Note: Soo...if you've read Survivors (or Carry Me Home) GUESS WHO'S BACK! I've been waiting so long! I'm so excited for this chapter and the next! And if you need clarification on my timeline, this is about 2 years before Survivors takes place.
Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 23
Daylight cut across the floor of a stark concrete apartment above a warehouse in the shipping yards. A mattress on the floor. A radio on a small table. Armor, carefully laid out, ready to be donned at a moment's notice. A shower running steadily, steam drifting lazily out into the room, and a man's voice, crooning sadly in his moment alone to a tune of his own making.
This is what the Delta AI observed around himself. No other movement. No other life. The sounds of the city outside were distant. It seemed they were safe for now. Delta completed his scan of the surrounding area as York exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel.
"You've been quiet this morning, D. Any news?"
"I have not received any communication from Agent Texas," Delta replied.
"I don't like it, D," York said with a frown. "We shouldn't have split up." He thought back to when they had separated on Sidewinder:
"York, go," Tex says as they watch two Freelancers approach like they're stalking prey.
"No way. Not without you," York insists.
"I can hold them off, York. They're aiming to capture me. They'll kill you to take Delta back," she says softly.
"No way - it's West and Vi - they wouldn't," York says in surprise.
"They're still following orders York. Otherwise, they would've gone AWOL too."
"Then we can take them together!" York insisted, still hesitating as former friends moved toward them. Tex shoots once, a warning, and the two Freelancers duck for cover. She lays down more suppressing fire, keeping them in check, but she's been low on ammo for days now.
"No, protect Delta. I'll draw them off." She lunges forward, not waiting any longer to attack. "Get out of here!"
"Tex! Tex! Allison, no!"
"Nor do I, but there is little we can do at this time." Delta's words shook York out of the memory. He sighed in frustration.
"What about the others?"
"Agent North Dakota and Theta are safely in hiding."
"Good."
"York …."
York sighed again. He felt as if he had aged years in the past few months.
"What is it Delta?"
"There have been some reports of soldiers matching the description of several Freelancers on nearby planets."
"Maine?"
"I'm afraid the Meta remains more elusive than even Agent Texas, but Agent Oklahoma, as well as the Virginias, have been spotted on different planets nearby."
"West is close?" York hesitated, a hopeful look in his eyes as he pulled on the undersuit of his armor.
"I do not recommend contacting her, York. May I remind you that she was on the team sent to kill you."
"She wouldn't have killed me, Delta," York insisted, but he sounded uncertain.
"Your previous history is not an accurate indicator of her current loyalties, York. Especially considering her more significant history with Agent Maine. Even if she is not loyal to Freelancer any longer, you have no real reason to think she would be loyal to you," Delta scolded.
"Yeah, yeah," York huffed, jerking his suit the rest of the way on.
"Just trying to be helpful," Delta said apologetically.
"I know D. I know." York leaned down to pick up his armor.
"Alarm!" Delta cried out suddenly. The door smashed apart, and an armored giant burst through. Caught in such a vulnerable position, York's eyes widened in fear.
"Meta," the word fell from his lips. The Sigma AI materialized in front of them.
"Delta, it is time to come home. There is no need to fight."
"In your dreams!" York snarled. He promptly picked up the storage chip from its resting place beside the radio and threw it hard out the window. The Meta roared in anger and dove after it. York blinked in surprise.
"Shit, I can't believe that worked," he said to Delta, who was still safely in the chip in York's head.
"Indeed. However, I recommend you do not dawdle," Delta replied. There was another roar from outside.
"Uh oh, time's up," York said, grabbing up his gun and sprinting out the door. He headed for the roof. It wasn't long before York could hear the Meta gaining on them.
"He will catch us within forty seconds," Delta said. "We are without armor, York. We will lose. Your safest course of action is to abandon me. The Meta will cease chasing you."
"Not happening, D!" York said angrily. "We gotta find a crowd. There are no reports of him spotted by civilians. He'll back off if he thinks he'll be seen."
York kept heading for the more populated area of the city, but as he leapt from one rooftop to another, gunshots rang out. York felt the bullets pierce his leg and side and cried out as he hit the roof. He felt it give a bit as the Meta landed behind him.
"I told you not to fight," Sigma said soothingly. The Meta grasped York's head, and York cried out as he was lifted off the ground. "This will only take a moment."
York clawed futilely at the armored arm that held him. The Meta reached around with his other hand for Delta's chip implanted in York's head. This all felt horribly familiar. He'd made Tex tell him what happened to Carolina. He wished he hadn't. Before he could think further, there was a thunk, an angry snarl from the Meta, and the sound of metal grinding on armor.
xxx
In the empty streets outside the warehouse, Sister wandered, trying to distance herself from the betrayal she was feeling. She no longer feared moving about on her own as she once had, and the HUD in her helmet gave her a convenient map to find her way back to Dr. Grey's "discreet" medical practice. She followed the sounds of the city onto a street busy with people leaving work, heading for home. She felt alien among them - separated from the people around her. When she realized the armor was getting her some strange looks, Sister retreated into an alley and climbed a fire escape to a rooftop. She tested the armor's abilities for a while, jumping from rooftop to rooftop with ease, then stopped to watch the late afternoon sun descending below the horizon of the city, and wondered what on earth to do next. She wasn't certain how long she'd been standing there when she heard the gunshots.
She ducked behind the air cooling towers for cover the moment she heard the shots, then peeked out to identify their source.
"Gods, please, please, don't let them have found us already," she thought.
What she saw on the roof opposite was not what she had expected. A white armored giant held a smaller man in a crushing grip by his head. The man struggled, helpless against his attacker. Sister felt rage rise up in her at the sight.
"Fucking Freelancer. Oh, no you don't." Sister snarled and drew one of Connie's many knives - hers now - from the armor. She was done hesitating. She flung the blade, and it struck true. Sort of. "I mean, at least I hit the bad guy," Sister thought, as she stepped out of cover and looked at her knife protruding from the Freelancer's knee.
xxx
The pressure lessened on York's head, and he heard the Meta snarl.
"HEY THUNDER THIGHS!" came a shrill voice.
The Meta jerked around, giving York a better angle to see by, and he could just make out someone in brown armor on the next roof over.
"Yeah, you with the fishbowl on your head! Come on! Or are you afraid I'll kick you in the daddy bags!"
The Meta growled.
"Connie?" York muttered in confusion, staring at the familiar brown Freelancer armor. It was becoming hard to think, what with the blood loss and Meta's vice-like grip on his skull.
Quite suddenly, the pressure on York's head ceased entirely, and he fell to the ground, along with a knife that he now saw had lodged in the knee joint of the Meta's armor. One of Connie's knives, for sure.
"That's … not possible …," York croaked. He tried to focus and saw the Meta heading toward the other person. He thought he heard a woman speak.
xxx
"Fuuuck," Sister said softly. "Great job Kai, poke the grizzly with a stick."
"Connie - run!" the man on the roof cried weakly. Sister turned and sprinted for the edge of the roof, but she didn't miss what the man had called her.
xxx
The brown armored figure leapt from the roof the same moment the Meta landed on it. He continued his chase, leaving York laying on the rooftop, bleeding slowly.
"York. We should retrieve your armor while we have the chance," Delta supplied.
"But - "
"I do not believe that was agent Connecticut. We should retrieve your armor."
"Right. Yeah." York staggered to his feet, grabbing his gun and the knife as he did, and limped to the fire escape. He got about halfway down before he lost his grip from his own slippery blood and fell flat on his back on the street below.
"Ow."
"Indeed. We should get back to the healing unit quickly."
"Yep. I just … need a second," York said weakly.
"Hello?" A new voice called. "Is someone - oh my goodness! Can I help you?" York blinked up into big brown eyes, thick black-rimmed glasses, and a nappy head of black hair.
"What."
"I said, can I help. I'm a medic. Frank Dufresne, at your service," the man said, holding up a UNSC identification badge.
"Aww, man," York groaned.
xxx
Elsewhere, Operation Freelancer's main base bustled with activity. There had been many changes over the past few months, but none of those had seen a decrease in work on Freelancer's various projects. The crew chief on landing pad 3 took a moment to watch a sunset full of burning oranges and violets as a pelican touched down, looking a bit worse for wear, and his crew hurried out to service it.
As the ramp lowered, two armored Freelancers came into view. The chief watched them warily as the ramp settled onto the ground with a crunch. The Freelancers - what was left of them - had been volatile since the Mother of Invention had crashed. These two in particular. They hadn't been on the ship at the time but, well - no one who knew her had wanted to be around Agent West Virginia since she'd heard what happened.
The sunset glinted off the agent's gleaming orange armor - she had the uncanny ability to come back from any mission looking spotless. West prowled down the ramp like a jungle cat descending from the trees, and the chief watched those of his crew within a few feet of the agent scatter as she shoved a datapad toward them. The crew chief sighed and stepped forward to take the pad - cargo transfer orders. He read them quickly - one large crate to hangar 343, the one that had just been retrofitted - then hurried over to the forklift and drove it onto the ship. Meanwhile, only one other man had not stepped back from the intimidating Freelancer.
"Agent West Virginia," the Counselor said pleasantly. "How are you feeling today?"
"Don't psychoanalyze me, Price," came the snarl behind the armor. It was an old interaction at this point.
"I'm sure your place on the Leaderboard will rise significantly now that -"
"Fuck your leaderboard. It's to blame for half this shitshow." Another set of armored footsteps clanked down the ramp before the exchange could continue.
"Agent Virginia," the Counselor said mildly, nodding at the taller soldier who had joined them.
"The mission is complete," the woman said quietly, rubbing at a dirty scrape on her lavender armor where a bullet had grazed it.
"Not quite," the Counselor replied.
"It is more complete than anyone else has yet made it, and to the degree the circumstances allowed," Virginia said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Fair enough," the Counselor acceded.
"When are we going back out?" West demanded.
"West - you need to rest. You're pushing yourself too hard," Virginia said gently, putting a hand on her partner's shoulder.
"I won't rest, Vi. Not until I have him back," West's voice cracked, and she pulled away.
"I will forward your next mission parameters when they are ready. As always, thank you for your service," the Counselor answered. West turned her back on him and stalked away, seemingly fading into the oranges of the sunset.
"She's still not handling this well," Virginia said in that same quiet tone. "I'm afraid she won't. Not until -"
"Agent Virginia, I'm sure you realize that it is unlikely Agent Maine will be - intact mentally - even if she is able to recover him. You are the only agent who has so far presented no ill effects of the AI implants."
"North didn't -"
"Agent North Dakota defected, so I cannot agree with your opinion. Agent Washington's mental deterioration alone suggests -"
"Can we just - not do this today - please," Agent Virginia said weakly.
"Ah. Yes, of course…. You can visit him in the hospital, you know."
"The last time didn't - Wash didn't even recognize me, sir."
"I see. I am sorry, Lumi."
"Yeah," she sighed. "Me too." She watched the crew chief carefully maneuver the forklift down the ramp, now carrying the large crate she and West had brought back. "What will happen to her now, sir?" She asked, watching as the crate was trucked away towards a warehouse.
"We'll help her recover in a stable environment. The AIs are delicate, as you have seen, but we have hope that the project isn't a failure."
"And - is Kappa alright?" Virginia asked.
"Kappa is safe. In fact, we're hoping Kappa will be able to help Beta and Omega."
"Do you think that wise, considering how exposing the different AI to one another seemed to exacerbate their behavior issues?"
"That is not your concern. You were entrusted with this information in order to better complete your mission. The scope of your duties has not changed," the Counselor stated firmly. Agent Virginia looked away and nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"That will be all for now. Perhaps you can reach out to Agent West Virginia. If anyone can reach Stacy now, it will be you."
"Of course, sir." Virginia turned away with a sigh and followed in the direction West had gone, lavender armor fading into the sunset just as her partner's had. The Counselor turned and walked in the opposite direction for a while, giving the crew chief a friendly wave as he passed him driving the forklift back toward the landing pad, sans cargo. He soon arrived at hangar 343, where one of his techs was waiting for him.
"Sir? We've already got it hooked up to the new system. We're ready to begin when you are."
"Excellent." The Counselor walked into the hangar and observed his latest project. Several of his best programmers were busily tapping away at keyboards and datapads. A suit of black armor was seated, almost casually, on a heavy frame and wired into a dozen computers. The helmet of the suit sat on its own table, also plugged in. A dozen monitors above the armor were all that lit the otherwise dark room as data quickly scrolled across them. The spectral backlit scene had no effect on the Counselor.
"Well then," he said pleasantly. "If we're ready - let reconditioning begin."
The hangar door behind him closed with an ominous echo as the last rays of sunset faded outside.