Summary: The army runs on its stomach which makes Gold Team's scavenging runs a dangerous necessity.


Gold is Just Another Word for Shiny Orange

Being on medical leave had its advantages. And despite what the Reds and Blues (and, well, everyone else) assumed, Grif didn't spend all of it napping and eating. In fact, he spent most of it prowling through the outskirts of Armonia, often with the members of Gold Team at his side.

As they moved cautiously from house to house or building to building, wary of landmines and traps, Grif expanded on the lessons he'd taught them during the months they'd hidden away in the New Republic base. Because while many of the these structures had been abandoned and without power for years, it was still possible to find food, medicine, and other supplies if you knew where to look.

Over the past month, Matthews had discovered a knack for picking mechanical locks and spotting hidden compartments. His hands, shaky at first, had grown fast and confident as he broke into locked closets, opened sealed storage containers, and once even got them into a bank vault.

While Matthews worked, Bitters prowled the area, scanning constantly for danger, explosives, and enemy forces. He and Grif bickered constantly over the proper way to be a lookout and how to talk your way out of a bind but he never hesitated when Grif gave him an order. Seeing the ruined playgrounds and schools of his childhood sat about as well as spoiled rations but his captain pushed him past the horror and pain until he could really look and read the street, to see the possible dangers left behind by years of urban combat.

The final member of Gold Team, Maggs Linzi, was their ace-in-the-hole when their explorations hit a snag. Barely sixteen years old, Linzi had survived on her own for years before joining the New Republic. Grif had taken an almost unseemly delight in improving her pickpocketing skills and the diminutive girl was quickly empowered by his easy admiration of her determination to survive. Instead of looking at her in disgust or sorrow, he complimented her on her resourcefulness whenever she mentioned crawling through dumpsters to search for food or conning her way into a shelter for the night.

Smaller than any of the men by almost a foot (almost too small to fit in an adult-sized suit of armor), Linzi didn't hesitate to crawl across a rickety, half-broken catwalk or to scale fallen support beams. Grif always growled at her to be careful (I'm not carrying your stupid broken ass back to base, idiot) but he trusted her judgement when she thought they'd found someone's abandoned survival cache. She'd been right every time, after all.

"Captain Grif, sir, we found another underground bunker!" Matthews reported cheerfully. "I looks completely untouched!"

Grif turned from where he'd been scanning the street with Bitters and eyed their latest target. "Well, that's not creepy at all," he said after a moment. "How the fuck has nobody been in there before now?"

"Big ass pile of debris and a few explosives. Up till now, it was probably too big a hassle to explore," Linzi called out from her perch on top the pile of rubble. "The mines should be easy as shit to disarm, though," she added as she peered through the mess of rock and weeds.

"Yeah, yeah, hang on. Don't do anything yet."

They were in the heart of one of the suburban areas ringing Armonia, exploring a new set of streets recently cleared by EOD. Clearly, the bomb squad hadn't done nearly as good a job as they claimed.

"Bitters, you and Matthews do another sweep of the area, see if there are any other fun surprises nearby," Grif ordered with grimace.

"Yeah, we're on it." Bitters shook his head. "Feds can't do a single damn thing right."

"It was a Republic squad that did the sweep," Grif corrected sharply. "Chill out, we're all on the same side now."

A snort. "If you say so."

"Linzi, show me," Grif called as he hurried over to the rubble.

The petite girl scrambled down the rubble, dropping down next to him.

"Right, so this is a pretty solid middle-class street, right?" she began. "Decent sized yards, houses are mostly local stone instead of pre-fab. When the war started, middle-class people went crazy building shelters and hoarding supplies, all thinking it would be over soon. Should find some goodies if we can get in there."

"Where are the bombs?" The rubble was mostly made up of the collapsed remains of the house next door, a mix of red and brown stone, slate shingles, and long, warped pieces of wood intersecting the entire heap. The grass and weeds underneath had grown wild, pushing up through the gaps and further obstructing the bomb shelter doors.

"Two under the rubble and another next to the door. I think. Haven't gotten in there yet."

Stooping to follow Linzi's pointing finger, Grif nodded as he spotted the mines. By some miracle, the debris had fallen all around the explosives and there were even several open spots nearby where the wooden beams were holding back the rubble.

Absently tracking Bitters and Matthews as they cautiously poked around the area, Grif straightened back up. "What do you need to get in there?" he asked.

"Just a spotter for now," she confidently replied. "I shouldn't have any trouble reaching the shelter but moving anything else is going to require shifting the rubble."

"Which could set off the bombs. So awesome." Sighing, Grif debated how to proceed. This was the part he hated about their scavenging runs. One wrong decision and they'd all get blown to pieces, leaving Kimball to explain to the Reds and Blues (and North) what the hell had happened.

Grif missed last week's adventure breaking into the First Bank of Chorus. That had been fun.

"Can you disarm these?" he asked. "We might be able to get Matthews in there if you need a second pair of hands."

"Fuck yes, I can disarm these." Linzi almost sounded offended. "These are the same shitty pressure plate mines I've been disarming for years. I don't need Matthews for these. Besides, he's just a kid. He doesn't have the nerves for this crap."

"You are three months older than him."

"Girls mature fast, Captain. Three months is like three years for teenagers."

"Uh, yeah, no." Crossing his arms, Grif gave her a look that burned straight through his visor. "Baby sister, remember? That might work on Simmons but I literally lived through my her teenaged years. I know you better than you do."

Flapping her hand impatiently, Linzi started crawling back up the rubble heap. "I got this."

"Slowly, Linzi. Grey's out of prosthetics so if you blow your hand off, you're out of the game."

Grif felt his blood pressure skyrocketing as the sixteen year old girl started to wind her way through rubble. The raw exposed edges of the stones and concrete scraped against her armor, screeching like nails on a chalkboard.

Bending, twisting, and contorting herself, she slid through the tiniest gaps and gingerly shifted weeds and smaller rocks out of the way as she worked her way to the bottom of the pile. It wasn't long before she disappeared entirely, leaving Grif to listen to her pant and grunt over the coms and strain to hear to the sounds of her passage. Finally, her foot appeared at the top of a clearing near the base of the rubble, then the other.

"Okay, keep going straight down," Grif immediately said, stooping down to better guide onto the ground. "Bomb one is to your left and forward, two is way forward and on the right. You're clear so far."

Linzi's feet swung slightly back and forth as she let out an annoyed grunt. "Chestplate's caught," she reported. "Just need- a minute- almost-"

Grinding his teeth together, Grif felt his blood pressure spike again. Even Matthews, baby faced and still praying for a growth spirt, was too big to get to Linzi now. This was all on her, a malnourished child-soldier who had way too much experience with bombs for anyone's peace of mind.

To the accompanying scream of scraping metal, Linzi finally freed herself and dropped to the ground, landing lightly in the confined space.

"Jesus fuck," Grif hissed. Her armor had a long, thick gouge going straight down the right chestplate. "That's going to take a hell of a lot of buffing to get out."

"Hah," Linzi painted. "Sounds awesome. Can't wait to see it. Where now?"

"Crouch but mind your ass. I don't like how some of that shit behind you looks."

"Got it." Bending her knees, Lindzi rolled onto the balls of her feet as she did a slow squat, mindful not to let her ass stick out behind her.

Soft steps suddenly approached from behind. "All clear, sir," Bitters whispered as he drew close.

"Is she alrea-" Matthews started, only to be frantically hushed by the other soldier. "Sorry," he whispered when he realized his mistake.

At the bottom of the rubble heap, Linzi let out a relieved sigh when she finish her squat without jostling anything. Everything was so sensitive at the very bottom. One wrong move and she's collapse the debris on top of her or set of a chain reaction that trigger the bombs.

"Okay, ready to get to bomb one," she reported.

"Go forward but keep your head way the fuck down," Grif ordered. "Go slower than slow."

"Yessir."

The men watched nervously as Linzi half crawled and half crab-walked her way forward. She paused several times to change angles or twist under a plank, moving slow enough that when her head hit something, it didn't immediately collapse on top of her.

Finally, she reached the first bomb. "I am awesome," she breathed. Pausing to take a few deep breaths, she drew several long, thin metal tools out from under the armor plate on her forearm and set to work.

First, she had to clear away the grass and weeds that had grown up around the explosive, hands and tools cutting and pulling away the plant life without hitting the bomb or anything that mind be concealed around it. Then, she slid the flat edge of one of her tools under the edge of the pressure plate, carefully prying off the cover. It was rusted in several places, the thin gap sealed by the reddish-orange flakes, and she had to be careful not to exert any downwards pressure as she slid her tools through the oxidized crust.

The entire team let out a relieved breath once the cover popped free. Switching on her external helmet light, Linzi took a minute to examine the interior mechanism. "Firing pin's bent," she finally announced. "This thing isn't blowing unless we hit it with a hammer."

"Lovely. Get it out of there," Grif ordered.

"On it, Captain." Replacing the cover plate was much faster than removing it. Before picking it up, however, she paused to study the area around the bomb, the stooped over to peer underneath once she knew where she could safely put her hands. "Nothing underneath that I can see," she added. "Bitters, stick an arm in here, you've got the longest reach."

Carefully scooping up the explosive, Linzi waited until she saw where her teammate's hand appeared before moving. After a minute of careful movement, she placed the mine in his open palm and watched as he drew his hand back.

"Put that somewhere safe and mark it," Grif ordered. "Bomb squad can take care of it. Linzi, take a minute before you move on to the next one."

"I'm fine." The roll of her eyes was audible in her voice.

"I don't give a crap," Grif snapped back at her. "Sit and take a breather." Damned fucking teenagers. Always rushing ahead.

By the time Bitters had take away the bomb and returned, Linzi was approaching the second device, repeating the same slow motions that had delivered her safely to the first. When she reached and started her examination, she was relieved to be able to report that it was a dud: it had already 'fired' and hadn't gone off. Once more, she passed it back to Bitters and took the required break.

The third bomb, however, was completely functional and live. There was complete silence as she delicately worked to remove the firing pin, painfully aware that a single mistake would kill them all.

"Got it."

"Awesome work, Linz. Pull it and we'll start clearing some of this shit away."

After carrying the bomb to Bitters, Linzi kept watch as the men started to clear the rubble, ready to alert them the moment something shifted in an unexpected way or if they uncovered another potential threat.

After almost an hour of labor, a small path had been cleared from the street where their Warthog was parked and the door to the shelter tucked up against the house that had caught their attention.

Grif ordered Bitters and Matthews to take a break then hurried to join Linzi at the angled doors. The teenaged girl was carefully examining the angled metal doors and the surrounding concrete frame. Switching on his own helmet light, Grif started scanning the top of the doorframe, working side-to-side and down. When neither soldier saw any sign of wires or sensors, he ordered her back and hauled open one of the doors.

The rusted hinges groaned and the dented door squealed as it was forced outwards. It took both hands for Grif to get it all the way open and the still-healing shrapnel wounds in his shoulder twinged painfully at the sudden exertion.

Before he could stop her, Linzi peered around him and then dashed forward, head sweeping side to side as she ran her helmet light across the stairs descending into the darkness below.

"Slow down!" Grif barked as she vanished into the cellar-like space. "We don't know what's down there!"

"Captain, we hit the jackpot," she gushed, voice floating up the stairs. "This is aweso- oh."

"What is it?" Racing down the stairs as fast as he dared, Grif's mind started spinning out all the ways Linzi could have gotten into trouble.

"Um, the family that built the shelter is… they're still here."

Stepping behind her, Grif followed Linzi's gaze, sighing softly as he saw the remains huddled against the far wall. Wordlessly, he reached out and rested a hand on his soldier's shoulder, knowing very well how much she hated bodies.

Grif liked Linzi. She was pretty smart (not as smart as she thought she was but- teenager) and very resourceful. She handled herself well and didn't take crap from anyone. In a lot of ways, she reminded him of himself- and his sister. The others teased him about the superficial similarities between himself and Bitters but Linzi's life was a sad echo of his and Kai's. And he didn't want her to grow to adulthood thinking that no one would ever be on her side.

As Linzi took a moment to gather herself, Grif took a look around, suppressing an amazed whistle at what they'd found. Jackpot was right. Whatever this family had died of, it wasn't starvation. The shelter was almost entirely shelving and nearly every bit of it was jam packed with MREs and canned goods.

Giving the young girl's shoulder a friendly pat, Grif walked back over to the stairs. "Get the crates off the Warthog," he called up. "Matthews, you're on packing duty. Bitters, keep watch."

"Yes, sir!" two voices replied.

"Alright, back to it, Linz," Grif ordered turning back around. "Let's check for traps."

Fortunately, the shelter was clean of obvious danger. Matthews appeared with the collapsible crates they'd brought with them and they fell into a familiar rhythm as the pack the supplies. Grif and Linzi went through the shelves, Grif high and her low, examining each item and checking for any sign of contamination. Anything damaged or punctured in some way, was pulled off the shelf and shoved in a corner so it didn't get transported back to base by mistake. Matthews followed along behind rapidly packing the approved items into the crates which then got stacked at the base of the stairs. Once Grif and Linzi had checked the final shelves, Grif had her help Matthew while he started ferrying the crates up and out of the shelter. Bitters maintained an alert patrol while they worked underground, pacing back and forth with his trackers on, weapon gripped in steady hands.

In the end, they had to repurpose several containers in the shelter in order to get everything packed. The pile of food and medical supplies was a heartening sight when they cleared the last shelf and left the shelter. Grif took a moment to force the door closed once more, then tagged the shelter with a red X to keep other soldiers out.

"Captain Grif, this was the best scavenging run you've ever led us on!" Matthews enthused once he was done.

"Oh for- Matthews, what did I tell you about sucking up?" Grif demanded.

The young soldier shifted sheepishly in place. "Um, that it just puts you in the perfect spot to get kicked in the teeth?"

"Yeah, exactly. So stop it. Not everyone will be as nice as me in the future."

Matthews hung his head. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." He looked and sounded like a kicked puppy.

"Just- help me get this shit packed," Grif sighed.

If they hadn't had a tow-car hooked up to the Warthog, they would have had to make multiple trips. Fortunately, the extra cargo space was standard issue for their scavenging runs now that they were sticking to Armonia's city limits and surrounding suburbs. As it was, both Linzi and Matthews had to activate the magnetic locks on their boots and hold on to the machine gun in order to fit on the jeep with all the goods.

The sun was just starting to set by the time Gold Team pulled up behind the mess hall. Having radioed ahead once they were close, several soldiers were waiting at the backdoor to help unload the supplies. After a brief farewell and with the keys to the Warthog in Bitters's hands, Grif left his team and went to go find Kimball.

The New Republic general was finished up paperwork in her small office when Grif finally arrived.

"I heard you had some success," she stated when he knocked on her door and poked his head in.

"Yeah, found a Doomsday cultists stash or something," he replied pulling off his helmet as he came inside. He collapsed onto the chair in front of her desk with a sigh of relief. His shoulder absolutely ached. "There's at least one meal for the army if everything's good. And some medical supplies for Grey to look at."

"Even one meal is good news," Kimball agreed. With a soft sigh, she dropped her style and rubbed her tired face, flicking away a lock of frizzy black hair. "None of the other scavenging teams have found anything major. Of course, they're not pushing out as far as you are."

Grif shrugged. "Gotta take risks if we're going to keep eating. If we don't eat, we die."

"Very true. You're also the only group I trust to venture out that far and come back alive." She gave him a wry look. "So tell me, are the outer regions of Armonia more or less dangerous than the towns you took your team through back at the old base?"

"Oh, this is definitely more dangerous," Grif replied with a perfectly bland voice and expression. "After all, I would never have taken my team out before if I thought there was any possible danger."

He got a sardonic look in response and bit back a grin. He remembered how Kimball had blown her top at him when she found out about the little excursions he'd been taking his team out on. But it was true: without taking risks, they'd run out of food. Without food, they would die. He'd learned that lesson at an early age. The only reason she hadn't shot him then and there was because they were only going out once or twice a week. And only in the opposite direction of any Federal forces in the area.

It had never been his intention to get any of his team hurt or killed. And so far he'd avoided it. The only member of Gold Team that had been hurt was him. And he had every intention of keeping it that way.

Tapping her fingers on her desk, Kimball tilted her head. "Do you want to take your team out again?" she asked.

"Nah." Grif shook his head. "Linzi is getting cocky. And when she gets cocky, Matthews is usually only a step or two behind her. I want to let Wash drag 'em around the training field a bit, remind them they aren't the Big Shits they're feeling like right now. That just makes them stupid."

"Well, they are teenagers," Kimball agreed. There was a flash of pain in her eyes despite the humor in her tone. Too much of her army and Doyle's were practically or literally children and they hated that they had no other choice but to keep and use them.

"In any case," Kimball finally continued, pushing on, "thank you again, Captain Grif, for your help. We desperately need all the supplies we can get and you're doing far more than anyone could ask for."

Cheeks darkening, Grif quickly pulled his helmet back on and stood up. "I just want to keep eating, General. Have a good night."

"You too, Captain. You too."