I DO NOT OWN Roughnecks: STC. I'm only messing around with them. Owner(s), please, please, don't sue me for this...
SPOILER WARNING! This fanfiction contained spoilers for an episode of Tesca, and the episode 35, Homefront Campaign: "Requiem"
Day 211 of the Homefront campaign. It had been around 7 months since the Bugs attacked Earth. At first, we only thought that these days we wouldn't need to fight Bugs again with the Queen presumed dead, only awaiting the higher ups on what to do with us. Don't get me wrong, but there were times that we wished that we could still fight Bugs. We did get it. More than we can chew. With the Bugs attacking many landmarks, and other sites, the war was brought to home. Cities lost. Casualties were still rising. The Roughnecks were to detonate the underwater tunnels in San Fransisco Bay using synchronized detonators, joined with Lieutenant Walker's squad. We thought it was just another mission. Only for it to suddenly turn into something else real quick that none of us, not even any of the Lieutenant Walker's squad, knew what really happened.
The day before, day 210, passed in a flash. And for the Roughnecks, the end of the day brought a sense of nostalgia(1). However, this time around, there was no one to give us orders to keep our minds occupied. Well, not like we would be able to concentrate with all that had happened anyway.
Sergeant Johnny Rico, long since he was called a private, sat with his head bowed. His hands clasped before his sight, his foot tapping to the steel floor. He was dressed in his dark gray uniform, sitting on the edge of his bunk. His squad mates, the rest of the Roughnecks, AKA Alpha Team, were scattered in their shared room. One had to admit that the atmosphere was very...gloom. Their shared attire, bar one, didn't make it any better.
The usually energetic Dizzy Flores lay sprawled on her bunk, her face buried in the pillows. Her hair ruffled and messy, some strands near tangled. One would wonder how that would be possible with her short, tomboyish haircut. Her not-so-plush pillow was pressed close to her face by her hands, the sheets wrinkling. Occasionally, she would clench her fists, her feet tensing along with the action, toes curling. No one said anything, nor were they in the mood, but they'd lie if they said that she wasn't crying; her gently shaking shoulders were hardly deniable.
Their squad's "chief engineer" and another usually cheery one, Jeff Gossard, wasn't in the room. He had left earlier, seemingly unable to bear staying still any longer before he lost his mind. He didn't need to say anything; no one was in the mood to ask questions back then. He used to pace in the room, for about three quarters an hour, before he threw his arms in the air, before leaving, muttering something about getting something to eat and something to blow.
Doc LaCroix, the squad's field medic, didn't even come back to the bunks. They lost him before they returned to the quarters.
The squad's psychic, Carl Jenkins, sat at the edge of his bunk, his eyes drooping and unfocused. He rocked himself back and forth, his hands on his temples. Usually, he only did that when there was something he sensed, and the others would ask what it was that he felt. Not this time, though. Occasionally, he would mutter something intangible before going all silent again. At other times, he would either grunt in frustration, or sigh. There were times where his brows were so furrowed that one would fear that it would stay that way.
The Skinny of the squad, or Tophetti, as some referred them, T'Phai, stood at the near far corner of the room. He clearly shared their grief, if his hunched posture was any indication. His facial expression, almost completely different than that of a human, was almost as usual, if it wasn't for the grief in his eyes, his teeth pressing to his lip, and the slight uplifting of his 'eyebrows'. He was the only one in power suit, since the Tophetti lived in a volcanic, acidic, hot planet, and couldn't survive on a human's environment or else risk hypothermia a and/or suffocation.
Robert Higgins, AKA "Paperboy" as he was a reporter of the Fednet, stood by his locker, staring at the lens of his prized camera gripped in both hands. Other times, the others would tease him about this or otherwise, throwing banters as easy as they shoot the Bugs. However, this was NOT "other times". He turned his eyes to the smaller camera that he brought to Tophet. The very same one with the one he used to record that one adventure with his CO. Sometimes, he would wonder how that camera survived the whole ordeal, up until then. It wasn't the price or the videos it carried that made it all precious, but it was the memory associated with it that brought a bitter smile to his already sour face.
Overall, the Roughnecks looked like hell. But it wasn't like they cared anyway.
Rico sighed loudly, raising his head to let his sight fall on his squad mates. He knew that some didn't even looked his way, but all of them knew he knew that he had their attention. He kneaded his temples. "Can't believe that all those happened just yesterday. Feels like it's only been...days."
Higgins put down his camera in his locker, locking it, looking slightly over his shoulder and replying, "Yeah." His one word reply would discourage most from talking to him any further, and Rico didn't ask for any elaboration from his part, taking his eyes off of him.
Rico glanced at the sprawling form of Flores as she spoke, her voice muffled by the pillow as she had yet to raise, or even look away from. "Never thought it would be us who got the El-Tee's dying." It was near intangible, but it was clear enough for them to hear in the silence.
That was the last straw.
Both Jenkins and Rico sprang to the feet, advancing on her bunk, both of them on the either side of her. Their eyes were suddenly ablaze, like a sudden volcanic eruption just occurred out of nowhere and re-ignited their flames.
"It's not your fault, Diz," the young sergeant denied vehemently. "We wouldn't know that this would have happened." The "you cared about him as we all do, and thought that this was a result from your jinx" left unsaid, though both parties knew it. The jinx was something that might or might not be real. Regardless, Flores is convinced that everyone she loved, or cared about, would have something bad happen to them. His eyes were glazed over. "If I only wasn't so slow back then..."
"Then, I'm also to blame," stated a voice. "I didn't tell the El-Tee to move earlier."
Doc LaCroix. When he returned, it was something they would wonder, if they had the mood to.
Flores took this as a chance to rebut Rico. "See? Everyone's throwing the blame to themselves." A twitch to Doc's lips, as he was remembering the Roughnecks' habits of self-guilt.
Higgins shook his head, turning completely from his locker to look at the others before joining the others with a brief, small smile.
Doc stopped by the door, opening his mouth before the door re-opened, causing all of them to look in that direction, noticing that, this time, it was Gossard who returned. He wasn't any more cheerful than when the first time he left the room.
"I gotta admit, sometimes I feel like I'm hearing the Lieutenant's voice. Can't be sure if that's the guilt speaking," the squad's engineer confessed.
"It may not be guilt that's speaking," T'Phai spoke carefully and for the first time since they returned, choosing his words carefully. His steps were even echoing the emotion of his voice; moving slowly, carefully, as if threading on thin ice. Their old Sergeant, Brutto, would probably just say something so tactless that they'd all feel like punching him in either his face, or his balls. "It is possible that it's our...routine that's speaking."
Higgins sighed. "What would I give to have the Lieutenant barge in and give us new orders, calling us apes..."
They sobered up. Bowing their heads collectively at what could have happened. They felt the renewed cold ice of fear gripping their hearts in its grip, even colder than when the first time they heard the news. Higgins paled, and if they look at him then, they wouldn't need to ask what he was thinking. They knew. It was what on their minds. They all came to depend on him that the blow of even the possibility hurt more than they thought. Even the knowledge that one day one of they might get KIA, it wasn't any easier.
Rico asked the medic, "Doc, any news?" It echoed their worries and anticipation.
Doc sighed, bowed his head, and shook it slowly. He knew that they were waiting for him for that. "Not a word," he spoke, his voice soaking in regret, "they practically shoved me out before we even reach the infirmary." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry."
The tense silence returned, broken only the sound of shuffling of the bunk's sheet. They, as in, all who wasn't there the day before (bar Rico, Flores and Doc), were all wondering what happened then. It was a blur.
Flores raised her head from the pillow. She looked worse than them; there were tear tracks on her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She sniffed her now red nose. No one gave them their pity; she'd outright refused. That was their Diz, a big, tough girl, and they all knew it. Instead, they offered an unspoken support, and all of them could tell that she appreciated it. Considering how wet the pillow was, it was a wonder when she spoke rather steadily.
"Me and Doc were waiting, our guns out at the ready." The others took seats, wherever there was enough space to sit, still respecting each other's privacy, and supporting one another in their emotional turmoil. Flores took a sniff before continuing, "I was getting worried that they were delayed. I was both scared and overjoyed to see Rico back, however his lack of helmet meant that we had company, even that close to the transport." She shifted herself to a sitting position, pulling her legs to under her, her squad mates adjusting by shifting out of the way, or standing altogether. "When the El-Tee surfaced, we were so happy. Even as Doc was still shooting at those Water Tigers."
Doc nodded, confirming the story. If anything, he looked even smug as he added, "Yea. Those pesky underwater Bugs. Never thought there would be so many that close."
Flores' eyes turned sad and angry as she recounted her story. "Then at the very last second, the Bug grabbed him with its ugly face!" The young woman punched her fist on the pillow, startling Higgins, even if only slightly. The others might be surprised at her sudden outburst, but they were less vocal about that. Rico patted her shoulder in support even as her eyes water. "And then..." She paused.
"And then...?" inquired T'Phai, the Tophetti leaning his head forward, both to keep his head from hitting the upper bunk, and to actually get a closer look. Those, and his own curiosity.
Flores shook her head, burying her face in her hands. Higgins, Jenkins, Gossard and T'Phai all exchanged glances, silently asking one another that whether or not this was the Flores they knew, silently hoping that it was something that wasn't the Control Bug that drove her like this.
Rico, like the good sergeant he was, took point by the moment Flores grew too agitated. "I managed to grab his hand - his left, that is. I was barely able to hold him; the Bug didn't want to let him go, pulling, and yanking him around." Rico turned away all the while sighing. He shook his head as the memory made itself clear. "Then it all happened so fast. Blood was everywhere. In the water. On the Lieutenant's power suit. On the Bug's mandibles. The Bug just...jerked him around like he's some kind of a chew toy."
Higgins cringed, rubbing his upper arms as he felt goose bumps rising as the image that rose with the story. Rico sighed again, glancing at Flores. There were expectant looks thrown in his way, but he didn't continue. He merely sat down, running his through his hair, staring at the said hand afterward, as if he could see something they don't.
"I don't even know what really happened after that," Doc admitted. "All I know is sounds of gunfire, and suddenly we got Razak back. He was bleeding so badly, and we nearly lost him right then and there." He shuddered visibly. "One of them," he pointed with a tilt of his head to the general direction of both Rico and Flores, "reported to Goss to get the charge up and running."
He shrugged. "And you know the rest."
The silence once again descended upon them. Higgins awkwardly shuffled his feet together, unable to bear another session of awkward silence.
BANG BANG
...only to be broken by the sound of fists banging on the steel doors to their quarters. Startled out of their wits, they abruptly stood. The lucky ones were able to stand up unhinged. The unlucky ones, however, got a nice introduction of their heads with the bottom of the upper bunk.
BANG BANG BANG
"Open the door!" someone unfamiliar shouted outside.
"Alright, alright! We're coming!" replied Rico with a shout, hissing as he rubbed his injured head. Doc automatically walked over to check him, only to be swatted away with an "I'm fine." He opened the door, the other Roughnecks gathering behind him, curious, but unwilling to be disrespectful (or at least, seemingly, to the outsiders).
The door opened with a hiss, only for the Roughnecks to face a group of people they had never seen before. The looks on their faces were far from friendly. The fact that they were wearing power suits and the Roughnecks didn't, didn't help. Not in the slightest. One could have sworn that it made it even worse, from certain point of view, i.e. the Roughnecks.
Rico suddenly felt very self-conscious, stuttering with an "Umm" before he felt Jenkins supporting his via physical contact. He cleared his throat before speaking, "Anything I, err, we can help you, gentlemen?" he asked, attempting to be polite even as he felt uneasy.
The one in the front, obviously in command from the look of it, was so blunt and tactless that could put their Sergeant Brutto to shame. "Corporal LaCroix, Private Flores."
"Yes?" "What?" the mentioned duo moved to the front, their buddies parted to let them pass, now standing near their sergeant and the other sergeant.
"The two of you are summoned to the briefing room for questioning."
That nailed it.
The squad blinked dumbly as the words seeped to their brains.
"What?" Flores shouted, gaping in protest and surprise. Her tone indignant. "What did we do?"
Rico stepped forward, siding with Flores. "Yeah. What did they do?"
"They were all, in the scene, that had their Moritas with them, don't they?" Rico and they nodded affirmatively. "Well, we believed that there was an attempt on your lieutenant's life; there were bullets found in Lieutenant Razak's body during surgery, and the bullets matched that of a Morita rifle."
(1) The Tesca Campaign, when Rico was badly injured.
Alright, folks, this is my very first R:STC fanfiction. I used to watch the show on my elementary school years, and this episode hit me so hard that if I looked back, I wouldn't be surprised that I was shaken. Razak was my favorite character, and I nearly stopped watching the show altogether. Why do characters that I like end up dying...? Perhaps Dizzy's jinx apply to me instead. Hopefully not.
Anyway, I don't remember the whole thing, and I just recently watched the Homefront Campaign one, with the commentary. This was originally isn't like this, however the commentary inspired some changes in the skeleton prototype I drafted. In case you don't know the commentary, you can ask me (ain't gonna write it here to avoid spoiling too much)
Hopefully you guys can enjoy this. Feel free to correct me, as I don't know much.
See ya later~!