So, a couple of months ago, after finishing season 10 of RvB, I thought of a fan fiction for York and Carolina. After a few days, it went from a one-shot, to a couple of chapters worth of story, mostly because I didn't want all dialogue about my version of the story. So, after tweaking it the last few weeks, I'm finally ready to release chapter one of The Lighter. Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know if you notice any major flaws in my logic. I've tried covering all my bases, but another set if eyes always sees more, right?
Also, try to remember this is RedvsBlue, a series known for crazy plot twists and turns and reveals. I tried to keep the characters' way of speech and voices in my head, but Tex is kinda crazy to write for.
Last but not least, I DO NOT OWN any part of RedvsBlue, nor anything from Rooster Teeth, or anything they come up with.
Chapter One: The Death of York
"Ahh!"
York fell to the ground, clutching his chest. Man, now that hurt like bitch! How the hell did people get shot and not die from the pain alone? York guessed it was just part of being...
"York, are you okay?" Texas shouted.
Yeah, never been better. He groaned. "It's that damn left side." Seriously, why the hell did he run out with Wyoming on his left? He'd known better.
"D, info." Texas demanded.
Delta appeared above him. Love that little glowing guy. Guess it'd be weird saying that out loud, huh? "York has sustained two wounds to his upper left chest. Recommend evac stat."
No shit. "Just... need a minute." He said with a lit in his voice, trying to keep it light. Wasn't easy, though. He groaned again.
"Administering field splints and..."
"Wait. Wait. Tex... Don't let him..." Don't let him get you. You are kinda important. Hey... Why was it getting dark all of a sud‒
"York is now unconscious. Alarm: Target Alpha has reloaded."
Texas had heard Wyoming reloading. But there was something more important to worry about. "How bad is it, D?"
"York will not survive."
Texas felt a pain in her chest hearing that. Damn it, York. "Okay, D, hop into me. I'll host you until we can get out of this."
"Thank you, Allison. But I would prefer to stay with York. He will need me to maintain his pain medication."
"An A.I. can't fall into enemy hands, D. If you're in there when he dies, you know what the armor's protocol will do to you."
"I would prefer to stay with York."
Me, too. "That's very kind of you, D."
"Its just part of what makes us human, Tex."
You can come back for him. But first, get answers from Wyoming. That's why you're here.
Despite what a lot of people (including those idiots at Blood Gulch) would think about her, Texas wasn't about to just leave York behind and let him die in this hell hole. Especially with the Recovery agent protocols for dead Freelancers. Armor: Destroyed. A.I.: Recovered. Agent: See Armor. Fuck that. Those cock bites didn't get to blow York up. That's my job.
Wow, that sounded a lot darker than I meant it... Tex thought. Shaking her head, she asked Delta for one last favor before she went to get Wyoming.
"Recovery One. Come in, Recovery One."
"Go ahead, Command." Washington replied.
"Wash, we have a recovery beacon."
"Who is it?"
"Agent York. We are sending the coordinates to you now."
"Affirmative, Command. On my way."
"Rodger that."
Another beacon? There had been three others in the last few weeks. All three directly involving the Meta. Agent Maine. A former friend. Just like this recovery. Agent York. Another old friend.
Agent Washington didn't want to admit it... but he was upset by this news. It wasn't part of his life now to have feelings. He was a Recovery agent. The best Recovery agent. He did his job and left, with no muss, no fuss. No emotions. He took what was needed, did what needed doing and blew the fuck out of everything left at the scene.
And that was the problem. I knew this guy. It was one thing to destroy evidence of some random soldier's existence But York... Washington had known him, had trained and fought beside him. They'd been friends.
"You know... some days... This job sucks."
Washington readied his equipment and pulled up the coordinates. Hopefully, this was the last recovery beacon for the month.
York saw Texas walk slowly towards Wyoming. Delta was silent. He could feel the warmth of his blood pooling beneath him, some of it filling part of his armor. It wasn't a very comfortable feeling. But then, dying wasn't comfortable for Freelancers was it?
With the last amount of his strength, he reached down into his pocket, pulling out his lighter. As the darkness returned, he smiled, remembering the night he'd met her. The night he'd fallen totally, idiotically in love with a woman who would never be anything but a far off dream.
A woman that he'd see again very soon.
The lighter fell from his hand.
Oh, hitting Wyoming in the front of the face felt sooo good. Texas smiled as she looked down at the fallen ex-Freelancer. For good measure, she kicked him in the stomach. He made a hilarious sound with that pompous British accent still noticeable. How tempted she was to keep kicking him. And maybe shoot him a few times. And rip off a few body parts. But first...
She leaned down and grabbed his helmet. Connecting to it, she took all the information she needed from him and tossed it down next to him. Hmm... Wonder how long it'd take him to regrow that 'stache? Tex shook her head. "Focus." She returned to where York lay. Blood was everywhere, but oddly not as much as she'd thought. Wounds to the upper left chest. That was bad. Tended to die quick. York was no different it seemed. Poor York. What did I get him into?
Why was she always getting everyone into deadly situations. In her memory, she'd gotten a lot of people dead over the years. She'd killed C.T. Caused a rift in the Freelancers with her very presence. Been the catalyst for Maine obtaining Iota and Eta... right before he'd killed Carolina.
Carolina. Man, she'd really fucked up Carolina. In a lot of different ways.
Now she'd gotten York killed.
It was days like this she kinda wished she'd just stayed with Church all those years ago. Despite how much of a dick he was and how much of a bitch she was, they'd been good together. Maybe because they were both such assholes. Misery loves company.
"D."
"Tex. I did not think you would be returning."
"York?"
His silence was her answer.
"Look, D. I've been thinking... I know its a long-shot, but is there any way for you to delete your memory?"
"I am sorry. I do not understand."
"Your memory. Can you delete it. Wipe it clean?"
"I am afraid I cannot. At least, not in the capacity you are thinking."
"What do you mean? Can you or can't you?"
"If I were to delete my memory, it would only be for a small amount of time before the memories would begin to return. I have several backups for such a situation."
"How much time are we talking here?"
"An hour, at the most. The memories would then begin resurfacing."
"That may be all I need. Would you log off for a while, D? I'll call you when I need you again."
"Of course, Agent Texas."
Delta blinked out.
Tex looked around the fortress. There were only so many options she had in making this work. The Recovery agent would come to collect the A.I. then destroy the armor. It was just part of their jobs, but it made hers a hell of a lot harder. How to move York without the A.I. or the armor but still leaving a body for them. She couldn't leave an empty suit of armor with the A.I. haphazardly laying on the ground beside it. Command would think York was alive and wonder.
So how could she...
Tex slowly turned her head to the dead soldiers Wyoming had hired to help him. A blue guy and a red guy. Both dead. Neither needing their armor.
Well well well, seems these guys were more than just cannon fodder.
Sizing them both up, she opted on the blue guy. He was close to York's size. Plus, she really hated the color blue right now. Reminded her of a certain group of morons she'd spent the last few weeks with. If anyone deserved to be blown into the future...
"Hey, D."
He blinked beside her. "Agent Texas. I feel... odd. I do not believe that I am in the same..."
"Trust me, D, I know. Listen, I need you to wipe your memory now. All of it. Everything from your creation to now. Got it?"
"Affirmative. Deleting now." He flickered before disappearing. Tex took that as her sign to get the hell out of this shit hole.
Her task accomplished, Tex pulled York up and over her shoulder. She stumbled. Holy cow! What did this guy eat, weapons of mass destruction?! He was heavy as hell! Grunting, she started back to the teleporter. Once through it, she hurried -as much as she could with a freaking whale on her shoulder- to their transport. Without much ceremony, Tex tossed York into the back of her vehicle.
He groaned.
She screamed.
Carolina tapped rapidly on the keys, going through a dozen files a minute, looking high and low for what she needed. She'd hacked into Command's data bank a half hour ago, searching for any information she could get her hands on to help her in her mission. There were basic files, troop assignments and profiles. Miscellaneous files here and there that seemed completely irrelevant. Not that she knew what the UNSC needed to run day-to-day operations, but why they needed files titled "Orange Monkey Eagle" was beyond her. And since she was breaking into a major military organization's computers, she didn't really have time to look into it.
Instead, she looked for anything under "Project Freelancer", "states", "special operations", and "Recovery". She'd had some luck so far, but the Director wasn't mentioned in any of the files thus far. She didn't have much longer until the next group of guards showed up, so instead of reading she copied it all do the data unit she'd taken. Dragging the files from "Recovery" file, she was surprised when a window opened. It flashed red repeatedly.
RECOVERY BEACON ACTIVATED...
Carolina frowned. The Recovery beacons were activated when a Freelancer was killed. There were several from the last month, making her wary. The Meta was killing agents left and right. He'd killed only one other Freelancer, though not from her team. They hadn't had A.I.s, so Carolina was confused as to why he continued to kill them.
Then again, he'd killed more than just agents in the last few years. Maine had been a strong fighter back in their Freelancer days. It seemed that with Sigma, he'd gotten stronger.
Refocusing her thoughts, she pulled up the Recovery file.
"Recovery One. Come in, Recovery One."
She looked around at the voice. When no one appeared, she realized it was coming from the recovery beacon.
"Go ahead, Command."
Washington. Carolina didn't know he'd joined the Recovery team. And being Recovery One meant he'd been the business a while. And that he was good at it. How he could handle recovering A.I. and armor from fallen friends didn't sound like something Wash could do. He'd always been free spirited and lighthearted.
She'd lost contact with everyone that day the Meta escaped, but she was surprised Wash had gotten to be hard enough to get into this business.
"Wash, we have a recovery beacon."
"Who is it?"
"Agent York. We are sending the coordinates to you now."
Carolina's head whipped up. What? Tapping the keys again, she looked at the file. Her heart stilled at the information. Agent York, formally of Project Freelancer had been shot and killed at a deserted base on an island on some no-name planet. Details currently unknown. All there was were the coordinates and basic information about the agent.
Clenching her fist tight, she fell to her knees.
York. Of all the former Freelancers, she'd thought he'd be the one to evade any trouble that came his way. Despite his bad luck over the years, he had lived through some amazing situations.
A single tear pinged against the metal floor beneath her. Her hands shook, and her body refused to move. The next patrol would be there any second, but she just... couldn't move.
Choking back a sob, Carolina shook her head again violently and grabbed the data unit. Push it back. Use it.
Setting her invisibility, Carolina slipped through the door just as the guards turned the corner. They missed bumping into her by inches, chatting on about some other guard whose duties were too easy. Moving to the back of the facility where she'd stored her transport, she tucked the data unit into a pocket.
This was the final straw. This was the motivation she truly needed to end him.
It was time to kill the Director.
