced out across the canyon. The view was spectacular and by far the best out of the team. On the wall was a built-in pair of binoculars.
"Oh yes," said Sarge, noticing that I was looking, "those are for spying on the blue team." I nodded. It made sense. "This is my prized shotgun," he said. In a frequently polished glass case, just above his red bed, and below his window, was his shotgun. It was gold-plated and etched into the side, with a knife, was a message, 'Blue Crusher'. On the other side was 'Grif-killer!' The handle was spray painted red with a touch of blue.
"To symbolize Blue Team's blood," Sarge chuckled. On a gold plaque it said: 'Prize Shotgun- DON'T touch- or else!'
"Anyway!" Sarge said, "let's check out the lounge. I'll leave you there to meet Donut." He pointed to the door at the end of the corridor and turned around walking off. As I stepped into the lounge I could hear Sarge shout, "Simmons, where is Grif; I need to make him clean the warthog. Also, I need to run him over with the warthog!" I smiled.
As I stepped into the lounge I could see that Donut was lounging around watching Eastenders. Grif was raiding the fridge, but Lopez was nowhere to be seen. I looked around. It was a sort of semi circle. There was a glass coffee table with military magazines scattered across it. Two red leather sofas were positioned in a V-shape by the table. A HD plasma flat screen TV was stuck to the wall; about 50". A framed photo of red team was hanging on the wall. There was a ceiling fan and spotlights were dotted across the ceiling. On the right wall of the room was an archway leading to a kitchen. A sign hung over it, reading 'Grif's Domain!' A breakfast bar was separating the two rooms. The worktops were black granite and the cupboards were white. A soda stream was on the side and over the oven was a black cooker hood.
Grif pulled out some 'Ben and Jerry's' ice-cream. He dashed off in the direction of his room.
"So-," I said, plonking myself down next to Donut. He paused the TV and stared at me.
"Who the hell are you?" he said.
"I'm Agent Iowa from Project Freelancer," I said.
"You mean... like- like..." I cut him off sighing.
"Yes, god damn it, like Tex!" He looked slightly taken back. "Sorry," I said, "you wouldn't believe how many people have compared me to Tex, today."
"So... I'm from Iowa," he said cheerfully. Everyone else yelled,
"NOBODY CARES!"
"I care," I said. They stopped yelling. "Where were we..." He looked at me blankly,
"You're uh, wearing black armour. With purple parts. Everyone knows that purple is a darker version of lightish red." Sarge poked his head through the door,
"You mean pink!?"
"Well," I said thoughtfully, "I see both sides, however, I do like to see it as lightish red." Sarge looked at me in shock,
"I'm gonna leave now!" he declared before running out. I heard yelling, screaming and cursing and knew that he had gone after Grif. I turned towards Donut. He was staring at me. Kinda creepily.
"You- you think it's lightish red?"
"Well-"
"Oh my god! We're gonna be like, BFF's!" Then, he hugged me. I hugged him back, sort of awkwardly.
"I saw the holograms in your room," I said, trying to keep a straight face and divert him from the hugging.
"You did?" he answered, looking at me with a delighted smile playing across his face.
"Yeah, they're cool." He looked even more delighted.
"W-we should hang out some time," he decided there and then.
"Yes, do you like 'I'm a Super-soldier Get Me Out Of Here!'?" I questioned. He nodded. "Meet me here tonight then- 9 ish."
"Bye!" he called as I got up and walked towards the kitchen. I exited via the back door. I looked out. Just trees, hills, rocks and- a quadbike? Hang on, was that- Lopez?
"¿Quién eres tú?" (who are you?) he asked as I approached.
"I'm Agent Iowa from Project Freelancer. And before you ask, yes, as in Tex!" I said. He stared at me, his head tilted slightly to one side. I sighed. This was gonna be a long conversation. I tapped my wrist and my message spoke out in Spanish.
"¿Qué? En realidad habla mi idioma?" (What? You speak my language?)
"Iowa! Iowa!" What now? Sarge came hurrying over to me, waving his shotgun frantically in the air. "I need to show you the shower rooms, and the armoury!" I was about to ask about a training room when, I remembered, this whole fight WAS the training.
Reluctantly, I followed him into the base. Instead of going into the rooms on the left; I was led into the first door on my right. It was the shower rooms. There wasn't anything unusual to see: benches, pegs and showers with glass walls, frosted so you couldn't see in; not that anyone would want to. Well, nearly anybody... The mental image of Grif, sneaking in, appeared in my head. Shaking it to the back, as it was obviously untrue, I looked around. The only thing strange, were the lockers. Grif's door was orange, cracked and nearly falling off its hinges. A packet of, obviously out-of-date, mini eggs were sticking out the bottom, some cracked on the floor. Spray-painted artfully across the name tag, was the word, 'SCUM!' Sarge chuckled,
"That's my handy-work," he said proudly, "had to borrow one of the Blue Team members cans; now which was it? Oh yeah the freelancer!"
"Wash, Tex?" I questioned.
"Ahh, I can't remember," he said gazing of into the distance. I couldn't imagine them graffitiing. Wash was too busy worrying about protocol, whilst Tex was well, Tex! I was pretty sure neither of them two had ever lifted a spray-can in their life! Snapping back into reality, I looked at the second locker. It was obviously Simmons. There was a little keypad, clearly a hi-tech locking mechanism. That wasn't the only reason I knew it was his, apart from the name tag. Intricate patterns were painted perfectly on the, I could have guessed, maroon door. Next was pink with rainbow stickers on. Donut's! He'd stuck a family photo on it as well as a 'Christmas at Blood Gulch' photo and a snapshot of Rusty, at about 3 weeks old.
I smiled looking at the Christmas scene. Lopez, was cutting the turkey, with a in-built knife. Donut was pulling a cracker with a smiling soldier, in royal blue armour. Sarge had stolen the un-needed carving knife, and was jabbing Grif under the table whilst Simmons was egging him on. A soldier in cobalt blue armour was trying to shoot the royal blue soldier and failing. Even though he had a sniper and was 2 ft away! A soldier was waving some kind of sword of energy around, while he clearly flirted to the, uninterested, yellow soldier. The soldier from Grif's wall. A purple clad soldier was staring around, looking satisfied at the some-what 'peaceful' scene. Grif was glowering at the sword-wielder, whilst avoiding the deadly swings of the carving knife. Wash was leaning against the nearby-parked tank, clearly face-palming. I hadn't seemed him since Freelancer went down, but he certainly seemed more care-free. Tex was eyeing up the cobalt sniper guy, holding mistletoe behind her back. "Aaaaw!" I giggled, a little too loudly. Sarge followed my eyes to Tex.
"Yes, Tex was in rather a good mood that day. Usually those two lovebirds are in a love hate relationship. You know. Like the kind of ones they show in those online series. I saw a rather good one the other day. Now, who was it by?" he murmured, half to himself, scratching his chin. "Something about a rooster..." he said as he left.
I looked at the two remaining lockers. One was slightly ajar, I could see the contents- spare parts. Obviously, Lopez'. The final one was red with shotgun stickers covering it. Along the bottom was a 'I HATE GRIF!' sticker. I stared at the other 3. One had a first aid cross on it and had the name plate of 'Doc'. Doc? I thought, puzzled. I'd ask Sarge later. The other two were empty. I guess one'd soon be mine. The other, well, who knows? I continued to think about who Doc was as I hurriedly followed Sarge out.
Doc's P.O.V:
I walked into red base. I breathed a sigh of relief. No more blue's. No more Caboose. I walked into the armoury, hearing voices. Sarge was talking with a new black and purple soldier. "Who's that?" she asked.
"I'm Doc, the medical officer. And you are?"
"I'm Agent Iowa from- you know what, all you need to know is that I am freelancer called Agent Iowa. And yes, like Tex!" she said, emphasising the last sentence.
"Well actually I was going to say like Wash but, Ok!" I replied. Sarge ignored me and said,
"Well, that concludes your tour of Red Base!" he said. "Oh, and one last thing," he added, "never, ever touch my shotgun."
"What, like mean like this?" she said, rebelliously holding the barrel of his gun.
"NOOO!" he screamed, hysterically.
The last Doc saw of them, was Sarge rugby-tackling Iowa, and the pair of them, rolling out of sight.
Meanwhile at the Blue Team Base:
"Church!"
"Not now Caboose!"
"Church!"
"WHAT!"
"I've been thinking-"
"Oh god!"
"-Doc just left to go to the Red's."
"And?"
"Well there is a new girl at the red team- she has some purple on her armour."
"Go away Caboose or I'll shoot you."
"So, what if Doc is a girl?"
"I've picked up the gun."
"No- no wait. What if Doc isn't the girl..."
"I'm putting the clip in!"
"... and the girl, is DOC!"
"Caboose!"
So, what did you think? That was a bit of an experiment. I think it turned out pretty well. Thank you Bramble for beta-ing it. Lol new word :) Also, I couldn't have written it without his knowledge and understanding of the characters, so thanks Jason :) I'm obsessed with smiley faces in A/N's :) Prize if you translate what Lopez says right at the start. Not sure what though... Please tell me if I have made a mistake in grammar, spelling etc. Also, don't have a go at me if Donut doesn't look how I described him- it's just how I view him. Please read and review,
CinderPelt11 ;) xx