First off, I just want to say I cannot thank you all enough for the absolutely awesome and wonderful support I've gotten from everyone's comments. Like just wow – I'm totally blown away by how awesome you all are and how understanding and supportive everyone's been about my finals. I weathered through them and now I can get back to hopefully updating Hero Time on a regular schedule : ) All thanks to you all!
Thanks for the feedback to secretlystephaniebrown, barsenthor, ambi-deer-ate, ashleystlawrence, pissedoctahedron, BlodwenDubh, HappyFunBallXD, Taka, Yin, Alkeni, godoflaundrybaskets, JjThereforeIAm, Beawolfs_Pen, and Vixenlovesninjago on ffnet, AO3 and tumblr!
Red vs Blue and related characters © Rooster Teeth
story © RenaRoo
Hero Time
Chapter Twelve: Unexpected Company
Relying on Tucker for directions at the very least had Wash taking things somewhat slower with the motorcycle on their way to the Grif apartment. Tucker was certain he only squeezed when they took two curbs that time around, and he wasn't entirely unconvinced that they weren't masterfully plotted by the vindictive superhero.
"It's two buildings down," Tucker alerted him, digging his heels into the sides of the cycle.
"Good," Wash called back. "I'm surprised how far you are away from each other. Your... friend has a long drive to work."
"Yeah, she ain't allowed to drive, long story," Tucker joked back. "Grif drops her off most of the time. Sometimes she takes the bus. I keep telling her when I get a car I'll pick her up some."
"How noble," Wash snorted as they came to a stop.
"Hey, there's no need to be snippy," Tucker asserted, releasing his vice grip on Wash's sides. He felt his eyes widen as he watched Wash twitch uncomfortably. "Oh, dude. Fuck! I'm sorry. I forgot about the ribs."
"It's alright. Not like it's the one thing you won't let me forget otherwise or anything," Wash grunted back, swinging his legs to one side of the bike. "So. You're pretty close with the Grifs."
"Kinda," Tucker shrugged. "It's a long story."
"With you, few things seem not to be," Wash replied. "Still, there might be something relevant. Especially since you keep being linked to everything in the mess, inadvertently or not." He stopped at the door of the complex, looked over it a bit then looked to Tucker.
Tucker rolled his eyes and pushed on through. "Dude, there is no place as fancy as your laundromat here. Are you that disconnected from everyday life?"
"Apparently I am," Wash muttered back. "So... you're more close to the sister?"
Furrowing his brows, Tucker turned and gave Washington a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm assuming you met through her since you work together," Wash replied. His brows then knit closer together. "Why? Is it more than that?"
"Oh. Uh. No. Yes. Kind of," Tucker hesitated. "Look, it's complicated. Kai's one of my best friends, though. She also has fantastic tits. But that's beside the point."
Wash scowled slightly. "I see you place value in all the right parts of people."
"I place more than value in the right parts of people," Tucker added before jutting forward. "Bow chicka bow wow!"
"Jesus christ," Wash muttered, burying his face in his palm.
"Oh, come on, like I was supposed to let that pass me by," Tucker snorted, walking toward the elevator and calling it down. He stepped back and glared at the numbers as they conveniently lowered to their level. "This is such bullshit. I know Grif doesn't pay more than me for this shit hole. And they get a working elevator. Fucking Doc swear to god."
At the mention of Doc, Wash visibly straightened again, looking seriously to Tucker. "About your landlord... it's unnerving to me that I recognize him."
"Doc unnerves people. It's what he does," Tucker shrugged back. "But he's harmless. I mean. He's fucking inconvenient and a pain in the ass. He might lead to injury... but he wouldn't cause it himself. Pussifest and all that."
"Pacifist," Wash corrected.
"Whatever," Tucker waved back.
"Why's he called 'Doc' anyway? Surely that's not his name," Wash continued as the elevator door opened and they stepped on in. "Though, I guess it could be..."
"It's not," Tucker responded, pressing five before the door shut. "Honestly, I don't even remember what his name is half the time. Church called him 'Doc' when he first took over as our landlord and... I dunno. It just stuck, I guess. I don't know anyone who doesn't call him Doc. Or Shizno."
Wash turned his head. "Shizno?"
"Yeah, don't worry about it," Tucker snickered.
"Believe me, I won't," Washington snarked back, folding his arms. "And don't think I don't notice how you consistently underplay things that pertain to your own life."
"I just don't think it's relevant," Tucker shrugged. "And you will, too, after we solve this mystery of whatever and figure out what's happened to Grif."
"Sure," Wash responded, unconvinced.
They stepped out onto the floor and Tucker made an immediate beeline to Grif's apartment door, fishing in his pocket for the keys Kai had thrown along the way. Wash stood somewhat patiently just behind him, quietly observing as Tucker produced the keys and made quick work of the lock.
"You're being very haphazard with this when we don't even know what's on the other side of that door," Wash warned as Tucker threw the door open. "Some subterfuge could go a long way to finding your friend... more... effectively."
They stood just outside the door, staring into the apartment in some horror at the mess that befell them.
"Fuck, this is why Kai never wanted to meet up here. I totally forgot," Tucker said, aghast, at the collected trash all over the place. "Though... knowing both Grif and Kai, I don't know what else I would have expected."
Wash actually looked a little green. "People live like this," he muttered to himself.
"Not that I want to really agree with you on anything but... yeah, this is pretty rank," Tucker agreed, continuing on in. "I guess it's been a while since Simmons came in. Which is weird, too..."
"Simmons- Tucker, you keep throwing half-information at me that is completely useless," Wash said as he eased his own way into the apartment, mindful to sidestep most of the junk laying around the Grif apartment. "I probably shouldn't have to remind you of this but I'm not familiar with your friends and acquaintances. I don't even know what a 'Simmons' is right now."
"Eh, it's for the better," Tucker waved him off. He stopped by the kitchen counter, staring at the stack of money that Grif had just left lying around. Crisp, freshly pressed bills that still had a bank sticker. He could have just about smacked himself in the forehead before remembering to check and see if Wash had noticed it.
For his part, Wash was inspecting a different part of the room, seemingly questioning the sanitation of the stack of pizza boxes in the corner, and hadn't looked Tucker's way just yet.
Without much thought, Tucker opened the first drawer and slid the stack of money into it, shutting it quickly. "Nothing in the kitchen!" Tucker called back.
"How can you even tell through all of this mess?" Wash asked critically just before turning to face Tucker. "I'm... going to be completely honest, I don't know how possible it'll be to find clues here."
"Yeah... this was a much better idea in my head," Tucker admitted lamely, meeting Wash halfway toward the center of the apartment.
"It wasn't a bad idea, actually. I would've suggested something similar myself," Wash offered, putting a hand on Tucker's shoulder. "It just... doesn't always work out for the best. I mean, nothing's as convenient as the movies-"
The words had hardly left Wash's mouth when the door jostled, bringing both men's attention to the entrance as it opened up.
"Grif!? Are you here?"
Tucker would have recognized Simmons' voice anywhere, which was why he almost had hope that things would be easy enough to deescalate once the door was fully opened. A hope that was quickly destroyed when he saw the distinctive full body, maroon suit standing at the entrance.
"Aw, balls," Tucker muttered.
He didn't even have to look to know that Washington was immediately tensed beside him.
The faceless Red Gang member curiously cocked his head to the side as he saw Tucker standing in the apartment rather than Grif. "Huh? Tucker?" Simmons called out just before he was tackled to the ground. "JESUS!"
"Stay down!" Wash roared, landing a little too good of a right hook for Tucker's taste before flipping the maroon 'supervillain' onto his side and tightly pushing his arms into the man's back. "Tucker! Call the police! We've got one of your robbers-"
"Ow! What the fuck!?" Simmons cried out from the floor. He looked up toward Tucker, clearly mortified even through the garish costume. "T-Tucker!?"
Unsurprisingly, while Wash didn't relinquish his hold, he did join Simmons in looking up at Tucker, confusion clearly drawn on his face behind the thick sunglasses.
"Wash, get off of him, it's cool," Tucker pleaded.
"Cool!? He's one of the robbers-" Wash spat out before scowling. "Tucker, what the fuck is going on? What do these delinquents have to do with your friend?"
"Uh," Tucker responded eloquently.
"And what do they have to do with the car that hit me!?"
Simmons stiffened more, if possible, and arched back enough to look at Washington. "Holy shit, that was you? Ow!"
Wash pulled back harder on Simmons' arm. "Quiet. I'm not talking to you."
"Seriously, Wash, stop it. Simmons can't hurt a fly," Tucker continued to defend. "Well. Normally. Dude," he said, looking to Simmons more directly. "You guys have been crazy as fuck lately! What's up with that?"
"Get him off me and I'll try to explain," Simmons begged.
"Wait, everyone shut up!" Wash cried out, looking angrily at Tucker. "You know each other!? You've known who they were-"
"Uh," Tucker repeated himself with a blink. "I can explain?"
Wash's scowl deepened. "Are you one of them?"
"Fuck no, dude. I stay out of trouble," Tucker responded flippantly with a hand wave. He stopped halfway, noticing the visible change in Wash's stance and expression as he looked somewhat in shock at Tucker. It just made Tucker blink. "What?" he asked, moving his head just enough to have his eye blinded by an unexpected light. "Fuck! What the-"
"TUCKER!"
Without further warning, Washington lunged, knocking the air out of Tucker's lungs as he smacked into him and knocked them both to the floor just seconds before the ringing of glass breaking in the other part of the room and the zip of a bullet whizzed by them.
Even after hitting the ground, Tucker could hardly gather his breath, looking in horror toward the now broken window, then to the smoldering hole in the opposing kitchen cabinet. It wasn't far from where his own head had just been.
"Sniper! Stay down!" Wash ordered from over top of Tucker. He was glaring toward the window before, with nearly inhuman dexterity, flipping to the window, grabbing the top seal, and in a smooth dive breaking through the remaining glass to quickly make it to the outside. He was out of sight in an instant.
More from shock than a desire to fulfill Wash's orders, Tucker laid on the disgusting carpet and stared after the window. It took him a few breaths to even out again and then even more before he was able to raise up to his elbows.
By that time, Simmons had rolled to his feet and was steadily taking cover by the hall wall, looking over his shoulder toward the window and to Tucker.
Tucker stared at him for a moment.
Simmons finally looked back to Tucker and gave a somewhat sheepish wave. "So I'm guessing you've not heard from Grif either, huh?"
"No," Tucker responded almost sourly. "And, dude, I have questions for you-"
"I'm going to be asking questions."
Both Tucker and Simmons jumped slightly at the dark tone, both turning to look at the window where Wash was crouched on the seal. It wasn't hard to see how pissed he was - nearly radiating off of him - as he looked in.
"And one of the first is getting you two to tell me the truth," he said pointedly, glaring more toward Tucker. "What does all of this have to do with Wyoming?"
