Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects
Episode 7: To hell and back

: AREA 51, MARS

: ARSENAL

As if in slow-mo, the last empty shell casing fell and clattered onto the ground. Slight breathing echoed from among the humans. A field of green goo and fleshy bits littered the entrance, stretching from the doorway to three feet shy of the Blood Gulchers. The dull thud of Donut passing out resounded within the cavernous white room. The skirmish was over.

"I think…the doc lady is in trouble," Church huffed, sort of disheveled from the assault.

"'Trouble'?" Sarge grunted, "She's dead! What we got here is the lil' ones. Imagine if the biggens attacked us. They'd paint the floor with us like a rainbow!"

Simmons spoke up, "But Dr. Pavlovla told us to get the bombs while she finds Sheila. I mean, there's gotta be a reason why she's really bent on—"

The mountain of Andys rudely interjected, "Of course there's a reason. Without Sheila, you can't operate us to detonate in a synchronized attack. Since those uglies are uncontainable, the doc probably wanted to use us and Sheila to bomb the whole building."

"Can't we just overload a power generator or something?" Doc inquired as he tends to Donut.

"Nope. Won't work. The crazies in here were so fussy in ensuring the safety of Area 51 that they designed the place with tons of fail-safes, particularly on the power generators."

Tucker dropped his arms exasperatedly, "Swell. So how're you guys supposed to help?"

The bombs talked back with an attitude, "How should we know? We're just tools to counter the worst case scenario, not made to plan out strategies. That's an A.I.'s job. Ask Sheila."

"And to do that, we'd have to go play 'infiltrating the maw'," Simmons mumbled, "That's just peachy."

Church motioned towards the door, "Well, I guess we better get going. The longer we stick around, the more those things multiply."

"Are you crazy?" Grif exclaimed, "We should evacuate the whole planet! This is a suicide mission, super-soldier work! The only reason Master Chief did so great on his Halo missions is because A) he had that hot, smart A.I. helping him, and B) he's fucking lucky! And, given from the records of our poor military careers, we're not so lucky…not to mention we lack hot, smart chicks." He glanced over at his not-so-bright sister, who appeared blissfully oblivious to this statement.

Simmons looked at him, his expression bland, "Wow, Grif. You weren't so happy about knowing how much we suck until now."

The orange soldier said candidly, "I'm just pointing out the truth through, I admit, fear of death."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Grif, but we're the only ones here that can do something about this. And if I catch you, or anyone, going AWOL…" Church targeted his assault rifle's reticule at Grif and other potential deserters.

Doc cried, "Why are you aiming at me?"

Sarge charged his shotgun, "Well what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Caboose gestured back at the mound of bombs, "But what about the Andys?"

"Oh, yeah. Hmm…" Church pondered, "…We'll split up. Half of us will wait here and guard the bombs. The rest will get Sheila." However, deep down, none of the Spartans wanted to do either of the two jobs. Hence, after quite some arguing, the company finally decided to draw lots. Ultimately, the results stand thus: Caboose, Sister, Donut, and Grif are to stay with the Andys, while Church, Sarge, Simmons, Tucker, and Doc are set on the appointed mission.

Sarge nodded at the other group, "Aw'right. When we find her, we'll radio you guys on the new plan."

Grif waved as they marched away, "Good luck! Have fun!"

"Hey, Caboose?" Church poked his head back in, "If anyone tries to leave…shoot 'em."

"Okie dokie!"

"Damn."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

: AFRICA, EARTH

: VOI, KENYA

The Master Chief and the Arbiter raced through the city as fast as they could, charged with the duty to locate the crashed Flood-infected ship and overload its engine core. The plan was to destroy Voi, hoping to save the rest of the planet from infestation. Moving further into the city, they found a loading ramp full of retreating Marines.

"Fall back, fall back!" a Marine sergeant yelled.

A female soldier tried to urge her superior to leave, "Sergeant, come on!" But it was too late. Infection forms and combat forms of various types swooped in on the Marines, laying waste on the unfortunate humans. Master Chief and the Arbiter did their best to aid in the fight, but, in the end, the sole survivor of the platoon was that one female soldier.

"About damn time!" she said when she caught sight of the Chief.

Though not pleased at the ill quantity of remaining troops, Master Chief knows they're running low on time. "C'mon, we gotta move," he grunted, and they headed for one of the ruined structures.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

: AREA 51, MARS

: ENROUTE TO RESEARCH LABORATORY

Church leaned against a wall and peered around the corner. A vicious firefight was taking place inside the mess hall. Good. Someone's still alive. He sidled up to the open entrance and took out his sniper rifle. Please, please, PLEASE let me hit something! He fired a shot at a combat form's head and the monster went down in a flash. "Yeah!...Uh, oh."

Some of the Flood beasts heard his cheer and spun around and spotted him. The tiny infection forms trilled excitedly and immediately went for their new prey. Thinking fast, Church lobbed a plasma grenade on the group. That should take care of them. But he was wrong. Despite the grenade has attached to one of the freaks, they continued to recklessly charge at him!

"Oh, fuck!" he wheeled around and power-sprinted in the opposite direction.

"C'mere, Blue!" Sarge reached out from behind a column and caught Church by the arm, yanked him into a crouching position beside him, and threw down a bubble shield. The spore-like creatures slapped themselves onto the temporary shield and the plasma grenade promptly went off, splattering gunk everywhere. Although the little annoyances were gone, a mob of combat forms soon took their place and were stampeding through the mess hall door.

"For the Reds!" Sarge shouted, melting them away with his trusty shotgun. It was then that Church realized how grateful he was for taking the Red leader with them. Not only did the old veteran have some military experience and skill, but his shotgun was doing a considerable amount of damage upon the Flood.

As Church and Sarge maintained their diversion, Tucker and Simmons swept into the mess hall from another entrance and searched for survivors. Backing towards a wall, the ONI Alpha Team leader was dragging the severely wounded and unconscious Bravo Team leader while holding off a pair of Elite combat forms. Evidently, half of both their teams have been wiped out or assimilated, leaving less than fifteen battle-worn soldiers to fend for themselves, each sustaining some kind of injury.

One of the Elite forms jumped forward to pounce onto the Alpha leader. But halfway in mid-air, Tucker shot up its legs, propelling the beast's body over the Alpha leader's head and dunking it into the garbage can behind him. The aqua Spartan put a fist in the air and whooped, "Ohhh, snap! Two points!"

At the same time, Simmons doused the other Elite with bullets before it could charge at him. As Doc scuttled over to treat the Bravo leader, Simmons said assertively "Man, these guys are easy! I can't believe we were scared of them."

"Don't get cocky, son," Sarge strolled up to them, tossing a grenade over his shoulder as he went and blasting away what's left of the Flood, "These ain't the biggens I've been talking about. You'll see what I mean when we make it to the labs."

At this statement, the Alpha leader did a double take, "Labs? You guys aren't planning on going into the research labs, are you? That's suicide!"

Church raised a hand, feeling he's under enough pressure, "Look, I don't have to take this from you too. Just tell us where you keep Sheila."

"Sheila? She's in Dr. Pavlovla's office in Block C. But I wouldn't go alone if I were you. Their nest is in there."

Doc glanced up, "Nest?"

"Their brain form, I mean. They're guarding it pretty good," the Alpha leader added earnestly, "If most of us weren't hurt, we'd help with you on whatever it is you're doing."

Church shook his head, "That's okay. How 'bout you go to the central control room and make sure Area 51 is completely locked off from the public. That'll buy us some time. And while you're at it, find us a way outta here. We're gonna need an escape route."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Good thing Tex gave these Andys mobility, huh?" said Donut.

Grif concurred, "Yeah. Saves us from carrying them." The group strolled out of the white room and into the arsenal with the bombs rolling behind them.

Caboose looked about, "Do you hear a thumping noise?"

The others paused and listened. Sister murmured, "I don't hear-"

"Shh, shh," Caboose pressed a finger to his lips, "There it goes again."

"…"

Grif frowned, "Caboose, you're hearing things."

THUM!

All the lights went out in the entire facility. Now similar to the research labs, only the dim illumination from the sirens and wall panels provided them a fair share of visibility.

"…"

"…Scary…!"

"All right. Who turned off the lights? Donut, did you lean against the light switch again?"

"No."

"Then wha—OW! Fuck!"

"Bro, you okay?"

"Yeah. I just tripped over one of the Andys."

"Jerk."

"…Breath in…breath out…breath in…"

"Grif…? Grif?

"What is it now, Donut?"

"…There's, uh, some more r-red dots coming this way."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Crap," Church cursed at the sudden darkness, "Turn on your flashlights, guys."

Doc switched on the light on the end of his healing apparatus and said worriedly, "Do you think the brain form already got control of the facility?"

But no one answered him. Everyone's eyes were set on the entrance to the research labs. "So this is what caused that earthquake," uttered Simmons. Sector 5's impregnable gate was blown to pieces; by what, they're not sure. Whatever it was, it carved out a huge gaping hole large enough for even the biggest of the Flood to come through. With a nice, hard, nervous gulp from Doc, they ventured past the forbidding threshold and into the maw.

"Let's do this quickly and quietly, okay, everyone? We don't want to attract too much attention," Church directed.

"Don't tell us what to do, Blue. You just keep your own man in line," Sarge growled, then said to his second-in-command, "Simmons, watch my back."

"Yes, sir."

As they silently made their way down the passage, the company couldn't help but feel they were not alone. Every now and then someone would point a light at the darkest corners of the hall, just to be sure they're the only ones there.

When they arrived in the hall where the elevator is, Doc made a choking noise and covered his mouth, "Ohh…" Surrounding the elevator was a ghastly number of corpses. Resembling the work of a hell fiend, the bodies were so hideously mutilated in such a way that it almost seemed meant for a purpose, like as a grisly welcome mat for any fool who dare to trespass into this hostile lair. A warning sign, a point of no return.

Doc took out an inhaler and Kchh.

"Aw, shit, aw, ew, ew," the group stepped over the cadavers towards the lift, some more squirmy and repulsed than others. Suddenly, one of the corpses' hands seized Tucker's ankle.

"AHH!" he screamed and dropped his weapon; not being any more helpful, the other Spartans also freaked. The assailant, a human combat form, breathed a raspy moan and scrabbled its horrid, skin-stretched hands at the aqua soldier's leg. "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" Tucker clambered on Church's arm. Eyes shut and still screaming, Church fired at the unwanted surprise until it was dead once more.

"…Friggin'…!" Church panted as a shaken Tucker released his arm.

Sarge wheezed, hoarse from yelling, "That's right. The bastards can reanimate themselves if not properly disposed of."

The Blue leader whipped his head around to glower at the other leader, "Forgot to tell that tidbit of information, did ya? What else do we need to know?"

While the rest jabbered in the background, Simmons studied the panel on top of the elevator. It reads that the lift is currently on the last level, sub-floor 20. Simmons pushed the down button and, without delay, could hear the mechanical sounds of the elevator rising. As they waited, Doc glimpsed over his shoulder, his voice agitated, "Uhhm, guys? I know this really isn't a good time to whine, but I think something's been stalking us."

Tucker groaned, "Aw, man. Are you telling me there's mo—?" He abruptly clamped his mouth when they heard something unfamiliar slither close by. Very close by. The Spartans wildly shined their flashlights everywhere. The pitter patter of claws reverberated around them.

"The walls, they're…moving!" Simmons gasped, aiming his flashlight at the hallway leading back to the gate. Sarge grimaced and loaded his shotgun, "It's not the walls…"

The jumpy Spartans reared up against the elevators doors, huddling together shoulder-to-shoulder with their guns at the ready. Simmons rapidly pushed the down button again and again.

There was a loud, deafening screech. A throng of brown spindly-shaped creatures sped along the walls and ceiling and voraciously lunged at them.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

At that exact moment, the elevator doors whooshed opened and the five soldiers toppled backwards into the lift and the doors punctually slammed shut on the creatures.

"…Whew!" the Spartans puffed in relief.

WHUNG!Claws instantly dented the door. One dent had the form of a face.

"Enhh…" the Reds and Blues sweatdropped and winced. Church kicked the 20th sub-floor button. As the lift began to lower, they can hear the squeaking of skin wiping off metal.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

The situation is bad and could only get worse.

Sometime during the combat form brawl in the arsenal, Grif and Donut got separated from Caboose and Sister. The Andys have gone missing. And, for some strange reason, something is interfering with the com-network, messing up their radio transmissions, which rules out calling for help. In short…

"We're screwed," Grif stated flatly.

The two Spartans were standing in the middle of an intersection and Donut was busy checking out a directory. "Let's see…" he shined his flashlight at a small red star, "'You are here.' Cool. Now where's Caboose and Sister…?"

Grif tilted his head around and gave Donut a blank you're-a-retard stare, "It's a map, Donut. Not a GPS."

"Then why does it say we're right here?"

"That's because the architects who built this place put that star there, knowing you'd be there, so you wouldn't get lost."

"But how do they know I'm here here? I could be standing over here or over there while looking at the map."

"It's just an estimate, okay? They don't know your precise location! They're just guessing that you're in an area close enough to where you can read the map!"

"…Oh."

"Oh, gawd…Why am I here?"

Their voices apparently have reached the Flood's ears. A diverse pack of combat forms and carrier forms skulked for their direction. "Grif, I think they're back," Donut trembled when he saw the distorted shadows in the distance.

Grif briefly checked his ammo supply and grumbled, "Man, this is way too much work for me!"

The carrier forms waddled in first, provoking the soldiers to shoot them. Grif tossed a frag grenade in front of them, exploding and popping their bubbly tops. New infection forms flew out and rained on the two Spartans.

"EEEEEE! Ewwww!" Donut shrieked and flapped his arms in fright, revolted at the touch of something so unclean. Hastily, he drew up his gun and blasted as many as he could, "Go away! Go away!" While he was distracted, a Brute combat form stormed past the others and rammed the pink soldier full force into the directory, shattering the object like glass.

"Donut!" Grif moved to aid his comrade but was wrestled down by four human and Elite combat forms. In a frenzied panic, he blindly squeezed the trigger, spewing what's left of the magazine into the monsters. Before he could reload, one of the forms whacked the rifle out of his hands. He un-holstered his handgun, but another form pinned his wrist to the ground and freed his hold on the weapon. Shit…!

With their prey now powerless, the combat forms started to wale on him, beating and slashing his body to a bloody pulp. One of them tried to bite him but Grif luckily managed to kick the beast off him. Seeing that the pitiful human wasn't down for the count yet, the other two picked him off the ground and repeatedly bashed him against several columns. Unable to take anymore damage, the orange Spartan listlessly slid down a column and collapsed onto his side unconscious. The parasitic predators hungrily hovered above him; they gabbled unintelligibly and swatted each other, fighting for the meal they just earned. During their petty dispute, one of them unintentionally stepped on Grif's leg, crushing it beneath its heavy weight. The sound of bones crunching then brought the Flood's attention back to their prey, reminding them of their insatiable hunger. The combat forms gathered around him and contentedly began to feed.

Right when they're about to feast, though, a barrage of bullets and pulse shots broke through the scene. The projectiles tore the Flood to shreds, ridding the halls of the vile beasts. The Brute form, the last Flood alive, was chomping down on Donut's shoulder when Caboose came in and grabbed it by the top and bottom of its mouth and pried it off the pink Spartan. Making use of his awesomely abnormal strength, Caboose swung the creature around and around and hurled it through the ceiling.

"DON'T EVER MESS WITH LT. MCMUFFIN!" bellowed the Blue soldier, shaking a fist after it.

"Ugh…Ca…boose…?" Donut moaned.

Caboose whirled about and gasped, rushing to the Red's side, "Capt. Long John Silver, are you all right?"

Donut spoke in a hushed, faint tone, "I don't know. How do I look?"

"Err, kinda bad. You have red stuff all over you."

"…My life is flashing before my eyes. Look, there's me when I was a kid. Aww, I was so cute! Ooh…I should never have worn that dress to the prom…"

"That monster almost eat-ed you! It's lucky you're still alive!"

The pink soldier laid the back of his hand to his forehead, "…Oh…It's getting dark. Hold me."

Sister hurried over to Grif, slid onto her knees beside him and ripped off her helmet. She gently propped him up against the column and removed his helmet as well. "Dexter? Dexter! Dexter, c'mon, wake up, please!" she lightly shook him, patting his face, a hint of dread coating her voice, "C'mon, Dex, I promise I won't embarrass the family ever again! Please wake up, Dex! Wake up...wake up…"

But Grif didn't wake up. "…" Sister sat there with a vacant gaze, too shocked, too stunned to register the fact that her only brother is dead. She was well aware that, once they joined the army, there was a chance one of them could end up killed one day. She just never really thought of it happening so soon. Memories of their times they share together, happy or not, begin to swim through her mind. Reminiscing moments of her doing something that displeases him, moments when he called her stupid. But, even more so, the times in which he showed how much he cares, that he's willing to get off his lazy butt to protect her, and the times in which he saved her, whether from actual danger or simply from her fears. At last, her heart couldn't take it.

"DEXTER! DEXTER!" she cried, shaking him more harder now, tears streaming down her cheeks.

It's useless…

She pressed her head into Grif's chest and wept softly, "Big brother…"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

: RESEARCH LABORATORY

: BLOCK C, OFFICE DIVISION

"Okay. Sheila should be here somewhere, in the doc lady's office," Church said as they approached their destination.

"I-Is that all? D-Did you get rid of all the blood?" Doc whimpered as Simmons did his best to clean the crimson mess off the medic's back.

To their utmost disgust, the lift they rode in had lots of foul-smelling bodies piled in it. For one, ONE, whole minute they were literally standing one foot in blood, gore, and vomit, the last a courtesy from Doc. If it weren't for the inappropriate cheery elevator music, half of the group would have gone into a nervous breakdown.

After that appalling event, they soon found themselves in a heavily infected zone. The labs were in complete chaos and the passageways were covered with miles of yellowish-brown, swollen barnacle-like spores. Often they would come across masses of Flood, all hoping to have a bite of flesh. Also, as it turns out, the spindly creatures, called stalker pure forms, they met upstairs mostly dwell with their other pure form relatives in the deep interior of the facility. Sarge believes it's because they want to protect the brain form. Church thinks it's because they know there are idiots ("…like us…") out there who are dumb enough to wander into their trap. Whichever the case may be, the Spartans know they won't have long until the Flood finds a way out of the facility.

The company trudged into the office section next to the labs. As expected, more bodies and Flood awaited them. Ranged forms attached to the ceiling launched a volley of spikes down on the humans. "Oh! Ow! Ouch! Fuck!" After taking a few hits, each ducked and rolled behind the cubicle walls and returned fire.

"Dadgum freaks! Why won't you just die?" Sarge repetitively fired shot upon shot on the spiky parasites, but every time he kills one, it would just revive again later. Tucker proposed aloud, "I think they're playing possum. Try shooting them when they're down."

The strategy worked like a charm. Nonetheless, even though the ranged forms are dead, they still have other things to worry about. A horde of combat and stalker forms bounded between the cubicles, carelessly knocking aside computers and office materials to reach their food.

As the soldiers attempted to hide and stand their ground, they caught sight of a person concealed behind a copier machine. Church whispered, amazed that someone is still alive and uninfected down here, "Matthias!"

Matthias, the tech who repaired Church's body, saw them and desperately scrambled towards them. But a swarm of infection forms came out from over a cubicle wall and ambushed the poor tech. Using a SMG, the panicked Matthias randomly shot everywhere but was inevitably engulfed by the enemy.

"Matthias!" Church went to save him, but Sarge grappled him back, "No! You can't do nothing, son! They got 'im!"

A horrifying transformation took place before their very eyes. An infection form had attached itself to Matthias and punctured into his spinal cord. "Ahh! No! No! Get off me-AHHH!" the tech cried out in intense agony. In a span of only seven seconds, his body morphed. Limbs and tissue bulging, face contorting, body convulsing. The inhuman overlapping of two screams. Matthias has become one of them.

"…!" the soldiers' faces were frozen in absolute fear. The combat form, what was once Matthias, rose up and slowly looked at them. The thing let out a mutant howl, alerting the other Flood forms of their position. Tons more were coming, and it quickly became clear to the Spartan unit that they were significantly outnumbered.

"Come on, in here!" Church, while shooting any incoming Flood, slapped the access pad of an office room and the door skimmed open. Following the Blue leader, they all stumbled into the room and the door closed and locked the monsters out. Surprisingly, the office was absent of Flood.

"Shit…!" they planted themselves on the floor, exhausted and traumatized. "Did you…Did you see that?" Tucker heaved, "That thing just…And that guy just…!"

Church breathed, comprehending his meaning fully, "Yeah…"

A grim silence followed. With his nerves still restless, Simmons got up and walked about the room.

"Well…" Doc tried to be optimistic, "At least we finally have a break, right?"

Tucker looked at him boringly, "'We'? You didn't do shit! All you did is run around with your arms over your head and squeal like a girl!"

"Exactly! I'm tired from all that running and screaming."

Then Simmons called, "Guys, I found the doctor!"

Centered in the back of the room underneath the large mahogany desk was Dr. Pavlovla. On the outside, she doesn't seem too bad, a few cuts and bruises here and there; but the look on her face, though, illustrated she was in a great deal of pain. One hand was clutching a near-empty pistol, the other draped loosely over her waist. Her shirt was torn from her chest down, revealing a giant purple bruise on her side. Simmons beckoned the medic, "Doc!"

Doc plopped beside Simmons and scanned Dr. Pavlova's wound. "Internal bleeding. She must've been slammed into something," Doc concluded.

"Can you heal her?" Simmons asked anxiously.

"I'm afraid not. She needs an operation, and quick. Otherwise, she'll die."

Church swore, exasperated, "Gosh, dammit!"

Sarge advised, "We could always kill her. Y'know, end her misery."

The cobalt soldier emphasized pointedly, "No."

"Unhh…" Dr. Pavlovla stirred, cracked opened her eyes and brought a hand to her head. Simmons eased, discouraging her movement, "Don't move. You were injured pretty badly."

The doctor chuckled weakly, "No shit."

Doc sighed, disappointed at her use of profanity, "Oh, no. They influenced you too."

"All right, I gotcha," Simmons carefully slipped his arms under her and hauled her out from under the desk.

"Wait…Here," the doctor extracted a new data chip from her coat. Church took the chip and examined it, "Is this…?"

A holographic image flickered above the chip's surface. A female A.I. with the identical manifestation of Dr. Pavlovla shimmered into view. "Hello. My name is Sheila."

"Sheila?" the Spartans gawked.

The A.I. smiled up at Church, "Oh. Hello, Private Church."

"Sheila…! Y-you look like…!" he stuttered. Sheila understood, "…the doctor, yes. I was designed to take after the appearance of my creator, my mother, Dr. Phyllis Pavlovla."

Church comically dropped his jaw, "Phyllis?"

It was Dr. Pavlovla's turn to smile, "That's right, Church. Sheila's original name…used to be 'Phyllis', my name…until you changed it during one of your time-traveling sprees."

"Uhh, guys? Sorry to interrupt, but…" Tucker thumbed at the door, which was being raucously pounded on by the Flood, "…we gotta go."

After Sheila's hologram disappeared, Church inputted the data chip into Simmons's helmet, speaking as if ordering rather than requesting, "Hold Sheila for me, will you."

Simmons sputtered, his face flushed, "Ah…ah…Hey! Why do I have to hold the mother AND the dau—Whoa." A cool tingling sensation of a mercury-like liquid flowed into the base of the maroon soldier's implants. Inside his mind, Simmons could hear Sheila's voice, "Good evening, Private Simmons. It's nice to be working with you again." The only thing the overwhelmed Simmons could say is, "U-Uhh…"

Tucker complained, "Hey, how come he gets to have the naked chick in his head?"

"Because I know you'd want a naked chick in your head," Church said bluntly, then switched his attention on the door, "Now. How do we get outta here?"

"Ohh, I don't wanna go through that gauntlet of death again! My throat's still sore from screaming," Doc fussed.

"There's no need. Area 51 is built with a teleportation grid much like the ones on the Halos. I can use it to transport you. However, the process requires an excess of energy. I can borrow the energy from your suits, but I suggest we only do this once."

"Fine. Let's just go!" Simmons said readily, eager to leave.

Tucker intervened, "Hold on. We still have to pick up Sister and the others."

Church added, "And we have to bomb the facility."

"I'll take you to your friends, and contact the Andys."

"Thanks, Sheila. Man…I never thought I'd be so happy to see the A.I. that killed me."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Sister? Sister, come on. We have to go find the Andys. We told everyone we'd watch them, remember?" No matter how many attempts he did, Caboose just couldn't coax the yellow Spartan to let go of her brother. "Gruf wouldn't be happy if you stay here and go to sleep with him. If you like, I'll carry him until he wakes up."

Something snapped inside Sister. She got up in his face and shouted furiously, "MY BROTHER IS NOT ASLEEP, MORON! HE'S DEAD! OKAY? DEAD!"

Caboose blinked, glimpsed down and twiddled his fingers awkwardly, "…Mommy used to tell me to not feel bad when someone dies because they will be happy in heaven. So Gruf is sure to be happy too." Sister stared at him for awhile, feeling somewhat comforted by his kind words, "…"

"I dunno. I'll probably be happy, but I'm not sure everyone else in heaven will…"

Sister spun around and saw Grif and his ever sarcastic, lopsided smirk, "Dexter! You're alive?"

Grif pat his amazingly healed leg, "Yeah, it's a miracle, huh? This weird foamy stuff in my armor saved my life. Except it felt really cold though—Agh! Sis, what're you—?" Catching him off-guard, she glomped him.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" she sobbed.

Despite being taken aback by her uncharacteristic manner, Grif smiled anyway, "Kaikaina…"

POW!

"Ow! Geez! What was that for?" Grif cried, massaging his arm.

Sister chewed him out, arms folded, "That was for being such a faker! I can't believe you made me worry like that! Bitch."

Donut randomly encouraged, "You go, girl!"

A growing skittering noise brought their actions to a halt. The foursome gazed down all four of the intersecting hallways and saw waves of inbound Flood in each.

"Aw, hell, I should've died," Grif muttered under breath.

"I should've stayed in Iowa," Donut chipped in miserably.

As the other Spartans reloaded their weapons, Grif tapped Caboose's arm, "Hey, dude. Do me favor and get me my pack of cigs over there. I wanna at least get stoned before I die…for real."

The Blue retrieved the cigarette pack and handed it to the orange soldier. Grif lit one and puffed out a cloud of smoke, "Ahh, yeah. That hit the spot." Sticking the cigarette between his teeth, he then charged his gun, rose to his feet, and stood back-to-back with the other three Spartans, speaking with resolve, "'Kay. If we die, we die like losers."

Donut sweatdropped, "That wasn't very inspiring."

"Eh, who cares? Speeching ain't my crap style."

When the Flood came within shooting distance, the Reds and Blues let loose a torrent of energy blasts and 7.62mm slugs. The parasitic vanguards of each passage went down in a heap but were swiftly replaced by more. Eventually, after clearing a good number of the Flood, the humans ran out of ammo.

"Well. This is it. Any last words?" Grif glanced at his comrades as the Flood closed in on them.

"I wish I had a chance to go on a date with that Tucker guy."

"Forget it. He's a pervert."

"I wish I had the chance to watch the end of Will & Grace."

"And I wish Church and Tucker were here."

On cue, Church, Tucker, Sarge, Simmons, Doc, and Dr. Pavlovla materialized beside them. Caboose's face brightened, "Church! You're here! And Tucker to—why are you all black?"

Tucker looked down at his used-to-be-aqua armor in disbelief, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me! Even with that mode of teleportation?"

"Thank God! Fresh air!" Church casually removed his helmet. It was then he noticed the change in scenery (no arsenal), the surrounding Flood, and the mussed up Spartans. He turned to the dark blue Spartan and demanded, "Caboose…What happened?"

"Umm, well…While you were gone, we kinda sorta got attacked by these monster things and kinda sorta got separated," Caboose murmured ashamedly, then said in a positive voice, "But we found each other!"

"And where are the Andys?" Sarge eyed him suspiciously.

Caboose swallowed uneasily, "We, uh, we kinda sorta, uh…"

Donut assisted him, "We lost them."

Sarge and Church exclaimed, "What?" Church quietly buried his face in one hand. Whereas Sarge rounded on one particular soldier, who, in his opinion, is the sole reasonable cause to this blunder, "Grif…"

"What did I do?" the orange Spartan cried, though half-expecting the blame to fall on him.

"You were supposed to watch them!"

"But everybody else was watching them too!"

"I've put you in charge!"

"No, you didn't! You put Donut in charge!"

Church threw up his arms, stressfully gripped his hair, and yelled at the top of his robotic lungs, "SHUTUP! SHUT-UP! DAMMIT, I CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIT ANYMORE! I MEAN, FRIGGIN'—AWHHH, I NEED TO SHOOT SOMETHING!"

He suddenly paused, then craned his head to the side and glared dangerously at the Flood.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

: To be continued…