Disclaimer: I only own Marly, a laptop, and whatever original missions I give Project Red. Oh and, that too.
A/N: In case there were some instances where I forgot to fix it, Marley's big ship, the one she lives on, is called The Ghost while the Pelican is call The Phantom. The Ghost stays in space. Because it is a spaceship.
Episode 13: The Burgundy Sniper
Marley slipped off The Phantom in the dark gray of the predawn and made her way to the back of the Red Base. Twenty minutes later, Franklin Doughnut exited. Marley grinned and moved up behind him, quite as the phantasm her ship was named after. "How good of you to show up, Eagle Eye," she breathed. Eagle jumped, pulling out his pistol and aiming in the general direction of her voice. She chuckled darkly. "Careful there Private, people might start thinking you're crazy, firing that thing all willy nilly into the predawn," she said softly.
"You scared me, Agent Black," Eagle defended, slipping his gun back into the hip holster. "So, what are we doing?"
"Well, you're going to be getting that new armor I promised you, along with the sniper lessons. But first, you have to turn 180 degrees and walk until I say stop."
"Where are you taking me?" Eagle asked, though he did as he was told. Marley chuckled once more, though not as darkly as before.
"To my ship. That's where all the gear is stored, along with my good friend Flowdie. Don't mind the cyan on his armor, he just likes the color and won't hear a word against it," she answered.
"Oh, because that makes it so much better!" Eagle snarked. Marley looked behind her and judged that they were far enough away from base to decloak. "Man, that's never gonna get easier."
"HA! You say that now, Agent Burgundy, but I can almost guarantee you, by the end of three months, nothing my armor can do is gonna make you jump. Not the cloaking, the voice manipulation, the color shifting, or the hard-light illusion capabilities," Marley declared cheerily.
"Dude... what did you do to get that?" Eagle asked, shocked and falling into step slightly behind the woman. Marley laughed.
"I know a guy," she said, "Stop! Turn 98 degrees to the left." They turned left and walked in silence for a ways, before Marley jumped slightly. Eagle forced himself not to flinch in surprise when she landed on seemingly thin air. He carefully stepped onto the cloaked ramp and followed Marley into the ship. "Okay, now to take you to The Ghost. A Pelican isn't exactly conducive to privacy, or living," she said. A ten minute flight later and Eagle jumped slightly at the sound of the drop doors opening. Marley came bouncing out of the cockpit and down the ramp. "Flowdie! Bring up the burgundy armor would you darling?! We've got ourselves a sniper!" she called out excitedly. A Spartan in gray armor with cyan accents came walking around from the side of the ship, lugging a crate with him.
"How wonderful. OH MY WORD YOU'RE PINK!" he said, just barely keeping from dropping the crate.
"How astute there Flowdie," Eagle snarled. Flowdie shook his head and set the crate down, pushing it over with his foot.
"Just take the armor and make it quick. I can't take you seriously in that... that," he said, turning around and stalking off. "I'm gonna make us some coffee."
"Make that Earl Grey for me please!" Marley called after him before turning to Eagle and nodding encouragingly toward the crate. "Well go on!" Eagle sighed and opened the crate, his face spreading into a large smile as he saw the dark red armor nestled inside. He quickly divested himself of the horrid pink armor and strapped on the burgundy suit. It had gray on the shoulders, gloves, and a stripe down the middle of the helmet as well as the thighs. "Well, it certainly looks like it fits you well enough. Anything loose?" Marley asked, circling the Private. Eagle ran through a few forms, then nodded.
"Nope, everything fits just fine," he said. Marley nodded again, then said, morose,
"Say, 'standard mode.'"
"Standard mode? Wh... OH YOU TERRIBLE PERSON!" Eagle cried, seeing that his armor had mimicked his old suit. Marley cringed back and shuffled her feet.
"Well... you see... it wouldn't... there would be questions otherwise. I'm sorry Eagle, truly I am. But... I just... there is an up side," she said nervously. Eagle was still glaring at her from under his visor. "While your armor functions are restricted in standard mode, you can still patch through a direct line to my ship, as well as see The Phantom on your HUD. Also, when you say 'Agent mode,' it goes back to burgundy. Please don't kill me," Marley explained. Eagle growled.
"Agent mode," he spit out, relaxing slightly when the armor went back to burgundy, just as Marley had said. She let out a long, slow breath.
"Okay. Now for the fun part, Agent Burgundy. Sniper training! Pick a seat and I'll fly us to the shooting range. A ship is just a little too confined for a good sniper session," she said, bouncing deeper into the ship. Flowdie came back a moment later, saw the stiff soldier and lack of Marley, shook his head, and took the steaming mug in his hand to the front. He returned, shook his head at Eagle, and retrieved the other two mugs.
"Here," he said, holding one out, "you look like you could use a pick-me-up."
"Coffee won't help much, unless it's spiked," Eagle grumbled, but he drank the coffee anyway. "Thanks."
"Hey, don't mention it. Nothing matters more to me than the emotional well-being of my troops," Flowdie said with a shrug. Eagle huffed a laugh.
"Dude, that was so cheesy, it should be on a cat poster," he told the other man. Flowdie shrugged.
"Hey, it's the truth. So, you looking forward to your sniper training?" Eagle shrugged and leaned back with a sigh.
"I'm just glad I don't have to always be in... that armor," he told the older man. Flowdie laughed.
"Yeah, I can imagine," he said.
/*/
Sniper training with Marley and Flowdie kept Eagle until four hours past sunrise. The pair then took him back to Red Base, bantering like an old married couple the whole way. Then they reached Blood Gulch and Eagle was took to hand over his weapon.
"Do I have to?" Eagle asked, hugging his sniper rifle. Marley whimpered.
"Yes," she moaned. Eagle drooped his head, but put the rifle down and walked to the ramp. "I'll see you same time tomorrow, Agent Burgundy," Marley told the man, before she shoved him out, muttering the override code for his armor and turning it pink once more.
"That... was kind of mean," Flowdie pointed out. Marley growled at him and pushed her way back to the cockpit, locking the door behind her. He shook his head and watched as, muttering and kicking a rock ahead of him, Eagle went back to his every day life. "She means well, Frank. She just... knew you wouldn't be able to turn pink again on your own. Not yet, anyway," he muttered at the soldier, even though he knew the young man couldn't hear him.
/*/
Later that day, Grif noticed Eagle Eye was a bit down, so he jogged over. "Hey man, what's eating you?" he asked. Eagle shrugged and stayed staring out over the canyon. Grif sighed and spotted Simmons. Knowing the other man was better with emotions than he was, the orange Spartan called him over.
"What do you want Grif?" Simmons asked wearily.
"It's Eagle Eye. He's not acting... like himself. He's... more like... me. Could you... at least try to cheer him up? It's weird seeing him like this," Grif said, ignoring the other soldier's tone and looking worriedly over at the youngest member of Team Red. Simmons blinked, looked around his sort-of friend, then sighed.
"Yeah. I'll see what I can do," he said. Grif clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.
"Thanks man. I owe you," Grif said, walking a little ways off to watch.
"Hey Eagle. You're really worrying Grif man. He actually asked me to help, while ignoring the fact I sounded like I wanted to shoot him. He never ignores a threat to his life. So come on, tell ol' Rick all about it huh?" Eagle froze for a moment, then blew out a long breath. Neither noticed Grif jerk around to stare at the pair. Specifically Simmons. 'Could it be?'
"You're way too much like my brother," he said. Simmons chuckled.
"Well, since you let slip his name was Rick, that's kinda what I was aiming for. So, you gonna let me in on what's bothering you or not?" he told the other man. Eagle sighed and Grif relaxed. 'He was just playing on the kid's memories. That's all... But what if it wasn't? Oh stop being so paranoid! And really, would it be so bad?'
"It's... it's complicated. I just need a little time, alright?" Eagle told the taller soldier. Simmons sighed, dropping his head to bump against Eagle's.
"How complicated?"
"All my hopes and dreams."
"That... can be pretty complicated. Alright, I won't pry, but if you're not doing better soon, I'm gonna start aggressive corrections," Simmons said, pulling out a knife.
"Where did you get that?!" Eagle asked. Simmons chuckled, putting it away.
"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," he said, turning. "A different kind of 'don't ask, don't tell.'" Eagle laughed, but Simmons could tell it was at least partly forced. "Eh, better than nothing. If you need anything, come get me," the maroon soldier said.
"Got any burgundy spray paint?" Eagle asked, half joking. Simmons shook his head.
"Sadly, no, I do not."
"Shame. Ah well, what is, is, right?" Eagle said. Simmons chuckled.
"Yeah," he said, walking back over to Grif, giving Eagle some space and quite.
/*/
Grif saw Simmons coming and sighed, leaning his head back a bit so he could see around another one of those odd protrusions that ringing the roof of the base. "So? How's he doing?" he asked, pushing all his suspicions and questions aside in the face of something a little more serious.. Simmons sighed and leaned against the protrusion next to Grif.
"I think the armor's getting to him, Grif. I wouldn't be overly concerned over it to be honest," Simmons said. Grif snorted and looked over at him.
"But Eagle acting like I usually do? It's not right Simmons."
"His sanity is well within acceptable deviations. It's when he starts plotting our deaths that we need to start worrying," the maroon soldier said. Grif sighed, shaking his head.
"You are a terrible psychologist Simmons. Don't try to psychoanalyze people. You'll only end up damaging their psyche," he said. Simmons chuckled.
"What's this? Is Dexter Grif actually caring about someone other than himself?" he asked in mock shock.
"Have you ever considered that, for all that I can't give a pep talk to save my life, I'm actually still human and I still have emotions? I care Simmons. I just can't express it all that well. You can blame my dear old dad for that," Grif said with a sigh. Simmons hummed sympathetically.
"Right. Sorry man."
"So, you think Eagle's going to make it out of this slump?"
"One way or another, he will. He might not be the same as he was before, but he'll make it out. We did after all," Simmons answered, looking off into the distance, the roar of bullets and the screams of wounded men echoing in his ears. Grif snorted.
"Neither of us were given pink armor, Simmons. I think our crisis were a good deal different from Eagle Eye's," he pointed out. Simmons sighed, though it sounded a little like he wanted to laugh.
"Yeah, but we still had a similar slump, a similar life changing event. So, what's to say Eagle won't make it through this?"
"I don't know what I'll do if he goes through a fundamental personality shift," Grif revealed, longing to run a hand through his hair. Sadly, his helmet prevented this action, so he had to settle for sighing heavily.
"Then... we just treat him the same as we always have," Simmons said with a shrug. Grif shot him a vaguely irritated look, the kind that says, 'well that's helpful, thanks' in the most sarcastic tone possible.
"But what if he goes from Straight Shot to Curve Ball?" he asked, holding back the sarcasm with heroic effort. Again, Simmons shrugged at the question.
"We treat him just the same." Grif's irritated 'gee thanks' look intensified.
"But it's going to mess with my head!" he spat out, putting his hands to the sides of his helmet. His friend was entirely unsympathetic.
"Oh boo hoo, poor baby Grif," Simmons teased.
"Jerk."
"Sap."
"Am not," Grif defended, though he could feel his face heating. So what if he wanted to protect the kid? There was nothing wrong with that.
"You're sure acting like one," Simmons countered, crossing his arms at the orange soldier. Grif could well imagine his smug smirk.
"He's... the brother I never had," Grid admitted, glad that his helmet hid just how bad a blush he had at that moment.
"I know Grif," Simmons sighed, looking over at the youngest red. "I have the same feeling."
/*/
A month and a half after making a deal with Marley, Agent Burgundy was taken on his first mission. He was to provide back up for Agent Maroon as he infiltrated a secret base to retrieve information on a mad scientist wanted for war crimes. Agent Maroon was to steal all files pertaining to the scientist's experiments, then upload a virus to make the base's computers effectively implode, rendering the base useless. Agent Burgundy was to be the spotter, picking off guards if they got too close and alerting Maroon if he was about to run into a patrol. "Steady on, Maroon. You're in the clear for now, but there's two heat signatures making their way to your position," Burgundy hissed. Maroon nodded, tapping his helmet in the agreed upon 'I read you' pattern before taking his pace up a bit. Soon, he was in the door. "Alright, now that you're in, it's going to be a bit more difficult for me to warn you if hostiles are coming. Be careful and stay on your toes," Burgundy whispered before the link went cold. Maroon let out a slightly shaky breath. He was essentially on his own now. Burgundy was to maintain radio silence once he'd entered the building, unless there was an emergency.
"Well, here goes," Maroon muttered as he crept further into the compound. Several times he stopped, thinking he heard the thump of heavy boots on metal flooring only to be urged on by a soft buzzing in his ear, the familiar sound of Burgundy sighing. Burgundy sighed often enough on the flight over, it didn't take long to learn the sound. Thirty minutes later, Maroon successfully reached the main frame. "Think you can give me ten minutes, Burgundy?" Maroon muttered. That buzzing sigh sounded in his ear once again and he could almost here the man thinking, 'If I get in trouble, I'm so blaming Maroon.'
"You're near the center of the building, Maroon. I'm ten yards from the catwalk. Get out, and I can give you twenty," Burgundy retorted lightly. Maroon smirked.
"Well, aren't you confident," he teased. Burgundy huffed softly.
"Just get those files and plant the virus. Your window's closing fast Maroon," he said. There was a soft clacking sound as the burgundy Agent adjusted his position. Maroon sighed and redoubled his efforts, now hearing a clock ticking down in his head. Eleven minutes later, Maroon stood and began creeping back the way he'd come. "Patrol!" Burgundy hissed. Maroon froze, spotted an open hatch, and dodged inside. He heard the soldiers pass and slipped back into the hallway. Heart pounding, Maroon sped up a little. Getting in was looking like the easy part. "You're clear Maroon, but not for long. Book it!" the sniper urged.
"What do you think I'm doing?" Maroon muttered, sliding around another corner. His heart was racing, blood was pounding in his ears, and he was still five hallways away from the door. The ticking in his head intensified and he hoped no-one else could hear the clanging that rang in his ears. There was the door! Five yards, three yards, twenty feet, ten, five... He was clear!
"Keep running, then take a flying leap off the base. Black's waiting for you," Burgundy told him.
"Running running running!" Maroon chanted, legs working furiously, carrying him closer and closer to the edge. A soft thump sounded behind him, but Maroon didn't dare look back. Burgundy must have taken one of the guards down from his eerie. That was one of the odd things about Burgundy, he didn't call his spot a nest or a perch, he called it an eerie. Maroon shook the random thought from his head and kept running, it wouldn't do to get distracted now.
"Come on home, Maroon! Jump!" Burgundy yelled, the sound of his rifle discharging rapidly, for a sniper rifle, coming over the radio. Maroon planted his foot on the railing and leapt for the open air. The Phantom swooped up and Flowdie caught him before he plowed into the wall.
"Graceful," the gray and cyan armored Spartan remarked.
"I'M ALIVE!" Maroon cheered, throwing his hands up and ignoring the dry, sarcastic tone Flowdie had used.
"Good going Maroon. Clear a space, I'm coming in now," Burgundy said, bursting the hacker's happy bubble. Flowdie helped Maroon to the side as Burgundy leapt through the fog, tucking into a perfect roll to come up on his feet, rifle at the ready. "Whoo! That was fun!" the sniper cheered, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder.
"Speak for yourself," Maroon groused. Burgundy chuckled and clapped a hand on the other man's shoulder.
"I thought you did rather well for yourself, Maroon. No need to be so harsh!" he said jovially. Maroon moaned, his head lolling back.
"Stop. You suck at pep talks," he drawled. Burgundy chuckled.
"Aw, that's mean. At least thank me for taking out those fifteen guys that were coming after you as you ran like a bat out of..." he said, feigning hurt.
"Frank! Stop antagonizing Rick! You have no idea the kind of havoc he could wreck upon your armor's systems," Marley called from the cock pit, cutting Burgundy off. Rick grinned at the suddenly nervous Frank.
"IT Wizards for the win, Sniper Boy," he said darkly.
"Rick! Stop picking on Frank! He can hit a Mongoose at fifty yards. A moving Mongoose," Marley shouted again. Now it was Frank who was grinning at the nervous Rick.
"Snipers man, they'll get cha'!" he taunted.
"How about you just acknowledge that you're both awesome and be friends?" Flowdie suggested, sounding like an exasperated father who was one 'no I didn't/yes you did!' away from smacking his head against the wall. Rick and Frank sighed, then Rick smiled and held out a hand.
"Welcome to Project Red, Frank. Don't get too used to having other Agents with you. It's usually just Hippie, Black, and you," he said.
"Hippie?" Frank asked, taking the hand. He found it a little odd that he now belonged to two teams.
"Yeah. Flowdie. In the field, he's Agent Hippie," Rick answered. Frank gave Flowdie a look.
"Sorry man."
"Eh, I brought it on myself. No worries. Besides, me and Marley go way back, to before we were Hippie and Black."
"... Good for you." Frank said, a little unsure.
"Heh, don't mind him. Personally, I think he's sweet on Marley," Rick told the younger Agent. Frank laughed.
"Yeah, you're probably right." Conversation dried up after that and the flight back to Blood Gulch passed in silence.
/*/
"Alright! Rick, this is your stop!" Marley called. Rick saluted the Agents in the back and dropped out of the ship.
"Touch down, Maroon! See you next time Black!" Rick's voice crackled through the ship board speakers.
"Take care of yourself Rick. Training at 0700!" Marley replied.
"Right-O!" Rick said, then the speakers went dead.
"Okay! Time to drop you off Frank. And remember, Blood Gulch is the illusion, the place you can go to get away from the danger of Project Red," Marley said, wheeling the ship around. A few minutes later, the ship dipped down. "Hop off Frank, this is your stop."
"Got it," Frank said, hopping out. "Standard mode," the young man whispered as he fell through the air. His armor faded, the visor turned orange, and the gray accents turned to pink. When Eagle Eye landed, he called it in.
"Take care Frank. Training tomorrow at 1600 hours," Marley told him.
"Copy. Over and out," Eagle said, cutting off the connection.
"Eagle! There you are. Get over here! Sarge is going crazy!" Grif yelled from the roof. Eagle laughed and started running.
"Sure he is!" he called. It was good to be back. "Hey Sarge! What can I do for you?"
"Those Blues have been quite for far too long. It's time to launch a preemptive strike!" the rough voice of his psychotic Sargent yelled.
"Can I get that sniper rifle now?" Eagle Eye asked hopefully.
"No," Sarge immediately rebutted.
"Drat," Eagle bite out, snapping his fingers. He was really looking forward to that training session. There was only so much he could take from Sarge.
/*/
The next training session, Orange met up with Maroon. "So, hear about the new guy yet?" the Tech asked. Orange shook his head, checking over the practice weapons they were going to be using. "Well, next mission, you might just have some long range back up for once."
"No way, the rookie's a sniper?!" Orange exclaimed, leaving the weapons for something a little more interesting. Maroon nodded.
"A pretty good one too. Took out fifteen men in the space of thirty seconds. And for a sniper rifle, that's pretty impressive. And get this, he managed to jump from his perch, or eerie as he calls it, and land inside The Phantom, executing a perfect forward roll before bringing his rifle back up," he expounded. Orange shook his head while turning back to his weapons.
"Man, where does she find these guys?" he asked. Maroon snorted.
"Dude, you do realize both of us are included in that, right?" he asked. Orange turned and glared at Maroon, though the other soldier couldn't see it for the visor.
"My point still stands," he growled. Maroon held his hands up with a chuckle.
"Yeah yeah, Red and Burgundy are characters, I'll give you that. Still, kid knew how to handle his rifle. I may not talk with the other two as much as I do with you, but Burgundy at least knows how to banter," he said, amused.
"Oh, so it's the banter you enjoy, is it?" Orange asked lightly, smirking.
"Of course. What did you expect? The stimulating debates over astrophysics?" Maroon shot back. Orange chuckled and shook his head, picking up the assault rifle that had been resting against his bench. It had been loaded with paint rounds so as to leave a mark, but cause no damage, enabling them to fight without holding back. They also had at least one paint knife each, though Orange suspected Maroon had at least three on his person. That man always had a knife on him somewhere. And some of them were nasty, pretty, but nasty!
"Okay okay, we're wasting time. Tell me while we're practicing, alright?" Orange said, settling in for a long fight. He wasn't the best, but Maroon was quick on his feet, which made him dangerous. And of course, there were the knives. 'I wonder where he hides them all. There's only so much space on the human body man! And I don't see any pouches. And even those are limited!' Orange mused.
"Alright, but I haven't a clue why you're so keen on a pounding!" Maroon quipped, pulling out two standard combat knives. The paint versions anyway, no point in slashing each other to bits in a practice match. Dex mentally shook himself, bringing his mind back to the training session at hand.
"So this Burgundy, he a decent fellow?" Orange asked, firing a round at Maroon's head. Maroon dodged and came in for a slash to the chest.
"Yeah, from what I can tell. Seemed to care if I made it out of the mission alive at least. The fifteen men I mentioned him pegging? They were after me when I was hightailing it out of the base," the knife wielder relaid, not missing a beat and flipping his knife around for another attack.
"Oh, well that's... nice!" Orange said, gritting his teeth as he dodged a rather viscous swipe at his head.
"Yeah," Maroon said, dropping to avoid Orange's next shot, "I think you'd like him!"
"It'll be a pleasant change to have a spotter," Orange said, opting to just pistol whip Maroon in the face to gain a bit of distance before pulling out his own knife. From there, all conversation dwindled to insults and shouts of pain. The weapons may have been of the non-lethal paint variety, but getting hit with a blunt object hurts. And Agents Orange and Maroon hit hard. True, Orange hit harder than Maroon, but Maroon knew where to hit. A few minutes later and Orange had Maroon pinned, though both were breathing hard and covered in paint.
"Good match," Maroon wheezed, holding out his knife hilt first. Orange chuckled and hauled the other man to his feet.
"Not bad yourself. You been practicing behind my back?" he joked. Maroon laughed.
"Not too hard to with how infrequently we meet!" he shot back. Orange shrugged.
"Hey, a guy can joke can't he? Besides, you've really gotten better. And man are you good with those knives!" he said, rolling his shoulder. He was going to be bruised like no-body's business in the morning, that was for sure.
"Heh, thanks. That means a lot, coming from you. I'd say you're just below Red on my 'Agents I'd really hate to have mad at me' list," Maroon said, returning his practice knives. Orange laughed as he collected his discarded pistol.
"Yeah? And where does Black rank?" he asked, only half serious.
"Oh, she has a list all to herself."
"Yeah?"
"Agents I'm better off committing suicide before angering."
"Ha! Sounds about right," Orange laughed, putting the pistol on the rack. "Come on, lets get this armor cleaned," he said, slinging an arm around Maroon and dragging him off to the wash station. Marley was there to meet them.
"Well don't you boys look a mess?!" she asked cheerfully, taking in the marks. "And Dex would have been dead before he could pin Rick," she informed them. Orange snorted as he picked up a rag and started to rub Maroon's head.
"OI! I can clean my own armor thank you!" the indignant Maroon squawked.
"Oh relax Rick. Dex's doing you a favor, i's only polite to accept it. Besides, the helmet and back are the two hardest places to get," Marley said, tossing Maroon a rag of his own. Grinning beneath his helmet, Maroon began to savagely attack the paint splatters and lines that marked Orange's armor. Soon, the boys turned cleaning their armor into a wrestling match/game of tag. Marley couldn't help but laugh at them, happy to see them so happy and carefree, at least for a little while. It made her work seem worth while, seeing what she hoped to protect in others. Namely the citizens of Chorus who couldn't fight for themselves. But that was years away, years until her boys would be in a position to help. For now, they had to survive Blood Gulch.
/?/
A/N: So... there's Doughnut's initiation into Project Red. He's a sniper! Next we'll see some more of how Burgundy interacts with the rest of Project Red, as well as some of his skills.
A/N 2: And now I see how these chapters get better as they go. The early ones are still not all that great, and this one isn't exactly the greatest, but eh. I've edited this for continuity and spelling. 8/17/16