Not A Hero
Heroes. That's what the rebels called them. Tucker knew it wasn't true. He's seen Sarge do some things he hadn't thought possible, Church had managed to lead them through utter chaos, and even Lopez could handle himself. The freelancers had been trained to fight.
The real heroes were gone. It was only Simmons who had brains, Grif whose major talents included avoiding work and driving a jeep, and Caboose the dumbest idiot the UNCF could find. How the hell were they supposed to help these guys when they couldn't even help their friends?
None of them were leaders. That was Sarge, Church, Washington maybe. But not them. They listened to orders sometimes even followed them. Most of the time though they just got really fucking lucky.
Maybe it wasn't even luck. After all Project Freelancer had practically set them all up. Maybe the outcome was controlled (though how they managed to predict the movements of these assholes he would never know).
No. They weren't heroes. They were going to get more people killed by dragging them around, trying to save their friends. It wasn't even the rebels fucking problem. Why were they even bothering? Surely they realized how fucking useless they all were. Surely they knew by now that they were not heroes in any sense of the word.
Tucker sighed watching his… well his team talking with the group of rebels that were unfortunate enough to get stuck with them.
If they were going to go after the others he was going to get anybody outside of their group killed. It wasn't their friends on the line. They didn't need to be dragged around by these retarded misfits just so they could cause more harm than good.
The reds and blues were going to get their teams back but they weren't taking unnecessary casualties. If they were going to do this it had to be their own way. After all they tried the rebel's way and it hadn't worked.
Either they could manage to get their friends to safety or they would die trying. Both of those options he could live with. Well… in the metaphorical sense. If he was dead that would suck but at least he'd get those virgins right? Or did he have to sell his soul for that?
Tucker started the walk to the idiots lined up in front of the rebels. Sure they weren't the best, or the brightest for that matter, but they were THE Reds and Blues. They shut down Project Freelancer. They were the best of the best. Sure it was already in ruins when they got there but they took down the guy behind it all. That had to count for something.
They had faced Agent Texas more than once and survived. They had come toe to toe with the Meta and lived. They took down Omega and evaded Wyoming's bullets. They had been fired at with tanks and guns. They had dodged grenades and lived to tell the tale of crashing a UNFC pelican. Who else could say all this?
If they could take down the best of the best, they could carry out a simple rescue mission. The one thing they couldn't do is teach recruits dumb luck.
Wash and Sarge needed them. They might not be the heroes that the rebels hoped they would be, but they were just stupid enough to be the heroes their friends needed them to be.
"Op! Funs over, Tuckers back."
"Tucker Tucker come here! Tell me I'm cool! Tell me I'm lazy and that I don't play by the rules."
"What?" There was still time to back out right?
"I don't want a southern accent!"
"Arg. Drop and give me booty!"
Yeah. They were so fucking dead.
Tucker turned toward Simmons who at the moment seemed like the only sane one left.
"We're dealing with some issues."
"Well hurry up and get over it. I need you guys to meet me at the bunks in ten minutes."
"Why? What's going on?"
"We're leaving."