The Mission

A Record by Starath

Author's Incredibly Long Note: This is… well, I'm not sure what this is, besides one of the longest, most epic tales I've put to paper. At first I was going to keep this story to myself, but as it grew, I decided it was worth sharing. This is a story from my alternate universe of Red vs. Blue. You'll see almost everybody in here at least once— but be warned, there are spoilers to Reconstruction in here! Go watch it if you haven't! Really! You won't be disappointed!

I've only played the first Halo game, so I had to do a lot of research to make sure I got things right in the bigger Halo universe. Any canon errors are accidental; please go easy on me of you find any.

Extra special thanks goes to Omicron the Icequeen, who gave up her time and sanity to read this monstrosity for editing (seriously, it's over 150 pages long). My thanks also goes to d3jake for helping me with technical details, Amusedbookworm for giving me feedback, and to you readers who are sitting here in the first place!

Red vs. Blue and its characters belong to Rooster Teeth, creators of the best machinima ever. Hope I do your work some justice, guys! You rock!

Prologue

Okay, so here's the deal: I live with soldiers.

Not the ones who go to Iraq or Afghanistan, the kind that come from the Halo universe. Yeah, you know, that game? Well, technically, only one of them is from the game. The rest are from Red vs. Blue. Those guys trapped in a box canyon with nowhere to go, fighting a war that's not even real. Those guys. Except that they're here now, because of a warp in parallel universes or something. I still think Caboose showed up first because Church kicked him so hard he broke through realities. Eventually they all showed up: Sarge, Donut, Church, Wyoming…the whole crew. After I started playing Halo: Combat Evolved, Chief showed up too. Luckily the Chief is calm, steady and keeps everyone in line with his mere presence. When he's not here, the guys tend to bicker.

Aren't I a lucky girl?

Can you hear me scream from there?

Now 'why would I do that?' you are no doubt asking. Wouldn't it be cool to be surrounded by the soldiers from Red vs. Blue, most of whom just have to be gorgeous guys, right? And the Master Chief! He must be made of awesome! Actually, yes he is...

I don't really know how to act around him, though. He's so… military, and to him, I'm a civilian, something to protect, but also something of a liability if battle were to break out here. Not that it will. We're in the frozen North of the United States, not on a Halo ring or some far-off planet occupied by Covenant forces. It's not like Chief's cold-hearted or anything… he's quite nice. I wish I had his patience and sense of confidence, but like I said, he's a military guy and almost always in his Mjolnir armor. As a result it's sometimes it's easy to forget he's human.

He also likes pancakes, and strong black coffee.

What about the Red vs. Blue guys? Well, they're another story. They're not as bad as they used to be. All of them mostly get along now, after accepting that there really is no "Red" and "Blue". That revelation hit Sarge the hardest, but he got over it, thank goodness. Since then the Reds (they still call themselves that, since they are on separate teams) have moved into the storage buildings across the street. I don't know how (or where they got the supplies) but they've refurnished the buildings into an operating home base. The Blues lived here with me for a while before they took over the storage building next to where the Reds are. And the Freelancers? Well, they're like Master Chief. I have no idea where they go. I see Tex most often since she hangs around Church. Both of them are still technically 'ghosts,' but they get along okay.

My house is something of a neutral territory for everyone to come and hang out. Donut discovered he likes cooking, so he and Doc take care of meals when everyone descends at the supper table. Oh, and O'Malley…. We managed to get him out of Doc's head, but he has gotten a new body for himself. He now wreaks havoc whenever he wants. Don't ask, it's a long story.

When Master Chief arrived and met the Blood Gulch crew, he couldn't believe they would call themselves soldiers. They were too busy fighting among each other to be effective at doing anything but talking a potential enemy to death. Most of them couldn't use their weapons very well. Or aim properly. With the exception of Sarge and the Freelancers, the guys hadn't had anything beyond basic combat training, either. Yet they wore modified Mjolnir armor and called themselves soldiers. The truth was, only the Freelancers were true soldiers. It may have been that Master Chief had nothing better to do, but he decided to train the Blood Gulch crew into a proper military team.

They resisted at first, but enough 3 AM wake-up calls and forced combat situations swayed the guys to see things Master Chief's way.

A good thing, too. I was getting tired of jolting awake to the bark of "ATTEN-SHUN! Move it men!"

Chief can be really loud when he wants to be.

He also had his work cut out for him: He had to encourage Grif and Tucker to participate when they'd prefer to stand off to the side and watch the others. This involved chasing them with the Warthog so they'd run their laps. As the rookie, Donut had to learn everything he could from Sarge. Caboose had to be taught more than the rest; his training included learning simple math at the kitchen table. Doc needed up-to-date medical skills. Simmons learned to depend more on himself than his team leader.

Church….

Church was difficult, of course. His temperament wasn't ideal for being a team leader, and neither was his short fuse. Freelancers Tex, Wyoming, and York made sure to give them all hell while they were out on combat training missions. Later, when Agent Washington arrived, Chief had more help training them.

Wait, I can hear you now: The Red vs. Blue guys CAN'T be real soldiers; their ineptitude is part of their charm! Fear not, readers; they've become more disciplined and mature, but I can most definitely assure you that they haven't lost any of their charm whatsoever.

However, at one time I had underestimated just how much the guys have changed. I had no way of knowing until I saw it for myself.

At risk of sounding cliché, it all started while I was doing dishes one night in February. Tucker was drying whatever I put in the drain rack, humming along with the song coming out of the stereo. He really is a black guy, by the way. He's not very dark, but enough to show where some of his heritage came from. Like all soldiers his black hair is kept short, but it's kind of curly. All of the guys are pretty big— but Tucker is among one of the 'smaller' guys. He's a scout or runner in battle when he feels inclined to do something. He's also a total flirt, by the way.

Just so you know, unless they're coming through during a training session, they're not in their armor. Those boots would scratch the kitchen tile and they'd ruin the furniture. Through the magic of Sarge's resources, and Wal*Mart, they have street clothes to wear. The only two who are allowed to wear armor in the house are Church and Tex, but that's because they live in the armor as 'ghosts.'

Caboose was hunched over the kitchen table that night, doing some math homework Master Chief had given him. He scratched behind his ear with his pencil's eraser, muttering to himself. Caboose is one of the big guys. Blue team calls him their 'heavy hitter.' If he hadn't been a soldier he'd fit right in with a football team, and even then, the largest opponent would hesitate to charge him. He's also the sweetest guy I have ever met. Predictably he's a blonde, with freckles, and the bluest eyes possible. He's not as dumb as one would think, either; Caboose just "Has a different way of thinking," as Simmons once put it. He helps educate Caboose when Chief is busy.

One of the recliners in the living room squeaked in time with the music. I couldn't see him from where I was, but I knew it was Grif. He was being unusually quiet that night and I was worried about him. For some reason he'd been having the hardest time adjusting to the role of a proper soldier. We suspected it was due to lack of self-confidence. He's the Red team's heavy hitter even though Sarge said he did a lousy job at it. That didn't seem to bother him, yet something did. But because he was too busy pretending to be happy, we couldn't get him to admit anything.

Grif's appearance reflected his laid-back attitude. Unlike the others, he kept himself somewhat scruffy. I always wondered if he needed a hay rake to straighten up his chestnut-colored hair in the morning.

"Hey Star?" asked Caboose.

I set the plate I was scrubbing in the sink. "Yes?"

"Can I use your transforming cars again?"

"Sure." Drying my hands, I left the sink and stepped beside him. He had a pad of graph paper in front of him, along with loose scratch paper, and his 'math book' spread out on the table. Caboose had done five graphing problems out of a set of twelve so far. "Which ones do you want?"

"Um… I like that white and blue one, and the green one that looks like the Warthog." He tapped his chin. "Oh! Can I use the jet ones too please?"

I giggled and resisted the urge to pat him on the head like a big puppy. "I'll get them for you."

He smiled, his blue eyes sparkling. "Thanks!"

A bowl clattered in the cupboard, and Tucker threw his dishtowel over his shoulder. "I'll finish up the dishes for you, Star."

"Oh," I paused on the way out of the kitchen. "You don't have to."

He shrugged. "I'll give me something to do."

"Okay. Suit yourself." It wasn't like Tucker to volunteer to do dishes, but I wasn't going to protest. He probably wanted brownie points anyway. When I came back to the kitchen, I took the long way around through the living room. Grif was still rocking back and forth in the easy chair, staring at the air in front of him.

"Hey Grif."

He blinked and a smile flitted across his face. "Hey Star."

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You haven't said anything since you left supper."

"Oh. I've just been thinking."

"About anything in particular?"

Grif cringed a bit. "Tomorrow."

"What's special about tomorrow?" I asked, curious.

The dishes stopped rattling in the sink. At the table, Caboose looked up from his homework. Grif shifted uneasily in the chair. "We have a big mission tomorrow," he finally said.

I swallowed. "Oh." And tried to lighten his mood. "You guys have had missions before. You've always come through clean."

"This one's for real." He said quietly.

"With aliens and stuff." added Caboose. "Mister Chief won't be with us, either."

I approached the table and dropped the tiny Transformers toys he'd requested. "You guys will be fine. You've been training really hard. I bet it'll be a breeze."

Tucker made a sound like a snort followed by a cough. "Yeah Star. We'll get it done."

Caboose picked up the two jets and checked the line graph he'd drawn. He pretended to fly the jets at each other like they were going to crash. At the last moment he veered them away from impact, mumbling an equation made of numbers and letters. He set the toys down and adjusted something he'd written next to his line graph. "These are really hard. Mister Chief said I have to get them done before tomorrow."

"I'm glad the toys help, Caboose."

"Me too! When I get bored, I can turn them into little robots!"

I laughed. "That's the best part about Transformers."

A sharp tap on the back door made me jump. Sarge waved at me through the glass and pointed at the door lock. I popped it open for him and got out of the way before he came in, shaking snow off his standard-issue Red Army jacket. He stomped a few times to get the caked snow out of his boots and ran his fingers through closely trimmed blonde-white hair.

"Good evening Mister Sergeant!" said Caboose.

"Evenin' fellas." He nodded at me. "Ma'am."

"Hi Sarge. Want me to take your coat? The snow must be blowing pretty hard out there."

"Nah, I'm fine. I just came over to get Grif."

A long sigh came from the living room. "I finished packing everything already before supper, Sarge."

"I'm glad for you. Chief wants another run-down before we head out tomorrow."

"What, again?"

"You wanna ask why to his face?"

"No…"

"Then move it. Meetin' starts in less than ten minutes, Private. After he's done with us he'll be talking to the Blues as well."

Tucker nodded and set a pan into the drain rack. "I'll be back over when I'm done."

"I have to finish my homework first," said Caboose with a slight whine in his voice. "You can tell Mister Chief I'm on number six."

"Will do." Sarge smiled. Whenever he did his eyes seemed to disappear into facial features that looked like they'd been carved out of granite. He and Wyoming were the oldest out of all the soldiers, but age meant nothing to Sarge. "Age is nothin' but a number!" he liked to say, usually followed by something like "Why, I'm sharp as a cactus and thirty times as fast!"

Part of Sarge's charm was you never knew what he was going to say next.

For some reason he reminded me of my grandfather, and a friendly bulldog. He tended to bark a lot and didn't always need a shotgun to have any bite. Since Master Chief's arrival he'd realized the role of Red Leader was more important than he'd previously thought. Although he was still short with Grif (an 'old habit'), he took the task of training and protecting his team seriously. This extended to the Blues on occasion, partly because Church was still learning how to be a proper team leader in his own right. When it came to me, we'd somehow become like father and daughter. His nickname for me was 'Missy.'

Grif came out of the living room and grabbed his jacket that had been hanging on a dining room chair. He moved with obvious hesitance.

"What's the matter?" Sarge asked. "Turd farmer go on vacation? You don't seem excited."

"Frankly, Sir, it's because I'm not."

"Pre-mission jitters?"

"Something like that." Grif shrugged.

Sarge glanced at me. "Star, just so you're informed…"

"She already knows." Tucker put in.

I hesitated, then said, "I was wondering something, actually."

"We're… ah, not supposed to say much," said Sarge slowly.

I blinked in surprise. They hadn't had a mission this secretive before. "I was just curious about how you were going to get to where you're going."

Tucker, Caboose and Grif waited on Sarge to reply. "The teleporter has been reconfigured," he said at last. "It doesn't go straight to Blood Gulch anymore. Cortana and… ah, what's-his-name, Delta, figured out how to route it elsewhere."

"Oh. Am I allowed to know when you're leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning, permitted the snowstorm doesn't arrive earlier than that."

"Okay." I rocked back on my heels." I'll come and see you guys off, then."

At one time I was denied doing such a thing, until I made it clear that if they were going to risk their lives somewhere dangerous I had a right to see them one last time while they were still in one piece. I made the speech directly in the Master Chief's faceplate, too. The long, brutal silence I endured afterwards was worth it. However, I was later advised not to speak to him in that manner ever again.

Cortana told me privately that she liked my spirit, even if Chief wasn't impressed with it.

Grif slipped on his jacket and tugged up the collar so it would tightly cover his neck. He had a distant look in his eyes, like he was already seeing tomorrow's events. I knew Grif was a 'in the moment' kind of guy, preferably when he wasn't doing anything in any given moment.

I walked up to him. "Want a goodnight hug?"

"Huh?" He focused on me.

"You look like you need one."

He opened his arms and I hugged him with a satisfying thump. I liked hugging Grif. He was softer than the others for some reason. Behind us, Tucker set the last of the dishes in the drain rack and pulled the stopper out of the sink. "How come I don't get hugs anymore?"

I poked my head around Grif's thick arm. "Grif doesn't pinch my ass."

Tucker smiled with a set of gleaning white teeth and winked. "It's just my way of saying I care, baby."

I groaned and hid in Grif's jacket. His body shook when he laughed and let go. "I could if you wanted me to."

"Don't even think about it."

"Too late!" He said together with Tucker, and they both laughed some more. Sometimes the two of them thought on the same wavelength. It was scary.

Sarge checked his wristwatch. "Let's get moving, Private."

I bounced over to Sarge and gave him a quick hug too. "I'll see you both in the morning."

Cold wind and blown snow rushed through the doorway when Grif opened it and followed Sarge outside. He took a backward glance at the window and smiled. He disappeared into the dark and swirling snow, but his smile was gone before then.

There was another reason why Sarge was hesitant to tell me anything: he knows I worry. A lot. Anybody who has a loved one or friend in the military would worry about them. Only, I knew a total of thirteen soldiers who routinely played with live ammunition for fun. Now they were going on a real, hazardous mission to accomplish who knows what, against who knows how many enemies, for however long it took until they could come home.

To be continued…