A/N: Here we go! Chapter 14 of Agent Reach is here! This may end up being a bit different from the way I originally played it out (more ridiculous with the Reds and Blues driving Tex, Maine, and Reach crazy, along with sealing York's fate), but here it is! Hope you enjoy it.

*Chapter 14*

Reach and Texas reached the rendezvous point first, and they waited until the rest of the Reds arrived. When they did, Simmons and Sarge were panting normally, but Grif sounded as if he was having an asthma attack. Not to mention he was also the last to arrive.

Simmons stiffened upon seeing the Freelancers, gulping. "Um, sir! Grif was the last to arrive!" The chubby orange soldier let out a groan and turned on him. "Dude, you are the worst kind of person. No shit I'm the last! He's not blind!"

Before a ridiculous argument could break out, Reach held up his hand. "Both of you, stow it. Grif, you know what you have to do." The orange soldier sighed and began doing the squats obediently, groaning as he probably did the most amount of exercise in his life in a span of five minutes. "Any reason why we're actually doing this?"

"Yes. The Blues stole your flag partially because they're in shape and somewhat disciplined," Reach replied dryly. 'They'll be more fit now that Maine is there.'

The Reds looked at each other, and Reach shared a brief message with Texas. "Make sure Grif does them." The black Freelancer nodded, probably imagining giving the chubby soldier more genital pain. Reach turned around, and he sighed as he saw the shipment Command had sent the Reds. "Are you kidding me?" 'Of all the damn things for the military to waste on these idiots…'

Texas briefly looked back, and she shook her head. "A Warthog?" Reach looked around it, observing the specs. 'Let's see…heavy machine gun, mag bumper suspension, three-inch armor plating, and seating for three. Yes, it's a damn Warthog; more specifically the M12-LRV.'

Reach sighed again before turning to the Reds. "This is your shipment from Command. It's called the M12-LRV, also known throughout the UNSC as the Warthog." Grif grunted as he still did the 100 squats under the menacing stare from Texas. "Why Warthog, sir?"

The former Spartan was tempted to rub his head in frustration. "Because I seriously doubt that any of you would be able to say M12-LRV in conversation." Grif shook his head, squatting more. "No, I mean it doesn't really look like a pig."

"Come again?" Reach and Texas asked at the same time. Grif finished the squats and stood up, flinching. "I…I think it looks more like a puma." Sarge turned around, glaring at the Private. "And what in Sam's hell is a puma?"

Reach groaned and face-palmed mentally. 'You have got to be fucking joking…' The Red Team used to be lead by a stereotypical senile old man who probably should have ended up in a retirement home by now. Or be locked in an insane asylum. One of the two.

Simmons looked at Grif, confused. "What, you mean the shoe company?" Reach shared an exasperated glance with Texas, who shrugged. "I don't know what they mean. Though fat-ass does have a point. Why do they call it the Warthog if it looks more like a cat?"

"Don't encourage them," Reach groaned, listening as Grif explained a puma's appearance to Sarge and Simmons. "No, it's a big cat. Like a lion." Sarge pointed an accusing finger at him, stalking over to him. "You're making that up."

"I'm telling you, it's a real fucking animal!" Grif protested, only for Sarge to turn to Simmons. "Simmons, I'd like for you to poison Grif's next meal." The maroon soldier started to say, "Yes sir", when he caught the eyes of Reach and Texas, the black Freelancer cracking her knuckles. "Sir, there is an officer here…and he's the one in command."

'At least he remembered that,' Reach thought. "Thank you, Private. Now Grif, I believe the reason they named it the Warthog is because these tow hooks look like tusks. And what animal has tusks?" 'Please don't say anything stupid…'

"A walrus," Grif answered seriously, making Reach, Texas, and Simmons groan in frustration and face-palm. Sarge turned on the Private, annoyed as well. "Didn't I just tell you to stop making up animals!?"

Reach rolled his eyes, annoyed with the childish bickering. "All of you, enough. We're sticking with the Warthog because that's what it's called. No other animals or mythological creatures." Sarge snorted and turned around to face Grif. "How 'bout it Grif?"

The orange soldier shook his head, taking Reach's order. "No, I'm good." Sarge grunted and started listing random creatures. "Are you sure? How about Sasquatch?"

Grif shook his head again, not fazed. "No thanks, sir."

"Yeti?"

"No thanks."

"Bigfoot?"

"Leprechaun?" Simmons joined in, making Grif roll his eyes. "Hey, he doesn't need any help, man." Sarge suggested another mythological creature, "Phoenix?" before Texas grabbed Grif's pistol and slammed it into the sergeant's stomach. "Shut up!"

The man doubled over, winded, and Texas then kicked him onto his back. He grimaced and looked over to Simmons. "Hey Simmons, what's that Mexican lizard? Eats all the goats?"

"The Chupacabra?" the maroon soldier tried, and Sarge nodded. "Hey Grif; the Chupathingy! I like it; it's got a ring to it."

-0-

Church looked through the scope of his Sniper Rifle, still spying on the Reds. "Hmmm…it looks like they've got some sort of car down there." Next to him, Tucker started to complain."What!? How come they get a car?"

Church rolled his eyes and lowered the rifle. "What are you complaining about? Captain Flowers says we're going to be getting a tank in the next drop." Tucker sighed and looked down, disappointed. "You can't pick up chicks in a tank…"

Church glared at his teammate, frustrated. "You know what? You could bitch about anything. We're about to get a fucking tank, and you're worried about chicks. What chicks are we going to pick up in the middle of fucking nowhere!? And secondly, how the hell are you going to pick up chicks in a car that looks like that?"

"What kind is it?" Tucker asked. Church shook his head and looked back through the scope. "I don't know man; I've never seen a car like that. It looks like a…like a big cat of some kind." Tucker paused, turning back to him. "What, like a puma?"

"Yeah man, there you go."

-0-

Sidewinder

York paused, gasping for breath. His tan armor was dented, and one of the shoulder panels was ruined beyond repair. He had been running from the Director for the last few days, and now he had Wyoming on his tail. The British Freelancer always got his man, so it was only a matter of time before he was caught. 'I have to see her body for myself…'

"Agent York, your suit is breached. May I suggest we head to the nearest UNSC outpost for repairs?" Delta asked. York shook his head, panting heavily. "We don't have time. If we stop, then we're finished. We have to keep-"

He let out a pained cry as a round from a Magnum tore through his leg. York fell in a heap, blood staining the white snow below from the wound. He heard footsteps behind him, along with a familiar accent. "Sorry old chap. I don't like having to kill you, but orders are orders, mate." Wyoming.

York turned his head, his leg burning with pain as the white Freelancer walked up to him, his Magnum leveled at York's head with his Sniper Rifle across his back. The British man shrugged apologetically, his finger about to pull the trigger. "Nothing personal, York."

York gritted his teeth as he tried to crawl away from the pistol, biting his lip to prevent from crying out. "You're a fool, Reg. The Director's using you!" It was a gamble he was willing to play, if it meant he could find out the truth behind Carolina's death.

Wyoming laughed bitterly, aiming the sidearm. "The Director? As if. I'm after that bastard Maine for what he did to me. Who do you think really killed our dear Carolina, as well as Reach and Texas? Not to mention he stole our AIs."

York shook his head, not believing a word he had just said. "No…not Maine. He wouldn't dare try to kill Carolina, or Reach and Tex for that matter. The Director had something to do with it, I'm telling you!" There was no shame in pleading to try and stay alive. Not if it meant he could find out what really happened to the three. "Maine vanished too! He's presumed dead on our team roster!"

Wyoming laughed again, amused in a slightly sadistic way that was unlike the Brit. "Oh old friend…I never thought you of all people would stoop so low as to actually beg. If those are your last words, then I'm quite disappointed. I expected more resistance. Besides, who else could it have been besides Maine? No one else is mute and uses a Brute Shot." His finger crept into the trigger guard, ready to fire. "Goodbye, Agent York."

York saw someone else appear; someone massive. Whoever it was, they too wielded a Brute Shot, and they let out a deep, menacing growl. Yet when they were close enough for York to see the details on the armor, the tan Freelancer knew who it was. "Missouri… you bastard.'

With Wyoming about to pull the trigger, York jerked his head to the blue/green Freelancer. "Why don't you ask him, then?" Wyoming turned around, and Missouri swung the Brute Shot with a furious hiss. The blunt end caught Wyoming in the stomach, tossing him to the ground. The sidearm fell from his grasp as he was knocked unconscious, lying face down in the cold snow.

York looked up at Missouri as he stopped to pick up the fallen Magnum, growling. "So…it was you all along. You're the one who killed Carolina, aren't you!?"

Several AIs appeared around him, and York's eyes widened under his helmet. 'Iota, Gamma, and Omega…no. Tex too?' The fourth AI was unknown to him, but it was the same color as Omega and female, although it looked even more sadistic. "We are the Meta, Agent York. And yes, we did dispose of Agent Carolina. Her corpse is rotting in an icy pit, though a fiery one would have been more preferable. Hearing her scream would have been thrilling."

York glanced over at the Sniper Rifle across Wyoming's back, and he tried to launch himself towards it. The Meta caught him by the arm and pulled his shoulder out of the socket with an angry hiss, making him cry out again.

The female AI shook her head, smiling sadistically. "I don't think so, Agent York. Now that you know who we are, you can't be allowed to live anymore. We already have our hands full trying to find Reach, Texas, and Maine; another pest could make things…difficult for us."

York struggled to break free from the Meta's iron grip, but whatever the Director had done to him, it made him impossibly strong. Even when he was still a 'normal' Freelancer, he was strong, but now, trapped in his grasp, York could see how Carolina could die. Holding the struggling Freelancer in one hand, the Meta placed his Brute Shot across his back casually, growling.

York tried to kick out, but the Meta twisted his already dislocated shoulder, making him cry out as the pain nearly blinded him. The female AI shook her head again, though this time in mock disappointment. "It looks like you didn't understand. Maybe we should…let it sink in a bit more."

The Meta growled, and he grabbed York by the throat, holding him up in the air and squeezing. The tan Freelancer began to choke, starting to black out as the Meta squeezed every last breath out of him. He tried to reach for the Brute Shot across his back, but the augmented soldier growled and turned his back away, realizing what he was up to. 'N-no…'

The Meta growled again, slamming his fist into York's chest and breaking the ribs. As he gasped out in pain, unable to breathe properly, the Meta tossed him down, aiming the sidearm at his head.

"Goodbye, Agent York," the female AI hissed. The Meta squeezed the trigger, and a single shot rang out in the still air, going straight through York's head and killing him. As his body slumped into the snow, blood surrounding it, the Meta bent down and removed his helmet. York's glassy eyes gazed back at him lifelessly, and the Meta reached into the back of his skull, yanking out the chip containing Delta.

The Meta implanted the green AI into him, and he shook off the shivers as he felt another entity become one with him. Omega smirked and folded his arms. "We've taken Agent New York out of the equation. Now Zeta, I think it's time we execute Phase 2."

Zeta let out a frustrated snort, glaring at her counterpart. "And what may that be?" Omega smirked again, the other AIs drawing in to hear.

"Infiltrate the Blue Base in Blood Gulch."

A/N: Dun-dun-dun-dun! Next up, the rookies (Donut and Caboose) join the action! Until next time!