Red Vs Blue: Legacy of the Lost
Episode One: Welcome to Blood Gulch
Disclaimer and announcements: This story is co-opted with The-Stupidest-Author-Ever and any OCs you see are hers. We do not own Red Vs Blue but are simply messing around with its plot and characters.
Dear Director,
According to my intelligence, I am aware that your Project Freelancer is in possession of a valuable… asset. However, there has been negligence in its responsibility, when I believe it will help us end this war. Now, if I have been told correctly, this asset currently resides in the Blood Gulch Simulation Ground. I also understand the results of your "Freelancer" program have been satisfactory, especially your agents' recent elimination of rebel activity. Therefor, I will be sending in a team of your mercenaries to monitor this asset, and retrieve it if need be. Should they encounter problems, then it would also be an excellent time to test their combat readiness.
The sky was crystal blue as far as the eye could see, stretching in every direction until it touched the endless ocean below. A single sun was in the sky, gleaming a brilliant yellow. It would have blinded the two pilots as they flew across the sky if they had not had the shades of their helmets. The two seater Sabre-class starfighter soared through the sky, exhaust fuel trailing behind it.
"Do you think that we'll be able to find the asset quickly?" Agent Tex asked. He heard a laugh from his partner, the co-pilot.
"Why? Do you have a hot date waiting for you back at headquarters?" Agent California asked.
"No, just making sure you get back in time for that pilates class," Tex bit.
"Nah, I quit those a long time ago," Cal laughed, turning his head to look at his partner.
Tex only rolled his eyes behind his shiny black helmet. Suddenly a beeping sound filled his helmet, making him glance at his radar. They had arrived. The soldiers could already see their destination ahead. A great island spread out before them, with giant earthen walls. Tex heard Cal report into Command through the radio.
"Recovery Three calling Command, come in Command," he said
"We read you Recovery Three," the operator responded in a nasally voice.
"Alpha One, we have arrived at the Blood Gulch simulation ground," Cal said. "Preparing to land. Over."
"Yep, loud and clear. Let us know how it goes down there. ...And maybe grab a bag of chips while you're down there. Kinda hungry up here."
"Um… okay."
"Roger that, over and out."
"Recovery Three, out."
The agents both wore confused glances at the unorthodox nature of Blood Gulch Command. He certainly wasn't like any of the officers they spoken to. Hopefully they wouldn't have to communicate with him much. Agent Cal spotted a landing sight not too far off from the target zone and pointed it out to Tex. The black-armored Freelancer landed the Sabre by the side of a rocky cliff, sand flying into the air in all directions. The loud roar of the starfighter softened to a hum and then died altogether. By the time the dust settled, the two Freelancers' boots dug into the loosened dirt.
The intense sun burned their dark armor, but neither felt the heat. They clipped their assault rifles on their backs and pulled out their pistols. With an exchange of looks, Agent Tex took point, leading towards a dark crevice into the rock wall, slipping through it into a narrow tunnel. The pair wedged their way through the darkness, pausing when they made it to the other side.
"Well, it looks like we're here," Tex announced.
Stretched out before them was a large canyon. The same walls that had greeted them on their descent surrounded them, touching the sky above. The floor of the expanse rolled into hills of dirt and dull grass, looking baked underneath the unforgiving sun. The landscape was completely desolate, only towering boulders filling the empty fields. In the distance, Agent Tex narrowed his eyes at a gleaming steel structure. Apparently that was one of the local forts.
He allowed Agent Cal take the lead as they began to trek through the hilly terrain towards their destination. Their dark-colored armor was a sharp contrast against luscious green and light brown that made up the canyon. It was this fact that alerted the occupants of the canyon to the newcomers' presence.
On the south side of the canyon, a Red army soldier in yellow armor was observing the expanse of Blood Gulch from the roof of his base, when he noticed movement in the corner of his vision. He quickly brought his customised SRS99 sniper rifle to his eye. He looked through and spotted two figures stalking across the canyon, heading north.
"Uh, Sarge," Corporal Andrew Snyder called over his shoulder, keeping the two figures in his sights. "We may have a situation up here."
Immediately, a man in polished red armor rushed from the interior of the base and onto the roof, running up to Snyder and his partner, a Private First Class wearing dull maroon armor by the name of Richard Simmons. The man in bright red armor carried a shotgun, that Snyder was sure he slept with. An air of authority surrounded him, enough for his subordinates to respect him. Well, most of the time, at least.
"What's the problem, soldier?" Sarge asked, a southern accent lining his words. "Are the Blues up to something?"
Snyder looked through his scope again, watching the slow progress of the two figures making their way across the canyon. He zoomed in a little to get a clearer image of them and could clearly make out their armor color and armements. One was wearing solid black armor and carried an assault rifle and had a pistol strapped to their hip. The other one wore the same dark armor, but crimson red stripes were painted on their helmet and shoulder pads. They too carried an assault rifle strapped to their back, holding a pistol.
"Uh, no, sir. It looks like two Special Ops soldiers," Snyder reported. "They're headed for the Blue base and fully equipped for combat. Should I shoot them or what?"
"Are you crazy, soldier?!" Sarge exclaimed. "Don't shoot them! Don't you see? Command has obviously recognized what a great commander I am and accepted my request to fight off these Blue bastards. Those men are here to help us." Simmons cocked his head to the side, thinking about his superior's words. He eventually turned to look at Sarge.
"But, sir, as intelligent and profound as that idea is, what if those Special Ops guys are here to help the Blues?" he asked. "In fact, it's just as likely that they're here to kill us."
"Holy hell! You're right, Simmons!" Sarge exclaimed, making his fellow Reds cringe at the sudden volume. "We need to send someone to spy on them and figure out what their true intentions are."
"Not it!" Snyder and Simmons both said at the same time after looking at each other for a second.
"Excellent!" Sarge said proudly. "You'll both be going."
"Fuck!" both Reds swore at the same time.
"Now get going!"
"Yes, sir."
Realizing they didn't have a choice, they both leaped off the roof onto the canyon floor. It was only thanks to their modified armor that they could accomplish such a feat. The Red soldiers sighed as they began to trudge across the barren ground.
On the opposite side of the canyon, Private First Class Leonard Church stood on top of Blue base, alert for any attacks from the Reds. As if there ever was. He had pulled guard duty this week and would see it through, even though it was the second worst job in the barracks (first being bathroom duty). But doing this was becoming increasingly difficult, as Church's turquoise-armored teammate kept shouting up to him about something that was "awesome."
"Come on, Church!" Private Second Class Lavernius Tucker shouted up at him. "You have to see this."
"I can't," the pale blue-armored soldier shouted back, not bothering to look in his direction. "I'm on guard duty. Or did you forget?"
"Church you really need to see this," a green-armored soldier called up to his superior. Private Jack Wilson stood beside Tucker, admiring the newest addition to the Blue Army's arsonal. "I mean, when was the last time you saw a tank?"
"Ugh, I said-wait. Did you say a tank?" Church gasped. Without a second thought, he ran across the roof to look down at his fellow Blues.
Sure enough, a giant M808B Main Battle Tank took up the space next to the fort, easily half the size of the broad building. It had four separate all-terrain treads, each having a makeshift "seat" on top. The center held the cockpit for the driver, underneath a giant barrel easily longer than a man. A barrel that was capable of sending 90mm tungsten shell almost at the speed of sound.
"This here is 66 tons of straight-up, H.E.-spewin', dee-vine intervention!" Wilson cheered proudly, badly mimicking the Red commander's accent.
"Yeah, Command dropped it off when they dumped our supplies for the month," Tucker said, never taking his eyes off the giant tank.
"I'll be right down," Church said after a few seconds of consideration.
He ran down the ramp that ran off the roof of the base to the outside. He quickly joined his comrades admiring the grey monstrosity that was now theirs. After a few minutes of staring in complete silence, Wilson shook his head and looked at Church and Tucker, who were still gazing.
"Soo... what's the catch?" he asked.
"What did you say?" Tucker asked, almost dreamily. Church turned to look at him.
"What do you mean?" he asked
"What's the catch?" Wilson repeated, gesturing to the tank. "We've been out here in the ass-end of nowhere for years and this is the first time Command had given us anything other than basic rations. Why?"
"Well, there was a new recruit who helped me load the supplies in the base," Tucker replied, still not looking away from the tank. His voice shifted back into the dreamy state it had previously been in as his mind shifted back to fantasies about the tank. "I wonder how many girls I can pick up in this thing."
"Dude, we're in a canyon in the middle of nowhere," Wilson pointed out. "There are no girls."
"Hey, Tucker, did this new recruit tell you his name?" Church asked, ignoring his comrade's comment.
"Yeah, yeah," Tucker said, ignoring both of them, practically drooling in his helmet.
"Ugh, just great," Church groaned, rolling his eyes. He turned to Wilson. "We're not getting anything out of him for awhile. Go see if you can find this new recruit, before he wanders too close to the Reds and gets himself killed. I'll do what I can to drag lover boy over here away from our tank."
Wilson nodded and ran back into the base. Church turned back to Tucker and briefly considered hitting him over the head with his rifle, but quickly dismissed the idea. Instead, he had a better one. Church turned around and began casually walking back to the base, not even looking over his shoulder.
"Oh, well, I'll guess I'll head back to base," he called in an overly-narrative voice. "Shame all we had was this tank. I heard the Reds got some chicks on their team. But, we're just fine hanging out here, by ourselves, in our base… But, hey, if you want to stare at a useless piece of junk all day-"
Church trailed off and looked over his shoulder to see if he got a reaction, knowing women was Tucker's weakness. He would certainly have a comment on that and the soldier could knock some sense into him. Instead, the playboy had disappeared.
"What the-?" Church whirled around and frantically scanned the area, only for his stomach to drop when he saw the retreating form of Tucker, who was sprinting at full speed towards the Red base.
"Well done, Church, well done," he muttered to himself sarcastically, starting to stalk back onto the roof.
There was no hope of stopping the teal soldier now. Besides, once he got to the Red Base, it wouldn't take him long to run right back. Church sighed as he returned to his post, making sure to track his comrade's progress through the scope of his rifle.
"This is right up there with that time you stood around like an idiot when the girl you used to date killed every one right in front of you." he continued to grumble
Inside the base, Wilson searched for this mysterious new recruit that Tucker had told him about. He didn't find him until he heard several bangs coming from the armory and repeated "ow" sounds. Cocking an eyebrow, the Blue slowly entered the room. He was greeted with the sight of a man in dark, regulation blue armor. Surrounding him were crates of weapons and supplies, but instead of the neat piles Wilson spent all morning organizing, the boxes were scattered all over the place. Several were spilled open, leaving their contents scattered all over the floor. Covering the stranger's head was a small box, giving him a ridiculous appearance. Wilson's eyes widened in horror.
"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed as he looked around the room. The stranger's boxed-head turned, but in the opposite direction of Wilson's position.
"What? The boxes did it! They're evil and attacked me! It's dark in here!" the man explained hurriedly.
He tried to walk towards the sound of Wilson's voice, but was instead nearing a wall. Before the Blue soldier could give a shout of warning, the recruit tripped over a box and slammed his face into the wall. Wilson cringed underneath his helmet as the man let out a shout of pain.
"Ow! Who did that? Why are the boxes so mean?!" he demanded, the sheer volume of his voice making Wilson wince again.
"So you must be the new recruit," he sighed.
"Who said that?"
"Private Jack Wilson. Nice to meet you."
"...Are you a box?"
Wilson groaned. Rather than answering the man, he went over to his pathetic form and ripped the box from his head, revealing a helmet underneath. Yep, certainly the new recruit. Before Wilson could assist the man up, the man leaped to his feet, nearly knocking the private onto the floor himself. The Blue soldier couldn't help but lean back in surprise… and at the fact that the recruit was still yelling.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you! You saved me!" he exclaimed, before suddenly dropping to a suspicious tone. "Wait… Are you working with the boxes?" Wilson sighed again.
"No…I'm not working with the boxes," he groaned. "I'm on Blue team, just like you-regrettably. And you are…?"
"Oh! My name is Michael J. Caboose! ...Or you could just call me Caboose. Everyone else does. Except for my mother, she's-"
"Oh-kay," Wilson quickly interrupted, already annoyed by the man's rambling. "Glad to know. Mind telling me what hap-you know what, I don't wanna know. How about I just show you around?"
"That would be nice," the recruit chirped. There was a pause before he gasped, "Hey, would you like to be my friend?"
"No," Wilson deadpanned, already hating his life.
Dear Chairman,
I can assure that no such asset has been neglected and find your concern unfounded. My simulation grounds are constantly being monitored by the finest analysts under my command. The data we retrieve from them could possibly change the outcome of the war we find ourselves in. I am insulted that you would accuse me with of such a severe oversight. I would also like to point out that my Freelancers are meant for operations that would change the outcome of the war, not to monitor something that does not exist. As such, I would rather you not waste my time or the time of my Freelancers. But should anything pressing come up, I would like you to notify me at the earliest opportunity.
Sarge stood on the roof of the Red base, looking towards the direction Simmons and Snyder went. They had disappeared over a hill along with the Special Ops soldiers. Instead of feeling concerned, the Red commander sniffled as pride overwhelmed him.
"Such brave warriors. Going out to the great unknown for their fellow comrades," he praised. "I trained them so well."
"Um, excuse me, sir?" a voice said behind him.
"Don't interrupt me, I'm having a moment!"
"Sarge, I got someone to introduce you to," a second voice added.
"Sheesh, such a drama queen," a third one snickered.
"Ugh, Grif, haven't I told you not to interrupt me when I'm thinking about respectable soldiers such as Snyder and Simmons?" Sarge asked, turning to face the trio of soldiers. "And Lancaster, shut your goddamned mouth."
The dark crimson-armored man snickered again, but said nothing. Next to him stood a man in orange armor. Behind them both was a man who stood slightly shorter than Sarge with the exact same colored armor as the Red commander. The southern-accented leader looked over the man who looked exactly like him and flinched.
"Who on God's green earth is this?" Sarge asked.
"Private Donut, sir, reporting for duty," the stranger introduced.
"Private… Donut…."
"Yes, sir."
There was a long pause as Sarge simply stared at the man. Suddenly he turned to Grif, growling, "You had something to do with this, didn't you?"
"What? What did I do?" the orange-armored man cried.
"I'm the new recruit Command sent, sir?" Donut interrupted.
"Oh, yeah…" Sarge realized. "They did say something about that. ...I think."
"Yeah. I came to deliver the new vehicle you ordered, sir."
"What the-? I didn't order any new vehicle," Sarge said, confused.
"Actually, sir, you did," Lancaster replied. "About two weeks ago."
"Oh, right," Sarge said. "Well then, we should go down and name it!"
"Uh, name it, Sarge?" Grif echoed.
"What are you waiting for, men?!"
Without waiting for another reply, the commander leaped off the roof in a single bound, sprinting away.
"Um, sir! The vehicle's the other way!" Donut called. Sarge skidded to a halt, spun on his heels, and sprinted towards the opposite direction.
"I knew that!" he said almost sheepishly. Grif and Lancaster groaned before following him, Donut trailing behind. They journeyed to the back of the base, where they immediately skidded to a halt.
"Whoa…" Grif breathed.
Before them was four-wheeled vehicle covered with steel plating. It had no roof, having the cockpit exposed with a large machine gun turret loaded on it's back. Sarge was already admiring it, turning to his subordinates when they arrived.
"May I introduce our new light reconnaissance vehicle," Sarge announced. "It has four inch armor plating, mag-lift suspension, a mounted machine gun turret and total seating for three. Perfect for our army."
"But sir with Donut, there are six of us now," Grif pointed out.
"Exactly! Me, Simmons, and Snyder can ride in it while trying to run over you two," Sarge said excitedly. "And Donut here can give us directions...should we need them."
"And what exactly is 'it?'" Lancaster asked.
"Well, the Warthog, of course!" Sarge replied.
"Warthog? Where the hell did you get that?" Grif asked.
"Because, dirtbag, it has these two towing hooks at the front and they look like tusks. Now what animal on earth has tusks?" Sarge explained angrily.
"A walrus," Lancaster deadpanned.
"A hippo," Grif said with an equal uninterest.
"You're making that up," Sarge snapped.
"In my opinion, if anything, it looks like a puma," Lancaster suggested.
"Yeah, your right," Grif said. "If you squint your eyes it kinda does."
"Now you're just making up fantasy creatures!"
"No, it's a big cat," Donut insisted. "You've never heard it of it?"
"It's a Warthog!"
"Puma," Lancaster snapped.
"Warthog!"
"Puma."
"Wart-"
Suddenly their bickering was interrupted by a high-pitched scream echoing across the canyon. It made the Reds flinch and looked wildly around for the source.
"The hell was that?" Donut demanded.
"Son of a bitch!" Sarge gasped. "It's Snyder!"
"Yeah, I got sights on them," Snyder reported as he peered through the scope of his DMR. It wasn't his favorite weapon, but whenever Sarge decided to send him on reconnaissance mission, whether it may be for Blues or random Special Ops soldiers, it was a useful tool.
"What are they doing?" Simmons asked, using a harsh whisper.
"Walking towards the Blue base. And you can talk normally. They can't hear us."
Snyder went back to his scope, seeing the pair of strangers sprint away from them. Damn, they were fast. However only a second later, Simmons spoke up again, not raising his voice.
"What are they doing now?" he asked.
"Oh, for the love of God," Snyder groaned, putting down his scope. "Let's just follow them before we lose 'em."
Not waiting for his partner, Snyder shot away, racing after the trespassers. Unfortunately the Reds' armor stuck out against the canyon's colors, but as long at their prey didn't turn around, they wouldn't be spotted. Thanks to his gun's scope, the soldier could see the Special Ops clearly, only for them to disappear over a hill up ahead. Fair enough. It meant the strangers couldn't see them, either-and that hill could be a good spot to spy on their destination.
Simmons following on his heels, the scout crossed the plains, slowing his pace when he got to the bottom of the hill. They slowly climbed to the top until they could see what was going on on the other side of the hill. When Snyder saw the barren plains that greeted him, he blinked.
"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed. "They're gone!"
"What? They can't be gone! They were just there!" Simmons yelped.
"Come on."
Throwing caution into the wind, the Reds raced down the hill, where the Special Ops should have been. Snyder paused and looked around, confused. Nothing.
"Where could they go?" he demanded. "There's nowhere to go!"
Suddenly he flinched at a scraping noise. Before Snyder could find the source, a lone, loose stone the size of his fist rolled between the two Reds. Both men stared at it for a solid minute before Simmons finally broke the silence.
"Did you throw that rock?" he asked.
"No," Snyder replied. "Did you throw that rock?"
"Nope." Both Reds looked up at each other and came to the same conclusion at the same time.
"Oh, fuck!" they swore.
They turned around and saw the two Special Ops soldiers standing in front of them with assault rifles pointed at their heads. Both Reds stood stock still, afraid to move.
"I blame you for this," Simmons said angrily.
"How am I to blame?" Snyder asked.
"Shut up, both of you," the grey and red one growled in a deep, gravelly voice.
"Why are you following us?" the black one demanded. If his partner's voice was deep, his was impossibly so.
"We come in peace," Snyder joked, using a robotic voice.
"Shut up, you idiot," Simmons snapped.
"Oh my God, they're already annoying me," the black one moaned.
"How about we kill them?" his buddy asked. "We could blame a rock slide. No one would know the difference."
"Hmm, good point. Shall we?"
Without warning, the black one charged at Snyder at an impossible speed. The Red let out a yelp, even squeezing the trigger of his DMR. However the stranger easily dodged the bullet and ducked underneath his weapon. The Special Ops snatched his gun and shoved it out of the way, twisting around at the same moment. He landed a brutal punch at Snyder's gut, right between the armor plating. The Red gasped as all the wind was knocked out of him and doubled over. Before he could collapse on the ground, the man twisted again, bringing his captive's arm along with it. Snyder whined when his limb was bent twisted painfully, but it was cut off when the Special Ops raised the man over his head and slammed him into the ground-only using his arm.
Simmons had no time to help his comrade. He glanced at the black soldier pouncing on his friend, but only when he looked back to the second stranger, he was greeted with a fist to his helmet. The impact shattered his visor. Simmons wailed in shock and pain as his head snapped back. He felt his arm being grabbed and soon found himself face-first in the dirt with his arm held in a painful position behind his back.
"Hey, come on, let me go," the poor Red begged.
"If you say so," his captor replied.
With one hand still on his twisted arm, the Special Ops snatched his neck. He stood up and whirled around, lifting Simmons off the ground. The Red wailed as he was spun around, only to go-literally-flying through the air. He crashed onto another nearby hill, only to roll over its crest and tumble head-over-heels… Right into a man in turquoise armor who was running straight for the fight.
"Hey, watch it!" the new guy said as he toppled over with Simmons.
The two soldiers picked themselves up and picked up their weapons. The Blue looked over at the fight that was progressing between Snyder and the black soldier.
"So what'd you guys do to piss them off?" he asked as Simmons caught his breath, the grey one watching them.
"We were following them," Simmons panted, hands on his knees.
"Hey, I know this might be a bad time, but do you have any chicks at your base?" the blue soldier asked. Simmons turned his head to look at him, taking his attention off of the grey Special Ops soldier.
"No, we do no-" he started before a high-pitched scream pierced through the air.
Both soldiers snapped their heads towards the noise only to see Snyder hunched over himself, holding his crotch in pain, as the black Special Ops soldier crouched, his fist still raised level with the Red's sensitive area.
"Ooww…" the yellow soldier gasped and collapsed onto his side, falling like someone had shoved him.
"Ooh, that had to hurt," Tucker winced.
"You think?" Simmons retorted.
"Help," Snyder croaked, coming as a barely audible squeak.
"One down, two to go," the black Special Ops growled, taking his assault rifle from his back and aiming it at the man's head.
The stranger just placed his finger on the trigger when suddenly, a loud, obnoxious tune filled the air. The black soldier perked his head up, distracted by the noise. Meanwhile his partner looked around, trying to find the source. It sounded like it was coming… closer.
"What the heck is that?" Simmons asked, speaking what was on everyone's mind. Tucker only glanced at him and shrugged.
Simmons wished he hadn't asked when the answer came. Suddenly a roar of an engine filled the air, almost drowned by the intolerable noise. Suddenly, a greyish-green vehicle flew over one of the small hills that surrounded the group of soldiers. As the turret truck landed, Simmons heard loud whoops and cheers coming from the cockpit of the vehicle. The armored jeep flew through the air… right towards the red and grey Special Ops soldier.
Simmons just barely heard him curse as the man noticed the incoming vehicle. The Red was convinced that the special ops soldier was going to be plowed over, but then he did something unexpected, making everyone's eyes widen.
Just when one of the vehicle's hooks was an inch from the soldier's thigh, the man bent his knees and leaped straight up into the air. He turned horizontally in midair, spinning at a dizzying speed. He just barely stayed above the car as it swept under him. The soldier flipped midair again, landing where the jeep had once been in a crouch, legs spread across the ground and a fist planted in the dirt for balance. It had all happened in a second, and Simmons and Tucker stared, still unsure if what they saw was real. The black Special Ops didn't even glance at his partner, instead following the strange vehicle as it skidded to a stop. Simmons couldn't believe what he saw.
"Sarge?!" he gasped.
"Goddammit grif, who the hell taught you how to drive?" Sarge said from the passenger seat.
"It's not as easy as it looks, okay?!" Grif retorted. "Why are there six pedals and only four directions?"
"Well, this just gets better and better," the red and grey one commented, rising from his crouch.
"Simmons! Don't just stand there daydreaming!" Sarge snapped. "Get over here and man the gun!"
"Yeah! Come on, dude!" Lancaster yelled as he hopped out of the turret spot.
"Right!" Simmons yelped as he gripped the handles. He turned the triple barrel towards the black soldier over his comrade, but the large machine was heavy. How was he ever going to fire it? He gulped and shouted, "Open fire!"
Dear Director,
While I know that your organization has helped the war effort immensely, I would like to remind you that no one is above scrutiny in this time of conflict. However, your point is well made and while normally I would pull out the squad I have sent to the simulation grounds, I have received some distressing information. It appears that the shadow organization has gotten ahold of some of your project's data and replicated your work, to a degree. My reports also indicate that a large squad has landed near the Blood Gulch simulation ground. With their superior numbers, your freelancers may have an advantage and be able to send us more data on the organization. Until such a time arrives, I will refrain from meddling in the affairs of your organization.
"What do you mean, you don't know how to drive it?" Church demanded.
"What other meaning is there?" Wilson snapped back. "It's not like it comes with a start button or a manual!"
"Great! So we're stuck with a tank that nobody knows how to use?"
"Oh, oh! Why don't we ask it if it has a tutorial?" Caboose asked with his hand raised like he was in school.
"Sure, go talk to it all you want," Church drawled, walking back to the roof. "I'll be on the roof."
"I guess I'll come with you," Wilson said.
Both Blues moved to head towards the ramp that led to the upper level of the base, but stopped when a familiar sound filled the air, echoing off the canyon walls from a distant part of the battlefield. Gunfire.
But instead of the familiar sounds of an assault rifle or DMR, the shots sounded deep, constant. Like a machine gun. And a big one.
"Well, that can't be good," Wilson said. "Do you think the Reds have turned against each other?"
"No way we would be that lucky," Church said, starting to move up the ramp. Only when he made it to the roof, he stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh, shit! Tucker! I forgot all about him!"
"What? What about tucker?" Wilson asked, panicked.
"I told Tucker that there were chicks at the Red base to get him to stop staring at the tank and he sped off. We've been working on the tank so I forgot. That's probably him that's getting shot at. Fuck! How could I be so stupid?"
"Why would you tell him that?"
"To get the stupid loser to stop staring at the tank! I didn't think he would be that much of a loser! Just come on!" The man meant to run towards the sounds, but halt before he leaped off the roof, turning to Caboose. "Caboose, stay here, guard the tank. And whatever you do, do not touch it."
"Okay!" the man called from the ground.
Church and Wilson jumped off the roof, landing square on their feet and taking off at a sprint.
Tex rolled behind a rock just before the bullets hit him. Why Command had decided that then was the time to upgrade the simulation's weaponry he would never know. he looked around for Cal only to see him running full sprint for a rock a few feet to Tex's left.
"Kill them," Omega hissed in his head.
"And how do you suggest I do that?" he growled as a black, shadowy hologram appeared appeared in front of him.
"Their gun will jam in three seconds," Omega replied gleefully. "Shoot them."
Tex lept up from behind him cover and raised her rifle, aiming for the helmet of the marron soldier, only to come face to face with the barrel of a shotgun.
"Wrong move, dirtbag," the bright red soldier holding the shotgun said. He pulled the trigger of the gun, only to have a resonating click. "Huh? Goddammit, Grif! You slacked on your duties again."
"I did?" the orange soldier asked.
"Of course you did. It was your job to pack the ammo and load the guns this week," his commander retorted, turning to the slacker.
Meanwhile, Tex straightened, slightly amused. His opponent turned back to him just as he adjusted his stance.
"Oh... hell," Sarge swore right as the freelancer acted.
Without warning, the Freelancer snatched the barrel of the gun in a blink of an eye. He landed a sucker punch at the man's jaw, snapping his neck back and sending him flying across the ground. Without even watching the end result of his attack, Tex whirled around, spinning the barrel of the shotgun in his hand. The result was slamming the butt of the gun in the yellow soldier's chin, who had just risen from the ground after recovering from the torture Tex had put him through. He let out a loud yell of pain, but before he could react, the black soldier spun the weapon again to slam it into his gut. He doubled over, only for Tex to send a series of punches at his head. The Freelancer ended the brutality by kicking his shin, collapsing his leg, and sending an elbow into his helmet, knocking him out cold.
With two down, the soldier spun around, just in time to hear the roar of the machine gun. Reacting quickly, Tex repositioned his hold on the gun like it was an oversized knife. He threw it at the gunner of the machine gun, nailing him in the head just before he could take aim at the Freelancer. The gunner fell to the ground with a yelp, his fall turning the turret to where it shot the crimson-armored soldier in the leg, making him collapse and yell in pain.
"Oh, fuck this!" the orange one cursed, jumping out of the Warthog's driver seat. He glanced at the teal soldier that was just watching the fight, obviously having no interest. "You! Help me!"
"Fuck that!" the Blue soldier cried. "I don't want to die."
Tex rolled his eyes. Simulation soldiers. The Blue was denied his wish when Cal appeared beside him, landing a kick to his side. It was strong enough to send the man slamming into the Warthog, even leaving a dent. the turquoise soldier slumped to the ground, limp.
"You know what? That's it! We just got that thing!" the orange soldier yelled, raising his assault rifle.
He fired at Cal, only for the Freelancer to leap out of his line of fire and close the distance between them. The expert soldier grabbed the man's head, sending it right into his knee. The Red grunted and went still. In less than a minute, all the simulation soldiers were terminated.
"Well," Tex commented, relaxing. "That was ea-"
He was interrupted when he saw something in his peripheral vision and heard a clanging sound at his feet. The Freelancer glanced down, only to see a primed grenade.
"Oh, sh-"
His curse was cut off when a clap of thunder drowned him out. A screen of dirt and fire filled Tex's vision and he felt his limbs twisted together as his body slammed into something hard multiple times. Suddenly the dirt disappeared, replaced by a clear blue sky above her. It took him a minute to register his back was on the ground, his head still spinning. The muted, ringing noise in his head suddenly became sharp as the coms system in his helmet pierced his hearing.
"TEX!" Cal shouted.
Tex groaned, trying to get up. Suddenly Cal was by his side, offering a hand. He reluctantly took it, allowing his partner to pull him to his feet.
"Nice throw, Church," Wilson shouted as he cocked his pistol, running at the Freelancers.
Church didn't reply. Instead he dropped to one knee and pressed his sniper rifle to his shoulder, looking down the scope at Cal's head. The Freelancer rolled out of the way just as Church pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed by Cal's back and hit the ground, spraying dirt a few feet into the air. He quickly rolled to his feet and threw himself behind the Warthog. Church growled and got back to his feet. Wilson charged forward, his pistol aimed at Tex. He shot at the black soldier five times but the Freelancer followed Cal behind the Warthog, successfully dodging the bullets as they flew through the space his head previously occupied.
"Shit," Cal cussed as Tex slammed into the vehicle. "Those guys were trained well. What the hell are they doing in a simulation ground?"
"How should I know?" Tex asked, her voice no longer gravely but distinctly female. The woman started in shock. "Ah, damn, my distorter is broken."
"Uh, guys?" a voice said over the radio of the vehicle behind them. "Are you there? Sarge? Grif? This is Private Donut. Did you guys find Snyder?"
"Give up," Church shouted from a few yards away. "You're cornered with nowhere to go. But we're willing to cut you some slack. Just give us our friend and we'll let you go."
"You can do whatever you want to the Red guys. We don't really care what happens to them," Wilson called out.
"Yeah, I figured," Tex shrugged.
"I heard that!" Lancaster snapped, even though it came as a moan.
"What was that?" Church asked.
"Fuck you," Tex shouted, recognizing his voice.
"Wait? Tex?" Church asked
Before Tex could reply, she heard a loud rumbling coming from where Church and wilson stood. She peered over the top of the Warthog to see Church and Wilson no longer looking at Cal and her hiding place. Instead they were staring at the tank that was driving haphazardly towards them. As the tank neered, Tex heard an excited voice shout out from the cockpit of the tank.
"Hi, guys," Caboose shouted as he accidentally drove the tank into a rock. He looked at the control panel. "No, not that that way, go backwards." He looked back at his teammates as the tank backed up. "I heard shooting so I brought the tank. This is a nice tank."
Instead of being relieved, everyone froze as the barrel pointed towards them. And Caboose was the last person Church would trust at the wheel of such a powerful weapon. He and Wilson cursed at the same time.
"Oh, fuck…"
YSS-1000 Sabre starship is a jet like thing from Halo: Reach for all of you who care