Red vs Blue and related characters © Rooster Teeth
story © RenaRoo
Divided
Chapter Fourteen: Perdition
His hands never stopped shaking, but Donut refused to let that dictate what he did any more than he already had.
After being all but carried into one of the distant offices in the command center, Donut had been little more than a ball in his seat for what had felt like hours. Wash had stayed with him for part of the time but, at some point, had left without any real explanation for where he was going or how long it would take.
Only, "I'll be back."
Well. It was later and Wash still wasn't back.
Rubbing roughly at his face, ignoring the scratchy surfaces of his gloves, Donut sucked in a few deep breaths, did his best to not turn them into sobs, and looked toward Lopez.
Unlike Wash, the Red Team robot had never left.
Instead, Lopez stood watch, arms crossed but otherwise uncharacteristically silent and blank. Not very much like their usual Latin robot at all.
"I think," Donut sniffled, "I think I'm better, Lopez. Not a lot. But better."
Lopez stared at him, or rather through him, but otherwise didn't speak.
It made Donut shift uneasily, but he stood (or rather sat) his ground. "I mean... things are the furthest they can get from good, y'know? But I think... I think I'm better. For now," Donut clarified. Then, he bit hard, gripping to the edge of his seat as he tried to find the right way to phrase what he had to say. "I just want everyone... everyone else back home safe now. I just want everyone to get away from those assholes and be safe. That's. That's all I really want right now."
Slowly, Lopez finally shifted. "Sí," the robot returned, slowly stressing the word.
"Yeah," Donut responded, swelling a bit. "I'm glad you know what I mean, Lopez. Because, despite what Sarge liked to act like... I think it's what he would've wanted, too." He hesitated. "Well. Except maybe for Grif... but we always came back with Grif no matter what Sarge said beforehand. So we've gotta make sure Grif would get back, too."
The robot didn't respond really. He seemed hesitant, like he was thinking of something, but instead he nodded meaningfully.
"Yeah, okay, alright," Donut nodded back, standing up on his two feet once more. "First, let's get Wash. He'll have a plan." Donut slammed his fist against his other palm. "And I bet you Wash is with Doyle! Because he's the guy we gotta take our plans to!"
"Sí," Lopez responded lowly. Again, a lot of stress was placed into that word.
"Glad you agree!" Donut cheered. "Now," he walked over to the nearest work bench, glaring at the helmets available, before hesitantly grabbing a white CQB helmet, "let's find a way to get our boys back!"
...
Donut blinked, not really comprehending what he was hearing.
"No?" he repeated, a little aghast.
General Doyle shuffled slightly but otherwise seemed more certain of himself than Donut had seen in nearly a year of knowing the big weenie. He even had his arms folded across his chest as he stood before Donut and Lopez.
"Yes, I'm afraid you heard me correctly, Private Donut," the general said gravely. "I simply cannot allow for a rescue mission in the current circumstances. The capital absolutely must be protected at all costs first and foremost. And, well, we certainly would be in a pickle with less soldiers and equipment." He looked sheepishly toward Lopez. "No offense meant, of course."
Lopez just glared through Doyle, releasing an aggravated huff toward the Federal leader.
"You don't have to risk any more men, Doyle!" Donut exclaimed, waving to his chest emphatically. "It can just be us. Lopez, Wash, and me can handle a rescue. It might even be better that way - fewer people in the mix and all that. We'd just need a jeep or warthog-"
Immediately, the man bristled before them. "I simply do not believe it is within Chorus' best interest that we send out any more soldiers for this trap, we must figure out what our enemy is doing while we are in the sanctity of our very well guarded and fiercely defended city!" He pressed his hands together, begging. "And you must understand, Private, Armonia needs you and, especially, Agent Washington in these dire times. Let alone the threat outside the walls, but simply within these very walls, it is your presence and your presence alone that has kept a calm among our remaining troops. I will not be able to maintain control in this situation should you leave me!"
Hardening his own expression, Donut put his fists on his hips.
"Now wait just a minute, General!" he announced without any shortage on the bombast. "I can really appreciate that you're between a pair of rocks and a really hard thing here, but I think you're forgetting that Chorus' job here is to survive. A few hundred people in a city while the whole rest of the population is lined up for slaughter? Not really surviving!" His eyes flickered with intent. "Speaking of which, those aren't just any ordinary people out there either. Those are your fellow leaders! And your planet's heroes - my family's out there..." he breathed, feeling his chin wobble at the thought, "...what's left of them, that is. And I tell you what, Doyle! If anyone deserves to be brought back home, it's them!"
Doyle blinked a few times, obviously taken aback by everything said. Still, he already begun to shake his head.
"Private Donut, I genuinely appreciate your position as well," Doyle said, "and... your enthusiasm. However, it is like I had just finished telling Agent Washington. This isn't a negotiable matter. We're not in a position to deploy anyone, and none of your party are fully in condition to mount such a heralding rescue either. If I may be so bold, you all could benefit from some further medical care-"
Donut blinked rapidly, holding up his hands. "Wait. Hold up a sec, General! Did you say you already told Wash no?"
Doyle nodded. "Why... yes, I did just-"
"Okay, I understand then," Donut turned on his heel to face Lopez. "Lopez! Vamos! We gotta find Wash!"
"I'm... very sorry, Donut," Doyle continued as Donut strolled forward, looping arms with Lopez and half-dragging the robot toward the War Room's exit.
"Don't worry about it, General!" Donut called back.
He was taking minimal ammunition. It was going to put him in a tight spot eventually, he could already see it, but he figured if anyone could make every shot count, it'd be him. Hopefully.
The fact of the matter was, these were supplies for the armies protecting Chorus now, not his own, and he'd be damned if he was going to put the people of Armonia in any more of a hard spot than they were already in. Hopefully.
He took just enough to find his people. Then Wash was going to get them all home.
Hopefully.
Roughly, Washington rubbed at his eyes and groaned at his own tiredness. "Get it together, soldier," he muttered to himself. "Think positive. There's a possibility you're not driving straight into a giant trap." He glared at the small ATV weighed down by his meager supplies. He couldn't help his grimace. "Hopefully."
With his optimism being the lowest supply of all, Wash grabbed the two gas tanks he had siphoned off and pulled them over to the garage's pump.
A few more minutes and then Wash could quietly escape the city and... head straight for the lion's den. Again.
He had relied on his stealth training - mostly instinctual by that point, but not entirely either, given the years of having his skills admittedly weighed down by carrying his less-than-prepared team - so he was certain he was completely alone in the garage.
It was enough momentary security that Wash began to let his thoughts wander - something he had very much practiced not doing, but had been happening more and more since they came to Chorus, since that strange dream when Doctor Grey saved his life.
Fuck. You. Monster. Project Freelancer? Huh!? More than you know. What? Wait! WAIT! No. I was just. I was just following orders. What? No I just. I did what I had to do!
"Hey, Wash!"
Completely caught off guard, Wash jumped, spinning around wide eyed to look at the garage entrance where Donut and Lopez stood in silhouette. Donut cocked his head to the side and had something of an affectionately sympathetic smile to his face as he raised a brow at Wash.
I was just following orders.
"You're making a bit of a mess, Big Guy!" Donut chastised.
Wash turned back around, scratching at his head with his free hand. Donut was right - there was definitely some unusable oil on the floor of the garage. So much for being considerate to the people he was abandoning.
"That would be my bad," Wash admitted before looking back to the younger soldier. "What are you doing here, Donut?"
"Well, you never came back," Donut said, folding his arms. "Kinda rude."
"I didn't want to bother you," Wash spoke in half truths. "I know what mourning teammates can take out of you."
Donut's frown grew tighter. "Yeah. It kinda sucks the big one."
It took everything in him to not flinch at that statement, but Wash was slightly proud of himself for managing. "How'd you figure out I'd be in here?"
"Well, Lopez and I kinda had the same idea and went to Doyle first," Donut said with a shrug. "That didn't go well. So I thought 'well, I bet it didn't go well for Wash either!' And then I thought, 'well, orders from a commanding officer never stopped any of us before soooo,' and then we checked two garages before this one."
"You're always pretty persistent," Wash admitted with a grunt, loading the filled tanks to the back of the vehicle.
"Well, you know what they say! You can never keep a good Donut down!" the young soldier cooed before strolling over to Wash's side.
Wash focused on tying down his supplies, thinking to hard about Donutisms tended to aggravate his headaches. "I'm sure," he said flatly in hopes that it would be an adequate enough response.
"Think that's going to be enough for the three of us?" Donut asked, leaning in curiously.
"It's not for the three of us," Wash said firmly, straightening up to glare at the members of Red Team. "This is for me. I'm going to retrieve the others and bring them back. You two are staying here and helping Doyle."
Donut straightened up, folding his arms once more. Lopez fell in step behind him, repeating the motion but otherwise saying nothing.
"No, I don't think we are," Donut said resolutely, eyebrows raised. "Unless all three of us are staying in Armonia and babysitting the Big Weenie, we're all leaving to get our friends back. We're not going to be broken up into smaller pieces anymore, Wash. We're stronger together. And that's final."
"Donut-" Wash began, exasperated, only to have the private raise his hand to halt him.
"I can't stand around and let more of my friends die out there just because, by some fluke, I never left the city," Donut said darkly. "I'm not done crying, and I'm not done fighting either. Sarge would never have wanted a member of the Red Army to stay behind when there's a war to fight. And we are fighting a war, Wash. One to survive. Just like Chorus."
Wash felt a twinge of sickness in his stomach, but he pressed it down. He didn't like that determined look in the young soldier's eyes. "Donut, you should really reconsider living your life by what Sarge would have wanted..."
"Well, I'm not going to," Donut said defensively. "He was like a father to me, Wash. And you know what? Listening to him got me this far."
"But-" Wash started only to see the flicker of something dangerous in Lopez's movements behind Donut.
Wash breathed deeply. "You're going to scream and tell if I try to leave without you, won't you?"
"Like a shrieking girl," Donut promised.
"Alright," Wash said, pointing to the ammunition boxes. "Only grab as much as you think you'll need, we're trying to take as little as possible. And grab some food and water for yourself."
"On it!" Donut cooed before racing toward the benches.
Wash rubbed at his temples. He wouldn't regret having some company. Hopefully.
...
When Wash was still wearing a rotation of names, trying on the various skins the Director and Project Freelancer had left out for him, and answered to monickers like "Recovery One", he had spent a lot of time alone on the road.
It was better that way - it was at the height of his conscious paranoia, it let him look over both shoulders and feel comforted in seeing no one.
It also meant no one was there to remind him that even if he was working by his own plan and had a greater scheme in mind, one that would force all involved with Project Freelancer to face the consequences of their actions, he was still doing inexcusable things himself.
Things that he had no plan of living long enough to regret.
"Lopez keeps pointing at the tracking-thingy, Wash!"
The Freelancer blinked, watched as the road before him shifted and grew from the tiny Project Freelancer owned planetoid to the winding and vegetated back roads of Chorus.
He had to stop doing that.
Finally, he turned his head enough to see his passenger seat, occupied by the brown armored robot. It was staring at him, hand reached forward and finger extended to the GPS tracking screen buried in the dash between them.
Lopez continued to stare even as Wash finished up checking their position.
Behind them, Donut was clicking his tongue. It was somehow loud enough to be picked up by his helmet radio, which Wash thought was a bit of an impressive feat. Then again, there wasn't much Franklin Donut did that was exactly quiet.
"Being a robot and all, don't you think Lopez would be better off driving than you, Wash?" Donut finally asked, leaning over the back of Wash's seat. "And uh. Maybe some of us would like to change seating positions around. Y'know. Try the front seat. Stretch out their hamstrings."
"Donut," Wash grunted.
"Yes?"
"You're the only one not in the front seat. Do you need to stretch out your hamstrings?"
The Red shuffled behind him. "Well, now that you mention it-"
"Buck up, soldier," Wash said, looking meaningfully to the rear view mirror. "You're a space marine. You can hold position for a few more hours."
"Okay, fine, sure," Donut groaned, leaning back against the backrest he made of their supplies. "I was also worried about you, you know. Lopez doesn't sleep, but you sure could use it before you zone out again."
"I haven't wrecked yet, now have I?" Wash replied sharply. "Besides. I don't need that much sleep."
"Sure," Donut muttered. "You know, having a good amount of rest only benefits you. It keeps your blood vessels from dilating. That's why you have such awful rings around your eyes!"
Wash glared. "How about you concentrate on physical benefits that are relevant? Like reaction time - which, sleep deprived, I'm still better with than you - or aim - which, again, I'm..." he paused. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel for a moment before he looked into the mirror at Donut again. "What do you mean 'awful rings around my eyes'? I don't have-"
"When's the last time you looked in a mirror at yourself, Wash?" Donut asked pointedly.
The Freelancer looked to the road, trying hard to not make it apparent he was really having a hard time placing a date on it. He wasn't even sure the last time he had a mirror to look at. "It's... been a while."
"And that's terrible," Donut sighed.
Lopez tapped on the screen of the GPS, and again Wash looked to it, then to the robot. He gripped to the wheel tighter. "What? I don't understand what you're trying to tell me," Wash said angrily. "Wait, why aren't you talking? You've not said anything this entire trip-"
"Maybe he's taking a siesta," Donut piped up. "A robot siesta!"
"What?" Wash felt his voice raise again. He turned enough to look over his seat to Donut directly. "That's not what a siesta is!"
Donut motioned as though he was about to respond but then flinched, looking straight ahead. "Wash!"
Before he could turn around, Wash felt Lopez lunge across the divider and grab the wheel, whipping the wheel out of Wash's hands and rapidly turning it toward the left, swerving the vehicle away from the tree they had been headed for.
Wash stomped on the brake and they skidded to a halt toward the center of the beaten road.
The three kept quiet.
"Why did you do that?" Donut asked, a little bit of a nervous laugh in his voice as he rubbed at his helmet.
Wash flinched. What's wrong with you?! You shot him! You shot-
Donut put a hand on his shoulder and shook him once. Wash stared at the hand like it was some sort of foreign plant.
"Maybe let Lopez drive for a bit?" Donut asked. "He's a pretty good driver. I mean, maybe not Grif good -" the robot sputtered something incoherently "- but he's good."
"I'd prefer to not be in motion if we're resting," Wash admitted lowly. "Let's set up camp. It's the middle of the night anyway."
"Yeah, okay," Donut breathed. "Not a bad plan. C'mon, Lopez. Let's get it set up."
...
They set up about twenty yards from the back road, deep under the cover of Chorus' seemingly unending forests. By the time the makeshift shelter from tarp and ramrods was prepared, the rain started.
It was just as well, with the little cover the ATV had and as strong as the wind had gotten, they would have been blown off the cliffs.
Suddenly, Wash began to figure out what Lopez was pointing at.
"You must have a weather sensor or something within your systems," Wash said, looking across their small tent toward Lopez.
Donut, somehow, was already asleep, curled around the helmet he couldn't wait to take off once they had set up camp. Lopez sat not far from the other Red's head, arms crossed and expression, if possible, even more blank than it had been on their drive.
Slowly, almost as if he was gritting through his nonexistent teeth, Lopez responded, "Sí."
Wash scowled, but bought himself some time by taking a drink of his soup can first. He studied Lopez, which was about as informative as observing a rock. The robot seemed to be doing much the same.
Putting down his can, Wash gripped to his knee plating, narrowed his eyes. "I don't understand, Lopez," he said lowly. "You've never been able to communicate with any of us, but that's never stopped you from being outspoken." Wash frowned. He did suppose that Lopez's newest attempts at least had some more favorable results.
If possible, the robot sighed. He shifted slightly.
"Me ignoraron durante muchos años. No importaba. Nadie dijo cosas de importancia." He paused. Then, "Mi creador está muerto. Ahora todo tiene consecuencias." He looked back to Wash, the eerie robotic noise of his neck moving slightly catching the Freelancer off guard. "¿Entiende que, Freelancer?"
Wash blinked, rubbing his knee a little awkwardly. "Um. What?"
The robot huffed. "Bastardo estúpido."
Feeling slightly put off, Wash shifted back, looking toward the infrastructure of their camp to wonder about its stability in the wailing rains when he felt a light kick. He looked to Donut.
The Red had turned over, eyes fluttering awake. He yawned, stretching. "Oh, man oh, man!" he called out with his arch. "Who knew I was so tired..." he rolled over to begin getting up when he locked eyes with Wash.
Once more, it took everything in his power for Wash to not flinch away from the piercing baby blues. He felt a little sick again, pushed it down and ignored it.
His guilt was going to get him killed.
"Oh, hi, Wash," Donut said with a brilliant smile. "Did you rest well?"
"I did," Wash lied.
"Did that resting involve closing your eyes?" Donut pressed almost knowingly as he continued his stretches. "Man, that weather," he muttered under his breath.
"Not exactly," Washington responded honestly. "We are in enemy territory with nothing between us and them but a rain tarp."
Donut whipped around, face full of the sort of disappointment you only could expect from an elderly relative. He even had his hands on his hips. "Darn it, Wash! That's probably a tarp more than the enemy would have!" He then pointed directly at the Freelancer. "And I need you to stop drifting off into La La Land if we're getting our soldiers back safely!"
Wash exhaled but didn't respond. He figured the situation would defuse faster that way.
He then immediately wondered if he wasn't vastly underestimating the willpower of Franklin Donut.
Donut reached over between Wash's legs, ignoring the sputtering Freelancer, and grabbed the can of soup before sitting back down. He scowled at the can before holding it back over their kerosine lamp. "Are you seriously going to nourish yourself with cold soup?"
"Are you seriously mothering me?" Wash snapped back.
"There's a lamp right here, it would've taken you two minutes!" Donut whines. "Eating it your way would just be, I don't know, salty and bitter. And slide right down."
Wash opened his mouth but found he couldn't even think of a response to that so he just put his head in his hands and groaned deeply.
"No wonder you're hallucinating," Donut bemoaned.
"Hallucinating?" Wash asked, daring to look Donut in the face.
"Yeah," Donut said with a slight tilt to his head. "For someone always trying to look out for others, you sure don't know how to take care of yourself, Wash. Be a little nicer to yourself! Have you ever heard of taking a Soul Sabbatical?"
"That's not a real thing," Wash reiterated for what he truly felt was something close to the thousandth time. "And it's not because I'm tired or hungry."
Donut crossed his arms. "Oh, yeah, Little Nemo? Then why are you halfway between us and Dreamland?"
"Because of you Donut!" he finally snapped.
The tent grew silent beyond the pelting of rain outside. Donut and Lopez both sat quiet and wide-eyed with the outburst.
"I... I mean..." Wash sighed, rubbing his face roughly. "Donut... I'm... having a hard time thinking around you."
"Yeah, it's okay," Donut said, a little more stiffly than usual. "I get that a lot. Especially from Simmons and Grif-"
"No, not that way," Wash said lowly. He could just feel Lopez's glares. "I... I have, for a long time now, felt... Well. I've felt guilty."
When he looked up, Wash could see that Donut's eyebrows were nearly racing to his hairline.
"What does that mean?" Donut asked. "You're... guilty about your... thoughts about me? I mean. Wash, I'm flattered. But me and Doc-"
"No, not that way," Wash spat out, shaking his head. "Just. I'm not good with words, let me try to say it all."
Donut exaggeratedly made a zipping motion over his lips and signaled "okay" which... frankly, Wash was just going to take what he could get from Donut before this moment was lost entirely.
"Donut, I feel incredibly guilty for... for, well, shooting you," Wash said, feeling the words just tumble gracelessly from his mouth. "And I mean... doing so maliciously rather than the stupid "I shot you" way that, well, Reds and Blues usually mean."
The smaller soldier crossed his arms and turned his head. "Oh. You mean when you tried to kill me," he said without any heat or anger behind his words at all. If anything, it was like a passive observation.
Washington flinched all the same. "Yes. I mean. Yes. Yes, that time it was on purpose."
"Oh," Donut said, as if the awkwardness had just then caught up with him. "Oh. Right. Well then." He rubbed his chin. "Yeah, Wash. That was super shitty."
"I agree," Wash said. "It was despicably, well, shitty. But. I've never regretted something so much before."
"Wow, considering what Project Freelancer did, that's saying a lot!"
Wash stared right at him. "That's... not exactly helpful."
"Yeah, you're right," Donut said, rubbing at the back of his head. "Now I feel kinda guilty. Sorry. None of the people who've tried to kill me have really apologized before. I'm new to this too!" Donut looked toward the tent's ceiling thoughtfully. "Hey! If it makes you feel better about your abilities, you're the one who came closest to killing me!"
Washington blinked. "No. It really doesn't."
"C'mon, can't I make jokes about it?" Donut asked, a faint laugh in his shaky voice. "It's in the past."
"Yes, you can," Wash agreed. "I'd rather not. I just want to make it up to you."
Donut laughed. "Well, this is definitely a start. I mean. I feel a lot better about it. I was over it, because you're kind of a hard guy to hate no matter how much you try to make us hate you, Wash. But it's good to hear it. I'm glad you feel guilty. Because that hurt like fuck."
"Again," Wash stressed, "I'm sorry about that."
"Bien," Lopez spoke up at last.
As they lapsed into yet another awkward silence, Wash couldn't help but breathe in relief with how much brighter the admittedly small smile of Donut's seemed. He leaned back, trying to feel like he was completely finished with those feelings when he began to hear the weak noises gurgling from the ATV's radio.
"Donut, get your helmet on," Wash said, turning over to his feet and putting on his own helmet.
"Ugh fine," Donut whined while reaching for his.
"Lopez, watch out for Donut, there's something coming in on the radio," Wash said, opening the tent's flap and rushing through the rain toward the vehicle.
He slid into the driver's seat, his visor barely helping through the cascades flowing over his face. He wiped away once, an ultimately useless motion, before beginning to reach for the radio, tuning it and increasing the volume over the sounds of the storm.
"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered.
"-kkt-ficial-zzt-kkt-ence Unit Ep-shhcct-ooon-copy?"
"Epsilon!" Wash yelled uselessly into the radio. He struck the side of the box in frustration as his other hand worked to perfect the frequency. "We're locked onto your location! Epsilon! We copy!"
"-skktt-injuries! Lots-zzt kkt- injuries and-pssch - attacked. Large numbers. Repeat -zzt - injuries - ytta - Blue Team-"
In an instant, in the middle of a monsoon, Washington felt his mouth and throat go dry. His muscles tensed as his heart beat faster. "Blue team," he repeated breathlessly.
"¡Que vienen!" Lopez shouted over the rain, standing in front of the tent with his assault rifle readied.
"What!?" Wash yelled back just before the familiar whizzing sound of a bullet passing him and the crack of a breaking the windshield nearly knocked his breath from him. "DONUT, COVER!" he called as he did much the same.
"There's no need for that, Agent Washington," a familiar voice beckoned over their private frequency.
"Oh, no," Wash muttered, digging his feet into the mud by the ATV.
"We have you surrounded," Locus said clearly.
Lopez heard his order and immediately whirled around in one motion, grabbed Donut's shoulder as he exited the tent, and hurdled the young and confused private into the denser woods surrounding their encampment. Lopez followed suit, kneeling over the floored Red soldier.
"Wait!" Donut cried, still scrambling to load his rifle after being thrown around. "What about Wash-"
"Stay where you are!" Washington shouted from the vehicle. Lopez quickly ran a scan, made sure the Freelancer checked out, no signs of injury.
He might not have liked the bastard too much, but Lopez knew that Wash was their greatest hope in getting out of this situation and reuniting what was left of Red Team.
Deep down, the robot tried very hard to not think of just why, after over a decade of not feeling at all loyal to the Reds, he was so compelled to see their reunion through.
Instead he remained focused on Washington and the scans of the area he was taking.
Washington was looking at him through the rain and darkness. Perhaps he had had the same idea.
"As I was saying the last time, Agent Washington, you continue to both surprise and disappoint me." Locus' voice was very clear across the channels, but his unique outline was less visible on Lopez's scans. With his cloaking equipment as advanced as it was, Lopez was sure he had managed to also get a scrambler. Something, fortunately, the other pirates lacked. "Surely you would have known that our eyes were on your precious capital since the initiated ambush. That stragglers who left to provide assistance to the survivors would only be picked off. Especially such a pathetically small unit as this."
"You're always so needlessly confident, Locus," Wash gritted out.
Lopez looked to Washington and gestured with three fingers. Donut beside him let out a small cluck and positioned himself, rifle toward the trail they had taken from the road and waited.
Washington nodded. "You said you had us surrounded, Locus," the Freelancer said smoothly, also taking up arms just as Lopez followed suit. "I only count three men."
The sheen of disruption where the otherwise perfect cloaks were hit by the rain became terribly apparent in their approach. In a breath, Washington took his shot, Lopez his own, and Donut for good measure took two. All three hit.
"Yes! SUCK IT, CHARON!" Donut cried out enthusiastically.
"You're right," Locus said just as Lopez heard the break of mud behind them.
Lopez once more grabbed Donut and shoved him forward with a small yell of protest from the young shoulder, just as a bullet fired, knocking off Lopez's head.
"¡Puta madre!" Lopez swore as his body hit the ground and collapsed partially on Donut, his head spiraling into the mud behind them both. He could still feel the augmentation of his limbs, but the mud was completely obscuring his vision. He attempted to punch forward and heard a yelp that sounded distinctly Donut so he stopped.
"I should have been more specific about who was surrounded," Locus continued darkly.
"LOCUS!" Washington screamed, raising up from behind the vehicle.
"Wash! Get down! You big dummy!" Donut screamed in return. "Lopez! Get oooffffff! I can't reach my gun-"
"There won't be any need for guns, Private Donut," Locus' voice said plainly. Lopez could feel how his feet were shifted by the mercenary stepping over them. "My orders are specific. I am only required to recover one of you simulation troopers and the Freelancer equipment to appease Control. I would assume, given everything I observed in the months you were with the Federal Army of Chorus that a well of information on the inner workings of Project Freelancer you are not. Making who I will be taking with me fairly obvious-"
"Ah, poop," Donut bemoaned as the cocking of a gun sounded.
"Donut no!" Wash cried.
Lopez couldn't wait any longer. He kicked upward with all of his might, leading to a guttural cry from the mercenary. Lopez's head felt itself being kicked as Washington flew by it, finally lifting the HUD enough out of the mud to get some visual again.
Washington lunged after Locus, breaking into an all out brawl in the rain and mud for control over the SAW, making it fire twice into the air.
Disoriented by the distance from his body as well as his upside down perspective, Lopez attempted (poorly) to stand his body and provide some sort of assistance.
Halfway up, the body got in the way as Washington shoved back against Locus, making the Merc's knees buckle over Lopez's back. He rolled into a landing, but not with his weapon.
Washington aimed the SAW weapon. "It's fucking over, Locus!" Wash roared.
"Is it?" Locus questioned, reaching for what appeared to be one of the alien laser rifles before activating his cloak.
Donut scrambled to his feet. "Where did he go, guys!?" he asked.
Lopez couldn't quite catch focus, but he could hear that tell-tale mechanical whine of the weapon charging up.
"Fucking hell!" Wash cried out before leaping forward toward Donut again.
There was a blast of light, almost like a lightning strike through the gusting rain. And then there was ash.
Donut released a ear bursting scream, blurring between words and gut wrenching noise just before a newly visible boot made contact with the side of his helmet, silencing Donut and pushing him far into the mud. Lopez's body attempted to react only for Locus to grab it by the shoulders, aim a pistol down the hole that had once connected the head and neck, and fired into the servers. The body dropped, unresponsive to Lopez's commands.
Lopez growled as Locus stepped toward him, then stopped, surveyed the area where Agent Washington had previously stood, and released a low, grotesque sound.
"Unfortunate," he breathed before reaching for Lopez's head, spinning it over, and turning off the HUD.
He waited. Something that was never his strong suit, but he was more than capable of doing it.
Armonia was still in full lock down, scrambling to figure out how their three heroes had managed to disappear in the middle of the day. Whispers of abandonment and bravery were almost simultaneous.
Outside of the hospital, hidden from the eyes of others, he heard them all.
When she finally left the building, he sheathed his knife and approached. The medic jumped only slightly at his reveal.
"You scared me," she said, brushing the hair out of her eyes.
"Rachel, Rachel," Felix said smoothly. "When have you ever had to be afraid of me?"
She nervously bit her lip and nodded. "Right. It's just... I wasn't expecting the Reds and Blues to leave us like this. Again. And after all that confusion on the invasion. The things on the broadcast..."
"A pretty easy way to gain the New Republic's trust once it was obvious they were going to take back the capital," Felix agreed. "But thanks to your advice, well. We're about to let them know they can't win."
The medic seemed hesitant, frowning. "So you're going to do it... you're really going to kill Doyle."
"And let Vanessa and the boys stroll right back home, where they belong," Felix said. "Perfect opportunity. All thanks to you."
She breathed a little easier. "Okay. What next?"
"We tie up some loose ends first," Felix said softly, approaching the purple and tan dressed girl. "And I get to thank you properly."
A slight blush grew on her cheeks, she seemed surprised. Flattered.
Felix liked to memorize the faces. It kept such a nice picture as he remembered later. He flicked his wrist, grabbed her shoulders, pulled forward. Locus would have been proud - so quick and efficient.
Only for the people he liked, after all.
Rachel released a cough, too shocked to even struggle.
"Shhhh," Felix cooed, pressing them further into the hospital's back alley, holding her against the wall. "There we go. See? Nice. Quiet. A perfect thank you."
He released her, looked over his blade as she slid to the floor with a gurgle, and looked toward Central Command, eyes flickering.
"Now, to complete that promise."
A/N: Lopez translations:
*"Me ignoraron durante muchos años. No importaba. Nadie dijo cosas de importancia." He paused. Then, "Mi creador está muerto. Ahora todo tiene consecuencias." He looked back to Wash, the eerie robotic noise of his neck moving slightly catching the Freelancer off guard. "¿Entiende que, Freelancer?"
"I was ignored for many years. No matter. Nobody said things of consequence." He paused. Then, "My creator is dead. Now everything has consequences." He looked back to Wash, the eerie robotic noise of his neck moving slightly catching the Freelancer off guard. "Do you understand that, Freelancer?"
*The robot huffed. "Bastardo estúpido."
The robot huffed. "Stupid bastard."
*"¡Que vienen!"
"Incoming!"
*"¡Puta madre!"
"Motherfucker!"