A/N: No way, another Agent Reach chapter so soon? XD I promise it's not a hallucination! Imperial Commissar Agent Carolina still needs to finish her exterminatus, right? XD
*Chapter 58*
After she finished committing her massive exterminatus of the Blue Base (which was now nothing more than a smoldering ruin thanks to her combination of a stupid amount of explosives, flamethrower, and her overall seething and burning resentment for filthy porn in general), Carolina set her mind to her next task of the day.
Finding a way to remove the stubborn pink spray paint that was all over the Warthog she found at the Red Base. She tried scrubbing it using normal soap and water, and she even tried chemically removing it. The paint just wouldn't fucking budge.
Carolina approached the lone Warthog with a scowl firmly set on her face, her green eyes darkening. "Don't think you're getting away unscathed. Either I get rid of that stupid paint, or you're also getting purged with fire. Matters little to me."
Part of her was disappointed that Wash wasn't around to watch the spectacle of her burning every last bit of heresy to ashes. He had a certain lovable dorky charm about him, and Carolina couldn't help but always feel a little more at ease whenever he was around. He kept the team's spirits up with jokes and cutting sarcastic remarks about York and North, never failing to put a smile on everyone's faces.
Carolina let out a sinister chuckle as she neared the vehicle, one hand dipping into one of the many pouches firmly secured on her armor and pulling out a small bottle of nail polish remover. She wasn't by any means a woman who cared about the more trivial aspects of feminine beauty, but for some reason South insisted on getting her a full kit of different nail polish for the rare occasion they managed to get some shore leave from Project Freelancer. It didn't happen often, but it was still a nice gesture that her usually foulmouthed teammate thought of her in a positive way. Carolina chuckled at that. It really was a rare occurrence that South wasn't being a total bitch during the days of Freelancer; the girl had issues.
Carolina applied the remover to the paint, hoping it would strip the awful color away and restore the Warthog to the proper shade of military grade green.
However, she wasn't that lucky. The paint refused to budge.
Carolina's eye twitched under her Scout helmet and she pulled it off angrily. "Oh come on! What the fuck!? Is this paint nuclear!?" 'Seriously!? Even this can't take it off!?'
It certainly wouldn't be the first time that this god awful canyon found some way to completely fuck her over. In irritation she lashed out with a quick punch, her armored fist denting the side of the Warthog and making the vehicle jerk to the side.
If that wasn't bad enough, somehow that caused the radio in the Warthog to turn on. The worst song to ever be classified as music blasted out of the speakers, and the redhead covered her head with an angry scream. "GODDAMMIT! THAT DOES IT!"
She stormed over to her flamethrower and checked the fuel tanks. She still had a quarter of a tank of fuel left in it. Not enough for her to do what she wanted to do. "Motherfucker!"
She checked her belt, and she nearly jumped for joy when she found a pair of fire grenades on it. Carolina tossed both of them at the Warthog, and the vehicle was engulfed in flames.
She watched with a sinister smile that would send even a shark scurrying away as the flames hungrily swarmed over the Warthog. However her satisfaction was short lived, as the flames quickly died down to reveal that the pink paint still hadn't come off. "Are you fucking serious right now!?"
At least the fucking awful music stopped. She supposed she had to be thankful for the little things.
Maybe, just maybe, not everything needed to be solved with an armory's worth of explosives and a flamethrower. Maybe all she needed to get rid of the paint was good old fashioned soap and water.
Carolina scoffed at that thought. "Right. Fuck that." She marched back to the Red Base with her flamethrower in hand, the sun glinting off her armor. It would take at least a few hours for the weapon to be fully fueled, and the redhead desperately needed something to drink and eat; she had noticed while she enjoying the chaotic destruction of her exterminatus, but by the gods was she starving.
Her stomach growled painfully and angrily, and she sighed as she rubbed it. "Yeah, yeah. I get it." 'How long has it been since I actually ate?'
'Fuck me. It's been almost a day. Note to self: don't do that again.'
The heat had almost all but completely ruined her appetite. She didn't know how Reach and Texas didn't go completely insane when they were here.
One way for her to easily tell the Red Base apart from the Blue Base (apart from the obvious red flags hanging up everywhere) was the simple fact that the red side was a lot…greener.
Like, REALLY green.
Someone had planted a vegetable garden that was continuously soaked by automated sprinklers along with automated fertilizer. That meant the entire area was somehow sprouting fresh and lush green grass. In the middle of a fucking desert.
Carolina didn't even want to try to pretend she understood how the fuck that worked. She had long since found out that the rules of logic and science didn't really apply to Blood Gulch in the two long days she had spent in the canyon. The place might as well be in another goddamned dimension with the utter lack of logic, sanity, and reason.
The redheaded Freelancer stepped inside the world of wonderful air conditioning, and she stood still for a few moments to savor it. The cold air blowing out of the vents felt good on her sweaty face, and she discarded her armor to let herself breathe for once. She had spent a lot of time cooped up in her new set of armor after the old one was destroyed thanks to the Meta and not enough time out of it.
The teal/aqua/sea foam green/turquoise colored armor fell to the ground after she unclipped it, and she opened the fridge where two MREs were waiting for her. They weren't the best thing in the galaxy to eat, but after having to be practically force fed emergency ration bars on Sidewinder to boost her body's healing process, she found them to be a damn five star commodity in comparison.
She swore that when she found the sick son of a bitch who invented those bars, she was going to tie them up and make them eat a whole box of them as punishment. Then maybe have Texas hit them in the crotch a bunch of times. Male or female, that shit fucking hurt.
Carolina opened one MRE up and tossed it into the dusty old microwave to heat it up, raiding the fridge for something to drink.
At the very back of the fridge, hidden behind a half-eaten tuna and potato chip sandwich, was a small mason jar with a label that said, 'Work in Progress. Don't drink. (Goes double for you, Tex)'.
Carolina laughed to herself. She pried off the cap and took a careful sniff, only to recoil. The harsh scent of very strong alcohol flooded her nostrils, and she pinched her nose. "What the fuck is this?" 'Did Reach seriously make this? How the hell is this even drinkable!? It has to be ninety percent alcohol!'
She thought about how he was able to drink both North and York under the table with ease and still somewhat function. '…now that I think about it, I'm not that fucking surprised. He definitely seemed to be the one who could hold his liquor.'
She took another sniff of the jar's contents, frowning. 'Is that a hint of cherry I smell? Seriously, Reach? Cherries?'
Somehow, that made her really tempted to try his mysterious concoction just to find out what exactly it was. It seemed safe enough.
What was the worst thing that could happen? "Fuck it. Bottoms up."
Carolina raised the jar to her lips and took a sip of it.
Instant regret hit her like a goddamned freight train. She barely had time to place the jar on the counter before she toppled over with a loud thud. It burned her throat something fierce, and she groaned in pain. "Oww…" 'I don't think I've regretted drinking something until now. I can see why Reach put a label that said not to drink it.'
Whatever the hell Reach made, it was more than capable of putting her on her ass. She didn't like it, either. She was a Freelancer dammit, not some weak schoolgirl who had to hold her father's hand if they had one sip of wine. 'Fuck that. I'm not going to let this win!'
So, going against every fiber of her being screaming at her to stop this madness before it was too late, Carolina threw better judgment to the wind and decided that she was not about to make this weird concoction beat her. She wobbled up to her feet, steadied her balance, and took another sip.
Yeah, her decision making ability was not at its best, today.
She completely toppled over onto her back still holding the glass, and her head hit the floor with a loud thunk. Black spots danced at the corners of her eyes, and the redhead groaned. 'Okay. I think now I'll admit defeat. This stuff, whatever the hell it is, is way too potent for me. I don't even think Maine could handle this. How the fuck does Reach drink it?'
She had too many questions about this mysterious alcohol, and not enough time for her to get those answers. How long was it sitting in there? Just what the fuck was Reach doing with it in the first place? What the hell was it made of? How long did it take to make?
How many others suffered the same fate as her before they finally learned not to consume it until Reach gave them the all clear?
Carolina rolled over onto her stomach and retched. Gods, the aftertaste was just awful; no wonder why Reach labeled it as a work in progress. Only a Spartan could probably stomach drinking it and not immediately want to vomit. 'Now that I think about it…is he a Spartan? If he is, it sure as hell would explain how he could keep up with all of us despite recovering from a serious injury for the majority of his time in the project.'
She knew that the person who saved her ass was a Spartan III commando; the commander at the base on Sidewinder gave her his entire file for confirmation save for the crap covered in black ink.
Her head pounding, she shielded her eyes and managed to crawl onto her hands and knees with an annoyed mutter. "That's it. I give up drinking…"
She was glad no one was able to see her in her current predicament. Especially Texas. The blonde would definitely have laughed at her mercilessly about being beaten by Liquor-chan. South, too. 'Ugh. This is going to be one nasty headache. I hope to whatever God exists that there are plenty of painkillers to go around; I'm gonna need them.'
Carolina forgot all about the food she had in the microwave, and she was startled when she heard a loud beeping. Her Magnum was already in her hands, and she relaxed after realizing what it was. "Oh, right…"
'What the hell is wrong with you?' she scolded herself inwardly. 'When the hell did you get this fucking jumpy? It's a goddamned microwave, not a bomb.' Carolina lowered her handgun and stumbled across the kitchen to open the microwave, sniffing hopefully. The warm scent of 'meh' chicken alfredo was pleasant in comparison to Reach's horrifying poison, and her stomach growled in approval.
She patted it with a small smirk. "Yeah, yeah. I get it." Being careful to not burn herself and add another injury to her already damaged pride, she sat down and started to eat.
It wasn't the best meal in the world, but right now? It easily quelled her hunger. She dug into it like a famished wolf, devouring it until there was nothing left. When she was done, her stomach was full and happy, far more than it was earlier.
She could feel her strength, both mentally and physically, start returning after thirty minutes. Her overall state of bitchiness was starting to fade, but not completely. This canyon could still get engulfed in a giant inferno for all she cared.
Actually, fuck that. Blood Gulch needed to be glassed from orbit, with her in a giant spaceship pressing the massive exterminatus button. Fucking heretics.
And she would call herself the inquisitor. Inquisitor Carolina, exterminator of heretical filth across the galaxy. She liked the sound of that. Had a ring to it.
Carolina threw the empty tray into the nearest garbage can and decided to take a bit of a power nap while her flamethrower continued to refuel. It's not like it could develop legs and wander off the second her back was turned. That would be ridiculous.
Then again, her experience in Blood Gulch had been anything but ordinary. It was almost as bad as the time she was stuck on Arcadia with Wash, Tex, York, and South.
The five of them were stationed to oversee a freighter make it to its destination without any issues. Sounded easy. It should have been, too.
Except the crew of the ship were entire idiots and managed to fuck everything up. Not only did the ship crash in the middle of the fucking ocean, but they ended up stranded on a goddamn island for three days. Tex and South enjoyed their time on the beach, using their weapons to hunt to make sure they didn't starve to death. York and Wash played poker.
Carolina? Well…she went kind of apeshit insane. Sitting around an island in the middle of the tropics with nothing to do definitely took a toll on her, and she sank into a severe state of bitchiness. When they were picked up, Carolina left the island a goodbye present in the form of a few dozen landmines they managed to salvage from the freighter's wreck.
Even York was impressed by the explosion. He practically kicked his feet up and folded his hands as they watched half the island blow up. In his words, it was simply a beautiful scene of carnage that deserved to be painted by Constable if he were alive.
It probably would've been called the, 'Hey, Wayne!' or something like that.
Carolina felt her lips curve upward into an amused smirk at the memory. Wash and South were simply amazed by the sight, while Tex applauded and wiped fake tears away. 'Back then, things were so much simpler. No Meta to worry about, no real threat apart from the Insurrection.'
She sighed and made her way across the base until she found where she had placed a foldable bed in the middle of what she could only guess was Reach's and Tex's old room judging by the slight lingering odor of sex that hung around despite her spraying five different cans of air freshener.
The broken closet door with a butt-print on it was also another clue.
She chuckled before flopping face first onto the cot to catch a few hours of sleep. She had some good blackmail material to fuck with them with when they arrived to pick her up. Eventually.
She just hoped it would be sooner rather than later.
Reach looked at Wash and South (who had joined in after she prevented Maine from murdering Grif with his Brute Shot) skeptically. Texas was currently sitting on his lap munching on a bowl of popcorn, and the former Spartan let his head sink back with a sigh.
"So, let me get this straight," he finally said after a pregnant pause. "You're telling me that Agent Carolina, the woman who was all business first and second, couldn't handle being on a shitty little tropical island for three days?"
"That's about right." Wash laughed and shared a smirk with South. "Dude, it was something you had to see to believe it. If you think Maine being mad at Grif is funny, you should've seen how bad Carolina had it. I honestly thought she was going to end up destroying the entire island by the second day."
Reach could only shake his head. "Technically, she did. You said it yourself that she blew half of it up after you were picked up." 'Damn. I never would've expected that Carolina had a love for pyrotechnics. I would've thought that to be more of York or Tex.'
He felt heat rush to his cheeks when Texas wiggled her ass into his crotch, and he gave her a hard stare. "Allison, not in front of others."
"Aww, but I thought you said you were into—"
"I'm not. For the love of God, please stop listening to Jun."
"Boo. That's lame. I was hoping for a good private show." South smirked.
"South, she doesn't need any help." Reach rolled his eyes with a sigh, looking over at Wash. He was barely able to contain his snickers, and he merely grinned sheepishly when Reach gave him a hard stare.
"Hey man, don't try and rope me into this. I ain't involved in any way, shape, or form." He put his hands up in surrender.
"Gee, thanks for the support Wash." Reach rubbed his temples and nipped Tex's shoulder to get her to stop squirming. The blonde let out a loud meep of surprise and squirmed against him even more in response.
"Alpha, how far along are we?" he asked in a bored tone, glancing over at the command center.
"…dude, we've only been on the move for about three hours."
Three hours, huh?
Reach smirked and squeezed his wife by the sides of her slowly swelling stomach. "You heard that, didn't you? Why don't we—"
"You're on. bet I outlast ya~."
"…I wasn't talking about sex, but I'm not objecting to that either."
"Ugh, get a room you two." South rolled her eyes and pretended to retch. "And I thought Maine and I were bad."
"You are," Wash said dryly. "You two are just as bad as these two. At least they know to try and keep it down in the middle of the night."
"Shut up Wash."
"…you didn't deny it."
Just another day for the Freelancers. Reminiscing old memories and being perverted.
Huh. Maybe they weren't as different from the Reds and Blues as they initially thought…
A/N: And that does it for this one. Hope you enjoyed, and I will hopefully see you all again very soon! :D peace!
C. Strife #5371