Disclaimer: I don't own RvB.
Episode 44: Red vs Blue or Me against You?
Tucker looked around the base and finally made his comment. "What's with all the glitter on the walls?" Church chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Well, with the confirmation that, yes, Red and Blue was a lie, we decided to switch from live ammo to... ahem... special rounds," he said, not only sounding but looking rather uncomfortable.
"Glitter? You're fighting with... glitter?" Tucker asked. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, he really shouldn't, but he was. Even after all the crazy shenanigans he'd gone through with the crew, and apart from it, he was still a bit surprised.
"No, just Eagle. The rest of us use paint. Hence, the orange marks and the maroon cuts," Church corrected, pointing out the offending paint on the bland concrete walls. Tucker took in the 'damage' then shook his head with a sigh.
"Guess it was too much to ask for a normal group of friends," he moaned, even if there was a smile tugging at his lips.
"Admit it, you'd be bored if we were anywhere close to normal," Dex said, hopping off the top of the base and unwittingly summarizing the returned Blue's thoughts perfectly.
"Why were you on our base?" Tucker asked, flummoxed. Sure, the Reds were now more on the 'friend' side of 'frienemies' but still. There were limits.
/*/
Dex wasn't too sure how to respond to Tucker's confusion. 'Did he forget that my sister is here, in his base?' the weapons' expert wondered, staring at the Blue and furiously trying to get his mouth to spit out those very same words. However, someone beat him to the explanation. Thought, he was torn between gratitude and annoyance with said 'explanation.' And yes, the quote marks were necessary.
"Because he is a Roof Ninja!" Caboose declared dramatically.
And that was why. Dex sighed quietly and smirked, having decided to go along with Caboose, whose teammates ignored him. Well, that wouldn't do, now would it?
"What he said," Dex said, pointing to the oft-ignored Caboose.
"Wait... what did he say?" Church asked, causing Dex's left eyebrow to twitch slightly. Good Lord, was this how it always was with these guys? Dex had never thought he'd feel a certain kind of kinship toward a Blue, but he was seriously feeling Caboose's pain right then.
"That I'm a Roof Ninja," Dex declared tonelessly, ruthlessly shoving his indignant ire to the side. He'd deal with his abandonment issues later. Or were they neglect issues? Ah well, it wasn't like he was a psych major or anything. Heck, he didn't even get the chance to go to college before getting drafted for Freelancer's little sandbox. O~kay, ruthless shoving, right now. Focus!
"Everyone knows about the Secret Order of the Roof Ninjas," Caboose said, nodding seriously.
"There's a secret order? And if everyone knows about it, how is it secret?" Tucker asked, attempting to poke logic shaped holes in their reasoning.
"Of course there's a Secret Order!" Caboose said, as though Tucker were an idiot.
"If people didn't know about us, how would we get hired?" Dex offered reasonably. "I mean, ninja's gotta eat right? Where do you think they get the money?"
"I don't know, assassinating some rich guy?" Tucker tried.
"Close. Getting hired to assassinate some rich guy," Dex corrected.
"I do not think he deserves a cookie. So I shall give Tucker's cookie to you," Caboose said, handing Dex a cookie.
"Thank you, Caboose. At least someone around here cares if I get a cookie or not," the Agent said, graciously accepting the, only mildly burnt, cookie from Blue Team's walking disaster.
"You are welcome, Mr. Ninja," Caboose said seriously. Church and Tucker decided that was a perfect time to slip off and complain together. Dex chuckled and turned to Caboose.
"Well. That was fun," he said. Caboose laughed.
"Yes. I had fun. I am glad you did too, Dex," he said, then jerked his head toward the base. "Come in, I know where Tucker hides his whiskey." Dex blinked as the blue walked away.
"Wait... what?" That was... perfectly coherent and totally something he would say!
"Yeah, he does that," Kai said, peeking down from the top of the base. Shaking his head, Dex followed the strange blue.
"You didn't share this stash with Kai, did you?" he asked, fully prepared to bury him if he said yes.
"Of course not! I want to live," Caboose answered, peeking a bare head around the corner. Dex chuckled at the almost offended look on the other soldier's face.
"Just checking," he said, shaking his head and following the man.
/*/
Rick was once more fiddling with the Epsilon Unit, trying to coax the unwilling A.I. out, when he heard Lopez go down. Reacting as was only logical, Rick threw Epsilon onto Dex's bed, where it was immediately swallowed by the Blanket/Laundry Monster, and drew his guns. While plastered to the wall and relying on his motion trackers to tell him if and when someone was coming. He ended up hearing the oncoming threat before he saw it. Stilling his breathing and crouching low, he aimed for the knees... and fired! Sadly, his gun was still loaded with paint from the last 'match' and so it didn't really take the intruder down... but it did tell him who it was. There was only one person who swore in French with a Spanish accent that had access to tech like that. "Flowdie?" Rick breathed but didn't ponder it for long as he decided, if it took a paint round to the knee for him to be seen, then Agent Hippie had gone rouge. And a rogue Hippie was not something he wanted to fight. Trusting Dex's Monster to keep Epsilon hidden, Rick legged it, switching to Agent Mode as he ran. His scanners would still have a rough time tracking the rogue Agent, but it'd be easier than with the standard software. "Fudge fudge fudge fudge in a burning outhouse!" the tech hissed furiously under his breath as his Agent level scanners picked up traces... and only traces. Luckily, there was only five. Unluckily... there were five smudges on his HUD! "Dancing burning fudge volcano!" Rick felt quite justified for his cursing, unconventional as it was.
"Now who would waste such a culinary delight as fudge on all that?" an ice cold voice asked and Rick bodily threw himself into the next hallway, army crawling five feet in two seconds before managing to scramble to his feet and start running for the Warthog anew, a stream of very real and very colorful expletives spilling out more or less involuntarily under his breath. He felt very justified for those.
"Sweet mother of Godiva that wasn't Marley!" Rick muttered, too terrified to even think of radioing the others. Besides, if Agent 'Surgeon of Death' Oregon was on the rogues' side, chances were she would jack the transmission... or jam it, it was hard to say. He tore past a sparking Lopez and leaped into the Warthog the poor android seemed to have fallen defending... then promptly let out the most piteous and horror inducing wailing keen he was physically capable of producing as the full depth of his troubles firmly sank in. They'd killed the Warthog. Simmons vaulted out of the vehicle and pulled up the hood. No starter coil. "FREELANCERS!" he snarled, slamming it closed again with all the strength of the spurned and grabbing Lopez's head, expertly detaching it from his ruined torso.
"Why does this always happen to me?" the robot droned.
"Because you can survive it and you haven't figured out how to 'jump ship,' so to speak, just yet," Rick said, turning to run again when Eagle ambled over.
"Hey Rick, I thought I heard a baby being murdered. Know any..." the sniper began, then froze at the sight of Rick holding Lopez's head. "Do I want to know?" he asked very slowly.
"No time!" Rick hissed, tossing the head to the sniper and pulling both guns back out. "Shut up, stay close, and be ready to run like the snakes of hell are on your heels." Eagle immediately snapped over into Agent Mode, the humor almost completely draining out of him as he followed Rick... but they were too late. In front of them, Oregon and Washington de-cloaked; to the left, Ed; to the right; Jack, behind them, Flowdie. "W~ell~ crap," Rick remarked, summarizing their situation quite nicely, raising his hands and dropping his guns.
"And things were looking so good too," Burgundy remarked drily, holding Lopez's head in one hand and presenting the other in 'surrender.'
"Where is he?" Washington asked. Maroon quirked an eyebrow at the man.
"'He?'" the man drawled. "You're going to need to be a bit more specific, Agent Washington, there are a plethora of 'he's in this canyon."
"Epsilon," Oregon snapped. Burgundy just barely held back a flinch at her cold tone.
'Dead,' he thought, staring at her in numb shock. 'She sounds so dead.'
"Ah. Him," Maroon drawled, relaxing ever so slightly. Burgundy's eyes flickered over to his teammate, only long hours of mental discipline holding him back from asking, 'Are you sure this is the best time to be making quips?' "He's not really the talkative type. Rather cagey, if you ask me," Maroon forged on.
"Where. Is. He," Washington ground out, finger twitching on his trigger.
"Quite the temper you got there," Burgundy remarked, mentally cursing Maroon for infecting him with his lethal snarkiness. "And here I thought we were friends. You think ya know a guy," he added, shaking his head for added effect. He received no warning, none at all, before a bullet tore through him, shattering the windshield of the Warthog behind him. Maroon gasped in shock as Burgundy looked down at the slowly growing red spot on his black undersuit. "Hey Maroon?" he began, raising his head to give a hidden look of bland shock to his comrade, "I think he shot me."
"Burgundy!" Maroon yelped as the sniper fell first to his knees, then his side, and finally... tipped over onto his back, blood slowly, oh so slowly, pooling under him. Rick clenched his fists so hard that had he not been wearing his gloves... chances were he'd have made four crescent-shaped cuts in his palms. The furious glare he turned on the Phantoms was so potent, they could feel it through his visor. "If you thought that would make me co-operate... then you have severely misjudged me," the tech growled before diving for his guns... or, more specifically, the knives attached to them. It was only Oregon yanking him backward that saved Washington from getting slashed with religiously serviced knives.
"Fall back! Fall back!" Oregon barked, still dragging Washington.
"What the heck is this?!" yelped Ed, rapidly backpedaling out of the way of a wild yet wholly controlled throw, the knife whizzing back through the air as its owner deftly manipulated the wire attached to its hilt.
"He's gone berserk!" Oregon replied, just the barest hint of fear in her voice.
"What?!" yelped Jack, redoubling his efforts to get away.
"Luckily, he won't go too far from what caused him to go berserk. In this case, Burgundy," Flowdie said, circling around to avoid the whirling blades of death... and then falling flat on his face to avoid the hail of bullets that soon replaced the rather limited knives. "Unluckily, he's almost as good a shot as Burgundy and unless I miss my guess, he's got more than the standard amount of ammunition on him," Flowdie added blandly.
"NOT HELPING!" his comrades yelled at him, running from the maroon maelstrom. Maroon grinned savagely even as his guns clicked empty... for the third time.
"That's right you Freelancers, run," he snarled before staggering and looking over his shoulder at the still form of his teammate. "Right. Medic," he muttered, turning on his radio and contacting Dex.
/*/
Dex was actually rather enjoying a simple drink with simple company. It had been quite some time since he'd had a fine whiskey and say what you would about Tucker, the man knew his whiskey. So, when his radio buzzed he was distinctly displeased. Sighing, he carefully set his drink down as he picked up his discarded helmet. "Name, rank, intention," he drawled.
"Maroon. Technical Agent. Requesting medical assistance," Maroon's clipped tones replied. Orange tensed and glared out the window.
"What. Happened," he growled, fighting to remain civil.
"The Phantoms... they've gone Freelancer. Asked about Epsilon. When we wouldn't hand him over, Washington shot Burgundy. I'm not ashamed to say I went full on crazy on their asses," Maroon relayed. Kai and Caboose were silent, though that might have been because Orange was muttering curses under his breath and glaring so hard at the window it was a small wonder it hadn't started to melt under the intensity.
"Is the unit secure?" he grit out.
"All due respect Orange, I'm more concerned with the growing puddle of blood!" Maroon snapped back. Orange growled again and lurched to his feet, scooping up his weapon as he did so.
"On my way. Keep the pressure on till I get there, Soldier," he barked, already striding out the door.
"Aye aye sir!" Maroon quipped grimly and the line went dead.
"Darn you Oregon, you'd better have one damn good reason why you're doing this or so help me I will bury you myself," Orange vowed, speeding up.
/*/
On the other side of the canyon, in a cave, Oregon shivered. "What?" Florida asked her.
"I may have made a grave mistake lighting a fire under Private Grif," she confessed. Washington, New York, and North Dakota were a little shocked as Florida fell to the ground with a keening wail.
"I think we missed something," Washington remarked dryly.
"Oh wait," York and North chorused. "Private Grif is Dex," York said.
"And Dex is Agent Orange," North said, mounting horror in his voice. Washington blinked, then dropped his head into his hands.
"And I just shot one of his men," he realized.
"Agent Orange has sworn vengeance," Oregon said with a nod, looking out at Red Base.
"How badly?" Florida asked.
"I'm pretty sure he was pissed enough to actually curse. And if he's that pissed, chances are he's vowed to bury me himself," Oregon said. The other Freelance Phantoms winced. It was at this moment they knew... they done goofed up.
/*/
The sight that greeted Orange when he arrived at the base was all too familiar... and yet so much worse than anything he'd encountered before. Why? Because this time it was his little brother. Maroon was cold, covered in blood, and fingering his knives in a way that made the furious Agent very glad they were on the same side. "How bad?" he asked, dropping beside the prone form of Burgundy, uncaring of the blood he was kneeling in.
"Through and through," Maroon answered in clipped tones. "Took out the windshield. He was coherent enough to say 'I think he shot me' before falling. First to his knees, then his side, then he flopped onto his back." Orange nodded.
"I know it isn't your primary function Gary, but I'm gonna need you to scan his vitals for me. I don't want to lose him and if you're anything less than perfectly honest with me, that's what's gonna happen. You understand?" he said, addressing the appropriated A.I. he hosted in his armor.
"I understand," Gary's electronic voice answered before Orange's HUD lit up with medical scans. He let out a relieved huff of air, his shoulder's sagging just a little.
"Oh, that's good. That's better than I was hoping for, considering who shot him," Orange said, already standing. "Maroon! Good job with the bio-foam, stay here and keep watch, I'll be back with my kit. Kid's gonna need stitches."
"Can he be moved?" Maroon asked. Orange hummed, considering it, then bent down again.
"Medic override GC-2-44-1817," he said. Burgundy's armor hummed and his shields flickered. Orange nodded and turned to Maroon. "Take his legs, I'll take his shoulders. We'll move him to the flag room. Once I've got my kit I'll deactivate the armor lock and sew him up," he said. Maroon nodded and the two maneuvered their teammate inside.
"What are we going to do about the Freelancers?" Maroon asked. Orange growled.
"We hold the base," he answered.
"What about the Blues?"
"There is no Red and Blue, Maroon."
"... You wanna call 'em or should I?" Orange sighed.
"Once I'm done with Burgundy, I'll call Kai," he said. Maroon nodded and took up a guarding position while the team's medic went for his kit.
"Hey Dex, Oregon's out front," Rick said just as Dex was finishing sewing Eagle up. Dex growled.
"I'll be right there, Maroon," he answered.
"Roger that Orange."A moment later, Orange was reliving Maroon of guard duty while the tech went to make sure their sniper didn't do something incredibly stupid while high on painkillers. "Alright, Freelancer," Orange snarled as reasonably as he could, "what's all this about do you want?"
"I'm here to negotiate," Oregon called up.
"For what?" Orange asked.
"Epsilon," the Freelancer answered, igniting a cold fire in Orange's stomach.
/?/
A/N: So... what do you think? A little humor, a little suspense, and an alternative set up for the Meta and Wash arc! It took me a while to work that little bit of the plot out but once I had it, this Episode just kinda... happened.