Disclaimer: I don't own RvB. I do own Marly. And Project Red, if not the Agents. All Ocs, and most altered personalities, have standing orders to wreck stories where they are used without permission. I do believe they would have all too much fun blowing them up. You've been warned.

Episode 16: The Senior Agent and the Rookie

It had been two months, and still, things were just as boring as they had been before Eagle arrived. Which is to say, Blood Gulch was a snore fest and Marley worked her Agents hard on some far away training ground which was really just four miles to the west of the box canyon. Oh, and now Eagle was there, and acting more 'pink' by the day. It was really starting to wear on Grif. Sure he had agreed to continue treating Eagle the same way he would have otherwise, but it was just so... odd. A color change, a gay joke, and now... "So... you're Agent Orange?" What? Oh. Yeah. He was at a joint training session with the new guy. 'Okay Dex, let's put on a show,' he thought with a grin before wiping his face and getting into character.

"Who's ask'n?" Dex asked, turning around and thumping his favorite rifle on the palm of his off hand as he did so. It was the new guy, he was sure of it. Burgundy armor, gray accents on the helmet, shoulders, gloves, and thighs. Sniper rifle slung across his shoulder blades. Nervous as all... huh? Maroon hadn't mentioned him being the nervous type.

"A-ah! I'm... Burgundy. Agent Burgundy. Um, Ma... Black, told me to come and..."

"Relax kid, I'm not gonna shoot you," the Hawaiian said, putting the rifle across his back. Burgundy swallowed audibly, but appeared to calm down. Thank goodness. Dex wasn't sure what he would have done if the kid turned out to be a total nervous wreck.

"I was told we'd be running a shared practice, Sir!" Burgundy snapped out, coming to attention. Dex chuckled and picked up the lesser used sniper rifle.

"Well then, let's have ourselves a sniper match. You do know how those work, right?" he asked, running through the check. It was second nature by now for pretty much all the weapons Marley gave him access to. 'If only my eighteen year old self could see me now. He'd probably deny first, shout later,' Dex thought wryly.

"Yes Sir! We hide, spot, then announce the shot. First spot wins," Burgundy replied. Dex grinned under his helmet.

"Usually, yes. But since we have paint rounds..." he said leadingly.

"We hide, spot, shoot. First 'kill' wins," Burgundy amended. Dex chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You learn fast Rookie. Well done. Now, re-load with paint rounds and lets get going!" he said, already snapping the cartridge of paint rounds into the rifle and jogging off. This was going to be interesting!

/*/

He had been right. It was an interesting match. It took him ten minutes to find Burgundy, and then one to get shot. Luckily, it was to the shoulder, so he could continue, but it was already in Burgundy's favor. "Dang! Maroon wasn't kidding when he said this guy was good!" he muttered, eyes wracking the underbrush, trying to spot the dark armor. It was surprisingly difficult. Then his visor got covered in burgundy paint.

"I do believe that's my win, Agent Orange," Burgundy's voice said, crackling slightly in his helmet. Dex sighed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.

"Sure is, Burgundy. But the next match will be mine," he said. Burgundy laughed softly.

"Sure it will, Orange. Sure it will," he said, sounding mildly smug. Clearly, he thought it would be another sniper round.

"Staffs," Dex remarked with an evil smirk.

"I do believe I hate you, Orange," Burgundy said after a moment, sounding rather... pouty. Dex grinned behind his helmet. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

/*/

As he walked over to the rack holding the staffs, Frank kept going over what was about to happen. He was about to fight Orange, the Agent Orange, with a staff. A six foot long length of wood. Against Agent Orange. Maroon had warned him about Orange. Soldiers whispered about him in Basic. Having a sniper match against him had been terrifying enough, but this? He was about to get his back side handed to him! "Hey rookie! Stop spacing out would ya?!" Orange called. Frank swallowed heavily.

"Yes sir!" he managed to call out, setting his rifle down and picking up a staff. He trotted over to where Orange was twirling the staff darn near effortlessly in his large hands. Frank swallowed nervously. How was he supposed to fight this guy?! He was built like a tank and handled the heavy rod like a child's toy!

"First, we bow," Orange said, dipping down in a graceful manner. Frank copied him in a jerky motion. "Then, we tap the tops of our staffs, followed by the bottoms," Orange said, angling the top of his staff toward Frank. The nervous man tapped the offered staff with his own, then reversed the angle and tapped the bottom of the staff. "And then... we fight," Orange said, voice calm and unruffled. Too calm for a man who had sounded like he was going to curse at him for winning the sniper round. Frank swallowed heavily one last time, for luck, and began to circle around Orange. With both soldiers dressed head to toe in armor, it was hard to know what expression the other wore, but Frank was one hundred percent sure that Orange was smirking at him.

"I am so going to regret this, I just know it," Frank muttered before charging for a jab to Orange's stomach. The senior Agent smoothly batted it aside before catching his opponent in the head with the butt of his staff.

"Always be aware of both ends of a pole weapon!" Orange shouted, though he didn't sound angry or even reproachful. Merely instructing. It both soothed and rankled. But Frank did try to keep a better eye on where the whole staff was, not just the obvious parts. He tried for a sweep, but Orange jumped, smacked him in the side, the leg, and the head in quick succession before hitting him under the chin and sending him flying through the air.

"Ow," he moaned, pulling himself to his feet. Orange was twirling his staff again, looking completely unconcerned for the poor idiot he was trouncing. And it made him so irritated! He gripped his staff a little harder and ran at the man once again. The air rang with the sound of wood clacking against wood, clanging against armor, and cries of pain as Orange continued to pound Frank into the ground.

"Is this really the best you have, Agent Burgundy?" Orange taunted, once again twirling the staff. But he was giving Frank time to get back on his feet. That was his mistake. Or... so Frank wanted to believe.

"Oh, I'll show you what I have!" he bellowed, swinging and stabbing and whirling with all his might, but it wasn't good enough. No matter what he did, Orange seemed to find it the easiest thing in the world to block him, then knock him around, then lay him out flat on his back. Frank winced as he slammed into the ground for what felt like the hundredth time in ten minutes, jarring the other bruises he'd accumulated from his match with Orange. Maroon hadn't been kidding when he said this guy was a beast. Sure Orange wasn't as good a sniper as he was, or at least, not as good at hiding, but every move he made, every step he took, every hit he landed, he did so with purpose. And telling purpose at that. "Man, you hit like a Warthog!" Frank moaned, rolling onto his chest. Orange just chuckled at him, the monster.

"Next up, hand to hand!" the man said, far too cheerfully. Frank moaned, pushing himself up.

"I hate you," he said. Orange just laughed and moved over to the rack were the staffs were kept. Moaning in pain, Frank followed, though he wasn't anywhere as graceful as Orange. It was odd. Frank had seen a lot of Vets in Basic, walking around inspecting the troops, but they all seemed... stiff. Oh they could dish it out no problem, but they all acted like they were the suits of armor they wore. None of them were as terrifying as Orange. He moved like the armor was nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants. Each move was precise, in it's own way, but Orange just seemed to... flow. There was no tension, just purpose. Frank shook the thoughts from his head and put up his staff. Analyzing how the Agent moved wasn't really going to help him in the upcoming match. Even if his analysis was correct.

"Take five and grab some water," Orange said, plunking down on a bench. The action was so against his otherwise graceful movement, Frank had to blink. He shrugged and went to the other side of the shelter and got a drink of water before sitting down and just taking a breath. The next session was likely to be just as brutal.

/*/

Dex watched the rookie as he relaxed on the other side of the shelter. Maroon had been right about his skills. The kid wasn't bad, but the staff wasn't his weapon. To be honest, having a newbie that could beat him in a sniper match was comforting. He couldn't quite put it into words, but getting beat by someone other than Marley or Flowdie in a match, even if it was with a sniper rifle, felt like a very good thing. Rick was good, especially with a pistol or those knives of his, but Dex could beat him. He beat him four times out of seven, which was the usual limit on the number of rounds they were allowed before Marley dragged them apart. Red was pretty good too, but Dex could still beat him three times out of seven. Granted, Red left him with smarting bruises and a few cuts, even through the armor, but it wasn't the first round that had Red knocking him out. Still, even if Burgundy could only beat him with a sniper rifle, having a real sniper was comforting. Knowing said sniper could not only evade him but also land a face shot? That was better than he had hoped for. And he knew, Burgundy would only get better. He was looking forward to the unarmed match... and to seeing how this new Agent grew. "Here's hoping you have more skills than just a good eye," Dex muttered to himself as the five minutes ran out. He could hear Burgundy groan as the timer went off.

"Oh! I hate you Marley." Dex chuckled. He remembered those days. They honestly weren't that far behind him.

"Whining won't save you, boy!" he called to the younger soldier, already forcing himself to get up.

"No, but it sure makes me feel better!" the other groused. Dex grinned, shaking out his limbs. Oh, he was beginning to like this kid. Another thing Rick had been correct about. The kid knew how to banter... once he got over his nervousness at least.

"Just be sure you're focusing on the world around you. You never know when your opponent is going to strike," Dex instructed, stretching his neck and arms. He was pretty sure, if Burgundy wasn't wearing his helmet, he'd be glaring. Dex's grin just got wider. Yes, he liked this guy. He was pretty sure he'd be able to survive Project Red.

/*/

Blinking, a thought came to Frank. "Why are we only going one round each?" he asked. It was a legitimate question, and one he really wanted answered. Orange laughed.

"This isn't the real training, Rookie! This is for me to get a measure of your skills!" he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Frank sighed, but got into a ready position.

"This is gonna hurt, isn't it?" he asked. Orange laughed like a mad man.

"Like a bad nalu," he said before he charged.

"ยกNo esta bien!" Frank yelled, turning around the charging Agent and getting behind him. He swung at the back of the man's head, but his fist was caught and he was flipped over the man's shoulder and onto the ground, jarring his mighty collection of bruises once again. "Masticar hierba," he growled. Orange chuckled.

"Now why would I do that?" he asked, keeping pressure on Frank's wrist. The sniper whimpered as he thought he heard something pop and pain surged through his wrist and down his arm. Orange immediately shifted his grip and the pop was heard again before relief flooded through Frank. "Sorry. I didn't mean to dislocate your wrist. Is it good?" Orange said, letting go. Frank frowned and tested his wrist.

"Yeah, no thanks to you, idiota," he said, biting off his words. Orange shrugged.

"Whatever you say. We're done here," he said, helping the man up. "I'm Dex. Welcome to Project Red."

"Frank. Don't ever make me mad, anaranjado idiota," Frank answered, taking the hand and giving it a firm shake. Dex chuckled.

"I think you'll fit right in, Frankie," he said before walking off. Frank shook his head. Now that... had been an odd first meeting. He ran after the man.

/*/

Dex heard Frank's pounding footsteps coming up behind him and smirked. A full five seconds. Must be a new record. "Why'd you end it?" Dex blinked. That hadn't been what he was expecting.

"You're bruised, battered, most likely bleeding, and I dislocated your wrist. Going any further would have injured you unnecessarily. This was a test, not a life-or-death deal," he explained.

"Oh. Right." Dex sighed and slung an arm around the newest Agent, earning a yelp from the startled young man.

"And I'm not the type to push my men too hard. Injured men mean angry men, which means trouble for me and the rest of the squad. Better to keep the team healthy and happy. Besides, as good as I am, I prefer not to hurt others," he said. Frank chuckled nervously and Dex groaned, leaning on the smaller man slightly. "You're not still scared of me are you?" he asked, a hint of a whine in his voice.

"Well you're really intimidating! All throughout Basic I heard stories about Agent Orange and how he was basically a one man army who charged through a hundred-to-one odds and blew up bases then just dusted himself off, jumped in a Pelican, and flew off like nothing happened. And then I had that mission with Maroon, not to mention the joint practice, another well known name, and he told me you were a beast and darn near unbeatable and how you had a hair-pin trigger and..." Frank rattled off, a little hysterical. 'Ah. I see what's going on here,' Dex thought with a sigh.

"Shush! Shush! Rick's a good guy, but prone to exaggeration. Did he tell you I nearly ripped his arm off?" Dex said, cutting the panicky rambling short. Frank swallowed audibly and Dex groaned to himself. "He lied. Or rather, exaggerated. I dislocated his shoulder. And I put it right back, just like with your wrist," he explained. Frank let out a relieved breath. "Now, what other stories did Rick tell you about me?" Dex asked, wanting to cover all his bases thoroughly. Rick could be a devious little son of a gun when he really wanted to be.

"That you're an arrogant show off who can actually back up his talk and that if I ever get you mad I might not live to regret it," Frank offered.

"Okay, I might be a little bit of a show off, but I'd like to think I'm not that arrogant. When you beat me in the sniper match, I was happy," Dex revealed. Frank stumbled.

"Really? Happy?" he asked, bewildered. Dex chuckled and rubbed the top of the burgundy helmet as though he were ruffling the younger Agent's hair.

"You bet 'cha! It's nice knowing there's someone better than me on the team. The day Rick can beat me in more than two rounds out of seven, I'll rejoice. And then work twice as hard to make sure I can still give him a challenge. Same with you Frank, though, I probably won't be able to fully out-snipe you. I'm more a soldier-of-all-weapons kinda guy. I'd say I've only really mastered staffs and mid range guns. Guns without knives attached anyway. That's my next goal, mastering at least one gun that has a blade attached," the orange agent said. "Say, if you ever want to get me a present, give me a Brute Shot. That's the one I'm really looking forward to learning." Frank laughed at the dreamy tone his new teammate took on when thinking of the Brute Shot.

"You're a lot more likeable than I was expecting. One of those times I love being wrong," he said.

"Ah, to be glad of being wrong! Such a wonderful thing! Don't ever forget you can be wrong when fact doesn't make it one-hundred percent in your favor, and you'll do just fine," Dex told him, complete with Dramatic Finger of Wisdom.

"And the 'might not live to regret it' part? From my conversation with Maroon?" Frank asked, bringing them back to the main topic of their conversation. Dex turned completely around to face the younger Agent, perfectly at ease walking backwards.

"That... is a gross exaggeration. I wouldn't kill you. Hurt you really bad and have you moaning in the infirmary? Maybe, but... I wouldn't kill you," he said with emphatic hand gestures.

"Oh, well, that makes me feel safe," Frank drawled sarcastically. Dex laughed, just imaging that the rookie was rolling his eyes at him in a fond, exasperated fashion.

"Sorry bruh! That's just the way it goes!"

"Okay, I gotta ask, what's with the surfer lingo?" Frank asked.

"Just part of the Hawaiian charm. Now, I do believe this is our ride," Dex told him, nodding to The Phantom. Marly stood on the ramp, grinning at the pair.

"Good work out there you two! I'm glad you're getting along so well! Need to see who I can safely pair you up with Frank," she said, handing both soldiers a cold smoothie before heading inside. The two shared a look.

"I don't feel comfortable taking my helmet off around others," Frank said. Dex felt a bit relieved.

"Neither do I. How bout this, we both look the other way as we drink."

"Any private rooms?"

"Dude, Marley and Flowdie already know what we look like, and they could kill either of us in a moment regardless of the armor. Just look away and trust I will too and drink your smoothie. Marley makes some of the best smoothies you'll ever taste," Dex said before stalking off and taking a seat. Frank shrugged and Dex turned away. When he heard the click-hiss of Frank's helmet coming off, he removed his own and eagerly took a drink of the smoothie in his hand, letting out small moan of pleasure as he did so. He hadn't been kidding. Marley made amazing smoothies. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture he was back on the beaches of his native Hawaii.

/*/

The ship touched down and Frank hopped off, grudgingly switching back to Standard Mode. He turned and saluted The Phantom as it flew away before trudging back to the base. As he did, he thought back over the conversation he'd had with Orange. He felt like he had learned a little about the man behind the legend. And he had a feeling he could be friends with that man. "Welcome back, Buttercup!" shouted Sarge. Eagle sighed.

"What can I do for you, Sarge?" he asked.

"Aw, leave the rookie be for a mo Sarge! He just got back from patrol!" Grif called, jogging up from his nap spot. It baffled Eagle that, despite everyone knowing it was Grif's favorite spot to nap, it was always where they looked last, like they were giving the man all the time he wanted.

"Grif! What did I tell you..."

"Weapons all clean and accounted for, Sir! We have three hundred grenades, five grappling hooks, and enough parts for three more Warthogs, Sir!" Grif replied easily. Eagle was fairly sure the man was smirking behind his helmet. The young man chuckled as he thought, 'Oh right. That's why they don't push him too hard.' It was just one of those odd things about Blood Gulch and it's troops, like Simmons being able to reprogram a computer in under a minute and Sarge listening to Lopez... even though the robot refused to speak anything but Spanish around the man.

"Well then, aren't you just a sassy pants!" Sarge retorted and Eagle rolled his eyes.

"Sentry duty, Sarge?" he asked. The gruff man nodded and waved him along while Grif sent him a little wave.

"Hey Eagle, come to join me?" Simmons asked when the pink soldier arrived at the top of the base.

"Yeah. Grif got me out of a tongue lashing," Eagle replied, leaning against the base. Simmons chuckled over the soft sparking coming from the gizmo in his hands. "So... why are you always fiddling with broken mechanical stuff when you're the IT guy and not the robotics guy?"

"Well, I'm trying to learn about the mechanical side of things so I can be a better IT guy. Besides, who's going to fix Lopez when he breaks? Sarge?" Simmons replied. Eagle inclined his head.

"An excellent point," he conceded. There was a loud 'BZZT!' sound and Simmons yelped, causing Eagle to snap his head back up to see what had happened. The thingamajig that had been resting in Simmons' lap was now a foot away and the maroon soldier was cradling his right hand, the glove smoking just a little. "Perhaps you should set that aside for a moment, treat that shock," Eagle suggested, eying the almost gently sparking pile of wires and plating warily. Simmons chuckled and pushed the mess to the side with a pole. Where he got a pole from was anyone's guess and to be honest, Eagle Eye didn't feel like questioning the Blood Gulch logic at the moment.

"I'll agree to setting this aside, but I can't leave my post. Grif's getting chewed out by Sarge, Sarge is chewing out Grif, and Lopez is in the garage muttering unpleasant sounding things in Spanish. No-one's in any position to cover for me," Simmons said as he moved forward to stand next to Eagle.

"Right," Eagle said, looking out over the canyon. Simmons' words seem so... sad, so melancholy inside his head. "You placate Sarge, you cook for us, you clean for us, you find Grif and make sure he's done his job. You look out for all of us... but who looks out for you?" Eagle mused aloud, causing Simmons to look at him in curiosity. "And that's the thing, isn't it? You're like the glue that holds us all together, but what would happen if that glue started to dissolve?"

"Eagle... you think too much," Simmons said, chuckling slightly. Eagle shook his head.

"Go. Make sure that shock didn't do some serious damage. I'll cover for you," he said, jerking his head toward the interior ramp.

"But..." Simmons halfheartedly protested.

"I got out of a lecture because Grif threw himself under the metaphorical bus. I figure I can get you out of one the same way. Now get!" Eagle said, pushing the older man lightly between the shoulder blades. Simmons chuckled and shook his head, but left the pink soldier to survey the canyon alone.

/*/

"So? How was your training session with Frank?" Rick asked the next time Dex saw him. The weapons expert shrugged.

"He was decent, I guess. Kid's got potential, I'll give him that, but right now the only thing he's got going for him is his stubbornness and skill with a sniper rifle," he told what amounted to his second best friend. Rick chuckled.

"Good to hear. When we had our first joint practice, the kid was a bit depressed." Dex shot him a look.

"Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you... why'd you tell the rookie horror stories about me huh? Kid was about ready to faint when I turned around to look at him." Rick chuckled nervously, noting that they'd be working with staffs that day. One of Dex's top weapons.

"My version of hazing?" he tried. Dex huffed, tossing the length of polished wood toward his opponent.

"Still, you didn't have to exaggerate the whole dislocated shoulder incident. Or the hair-pin trigger thing," he muttered. Rick caught the staff and took the grumblings with his usual good grace.

"Yeah yeah, I get it. I went a little far and I should have thrown in some Red horror stories. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. Now get into position and prepare to have some form of skill beaten into you," Dex replied, twirling his staff as a warm up. Rick moaned, but slid into his ready stance. A moment later and the usual pre-match ritual had been completed and once more the training ground rang with the sound of clacking wood and clanging metal.

/?/

A/N: Yeah... Grif's character just keeps getting more... Maine like. And yet, he's a lot like I picture York to be. GAH! Why can't I just write Grif?! And Eagle is getting all... I don't even know what to call it. But, he said what I've got to thinking about Simmons. He looks after them all, but who looks after him? Oh well. Hope you guys liked it! Please leave a review on your way out!

A/N 2: Edited for continuity and spelling. Also, an added scene between Dex and Rick. Enjoy. 8/17/16