A/N: Hey guys, I am here with Chapter 19 of Agent Reach, which is now in the top three for favorites, reviews, and follows in the Halo/RvB crossover category! Wow…unbelievable. And to think this story is only really just getting started…I'm curious as to what will happen when I reach Season 11 and 12. Also, some of the reviews when I checked on Christmas made me laugh, including one where someone said they half-expected Tex to drug Reach and fuck the shit out of him...and how she is about to 'reach' (badum-tish!) new levels of cruel.

*Chapter 19*

Maine paused from destroying Tucker's porn collection as Reach and Texas left the Blue Base. 'So…it seems I was right. She is definitely on top in that regard.' He chuckled softly to himself as he heard the struggles of Tucker trying desperately to free himself. The aqua soldier was still tied to the base wall by spare heavy duty cable wire that Maine had found lying around, probably dropped there by Florida.

'Florida…you chose me to lead these morons,' Maine thought as he reloaded his Brute Shot before firing again, sending the destroyed remains of various porn discs into the air much to Tucker's despair. "Come on! Please, cut it out man!"

Maine growled and cuffed the aqua soldier over the head with his gauntleted hand, making him groan in pain. "Ow!" Rolling his eyes, the massive white Freelancer used the blade of his weapon to cut the wire, the soldier falling on the ground in a heap. "Ughhh…" He stumbled to his feet, only to fall back down again in an undignified way, making Maine hiss in frustration. 'You have got to be fucking kidding me…'

Growling in irritation, he yanked the man up by the shoulder, placing him roughly on his feet. 'Get up, you fucking Casanova wannabe…' Maine saw him look down at a case that somehow survived the massive Freelancer's tornado of destruction, and he let out a whoop. "Sweet! I still have one-"

Maine cut him off by throwing him into the corner and firing his Brute Shot at the disc, destroying it completely. 'No, you don't.' Tucker hung his head in shame, and Maine growled before pointing towards the top of the base, Sigma translating. "Private Tucker, you are on the first watch shift. And I'll give you some advice; it's wise if you listen. We'd like for you to remain in one piece."

'Too bad,' Maine grunted, making the red AI chuckle. Tucker hobbled out of the base, muttering something that sounded a lot like, "It's too fucking cold for this shit," leaving Maine alone in the base. That was, until the moron who shot the Alpha's body with a fucking tank entered. "Anything for me to do, sir?"

'Yeah. One; don't try and be a kiss-ass to me after you shot the most valuable thing in the canyon with a goddamn tank. Two; get smarter,' Maine thought in annoyance. Sigma snickered at the massive Freelancer's annoyance, using his inability to speak to his advantage. "Yes. You will relieve Private Tucker's watch in four hours, but for now, rest in your quarters and don't watch any of Tucker's…home movies."

The blue soldier nodded and walked away, leaving Maine alone with the enormous mess inside. 'Now…where is that goddamn vacuum cleaner? I'd like to clean up after getting a bit carried away. Also…how the hell are we going to retrieve the Alpha's body with a trigger-happy, annoying British asshole looking over the canyon?'

-0-

Wyoming sprinted away from Blood Gulch, panting hard. He had managed to take out Florida, but his objective to take him out silently and undetected didn't go completely to plan. That aqua bastard had spotted him, and just as the British man was about to fire again, his weapon jammed, rendering it unusable. So, he had no other option but to abandon the mission and retreat away from the scene before any other possible surviving Freelancers found him.

He twitched his mustache slightly as he took a breather, sitting down on a rock to disassemble his Sniper Rifle. 'Florida is dead, but I have to worry about possible backlash from any of the others. If they're alive.' Wyoming still remembered how he woke from unconsciousness to see York's dead glassy eyes staring at him, with Delta having been forcibly ripped from him by the Meta. 'Maine is still around. Reach and Tex must be dead…so are Carolina and York. The only ones that could be left are a pair of squabbling twins and the second-worst fighter.'

He snorted as he found a small obstruction inside the Sniper Rifle's chamber, tossing the bit of rubbish away before ejecting the clip. The bullet on top was dented and bent, making it useless. 'Figures…' He took out the ruined bullet, sticking it into the ground and slapping the now half empty clip back in, putting his weapon back together.

He wasn't worried about getting in a fight with Washington. In more than a dozen training skirmishes, he had easily beaten the black/gold Freelancer, tossing him into the wall a few times in more than one. Of course, there was always the possibility of Washington having improved massively since the downfall of Project Freelancer, but the chances of that were slim.

The project's destruction had not been a pretty one. After York deserted in an attempt to find out the truth behind Carolina's death and the disappearances of Reach, Texas, and Maine, he was killed by the Meta while Wyoming was knocked unconscious. North and South Dakota deserted as well after the purple Freelancer refused to hand Theta over to the Director, having found out about the man's intent to give the shy AI to the Meta.

As for Washington, he hadn't fared any better. The Director used him as a scapegoat, and the black/gold Freelancer was currently imprisoned by the UNSC, where he was forced to collect Freelancer equipment to prevent it falling into the wrong hands. So far, he had found nothing that would get him out of the mess the project had become.

Wyoming put his weapon across his back and headed away from the canyon. Maine was going to be on maximum alert, and even though the big man was never a specialist with Sniper Rifles like the Brit, he was good enough with one. And as Florida was one of Maine's few friends within the organization, he was going to be beyond pissed off. 'I'll have to lie low for a few days…maybe a week at most. Then, I can take out that aqua bastard as it seems he knows about the project.'

-0-

Reach stood in the shower, shaving the stubble that had started to grow under his chin carefully. The bit of German in him was starting to show, and he had decided to get rid of it before he ended up looking like Jorge. The big man liked to tease about being able to give 'mustache rides'. Whatever the hell that was. (A/N: XD sorry I was watching Super Troopers)

His lip twitched slightly as the razor cut him, the sensation of blood slowly trickling out and getting washed away by the icy water. 'One would think it was a waste of resources to fit bases in the middle of a desert with this level of accommodations...but those training suits aren't anywhere near as advanced as Freelancer equipment or MJOLNIR armor and can't recycle the waste…which now that I think of it, is pretty damn disgusting.'

Reach could hear Sarge upstairs, still working on his newest project. Which turned out to be a robot that he named Lopez. As much as the red soldier loved humming songs about killing Grif and making Private Simmons his bitch, the man was very good when it came to mechanics. 'If only he was as good in other areas…' Sarge was still waiting for a speech unit, which would enable Lopez to communicate with the rest of the team.

He stroked his shaven chin, turning off the water and stepping out, grabbing the sidearm he placed on the counter. If an enemy were to break into the base, Reach didn't want to have a tombstone that read, 'Got killed while taking a shower', although the real reason was because of a certain someone that was beside the closet. 'She does know I can see her, even though she's using her Active Camouflage, right?'

Reach dried himself off, sighing as he put his clothing back on. "Tex, I know you're there. You are not exactly slick, you know." The black Freelancer deactivated her cloaking, sticking her tongue out at him. "Meh, you're no fun."

The former Spartan let out a sigh, meeting her gaze. "Says the one who stole Donut's stupid tentacle porn and shipped it over to that idiot at the Blue Base. I bet anything that he's wishing he could be on a nonexistent Green Team instead of being mentally scarred." 'I don't think even Emile or Jun would go that far…scratch that. Emile already did, that bastard.'

Texas laughed, smiling innocently. "Which one? You have to be a bit more specific when you say 'idiot on the Blue Team'. The only smart ones are Maine and Sigma." Reach sighed and rubbed his head before giving her an exasperated look. "The dumbass who got his porn destroyed." 'Don't play the goddamn innocent game…you are far from that.'

"He deserved it," Texas returned, giving him a small smile. "And about that…I'll bet that he isn't in a mental institution just yet." Reach snorted and began to walk away when she grabbed his arm, looking at him with a smirk. "What will you do if I'm right, hmmm~?"

The former Spartan stared at her, for it sounded like she wanted to have a bet with him about whether Tucker was a weak, whimpering mess or still somewhat sane. "I don't recall anything about it being a bet, but if that's how you want it, fine. You get to pretend you're in charge for a day. But what would you do if I'm right?" 'I swear, if it involves what I think it does…'

His suspicions were confirmed as Texas leaned in close, gently kissing him. "Whatever you tell me~." Reach let out a sigh, flexing his shoulder. "That can be taken in more ways than just one, you know." 'And I have a good feeling it goes along with that goddamn catchphrase of yours…'

"Mreow chicka mreow mreow~."

"Goddammit…"

-0-

Donut stood on top of the Red Base, pleased with himself. After he got back the Red flag and managed to steal the Blue one, Command sent him his own unique armor to make him a certified member of Red Team. "Look guys! Command was so impressed, they gave me my own armor!"

Simmons let out a snort, shaking his head. "You thought you were buying it at the fucking store, you idiot." 'Goddamn, this guy is ever worse than Grif!' He looked at the chubby orange Private, who was trying to hold in his laughter. 'The fuck is his problem?' Simmons then took a closer look at Donut's armor, and he too started to snicker. 'Oh God…please don't tell me Command gave him a fucking pink suit on purpose!' "Um, Donut, about your armor…"

"What about it?" the oblivious Private asked, not aware as to the reason why the two were snickering. Simmons tried to control his laughter, his words nearly unable to form. "It's a little…help me out Grif."

"It's pink! Your armor is fucking pink!" Grif burst out, no longer bothering to try and hold back his laughter. Simmons meanwhile could keep it held back as he faced Donut again. "Yeah, that's right…pink." 'Maybe they thought he was a girl? Or maybe…that blonde chick who's always with the Lieutenant and beat the living shit out of us did it.' Even though a few days had passed, Grif still felt tremendous pain whenever he had to take a piss, and Simmons was pretty sure he suffered from a slight concussion and enormous humiliation. Not because he got the shit kicked out of him by a girl, but because all of them (save for the new Lieutenant) got their asses handed to them on a silver platter at once.

"It's not pink!" Donut protested. "It's like a, a light-ish red." Grif stopped laughing to give the Private a snort. "Guess what? They already have a color for light-ish red. You know what it's called? Pink!"

The pink Private shook his head. "You guys are colorblind. Why would Command send me a pink suit?" Grif shrugged, leaning against the outside cover of the base. "Hey, don't ask, don't tell."

As the orange Private began to laugh, Simmons too snickered before looking at Grif in mock disapproval. "Hey, that's not funny." 'Yes it is…who the fuck am I kidding? Even Sarge would find this funny.'

Grif finally caught his breath, shaking his head. "Come on; it's kinda funny." Simmons rolled his eyes, only to stop as Sarge appeared with what seemed to be a brown robot. "Sarge!" 'What the hell is that thing? More importantly, does our Lieutenant know about this?'

Simmons then heard a slightly irritated shout of, "Goddammit Tex!", making him sigh. 'I take that as a no…' "Sarge, what the hell is that? It looks like a robot." The red Sergeant drew his Shotgun, looking at the three. "That's right, Private. I need someone intelligent to talk to who won't beat the living shit out of me for their own enjoyment. Did my package come in yet, Tooth Fairy?"

Donut let out another protest, making Grif and Simmons face-palm. "It's not pink; it's light-ish red!" Sarge let out a snort, amused. "Don't let your panties get in a bunch. Just answer the goddamn question." Donut nodded, handing him a small package. "Here, sir."

Grif faced Simmons, and the maroon soldier could picture him with his mouth open in shock. "Wait, Lopez is a robot?" Simmons didn't have time to answer before Sarge butted in dryly. "The fact that he sleeps standing up and drinks motor oil didn't occur to you?"

The chubby orange soldier shook his head, looking down at the base. "I just thought he was trying to impress me or something…" Simmons and Donut snorted in laughter as Sarge aimed his Shotgun at Grif. "Goddammit Grif…I oughtta get in the Warthog and crush your head like a tomato can."

Simmons looked down at the newly repaired vehicle, and he tried to hold back his laughter as he saw the word 'Puma' written on it in pink spray paint. 'I don't think that was Grif or Donut…maybe that blonde did it?'

Their Lieutenant marched up the base stairs, and the four of them (not including the new robot named Lopez) stood stiff. "Sir!" The black/red soldier nodded, looking at the robot intently. "Sarge…did your speech unit come in yet?" Simmons tried to prevent a gasp from leaving him. 'Shit, he knew about this?'

Just as he was about to say something, he heard a grenade detonate downstairs, and the Lieutenant sighed. "Excuse me for a bit…it seems a certain someone is playing with…who wrote that on the Warthog?" Sarge peered at the graffiti before letting out a growl, aiming his weapon at Grif. "That's it, Private. Your ass is dead now."

Before he could shoot, the Lieutenant put his hand up. "Before you go around shooting your own men, maybe you should make sure it was actually him." He faced Grif, who had tried to somehow hide in a snowman. In the middle of a fucking desert. 'Are you serious right now? Why would you try and hide in a snowman in the middle of the fucking desert? Secondly, where the hell did you get the snow from?' Simmons wondered.

The black/red soldier sighed, placing a hand over his golden visor. "Private…I have many questions for you, but first has to be this; where in the name of sanity did you find snow in the middle of a fucking desert?" Grif started to answer when the Lieutenant put his hand up again. "Actually, never mind. Save me the headache and don't tell me where you managed to find it. But, did you write the words 'Puma' on the Warthog?"

Grif shook his head, gulping nervously. "No sir! I thought it was Simmons or Donut! Or maybe that chick who beat the shit out of us?" The black/red leader let out a sigh, heading back downstairs. "That last one sounds more believable…" He then stopped as they heard another grenade explosion, though this one didn't seem to be coming from downstairs. "Okay, very funny. Sarge, you take Lopez downstairs. I don't want the Blues to find out we have a robot on our team. Simmons, you and Pretty in Pink watch the flags."

"Come on! It's light-ish red!" Donut tried to protest. Grif snickered and faced their leader. "What about me, sir?" The Lieutenant nodded over to the Warthog (now known throughout the team as a Puma), loading a round into his Battle Rifle. "You're coming with me and Tex."

"Do I have to~?" a pretend whiny (and potentially flirty) voice asked from downstairs, making the leader rub his head. "Yes, Tex. Now get the hell up here." Simmons began to sweat nervously as the black soldier popped her head up, climbing out of the base through the most unorthodox way possible. 'If she wanted to, she could punch us in the dick before we could even lift a finger…'

"Meh, I was looking forward to shooting something anyway," she shrugged as she got to her feet. "So, who's the moron who wants to die for throwing grenades at our base?" The Lieutenant peered through his Battle Rifle scope, and he let out a snort. "It's that moron you sent Donut's hentai to. I don't think he's exactly happy with you."

The pink soldier fell to his knees, crying. "You stole my porn!?" The red/black soldier let out a snort, lowering his rifle. "No. We just borrowed it without permission or any intentions of returning it." He then turned to the woman in black. "By the way, you lost the bet."

"Fuck," she sighed. "I was looking forward to ordering you around for a day. I had something really fun in mind." Luckily, another grenade explosion prevented her from saying what exactly she had planned, much to Simmons's relief. 'Oh thank fuck…'

'Right…so, we attack the Blues. Lovely. I guess it's time to get revenge for them destroying our jeep.'

A/N: Sorry for the abrupt ending guys, but I felt myself getting less involved with this chapter and felt the need to end it before I did something abso-fucking-lutely stupid with it (like write in an early sex scene. That may or may not happen later; depends on the fan vote), and Happy (late) New Year!