A/N: I'm a little sad at myself for not being able to keep up what (I thought) was a cool idea with the updates, but I'm also really relieved that I'm able to write and update more regularly in comparison for you guys because you're all awesome and I can't thank you enough for supporting this story. Thanks so much : )

Special thanks to secretlystephaniebrown godoflaundrybaskets, ephemeraltea, Yin, and meirelle for the feedback on AO3 and on tumblr!

Recovery None
Recovery One III: Heretics

The chaos that ensued with the tank was enough to divert all attention away from the scene of the real incident - the one that Tex gave any fucks about, at least. She waited a bit longer as the remaining Blues took their renegade tank toward Red Base and then she made her way invisibly to the cliff.

The cobalt armor was broken, dented in and cracked, black streaks across the chest plate and helmet as well as most of the arm pieces. It was a wreck, no way for a human body to survive.

But then, of course, her concerns weren't with human elements.

The sparks erupted in small, weakening streams from the cracks, the full mechanized suit was going into power down cycle.

Tex squatted down, reaching out with one hand to run over the jagged edges, feel around the gadgetry and wires. She huffed.

Her fingers ran over a bit of elastic-like material just beneath the singed kevlar suit beneath the armor. It was warm, a little melted closer to the sparking wires underneath. She supposed it was rubber or some kind of synthetic flesh.

She slid her eyes closed and stopped for a moment, tried to process what she was seeing.

For a long time she knew that there was more to their mechanical bodies than the metal frame and wires, the near perfectly molded armors suited for them. But something had kept her from investigating for herself. She had taken great care since she escaped the Mother of Invention to never look at the face beneath her helmet.

As far as she was concerned, the black armor was her flesh and bones.

She didn't need to see whatever the Director had deemed to be worth features for his science fair project.

But, for a moment, she wondered just how thorough the same man had been for Alpha - she wondered what he looked like as Church, if the image on his metal bones could match the blurry, indescribable memory she was still trying to decode from her past.

Her fingers curled around the cobalt helmet. She scowled, waiting for her hands to move on their own, to take the helmet off entirely, but nothing happened.

Other than Omega's curling and twisting and unsettling hissing in the back of her mind. The rage and hatred that poured from it had become nearly impossible to ignore the moment she came onto the ledge with Church.

"Shut up," she growled at it, flickering her eyes toward the common AI projecting shoulder, though it did little to settle the hissing.

Suddenly, there was an unmistakable sound of decompressing air.

Surprised, Tex looked to Church's armor just as the lights flickered across it, first on, then off.

"Omega, scan this armor for any AI," she demanded, standing up, looking around the canyon.

Negative.

"Fuck, he jumped," she growled, kicking the empty vessel. "Son of a bitch, making everything so damn complicated."

The AI in her shared headspace could not have been more pleased with the reaction.

Tex glared out into the canyon, listening to the shouting and canon fire on the Red side.

"If he's jumping and knows he's not dead... damn it, he'd have to know what he is now," Tex glowered. "Flowers was a real bastard in my book, but he knew he was onto something... about some of us deserving to be able to not remember the past. What was done."

She sighed, hands firmly on her hips. "I guess if I couldn't have that anymore... well, fuck, I guess it would have been nice for him. At least for a while. Not that there was much a life to have in this stupid, useless canyon-"

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the familiar sounds of a carrier overhead came through the sky, soon followed by the searing whistle of a drop.

"Oh, fucking, great!" she growled, racing toward the cliff facing to get herself cover.

The canyon was finally getting interesting, but of course it had to be right when she was going to have to begin searching for wherever Church jumped.


The trip had already worn on into days when Command's coordinates drastically shifted.

Washington pulled over his mongoose and stared at the newly assigned coordinates for a few moments. It didn't make any sense - the destination wasn't even remotely like the city he had been given before and was, instead, yet another sim trooper base far off in the middle of nowhere.

"This isn't right," he growled to himself before reaching up to his com radio on the side of his helmet. "Command?"

"This is Command. You're secure, Recovery One, go ahead."

"Why am I going this way?" he asked very seriously.

"Come again, Recovery One?" she asked.

"The new coordinates you sent to my mongoose," he clarified. "Why did I get them? And why did it completely reroute me? I was still at least another day from the city and, next thing I know, my GPS is hacked and my directions erased."

There was a bit of a hum from the other end of the radio, the stroke of a keyboard, and then Command began again. "Your objective is to follow leads regarding former Freelancer Agent Wyoming, correct, Recovery One?"

"So I've been told," he fired back rather haughtily. "But I've not gotten anywhere near-"

"We have new, very recent information that makes us confident that you should instead be going to the new coordinates, Recovery One."

Wash narrowed his eyes. "And where did that information come from? Why is it more worthwhile than the previous lead?"

"Come again?"

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Wash leaned forward again, grip moving to the handles of the mongoose.

"Command, you're not adding up," he informed her. "I don't like it."

"You weren't asked if you like it, Recovery One," she responded bluntly. "It is believed that Agent Wyoming's most recent activity was at the newest coordinates. The previous lead is being accredited to another anomaly."

"What anomaly?" Wash pressed.

"One that is not your concern, Recovery One."

In complete aggravation, Wash snapped off the channel, glaring at the GPS.

"If it's not mine," he glowered, "and I'm the only Recovery Agent... then, Command, just who the fuck's is it?"

The feeling of trap was burning itself into his mind, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't see what advantage Command would have in getting rid of him just yet.

He started up the mongoose and hoped the paranoia would pass.


The air strike had mostly returned the two color coded sides back to their bases. And if Tex was a betting person, which she in fact

was,

she knew that as disoriented as the Alpha AI must have been, he was going to stick to the familiar.

That left them with two possible targets instead of seven, which was fine by the former Freelancer's estimates. Less work. Less mess when she was done.

In her mind, she could already see it working out for her benefit - Church wasn't going to be free of being the Alpha, of everything Freelancer had done, but perhaps with him now on board she could get the fuck off the planet and they could leave Freelancer behind.

Or at least just the fucking canyon, as a change of scenery was most definitely in order after all the weeks they'd spent twiddling thumbs.

Setting up at her usual perch over Blue Base, Tex ignored the coiling anger at the back of her mind as she worked on the radio system. Her eyes narrowed a bit, fiddling with the transmitter in hopes of latching onto the difficult signal a projecting AI could give off when she keyed in on something different.

Blinking, Tex realized that the frequency she was tuning in on was none other than the direct line to Command - the one she hadn't seen in use since Flowers had killed over.

"What the..." she muttered, looking down just in time to catch the flash of blue armors taking cover by their outpost. Tex stood, realization dawning on her.

"Flowers' armor." she said out loud, focusing on Private Tucker. "That fucker's radio is still active. Freelancer can trace his radio. God. Damn. It."

Ordinarily, sim troopers received an output signal from the Virtual Intelligence Computer AI that ran from any Freelancer testing site nearby - it maintained simulations and defused non-testing situations by emulating either Red or Blue Command.

VIC was either heralding peace keeper, maintaining stationary orders, or a tyrant antagonizer dependent on what equipment was at the site or, once upon a time, what Freelancer required a bit of a training exercise.

Flowers' radio, however, was real.

"Fuck," Tex hissed, dropping back to her knees in front of the radio and desperately trying to think of a solution.

The radio honed in at last and Tucker's voice came shrilling through.

"No! No! We need men to help us!" Tucker called out.

A confused sounding voice droned back, "Roger that... Did you get the tank we sent?"

Almost impulsively, Tex's head shifted and she looked across to the center of the canyon where the over turned tank was still smoldering.

Below her Tucker seemed to follow the same sweeping gaze, bringing his hands up to the back of his head. "Uh, yeah. That got blown up, too."

Beginning to sound even more disinterested, the radio man from Command sighed, "Wow. Sucks to be you."

Looking only increasingly frustrated, Tucker stomped down his foot, drawing the rookie's worried gaze to him. "Yeah! We know!"

Tex sat back, looking to the radio curiously. If Freelancer had realized that - somehow - sim troopers were contacting them rather than official Freelancer personnel, that the worst outcome of the situation was losing more of their simulations - then their first order of business was most likely to set the area back into static non-engagement.

In other words, to get both stupid colored flags back to their stupid colored bases.

"Okay, here's what we can do," the radio sounded up again, "the nearest Blue forces can be there in sixteen days, or I-"

Tucker threw up his arms. "Sixteen days!? That's almost two weeks!" he cried out, the rookie nodding alongside him.

Tex squinted at the man. "As much as you love numbers, Church, how did you put up with this base?" she muttered to herself.

"Or I can hire a nearby Freelancer and get them there in a few hours."

Tex narrowed her eyes, standing up by the receiver. They were talking about launching a response signal, getting the nearest Freelancer personnel there as soon as possible and ending the situation however they saw fit. That meant getting someone to the scene who either could report on the Alpha AI's status, or someone else with Freelancer equipment being able to clue in that there was activity of interest at Blood Gulch.

"Fuck," she growled.

Omega continued hissing.

"I like that 'in the hour' one," the rookie said looking to Tucker.

"Yeah, me too," Tucker nodded. "Roger that, Command. We prefer the quicker solution."

"Morons," Tex hissed, looking to the device. Her mind was already working on strategies when, in a rare show for him, Omega projected to her shoulder. She glared at him. "Are you going to be able to lock down that signal and say it's responded to?"

Yes, the deep, grueling voice responded. Do you feel angry?

Narrowing her eyes, Tex huffed. "You know what, Omega? You help me put an end to this fiasco, I'll let myself be very angry for you. How do you like that?"

Without a moment's hesitation, the AI jumped to the radio.

Tex shook her head, huffing. "Well, fuck."

There was a screeching whine from the radio before the voice of the man from Command - though, not really - spoke. "Ten-four, Blood Gulch. We will contact Freelancer Tex and have them there post-haste. Command out."

She snarled. "'Them', Omega? Careful. Tex is one person show, and don't forget it."

"Whoever he is, make sure he can fix a tank!" Tucker called out.


Washington drew up the rosters for both the Red and Blue sim trooper teams located in the river gorge and quickly skimmed for a relevant name from either list only to come up short. He could have just about predicted the outcome before even looking, though.

It would have been too simple for Command to direct him toward a base with someone from the lists that could be him.

"Looks like you have to just get this over with so you can move on, Wash," he muttered to himself.

Setting up a cover for the mongoose, Wash looked over the gorge and decided that, if he was going to have to meet with both sides of the encampment, he might as well as start with the nearest base.

He made his way cautiously toward Red Base, scowling a bit at the loud shouting and general disorder of the surrounding area of the base. He hesitated just outside the base entrance and looked at the literal garbage collected around the area, including disbanded, damaged bits of Red armor and one Blue helmet hanging over the door.

"What is this?" Wash asked critically. "Did I walk into The Lord of the Flies?"

Shaking his head, he pressed forward, keying in Command's override code.

Washington was immediately bet by the sounds of hooping, calls of violence, and spray of bullets toward the ceiling of the large commons room.

Blinking, he surveyed the sea of Red.

"KILL THE BLUES! KILL THE BLUES! KILL THE BLUES!"

Just out of a sense of self-preservation, Wash reached for his rifle and checked it before moving more forward. It seemed that the situation with the sim troopers was not nearly as controlled as Command liked to keep things.

Just great.

He took a few steps forward before calling out, "I'm from Red Command-"

Immediately guns trained on him, leading to Wash slowly raising his arms, repeating clearly, "I'm from Red Command. I need to speak with your Captain-"

"Red Command!?" one of the soldiers shouted. "How can you be from Red Command!? You're not Red! You're black!"

Wash blinked a few times before shaking his head. "Ugh. Okay, ignoring how that sounds, yes. I am from Command. I need to speak with your leader. I have credentials if you want to see them."

The soldiers looked to each other, a low muttering breaking out between them.

Waiting for the muttering to settle, Wash sighed and looked to his feet, shaking his head at his lot in life when finally one of the more outspoken Reds looked to him suspiciously.

"What kind of these... credentials would prove to us you are who you say you are, Black Stranger?"

"Stop using that," Wash warned. "And, to begin with, one of my credentials is that I have codes from Command - Red Command - which is how I was able to open the door and get in here to begin with. None of you let me in."

Immediately the Reds huddled together and whispered, nodding. "Right right I didn't let him in did you let him in no I didn't hmm yes hmm telling the truth."

Continuing to realize that the situation was less and less dangerous, Wash lowered his arms and sighed, looking up to the ceiling, wondering just why when the outspoken Red stepped up.

"Alright, Yellow Striped One-"

"Well, that's better," Wash agreed in a low mumble, looking to the Red.

"I believe you have such codes. But I am not convinced by your credentials," the Red said, a hand on his helmet's chin. "So, do explain to us - proving that you know, because we so obviously do know, obviously - that you know what... credentials mean."

"Yes yes yes" the other soldiers hummed in return.

Washington stared at them all, his head dropping back to his feet as he let out a low, "Jesus Christ," and then looked back to the soldier skeptically. "You... don't know what 'credential' means?"

"HA! What? That's the opposite of what I just said!" the Red cried out before turning to look at his fellow soldiers. "That's the opposite, right? Isn't that the opposite of what I said?"

"Opposite! Total opposite!"

"Right," Wash replied, lowering his hands and holding his rifle at his hip. "Tell you what, I won't bother proving what you already know, but I'll tell your captain all about it. I need to talk to them anyway. Because I have important information from Red Command. So if you could just get your captain, you all can go back to your inane mumbling and destruction of army property." He curled his nose. "And if nothing else I"ll give your captain some advice on keeping cleanliness levels at military standard."

"You will tell us that you know what credentials mean!" the soldier howled. "For I am acting as leader of the glorious Red Army at this base!"

Wash turned his attention back to the soldier, gaze hardening. "You are a captain?"

"Fuck no," the soldier laughed.

"Then why are you a leader?"

"Because our captain was killed by the glorious White One!" the soldier cried throwing up his hands.

Rubbing at his face with his free hand, Wash sighed. "You understand why referring to someone you want to shoot as 'Black One' and someone you call glorious 'White One' sounds wrong, right?" he asked critically. When his call got no reaction he sighed. "In any case, this White One - you say he killed your captain? How long ago was this?"

"AGES!" a squeakier soldier cried out.

"Yes, truly ages," the 'leader' said nodding. "At least a week's time."

"Damn it," Wash grunted, looking toward the door. "I'm a week behind him. With that kind of head's start there's no telling how far he got-"

"Yes, at least three hours away," the soldier said mournfully. "And I was set to go after him. To follow him. To honor the Red tradition! Blood and murder! But he is not due to return for many minutes yet-"

"Return?" Wash asked, turning to face the soldier directly. "You said he was gone for a week. None of your timeline makes sense-"

"The White One? He returns, of course!" the Red leader replied. "He was coming back on the hour."

"Why didn't you tell me this!?" Wash demanded. "Alright, everyone stay here - which direction does he come from?"

"The mountainside," the soldier said, stepping up alongside Wash. "We'll meet him together! It is my turn to go after him!"

"We knew you so well! What a great leader," the remaining Reds sobbed.

Wash glared at him. "You're not coming with me," he said firmly. "I don't need help. You're just going to get in the way."

"No," the soldier said firmly. "I am following the way. With you or not, Yellow Stripes."

Everything in Wash's mind was screaming that this was not a particularly good idea, however, as he looked at the eager young soldier, he saw some sort of undeterrable focus in his stride toward the exit. Grunting, Wash reached forward and grabbed the soldier's shoulder.

"Are you going to do this no matter what I say?" he asked seriously. "Even if I'm not with you?"

"That is literally what I just said," the Red snarked back.

"I am getting clarification," Wash snapped. "Yes or no?"

"Clarification..."

"For godsake, nevermind," Wash groaned, heading toward the door, gun raised. "Stay two steps behind me to the left. I saw a good area for cover. We'll set up for a watch. Be quick."

"You're not my dad," the soldier glowered, following all the same.


When she approached, it was only to clear the air. She had to make sure that the Blues were certain that their transmission was answered and so they wouldn't send out another.

It was also to let Omega get a taste of the atmosphere and begin to look for whoever Church had jumped to.

At first it seemed like it was going to be simple enough. There was an excited buzz in her mind when they were still a few yards out, as if Omega already had something for them, but it wasn't soon after that the buzzing stopped and Omega went all but silent.

Tex glared. Jumped again.

"Fuck's sake, Church," she ground out. "We've still got to make sure these idiots don't strike up another conversation with Command. And I don't feel like dealing with the horndog or the space case right now. Omega, I'm going to need you to provide control of my filter. Can you handle that?"

The AI flickered from her shoulder but never fully projected - he had been less and less inclined to give himself a form since they had left. Which was fine as far as Tex was concerned - she sure as hell wasn't going to talk to him more than necessary. And she definitely didn't need to be able to see something that never left her head to begin with.

There was a click from her helmet radio and Tex knew she was good to go.

Quietly, she approached the two Blue soldiers from behind, raising a brow to the way they were huddled together as if there was something else there, but all scans proved that there wasn't.

"See. I told you his girlfriend was a whore."

Tex sneered. Even without context, she made a note to give the Blue either a punch to the dick or a few hits to the head when they were all said and done with the sim trooper games.

She took her time measuring the two up, letting their prattling conversation degrade even further, and came firmly to the decision that just on attention span alone, these soldiers were about the worst she had ever seen - if for no other reason than the fact that she was able to stand only a few feet back from them for that long without being noticed.

When Tucker shifted, he must have finally caught sight of Tex because he nearly jumped out of his armor and yelped, the Rookie taking up right next to him.

Complete and total losers.

"Whoa!" Tucker called out. "Already? I mean. You're him? You're Tex?"

"Agent Tex," the Rookie corrected.

"Hey, Caboose, shut up," Tucker hissed.

They stared at each other for a bit, Tucker with his hands on hips and Caboose rubbing idly at his shoulder. When the silence lapsed just a second too long, though, Tucker's aqua head tilted back to Tex's direction.

"Uh," he muttered, looking confusedly back over Tex. "You... are the Freelancer they sent us, right?"

Tex took a moment, then, filtered, responded in a dark voice, "Yes."

Tucker and the Rookie looked at each other then back to Tex. Silence hit them once more and Tucker began rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Oh. Okay, good. Good! Glad to, uh, have you, dude," he stumbled out with.

"Psst. Psst, Tucker. What about what Ch-"

Almost immediately, Tucker straightened up and rounded on Caboose, holding a finger up to his mask for dramatic effect as he shushed the private. "Dude, do you want to make the cool dude who kills people for money think we're crazy?"

"Um. No?"

"Then shut up! Let me do the talking," Tucker snapped before turning to face Tex again. "Hey, so... about the thing. The thing we called you in for? Our flag-"

Tex glared at him before looking toward the other end of the canyon. She remembered the damage done to the synthetic body on the cliffs. It didn't matter, it wasn't really him the way it might have been if Church was human, but fuck it all, no one was going to wreck Church's shit unless it was her.

Omega stirred with a low rumble.

"Take me to your outpost," she ordered, glaring at Tucker. "Need to see from another angle. Then you can keep talking."

Tucker almost seemed to shrink at the orders. "Uh. I mean. Uh-huh. Yessir. Right. Not talking 'til we're in the base. Got it."

She rolled her eyes before following Tucker's lead, making sure to forcefully shove the Rookie's shoulder out of the way when he followed.

The moment Tucker was done padding in the code for the base door, Tex moved past him as well, heading straight toward the stairs for the outlook. If either of the Blues took note of how she too easily guided herself through, neither said anything about it. They were too busy tripping over themselves trying to follow.

Once on top of the base, Tex looked out toward the Red Base on the opposing end of the canyon.

The transport ships had long dispensed and there seemed to be no activity or signs of a usable vehicle.

That should have made her job fairly simple.

The moment Tucker and Caboose were behind her, Tex glared at them, then shoved the Rookie toward one of the pillars. As large as he was, he was easy to push around, probably in more ways than one.

Once his back collided with the pillar, she pressed her forearm against his chest plate as a warning and growled out "Stay" before stepping back.

Her gaze drifted to Tucker who immediately stiffened.

"You. Talk," she ordered.

"Uh, yeah, sure." He straightened up some, stepping up closer to Tex. "You see, when the Rookie got here with the tank, we were all kinda just standing around. Y'know. Checking things out. No big deal. Church-"

Tex narrowed her eyes and pulled out her sidearm.

"Uh..." Tucker muttered, his full body going into a flinch at the sound of her gun going off. He jerked toward Caboose, shocked, only to relax upon seeing that his fellow Blue was standing, though shaking. The shot made its smoldering impact just over Caboose's head. "An-anyway," he continued as Tex fired another round. "Church, he's the guy who died when we called you up. He wasn't dead then, he was just being an asshole then.

"The Rookie-" Tex loaded up another round then continued targeting around the soldier "-Caboose, the guy you're going to give a heart attack, said some kind of stupid shit. Church sent him inside to watch the flag. We told him to wait for a general to come by and inspect the flag. It's dumb stuff for rookies. Initiation stuff. Not that that happened to me when I was a rookie. I was cool out of the gate-"

Tex glared at him as she reloaded.

"Uh. So a Red came by. We don't know how he got past us. Because he'd have to and I'm definitely too good to have let someone slip by me, so it must've been Church. Rookie was dumb, thought the Red was a general, and gave him our fucking flag. Like a dumbass. I tried to cut them off at the pass using the transporter, which fucking hurt, and then Caboose came with the tank after the Reds came with a jeep with a freaking gun on it, and- bam. Stuff went to shit real quick. Church got shot-" Tucker looked pointedly to the rookie, "-the tank demolished the Red's car, then an air strike and just... man. It was nuts."

Tex glared, unimpressed.

Tucker rubbed at the back of his helmet again. "That's basically it, sir. They have five guys over there and a big jeep."

She huffed under her breath, reloading. "And your flag," she added before aiming.

"Right. That, too," Tucker admitted.

Lowering her gun, Tex reached instead for her belt, grabbing one of the shorter ranged grenades, taking aim, and chucking it instead.

Tucker shuffled uncomfortably during the ensuing explosion. "Uh. Hey, Tex?" he spoke up, a little weakly given what Tex had observed over the past several weeks. "I don't know what it's been like at your other bases, but we try not to use other soldiers as target practice here."

She gave him a look before turning her gaze back to the Rookie.

He was shaking more than an autumn leaf.

"I'm scared," Caboose squeaked out.

With a shake of her head, she turned from the pillar and Caboose, pulling out her guns, looking them over, checking their ammunition, then sorting them away again with ease and skill.

Seeing his chance, the Rookie raced to join them away from the dreadful practice target he had become.

Rocking on his heels, Tucker threw back his head some. "So," he whistled out. "You've got the Special Forces black armor, I see. Were you in the Special Forces at some point?"

Tex glared at him, took pity for only an iota of a second on the lack of real information the sim troopers had about the UNSC or real armies, and continued her weapons check.

"Yeah, I used to have black armor, too," he said proudly. "It was black because I got this stuff all over it from th-"

More than a little done with story time, Tex took off, taking a drop right from the ledge and racing back around to the front of the base.

"Oh. Okay. You gotta go? I'll see you later!" Tucker called out after her.

"I don't think he likes you," Tex could hear the other Blue say rather loudly.

"...thanks," Tucker hissed out. Still, he raced toward the edge, following Tex's movements. "Where are you going?" he called to her as Caboose joined him at the siding.

Tex stopped, looked over her shoulder, and let Omega growl out, "Red Base. Kill everybody. Get the flag back."

And with that, she took off, ignoring Caboose's final call out.

"Oh... Okay! We'll just... stay here... and guard the... trans...porter..."

...

The Reds' base didn't seem any more organized or equipped than the Blue one that had been under her watch for weeks. She had never fully concerned herself with the Reds' activities outside of a few passing observations on her patrols and she stood by the observation that they at least shaped up to be some semblance of a military unit due to having a commanding officer actually committed to the fake war.

Fortunately, the Red's base not being at all dissimilar to to the Blue's made her operations all the easier.

Tex had been brutally honest with Tucker when she told him her goal there. She did aim to kill everyone in the base, and Omega couldn't have been more pleased at her outrage that any of these fuckers had dared to take part in the attack on the Alpha. On her watch, showing her up. She gritted her teeth as she masked herself in the suit cloak and began her approach.

Angry as she might have been, she knew better than to outright attack a five-man team on her own. She was going to be smart about the destruction of Red Team. Then she was going to get the flag.

Had to go for the easy pickings first.

With her cloak on, she hid in the shadows, watching the two Reds by the overturned warthog - the brown one at work, the red - the C.O. if she was remembering correctly - standing by.

The Red pointed a hand toward the carburetor and made a twirly rotation of his wrist. "Try connectin' that hose to the metal thingy there," he ordered, causing the other soldier to stop momentarily. "I think that's what's makin' that rattle."

Silently, the brown armored soldier got up and turned around, standing at full height over the other soldier, and just silently glared, ratchet tapping with a cling against his armored thigh.

Not entirely recoiling, the red still seemed to duck his shoulders a bit and shrug off the glare. "Eh, I think I'll let you do it," he decided.

Tex waited for the larger soldier to finally turn back around and lower down to continue his task of fixing the warthog before taking off, running toward the side of the base where the remaining Red soldiers were standing, supposedly in attention, on the roof of the outpost. Not all that dissimilar to Blue Base.

Shen she heard a muttering of, "What the...? What was that?" she made a note to move quicker.

While not spotted, she didn't like her enemy seeing anything coming at all.

She flattened against the wall of the compound, just beneath the Red soldiers. If nothing else, they seemed completely unaware of how close she was considering the angle the maroon one had looking out into the valley.

"Psst. Simmons!" the orange hissed from further back. "What's going on? What's over there?"

The maroon one shifted grip on his rifle, gaze still far too long out to see what couldn't be seen just beneath his footing. "I thought I saw something for a second," he reported back.

Tex reached slowly and methodically down to her belt, grabbing one of the grenades she hadn't spent on terrifying the Blues.

"Hey, Rookie. Tuck the flag some place safe until we can figure out what's goin' on," the orange said, arching back to talk over his shoulder.

Instantly, Tex smirked. They had it. It was right there. Which made things incredibly easy for her for once.

"Good idea! I was sick of carrying this thing anyway," the so-called Rookie reported back before shuffling toward the drop hole to their base.

Tex stepped back and kept still, she felt her heart pound slightly more when the two Reds closer to the ledge stiffened up in response.

"Did you hear that?" the maroon asked.

"Yeah," the orange whispered back.

"Hey! What's going on?"

Knowing she was losing sight of her ultimate target, Tex backed up, arched her arm, pulled the pin, and flung the grenade toward the source of the voices.

It was far from her most powerful grenade, and its fuse was meant to be a hair too long, but that's all Tex needed. She needed her enemies to scatter and give her an opening.

Unfortunately, she found herself once again underestimating the quality of soldiers that found themselves in the hapless backwater canyon of Blood Gulch. As they definitely did not scatter in response to the scene.

"What the fuck?"

Tex blinked, increasing her angle to get a better view and finding that the three soldiers were all standing around - the red one with the plasma grenade stuck to his helmet.

At least in the red's defense, he seemed somehow clueless to it. "What?"

"What is that thing?" the maroon whirled around.

"What thing?" the rookie asked.

The orange waved his handgun at the rookie ."There's something on your head."

"What?" the rookie asked, voice almost squeaking. "Is it a spider? Get it off!"

"No, it's not a spider," the maroon observed. "It's like a... blue thing..."

"What? Like a blue spider? Get it off!"

"It's not a spider! Calm down," orange snapped. "It's some kinda... fuzzy... pulsating thing."

"That doesn't sound much better than a spider."

The maroon's head cocked to the side. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Maybe we should try to take it off," the maroon said, rounding himself to look more directly at the orange.

"Good idea! Go for it," the other responded in kind.

"Me? By we I meant you, asshole," he scoffed.

"Well somebody needs to get it off!" the Rookie cried out, close to hysterics. "Look, it might be dangerous-"

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Tex check her countdown on her HUD and watched, in amazement, as the blast blew across the roof of the outpost.

"What the actual fuck," she muttered.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

Not having much more time to waste, Tex leaped up to the outpost wall and took advantage of the distraction as much as she could. The soldiers were easy - far easier than trained soldiers could have possibly been in any other branch of the military, that was for sure.

Being closest, the maroon was the simplest to grab, pulling him off the edge, knocking her elbow onto the back of his helmet line just before tossing him off. He never had a chance.

"Sim- where'd he go?"

She leaped up the rest of the way, landing just before the orange one's gaze.

He startled back, no doubt being caught off guard by the faint disruption of the translucent armor before she grabbed him by the sides of his head and brought his helmet down to her knee with a crack.

"Ow! Don't kill me! I'm too good looking to die-"

She rolled her eyes and knocked him into the concrete as quickly as she could.

With a huff, Tex shook her head and made her way toward the hold. "What is with this canyon?"

Omega was screeching in her mind as she dropped to the floor below, and while his tantrums were usually fairly simple to ignore, she found herself grabbing for her helmet this time around. She shook it off just in time to realize that the screeching had been because they were being surrounded.

The Red leader's shotgun in her face, Tex cursed under her breath.

You couldn't have just said your sensors were going off? The screeching was the best option, Omega? she snarled at herself.

"Freeze!" the Red snarled.

The brown soldier cocked his weapon behind her.

"Drop your weapon," the Red continued to order.

Narrowing her eyes, Tex tossed her gun to the floor, watching as the Red didn't even look down to step on it and kick it away from them. His sights were closed in on her.

"Hey, buddy," Omega and Tex growled in unison through the amplifier.

"What?" the Red seethed back.

"You better hope the first one knocks me out," she warned him.

The Red looked over her shoulder for a moment toward the brown before lunging forward with practiced ease and sending an elbow straight to her face.


Washington surveyed the area quickly. It was a decent area and the terrain was favorable to setting up a trap, but most of the effective routes he could take to do so were going to take more time than the Red soldier seemed to think they had.

So a simple cross on the path would have to do.

He looked back to the Red who, in turn, was boredly kicking a rock across the dirt of the gorge's grounds and let a small sigh.

"It's not the material, Wash, it's how you use it," he reminded himself before walking the Red's way. "Soldier!"

The Red immediately straightened, excitement carrying in his shoulders. "The White One comes baring the glorious flag!? Descending from the mountains on high, is he here to give us the repentance which our unworthy hands still reach for? Is it-"

"No," Wash said clearly cutting him off. "Firstly, no flags do any of those things you just listed off."

"Of course they do!" the Red cried out.

"No, they really don't."

The Red scoffed. "With such a miserable lack of faith it's obvious that you've never seen a flag! Have never been shown their light."

"Actually, I've seen plenty of flags," Wash snapped back. "I've even saluted a few. The one who sounds like they've never seen a flag before here is you."

The soldier backed up and gasped at the accusation. "How could one even speak such harmful things."

"Harmful?" He quickly shook his head and backed off the situation. "Okay, enough. You're just wasting my time now. Forget the flag for now. We'll discuss it later, but you and I need to first get organized here. We really don't have time to mess around. So what I want you to do, since even if you're seen your presence can blend in with the other troopers, is I want you to post closer to the path that you said Wyoming-"

"The White One?"

Releasing an aggravated sigh, Wash threw back his head before nodding along. "Yes, alright, the White One. You said he comes from the mountainside, so I want you posted there-" Wash pointed directly toward the vegetation just by where the entering road made its bend. "You won't be able to see him first from that position, so I will have to radio you when I see him coming to get you prepared, but you are going to have the shot in range before me due to my angle. If we work this out together and are a team, we can wound him up front and keep him for questioning."

When Wash finished up he looked into the soldier's face and saw... nothing to indicate there was any comprehension of what Wash had set up.

Aggravated, Wash pointed toward the spot again. "Stay in the shade until I radio you. Then you're going to shoot on my command. Got it?"

"Yessir!" they squeaked before racing out toward the cover.

Wash watched him for a bit before shaking head head and reaching up to his own radio. "Come in, Command."

"This is Command. The line is secure, go ahead, Recovery One."

"I'm looking at making contact with a possible former Freelancer. I believe it's Agent Wyoming. How are you wanting me to handle-"

"Agent Washington, we have our concerns about you approaching Agent Wyoming without backup. Avoid contact until we have-"

Wash scowled. "Wait? Command, my window of opportunity is closing as we speak. Unless you already have people on the way, waiting isn't going to be an option," he argued immediately. "But I'm not stupid, I have recruited some assistance from the field."

"From the field? The sim troopers? Recovery One, those are not real soldiers-"

"They have real weapons and, due to your project, Command, have some kills of their own people under their belts," Wash snapped out. His attention moved back to the watch, where he thought he saw a flicker of light coming off the very hill Wyoming was supposed to trail. "I have to go."

"Washington-"

He turned off his radio and dropped into position behind a tree, eyes set on the trails ahead, watching as a slowly approaching figure came toward them.

"Red?" Wash whispered over his radio. "Do you copy?" Wash waited only to receive static from the other end. He narrowed his eyes, attempting again. "Red? I need you to get ready, I'm about to give the signal- Red Soldier?" The searing static only increased and Wash released an aggravated growl before flipping his radios off all together. "Son of a bitch," he snarled before reloading his weapon, looking over his shoulder to see Wyoming nearly past his position.

Heart pounding, Wash raced out into the open, gun drawn and aimed for the back of Wyoming's head as he stopped just behind him.

"Stop! Put your hands where I can see them!" Wash bellowed.

"Oh, my," Wyoming cooed, stopping but neither dropping his weapon nor putting up his hands. "I was wondering how long you were going to lay in wait out there, ol' chap."

"I'm not your 'chap,'" Wash snapped. "Put your hands up or I won't think twice about shooting you."

The white armored man released a low hum, head turning to his left shoulder slightly. A teal flicker appeared and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"You're certain it's him? He sounds so... serious. Well. Alright, then."

"Wyoming!" Wash warned one last time before taking a shot for the man's shoulder blade.

He waited only a second for the contact, hardly registering that it never happened when he watched Wyoming appear just to the left of where Washington had just seen him standing. His eyes widened, a bit in surprise that not only was Wyoming not where he was supposed to be but was now also facing him.

"Cheerio," the man chuckled before taking a shot.

Wash had no time at all, but somehow his reflexes seemed ahead of him. Dropping to the ground, Wash flung his rifle down and pulled out his handgun to aim right back at Wyoming.

"You were right, my friend, my apologies for doubting you," Wyoming called out. "That is most certainly our own Agent Washington."

Narrowing his eyes, Wash gripped tighter to his gun, but knew better than to make any sudden moves on the other end of a gun as high powered as Wyoming's weapons of choice.

"Tell me, Agent Washington, what do you call someone caught between a gun and a hard place?" Wyoming asked, and Wash could just imagine that prickish smile under his helmet.

"I'm not a fan of jokes and riddles," Wash huffed.

"Then I suppose that is why we never got along."

Washington's mind raced for a solution when he noticed a flicker of Red behind Wyoming. He smirked, thinking that some foresight and undue trust had finally gone his way for once.

"Red! Now!" he called out, only to feel his face drop as the soldier raced up toward the scene, stopping just a few feet alongside Wyoming. "What are you doing!?"

"Freelancer! Here! This is the White One, we found him," the Red said with the enthusiasm of a dog that had just played fetch.

For his part, Wyoming didn't seem concerned with the sim trooper at all. Washington was beginning to feel his blood boil.

"What about our plan!?" he demanded.

"Pfft," the Red shrugged. "Stupid plan. It didn't involve shooting Blues or capturing the flag at all! How ever should I justify following a plan which lacks these simple tenements of the glorious Red Army!?"

Washington stared at him for what felt like a full minute before his shoulders began shaking in aggravation. "What does that even mean?"

"It means you are quite out of luck, mate," Wyoming chuckled darkly. "You see, you don't understand working with people how I do. And you don't understand that people are best worked with when you have something they want. If you did, it would be I on the other side of this disagreement and not you outnumbered and betrayed. You don't understand it at all, but the people you work for? Who you are here for? They do very much. It is almost sad to see it so clearly now when we look back on it," Wyoming mused, his AI flickering to life over his shoulder. "We understand it very well."

"Fine, Wyoming, then tell me," Wash ground out. "What do I want that's so obviously exploited here?"

Wyoming chuckled. "Oh, dear me, you don't believe you're obvious, do you? What do you want, Agent Washington? Simple. You want to be free - you want to leave behind everything this program has so kindly gave you."

"That so," Wash said back as calmly as he could, watching intently for Wyoming to pull the first move. "You seem pretty confident in that assessment."

"Why shouldn't I?" Wyoming asked, surprising Wash by pulling back on his gun, shouldering it. "After all, you don't really have any problem with me, and you're itching to bite back on the chain your superiors have on you. I believe the both of us can just walk away from this moment right now without any incident from each other."

Finger tapping slightly, Wash drew his mouth to a sharp line. "You're really going to just walk away from me without a second thought?" he asked.

"For old time's sake," Wyoming said with a slight shrug. "After all, I'm quite a sentimental man." The Gamma AI flickered once more.

Slowly, Wash got to his feet, gun still drawn. He stared back at Wyoming for a long moment before holstering his gun, waiting expectantly.

"I need some answers from you still," Wash professed. "And I mean me. Not anything to do with Freelancer-"

"I'm afraid I can only answer you with riddles, mate. I hear you're not a fan of those," Wyoming replied cheekily. "Like, 'what do you call the third man in a duel?'"

Washington turned his head slightly. "What?"

Before the words had even fully left his mouth, he felt himself spring forward, the impact to his back shocking him far more than the sound of the blast. He let out a pained groan, crumpling to the ground.

Wyoming chuckled above him, stepping over. "That would be r constant. From a truel probability? The least likely man to be shot? It was a math joke, don't think too hard on it." He continued walking, the crunching of his boots against the dirt road mixing with the ringing in Washington's ears. "Come now, Red. You may join your comrades. We have quite the plans ahead of us."

Unable to keep his head up, world still spinning, Wash let his eyes slide closed, kicking himself for everything.

But he also didn't forget Wyoming's words about Command... or how for once they rang so true...


Getting her thoughts sorted together after the lockdown of her armor was never fun. The safety feature of keeping AI on hold with the lockdown might have been a decent feature for humans wearing suits.

For Tex it was simply a pain in the ass.

Especially since she could still be subject to the droning of the idiots of the Red Army.

"Sarge, we need to get Donut air-lifted outta here."

There was a gruff snarling noise not too far off from Tex while she and Omega worked tirelessly to get back online. "Could you put that in a memo and entitle it SHIT I ALREADY KNOW! Get on the horn with command!"

She could feel the sparks from her armor as the lockdown finally gave way, her eyes opening and the HUD coming back to life before her. She could see as the Red sergeant put his shotgun closer to her face and cocked his head to the side.

"Well, look who's up. Rise 'n shine, buttercup."

Slowly, Tex moved back to her feet, her body convulsing with the sparks flying from her shoulder. She began to snap off only to feel her throat heave, and the draining noise of her radio going offline then recovering without her modifier.

"Oh, great!" she snarled. "You broke my voice filter, you cock biting fucks!"

Immediately, at the sound of her real voice, every gun trained on her other than the brown one's dropped and the soldiers looked to each other.

"Ah-HA!" the orange one shouted from the back. "I knew it! Only a chick could give me a headache this big!"

Everyone looked back at her, lapsed once more into silence.

Tex sneered. "What's the matter? You never seen a girl before? How long have you guys been out here?"

Each of the men shifted uncomfortably at the accusation before the sergeant coughed and nodded to Lopez. "Eh, nevermind you that, li'l lady-"

"The fuck you just call me, old man-"

"Lopez, you and I will have to skedaddle out of here and take care of Donut best we can before the lift gets here - you did call the lift, didn't you, Simmons?"

The maroon soldier shuffled closer. "Uh, yessir. Of course, sir! It's just... um. Who's going to watch-"

"While Lopez and I take care of Donut, you and Private Grif are to watch over our guest here and make sure she doesn't even blink without permission. Got it?"

"Make sure she doesn't blink without taking off her helmet to see, Sarge?" the orange one snarked.

"Not now, Grif! Don't make me any angrier than I already am today! I'm down a warthog!"

"And a soldier, Sir," the one named Simmons muttered under his breath.

"That, too," Sarge huffed. "Got it, boys?"

"Yeah, you're leaving us to die," Grif said, getting his gun out all the same.

"You won't die, son, she doesn't have a single weapon on her!" Sarge cried out throwing up his arms. "Great Caeser's ghost, you two are marines. Shoot first, ask questions later!" He then nodded to the brown soldier. "C'mon, Lopez. We've got another soldier to patch up."

The brown armored soldier didn't react at first, but slowly took his trained gun off Tex all the same, allowing Simmons and Grif to step up, guns at the ready, and take his spot. He then followed behind the Red leader.

Tex glowered at her new captors, cracking her knuckles at her waist as they nervously looked her over.

Breaking the ice, the orange one coughed into his fist. "So, uh... you're a girl, huh?" Grif asked.

Tex glared at him.

"Just ignore him," Simmons sighed, gun never lowered, not even to amore comfortable and sustainable position. "That's what I do."

A little more bold due to Tex's silence, Grif cocked his head to the side. "Not so tough now that we unloaded our weapon, are ya?"

Not able to let that one go, Tex squared herself to the orange soldier and straightened herself to full height. "Hey, punk, I don't need a weapon to kill you."

He snorted. "Yeah, right. What're you gonna do? Punch me?"

Narrowing her eyes, Tex leaned forward only for Grif to let out a screech and flinch back behind Simmons.

"AHH! Not in the face!"

Tex leaned back and smirked. It might not have been so bad to get out of there after all.

Unfortunately for the sake of her fun, the maroon didn't seem as will to budge. He was still firmly hiding behind his gun aimed right between Tex's eyes. And while the man was far from intimidating on his own, Tex knew that it didn't take much to be a killer with a gun.

"Ma'am, I'd like it way better if you'd take a few steps back. Like it or not, you're still outnumbered here," the Simmons character warned her, only a slight stammer in his voice compared to the tone Tex had observed when the sergeant was around.

Tex glared at him but ultimately stepped back. She had to be careful. No need for her story to end out of stupidity, after all.

Her motion seemed to bolster the morale of the orange soldier, though, and he soon was in alignment with Simmons again.

"Yeah, you can't take us bolth on," he remarked with far more confidence than he deserved.

Tex hardened her look. "Take you what on?" she asked.

The question even got Simmons to look away from her momentarily in order to scowl at his companion.

"I said 'you can't take us bolth on!'" Grif snapped back. "Clean your ears."

"Clean her ears?" Simmons scoffed. "I don't think this is a problem with her here, Grif. Don't you know how to say 'both'?"

The stout soldier glared back at him. "What? Of course I know how to say bolth. I just said it."

"There's no L in it!" Simmons cried out. "It's pronounced both."

"That's what I'm saying!" Grif snapped. "Bolth."

"Both."

Grif glared at his companion and put his hands on his hips. "You sound like such an ass the way you say it," he growled.

"GRIF!"

Immediately, both soldiers looked toward the base's hold then to each other. There seemed to be a note of aggravation from Grif and understanding from Simmons that neither verbally remarked on.

"Quit your yammering and get your keister up here! Need some help."

Tex raised a brow and waited expectantly for things to play out.

Grif walked to the hold and looked up as their sergeant continued.

Sarge called down, "Got more of them Special Ops fellas headed toward the base."

What Tex snarled internally, heart racing. Was it possible that Wyoming was already back? Omega coiled with anger.

For his part, Grif seemed to go completely stiff. "As in... more than one?" He looked back to Simmons then up to their C.O. "Uh, maybe we should bolth go, Sir."

Nearly throwing his gun down, Simmons growled out, "BOTH!"

"Well, well," Sarge called scornfully. "Another brilliant idea from the think tank. Why don't you both come up? Leave the prisoner alone. We could just put her on the honor system - have her guard herself!"

Grif rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh. Good point, Sir-"

"YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT IT IS!" Sarge howled. "Now get your ass up here. We got just enough time for me to spray pain the bullseye on your back... Eh. By bullseye, I of course mean camouflage." Grif looked back to Simmons expectantly. "Now move it, cupcake!"

"Yeah," Grif sighed, getting to the ladder. "I'll be right up."

Tex watched carefully as the portly soldier climbed up the ladder, then she turned her attention back on the man with the gun at her head. She shook her head.

If whoever it was from Freelancer was coming to eradicate Red Base first, well, they were just making her job easier she figured.

"So... he was saying 'bolth', right? Like. I'm not crazy," Simmons spoke up in a hardly more than mumbling voice.

"Yeah, kid?" Tex said, glaring at the soldier.

"Uh. Yes?"

"Don't talk to me. You've not caught me in a good mod," she snarled.

"Um. Noted."

At the very least, unlike the orange one, the maroon soldier seemed more than willing to shut up and leave Tex to her thoughts. He continued to worriedly look toward the doors, waiting for word from his squad, which gave Tex a good idea for how to get herself out of the mess she was in without allowing Omega to lead the way. Something he desperately wanted to do.

With her luck working true to form, however, Tex found that idea quickly evaporating when the Red leader raced into the base and came right for the maroon soldier.

But something about him was different, and it was putting Omega on edge.

Which was enough to just make Tex's continuously spiraling mood downright foul.

The Red slowed to a stop short of his private and did a nonchalant shrug that put Tex and Simmons off almost immediately.

"Hey, man. What's up. Yo?" the old man growled out in a surprisingly chipper tone.

Tex blinked. She imagined Simmons was doing much the same given the baffled way his neck seemed to stretch back away from his C.O.

"Uh... hey?" Simmons managed to get out. He then looked toward the exit and then back to his sergeant. "What's going on out there, Sir?"

For some reason, the Red seemed completely taken aback by the usual line of questioning. "What's? Uh. Why nothin'. Why would you ask if somethin's wrong?" he carried on, his accent crossing almost into lampoon.

"I think that's a perfectly normal question in a time of war," Simmons countered, shoulders straightening up in suspicion.

"Yeah, well... I don't know," Sarge growled. "You're starting to act kinda suspicious there... other... Red guy. So imma keep my eye on you."

Simmons took a good, long look at his commanding officer before letting out a frustrated breath and turning to face Tex, gun at the ready again. "I'm starting to think that-"

Without warning, Sarge flipped his pistol around and whipped Simmons across the back of his head in a heralding swoop. The contact was actually loud enough that Tex considered flinching at it.

"Ow! Geez, the back of my head!" Simmons cried out before crumpling completely to the floor.

When Sarge stopped, standing over the maroon soldier, his face turned almost immediately to Tex. His stature could only be described as melting, shoulders dropping completely, head wavering to the side, completely focused on her.

It was creepy.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Tex snapped.

"Tex!" the sergeant called out, waving to his chest in a grand gesture. "It's me! Church! I've come to rescue you."

Taking what substituted for a breath in a synthetic body, Tex leaned back against the wall. She knew he had to have figured it out, that he was hiding from sensors before. She hadn't expected him to remember her.

Especially after that bullshit story he had been telling the other Blues.

Still, it was worth a little fun. "You're kind of short to be Church," she nodded at the Red's body.

"What? Oh. Yeah. Right. The armor," he responded, looking over Sarge's body before allowing it to go limp.

Tex watched in amazement as he projected before her from the armor - the white glow healthy, his projection large enough to be a full soldier on his own, the lax stance not breaking in code at every flicker.

The Alpha almost seemed whole.

Church she thought to herself as Omega raged inside, scornful and jealous and hateful as always.

In control of himself once more, the Red officer shook his head violently, letting out a blur of noise before grabbing a hold of his helmet. "Hurk! What in Sam Hell!? Where the-" he went stock still, body quaking with anger. "Who spit on my visor!?"

Church - Alpha, Church - turned his projected form more toward Tex. He seemed panicky. "Tex, there's not much time to explain, so I'm just gonna give you the summary here, 'kay?" he announced firmly. "I'm a spirit now, and I'm trapped in the physical world."

Tex blinked blankly at him.

"I possessed this Red guy so that I could sneak in to the base and rescue you while the rest of our guys run around out in the middle of the canyon dressed in black armor that they got from going through the teleporter."

She glared at him for a moment, released a long sigh, and put her hand over her visor. Shaking her head just once she decided fuck it.

Tex looked back to him. "Okay."

He flinched, a bit stunned. "What? That's it? Okay? You're not surprised by any of this?"

"No," she said with a firmness she wasn't quite sure where it came from. "It pretty much all makes sense."

He wavered a bit, perhaps catching onto his own ludicrousness. "Not even the whole... Church is a ghost thing? That didn't do anything for ya?"

"I can see right through you," she replied dryly. "It's pretty obvious."

If possible, the projection of Church almost seemed pepped up by this, shoulders lifting up. "Okay! Well... let me hop back in this guy, and we'll get outta here."

He disappeared and the Red soldier did a full body convulsion. "Huuuuuurk!"

Tex just shook her head.

"Okay, ready to go, buttercup-"

"I can probably still kill a ghost, Church."

"Gotcha."

They made their way toward the exit and immediately headed for the nearest rock facing. Tex almost wanted to commend Church on getting so much agility out of such an old soldier, but she found herself still too baffled at the self delusion she was witnessing.

Once under cover from being seen by the rest of Red Base, Church turned toward her.

"Alright, I'll make one more distraction, then you run up to the teleporter and escape."

Tex sighed and nodded.

"Ready? One... two... thr-"

Tex readied herself for a sprint when the ringing of gunfire and the clink of metal burst through the air. She took the time to turn completely and face Church again only to see his full projection and the body of the sergeant on the ground in a heap.

Church looked around wildly. "What the- Where did my body go?"

Immediately, he stiffened and turned to face the opposing cliff. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!"

Tex followed his gaze, making out two figures in the distance before hearing a faint call of "Tucker did it!"

"You're the sorriest bunch of soldiers in existence," she informed Church.

He let out a long, aggravated groan. "I know. Just... I'll work with what I can here. You go around the back. I'll meet you at Blue Base."

"Oh, I'll meet you at Blue Base," she said, heading out, "but not because of your orders, fuckface."

"Yeah, real nice to see you, too," he snapped.

And if there was a hint of a smile in either of their voices, they didn't point it out.


"Recovery One? Come in, Recovery One?"

"Recovery One? Please respond."

"Agent Washington!"

David?

Slowly, head still spinning, Wash opened his eyes. There was a painful, nauseous quake of his muscles when his neck moved slightly that forced him to rest on his cheek. He released a low groan, fingers twitching.

His radio continued to sound off in his ear, but he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to it.

Instead he focused on righting himself, considering his world was still fairly upside down. Eventually his fingers moved enough that he could dig into the earth - he was still facing the ground, so he took a moment to push himself to his hands and knees.

"Ow, fuck," he hissed, his left arm buckling, sending him shoulder first toward the ground. The pain of the impact sent his body into a spasm.

Weakly, he opened his eyes and looked around himself, seeing the pool of red soaking into the dirt.

He was shot. The goddamn sim trooper shot him in the back.

Literally.

"Agent Washington!?"

Sucking in as large of a breath as he could manage, Wash used his right arm to shove his body up, resting back on his knees and looking up to the endless sky. Almost instinctively, his right arm moved to his injured shoulder, feeling the crack of the armor.

He was lucky that it was the sim trooper that shot him and not someone who knew what they were doing.

"Recovery One, please respond-"

Wash's eyes narrowed. He looked down to his hand as he slowly drew it from his shoulder, scowling at the sight of blood before reaching up to his helmet and turning on his end of the radio.

"Oh, thank god. We have a lock on a Level One distress beacon coming from your area-"

"Save it, Command," Wash snapped.

There was a pause before the voice cleared its throat. "Excuse me, Recovery One-"

"I don't know what game you've been playing at, Command," Wash ground out, "And to tell you the truth, I don't care anymore. You knew something was wrong in this sim trooper location." Sitting back, Wash grabbed at the pouch in his belt where his toolkit was and achingly began to dig through it for what he needed. "You knew something I didn't and you refused to give me the information I needed."

"It wasn't necessary information for you, Recovery-"

"I got shot!" Wash growled. "How much more necessary would it have to be-"

"Recovery One, the information I did not divulge was not involved here."

"And if it was I guess I would just never be the wiser," Wash shook his head. He quickly used his tools to begin digging into one of the crevices of his chest plate. "Were you aware that Wyoming had the sim troopers working for him?"

"What? No. Of course not. Agent Washington-"

"Hm. I'm having a hard time believing you," Wash hummed just before opening the plate enough to relieve some pressure from his arm. He released a low sigh of relief, then dug deeper, grabbing some of the circuits. Then he pulled them.

"What... Recovery One? What did you just... Your beacon is offline. Recovery One, please respond-"

"I know it's offline," he told her, slowly pushing to his feet. "That's part of the equipment you were all upfront with me about. I'm very good at my job when I have the information I need," he reminded her. "I'm going to tear out this radio as well, Command. I'll leave it and the tracer from the Recovery Beacon behind at the last location you'll have for me because I know you've probably already mobilized someone."

"Why? What are you doing?"

"Going after Wyoming," he responded as he reached up and pulled his helmet off. He glared at the thing before roughly cracking open the radio with his screwdriver. "And I'm doing it by trusting the only person I can." He flicked the pieces of the radio out onto the ground and put the helmet back on. He'd have to stop once he was a safe distance and put the internal parts back together.

Until then, he drug himself toward his mongoose.

Wyoming had made a terrible mistake in not making sure he was dead.