In this particular story, we'll both be seeing season 13, and the hunters of my other fanfic learning what happened there. There's an almost four year gap between the hunt and season 12. This story is going to close that gap. I highly recommend reading my other RvB works before this one, or you will have no idea who my characters are.
I don't own anything except the first two segments, Agent's Virge, West, North Carolina (sorta), Kentucky (Derek), Utah (sorta), Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado. I also own Damian Stark, Daniel, the Director of Freelancer II, project Freelancer II, and Derek's moonbase. Anonymous Fanz2 owns agent Mass.
...
Derek's POV
"Attention true believers! And other people. This is Agent Virginia Project Freelancer. Some of you know me as Derek the Red. Some of you are loyal fans. Some of you don't believe I exist. And some of you hate me. Which is understandable considering what I've done. And what I'm about to do." Virge blew up the moon of Chorus. Most likely to destroy the moon base Charon had there. Which sucks because it was mine! "I just blew up a moon. This is an example of the power of my most dangerous weapon. The HMROV. Or Hammer of Virge, as I call it. I just regained control of it and tested if it still works. And I am just getting started." Virge prepared his ship to leave Chorus's orbit. "Any interference with my attempt to leave Chorus will result in it's destruction. Have a nice day!" Virge ended his broadcast. This was sent an hour after he froze me. Three years ago.
...
Planet Chorus
"I should warn you; The people on this planet don't like you very much." Colorado said. I already knew that. It's mostly Virge's fault. He made them hate me for all the wrong reasons.
"The feeling's mutual." I replied. They still have plenty of reasons they should hate me.
"What could you do that would piss off the entire?" Utah asked.
"I worked for someone that was trying to make them kill themselves." I answered. Malcolm Hargrove. Our other enemy. Currently, he's in hiding.
"Then you should probably stay on the ship with Mex." Arizona said. Mex looked to me, then to Arizona. "Me, Utah, and Col are going to see what the locals know."
...
Agent West's POV
"Alright, explain to me again, why do you need a .50 caliber chaingun?" Simmons asked.
"Because I'm a gunman." One of the feds was refusing to give us his chaingun.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I get that. You keep saying that. I mean, why do you need it right now?"
"Hey G-man, hurry up!" One of the rebels shouted. There was a whole line of soldiers waiting.
"Well, I mean, how else are people gonna know what I do around here?" The "G-man" asked.
"You're soldier. You fight or you die, just like everyone else here." I said. Except of course for the captains and other higher-ups. They lead them into the fight and make hard choices so they can keep everyone else alive.
"Yeah, but that's what I'm sayin'. Without my big gun, I just look like all the regular soldiers." The gunman explained. That's basically what I just said. He is a regular soldier.
"No you don't! You've got white armor and red stripes!" Simmons yelled.
"Ugh, and they're just awful. I'm thinking we go bold. Maybe red armor with white stripes!" A wild Donut appears!
"Huh?" That guy shows up exactly when he's needed in a conversation. Kinda like Tucker.
"Donut, just becuase you're in charge of uniforms, doesn't mean you get to redecorate the entire army." Simmons said. "Besides, that'll completely ruin his camouflage."
"Camouflage? Look at him! He's white!" I shouted. And extremely shiny.
"What?" The gunman asked.
"Huh. Good point. How the hell have you not been shot yet?" Simmons asked. Glad Simmons sees what I'm talking about.
"Wait, what!" A few Feds on the line exclaimed. They're either to distracted by how racist that sounded to see the truth, or just don't want to accept it.
"It's because the New Repubic can't aim for shit!" One Fed shouted.
"Wanna say that to my face, punk?" One of the rebels asked. As much as I want to see them fight, we can't have that.
"Hey! No fighting in the armory!" I warned.
"Yeah! The armory is no place for violence! Now calm down, or I'm not gonna to give you a gun." Simmons added. At this point, we only let everyone walk around armed so they don't feel like they could be betrayed at any second. It makes them feel like if they were to be betrayed, they could defend themselves. Alternatively, the knowledge that the others can also defend themselves dissuades anyone from trying to stab any backs.
"Outta my way. Captain on deck. Official officer business." A wild Grif appears. I've been wondering where he's been.
"Grif, what do you want? Can't you see we're busy?" Simmons asked.
"Where's Kimball?" Grif asked, ignoring Simmons questions.
"I don't know. Where were you during training this morning?"
"Where do you guys train again?"
"The training room." I answered.
"Oh, right, yeah. Literally anywhere but there." Well, no shit!
"Well I think I heard Miss Kimball was inspecting the troops over there a little while ago." Donut said. I almost forgot he was here.
I'm "Aw man. Really?" Grif asked. Suddenly, a wild Lopez appeared. He began ranting in spanish for half a minute.
"Lopez. I don't speak Spanish. I have never spoken Spanish." Grif said.
"Yeah, get with the times and just assimilate." Simmons added. I don't understand why Lopez understands what we say to him in english, but can only speak spanish. Dos point O replied in spanished.
"English motherfucker! Do you speak it!" I grabbed the robot and raised him up into the air.
"See ya' dickheads." Normally, I'd shoot at Grif, but instead I'm going to keep interrogating our robot friend. Yeah, I don't think he can speak english. Rho, I'm just making sure he isn't exploiting our inability to understand him.
...
Agent Mass's POV
"Lieutenant Palomo!" Wash shouted.
"Yes, Agent Washington, sir." Palomo responded.
"Explain to me how, in light of your recent promotion, you somehow managed to be worst at target practice." Typically, a promotion would leave someone like him a boost in confidence, improving his poor skills.
"Uh, because the newly-added pressure of my rank makes me second-guess my actions more frequently in hopes I won't let down my fellow peers." He quickly explianed.
"Well I don't—Oh. Um, I mean, that's understandable, Lieutenant." Wash sounds like he's about to forgive him.
"He spent nine minutes making a smiley face." I explained. Wash turned around and looked at it.
"Nailed it." Palomo is proud of his work of art. To bad he doesn't have a career as an artist right now. Wash looks pissed off.
"Mass!" And Grif's here now.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Where's Kimball?" He asked. Very loudly.
"Oh! Captain Grif. How nice of you to join us. We missed you at practice this morning." Wash said sarcastically, as he noticed the presence of the captain.
Grif laughed. "Yeah. That's probably because I wasn't there." He admitted.
"So you weren't. Which is why everyone is going to give me three laps around the training facility." Wash announced.
"Aww!"
What the?!"
"That's not fair!"
"Yes, sir!" The lieutenant's were not happy. Except AnderSmith. He didn't seem to mind. Weird.
"Better get going!" I warned.
"You're punishing them?!" Grif asked, suprised and confused.
"Remedial training. Disciplining a group for the actions of a single soldier leads to social pressures which typically results in the easy correction of an undesirable behavior. Classic military strategy." Wash said. Apparently Virge described it as the greatest method of training an army ever created because of it's simplicity and effectivity.
"Thanks a lot, fuckface!" Bitters yelled.
"So. Are you ready to begin today's training?" Wash asked.
"Uh, no?" Grif anwered.
"All right then. Let's make that four laps."
"Yes, sir!" AnderSmith yelled, as his fellow lieutenants groaned.
"Sir, I have an asthma attack!" Jensen yelled.
"Walk it off!" I yelled. I'm pretty sure her helmet is one of the older models; It doesn't come with any equipment to help her inability to breathe.
"How're you feeling now?" Wash asked.
"I feel like this military's fucking weird." Grif answered.
"FIVE LAPS!" Wash shouted.
"Yes, sir!" The exact same response to the previous extra lap was made. Except instead of Jensen yelling about an asthma attack, she started choking on something. Could be her own spit. Or the asthma.
"Man! This is the best punishment ever!" Grif exclaimed. Of all time.
"What do you need Kimball for, anyways? She's in the middle of a meeting with Doyle."
"So, she's in the war room?"
"Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait! No! You're not going anywhere until—"
"Sorry dude, gotta go, uh, just punish them a little more. I'm sure I'll learn my lesson." Grif left.
"ONE HUNDRED LAPS!" I announced!
"Yes, sir!"
"Oh, come on!" Bitter yelled. Palomo collapsed, and Jensen stopped running, barely able to catch her breath.
"No one leaves this room until they do their hundred!" I ordered.
"Yes, sir!"
"I think the blue one is an ONI agent." PSI said.
"Wait, what?" Wash asked. Yeah, that was pretty random.
...
Damian Stark's POV
"I don't care if your men prefer it, the fact to the matter is we are going to run out of ammunition faster." Kimball was arguing why we should switch to using DMRs.
"Don't forget to take the statistical advantage into account! Yes, the standard issue Assault Rifle has a firing range of fifteen rounds per second, but if those rounds aren't being fired at the enemy, then that means we have fifteen chances to kill the enemy, every time we pull the trigger!" Doyle was arguing why we should switch to using assualt rifles.
"What if we just switched to that gun Wash uses. The battle rifle. It uses three shot bursts. It has the advantages of both." I said.
"Yes, but we only have a few of them. It's one of the newer weapons we only recieved from the mercenaries." Doyle explained.
"And without them bringing in supplies, we need to make every bullet count." Kimball warned.
"Well it's not like the ammo's universal. They can use whatever gun they want, as long as they don't waste ammo on stuff they don't need. Like Palomo's dumb smiley faces." I decided. Giving third opinions is easy, but as the case with this time, it generally doesn't change anything. It's simple, but unprogressive. If the two armies could integrate or something, this would be easier.
"Hey! We got a problem!" Oh great. Grif is here.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Now, I'm what most people consider a hero, like a firefighter, or the guy who invented the microwave, or, uh, the Oreo dude." Grif said.
"Yeah."
"So what I want to know, is why a hero, such as myself, is not allowed to have second helpings in the mess hall?!" Grif asked.
"Umm... It's because we're low on food." Doyle admitted.
"So you have the common sense to ration our meals, but not our ammo?" Kimball asked.
"Not the same thing. Without food, we die. Without ammo, we can't shoot back, but there are ways around that." I explained.
"Do you honestly think we can win this war without any ammo?!" Kimball yelled.
"HEY!" Grif shouted. "I know you guys are having a hard time playing nice, but there are bigger things at stake right now."
"Get out."
"Like steak, for instance."
"get! Out!"
"We need bigger ones."
"Grif, please leave before we make steaks out of you." I warned.
"Uh, Isn't that cannibalism?" Grif asked.
"You have ten seconds to comply."
"Wait, what?"
"Nine!"
"Ok, I'm leaving." He walked out. "This is bullshit."
"Can we just talk about something else for a minute?" Kimball asked.
"Oh right!" I almost forgot. "Our men reported back from the assualt." I came here to tell them this, and almost forgot because I got dragged into the argument.
...
North Carolina's POV
"What?"
"Another one bites the dust! Oh yeah! Another one gone, another one gone, another one bites the dust! Ugh! Yeah! Ooh! We. Kicked. Your. Ass. Bitch!" Tucker and Sarge are taunting our captured and/our dead enemies. About half of them were scientists, so they didn't really stand much of a chance.
"Get down with your bad self!" Of course, I don't care much for them either way.
"Alright, that's enough. We just took their base. No need for cruel and unusual punishments." My sister said.
"Are you sure? I could drop some sick beats on them. Y'know, bust some rhymes, make it old-school." Sarge said.
"Oh for god's sake, Please don't." I don't want to see what his idea of old school is. I already know Virge is obsessed with the 21st century, Tucker was just singing music from then, and Simmons listens to music from before then.
"Can you stop doing that?" Church asked. I must have done the thing where we say the exact same thing at the same time by accident and not notice again. It's mainly with stuff like that where we usually are just thinking it, and just say it hoping someone listens. At least that's what I'm always doing when it happens.
"Sorry."
"Come on. Let's get this place sorted out. Intel says they were keeping some Freelancer equipment here." Carolina ordered. Back to business.
"Right. Sarge, why don't you go check on the Feds. Tucker, you down to handle the Rebels?"
"I'll go see what the captured have to say." I added. I'm willing to bet one of them knows something. I walked over to them. "I understand that you're probably confused right now, but I want to know what you were working on.
"We were ordered not to tell you anything." One of them said.
"Dude, you just told him something." Another said. So I'm guessing these aren't their brightest men.
"Oh, I totally understand. Last time we interrogated someone, he apparently got disintegrated by one of your snipers." I said.
"Wait, what?"
"Oh yeah. They were ordered to kill him on sight. Even though he was trained to resist torture. And they never knew if he told them anything or not. And to top it all off, they just gave away all the intel he might have told us anyway, so his death was meaningless." I knew about the orders, because I watched Derek recieve them before the attack. "You guys are practically dead men already."
"Oh god!" One of the yelled.
"But if you were to talk, we'd be allowed to take you to the safety of the Capital as prisoners so we can extract more information from you." I might throw it up for consideration, but I'm not taking the idea seriously.
"We were recreating the dome-shield unit. We haven't finished it, but we have the one we were given to study." One of their men nicely decided to tell me everything. His safety has been confirmed. Maybe. I won't guarantee anyone else though.
"Show me." I ordered, lifting him to his feet.