Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
Chapter Seven:
The town of Peaceful Harbor reminded Richard "Dick" Simmons a lot of Blood Gulch. That particular line of thought caused a knot to form slightly in the redhead's throat as he remembered seeing Blood Gulch several hours earlier, the last time he had been at the debris that had once been the Grif siblings' home.
Upon closer inspection, Peaceful Harbor was maybe even tinier than Blood Gulch. Located in the Outer Regions, it was a rustic, small town with a very relaxing atmosphere, especially when compared to the hustle and bustle of a city like Armonia.
Thankfully, there was an inn for weary travelers all the same. Simmons, despite wanting to continue the search for Kai as quickly as possible, was grateful for the chance to get a good night's sleep. After all, he had read a lot of research while in the Unsc about the importance of a solid eight hours of sleep and he was always one for keeping healthy schedules, even if Grif rolled his eyes at Simmons' time tables. They were important, damn it!
Besides, Simmons knew that, logically speaking, their traveling party wouldn't be of much help to Kai if they were all keeling over due to exhaustion. Plus, he knew it had been a long day for everyone, especially Grif.
His green eyes risked a glance toward the Orc in question. It was as if Grif was lost deep in thought, simply hanging back while letting Sarge and the others handle the room arrangements. Simmons supposed he couldn't blame Grif for being distant.
What with his sister's kidnapping, Charon's involvement, and now the evidence that Charon also had a hand in the missing Relics and Remnants situation? It was only natural that the chubby man would be retreating inward, even though understanding that did nothing to ease the growing sense of anxiety within Simmons himself.
Grif saw the redhead staring at him worriedly and mustered up a half-hearted smirk. No doubt the gesture was an attempt at reassuring the human who had so inadvertently stumbled into his care. Simmons tried his hardest to return the gesture as best he could, inner panic taking a backseat for the moment.
"All right, ladies," Sarge's booming voice spoke just then, as both he and Tucker turned away from the reception desk, "The rooms are taken care of!"
"Oh, oh! I hope I get to bunk with Lopez again!" Donut stated gleefully, turning to the artificially constructed man, "We had so much fun last time, didn't we?"
"Todavía estoy tratando de bloquear la memoria." {"I am still trying to block it from memory."}
For some reason, Lopez didn't seem quite as amused or excited by the prospect as the pink wearing Donut did. Simmons still couldn't really understand the "golem" though, so maybe he was just interpreting his body language wrong.
"Of course you are, Donut!" Sarge stated, nodding his gray-haired head, "Understandably, I'll be getting my own room."
"Debido a que está predispuesto horrible?" {"Because you are horribly biased?"}
"That's right, Lopez! As our leader, Sarge really needs his beauty sleep!" Donut said sagely, although Simmons had to wonder how much of the conversation the dirty blond actually understood.
"...Voy a pasear por la ciudad ahora." {"…I am going to wander around town now."}
With that statement, the tan-skinned man simply walked out of the building. The rest of the traveling party turned back towards the red armored Sarge, looking to him for an explanation since he created Lopez.
"Lopez is right about scouting around town for more information." Sarge said a second afterwards, "I think I'll do the same."
"Me too!" Donut said happily, "It will give me a chance to scout around for good breakfast spots too."
Sarge and Donut both took their leave as well, leaving Tucker with the task of explaining to the others about their room arrangements. Tucker sighed with the added responsibility, but jumped right in as if he often had to make up for Sarge and company's erratic ways.
"The two of you are sharing a room." The Beast Folk informed Simmons and Grif, shrugging, "Naturally."
There was a bit of a teasing tone in Tucker's voice at that last part, his tail swishing back and forth playfully. There was something akin to a knowing look in his brown eyes too that Simmons figured was best to ignore.
"Fine by me." Grif spoke up just then, glancing over at the redhead questioningly, "What about you, Simmons?"
Given how small the house in Blood Gulch had been, they had pretty much been sharing space already. Simmons didn't really see a problem with the situation. It wasn't like he and Grif weren't used to each other already. Besides, it seemed like Grif would prefer some privacy given how distant he'd been recently.
"Me too." Simmons informed them, nodding.
The glint in Tucker's eyes turned somewhat mischievous, and that admittedly made Simmons a bit more hesitant. However, before he could question the Beast Folk on the matter, Washington coughed slightly.
"This inn doesn't appear to be too large," the Seas began, "So, let me guess. We're rooming together?"
Tucker sighed at the blond's question, "Yeah, much as I love my privacy, that's the short of it."
Grif snorted, "Still have that sleeping naked habit? Or the jerking off one?"
If someone could choke on air, the Seas would have probably done so just then. Washington's gray and yellow-tinged face took on a spectacularly reddish hue at the Orc's comment. Simmons could sympathize as he felt his own pale skin heat up at Grif's comment as well.
Tucker ignored the reactions the newer members of their group had to Grif's questions, choosing instead to give his Orc friend the finger, "I try not to do that on Guild missions anymore, dude."
"T—try?" Washington spluttered, completely flabbergasted by the Beast Folk's wording.
Grif snickered as Tucker and Washington continued their conversation on what was appropriate clothing regulations and personal activities while on a job before his expression turned serious once more as he regarded the still blushing redhead nearby. He tapped Simmons' shoulder to get the taller man's attention, motioning with his head up the flight of stairs.
"Want to check out our room?" Grif asked Simmons, something unreadable flickering in his brown eyes.
Simmons remembered how, earlier at the temple ruins, the tan-skinned man had informed the redhead that there was something that he needed to tell him. So, Simmons nodded his head even as the knot in the pit of his stomach came back in full force: "Let's go."
Currently, Charon's base of operations in the Outer Regions were repurposed ruins, located in the very heart of a town simply known as Rat's Nest. As far as ruins go, they were in relatively phenomenal condition.
The population of Rat's Nest tended to turn a blind eye to the actions of their neighbors, especially due to the much needed income that Charon and their assorted allies provided them with. In fact, most of the town in one way or another were probably employed by the group.
Such was the case for one of the younger guards that C.T. had met earlier, a young man who stood out thanks to the multiple colors his hair sported. She believed his name was Bitters and the former Freelancer felt a tinge of sympathy towards the rookie. He clearly had no idea what he had gotten himself involved with. Based on the angry look she had started noticing in his dark eyes when she caught him going to guard duty, it seemed that Bitters was just now starting to realize the true nature of his employer. C.T. could relate: the truth always seemed to reveal itself too late.
Charon working in conjunction with local areas was still a little hard of a set-up for her to get used to, given how the Insurrection had gone out of their way to avoid towns. She supposed one could just chalk it up to different mentalities regarding how groups like Charon and the Insurrection approached residential areas.
If anything, the town of Rat's Nest appeared to be thriving even without any Guild presence to speak of and even with its proximity near Orc territories. There was no doubt the economy was doing well because of Charon, so who was she to complain about something that so obviously worked for the locals?
At the moment, C.T. and Wyoming were watching the town itself prepare for what almost looked like a festival. At least that was how it appeared on the surface to the uninformed, at any rate. Streamers were being hung everywhere, and stalls were being set-up with the hope of possibly loosening some purses from unsuspecting travelers.
…It was hard to believe that this was actually the first phase of the "recruitment" operation they had been assigned to by Charon.
"A tournament." C.T. couldn't help but mutter under her breath, "Unbelievable."
"How so?" Wyoming cast a glance in her direction, sounding genuinely curious.
"I wouldn't expect that Charon's idea for recruiting more members would include an actual tournament." She waved her hand out at the sight in front of them, "First, they sanction kidnapping of all things…and now this?"
"Hmm." The white-armored man glanced around disinterestedly, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'd wager it won't be legal."
But, still! A tournament just seemed so ordinary for a group that did so many things that C.T. personally disagreed with. She bit her lip, choosing to remain silent on the subject. Which, naturally, prompted her former Freelancer teammate to fill the void.
"A competition in which only the strongest reach the top." Wyoming stated, "Sounds awfully familiar, don't you think?"
C.T. started at his question, turning her full attention onto the older man, "Are you saying it's going to be how Freelancer was?" she asked him.
A ranking program to determine who actually could remain, with no consideration to what happened to those who participated. With a group like Charon sponsoring the whole thing…
She shuddered, not bothering to wait for his response: "Poor bastards."
"Yes, well, no skin off our backs as it were." Wyoming nodded, "So I'd just sit back and enjoy the show."
Not wanting to dwell on the unsettling topic any longer than necessary, C.T. looked around for a familiar head of black hair, "I still haven't seen Gamma yet." She stated conversationally.
"Oh, he's around. He's just not the social sort." Wyoming scratched his mustache, a contemplative look crossing his features, "He takes after his brother in that department."
For not the first time since leaving Freelancer, C.T. wondered what Leonard Church was up to now. If there was any kindness in the world, hopefully he and the other remaining Fragments were just as free to choose their own paths as Gamma currently was.
"You and your shark friend still getting along rather well?" Wyoming asked her.
C.T. snorted, "I'd hardly call him a friend."
Sharkface, like all the other Insurrection members, had always only ever reluctantly accepted her presence amongst them at their leader's insistence. Nowadays, the scarred brown-haired man had been keeping to himself, accepting more tasks from Charon than C.T. herself was comfortable doing. She honestly had no idea where he was now.
"Hmm. Looks like we might be the closest things you have to friends here currently." Wyoming mused, most likely referring to himself and Gamma just then.
C.T. couldn't help but sigh at the truthfulness in the mustached man's statement, "Looks like it."
There were a few moments of silence, then: "Want to hear a knock-knock joke?"
"…Not particularly."
The sunlight streaming through the clouds in the sky, while a welcome change of pace from the darkness of the tunnels they had been in moments ago, was blinding after being underground for so long.
Leonard Church hissed somewhat, his eyes squeezing shut involuntarily. The humming noise coming from behind him, however, he couldn't block out as easily. The satchel at his side was heavy, so he forced his teary eyes open to focus on it instead.
…Not a bad haul, all things considered. They had managed to nab several Relics that would no doubt be useful to the Guild, even if Church was somewhat disappointed that they hadn't found a Remnant in this particular vein of the Dwarven mines.
Naturally, Carolina had already adjusted to the brightness of the outside world and was already checking over their gear. Her adaptability was truly terrifying sometimes.
"Should we head to an inn for the night?" The redhead asked over her shoulder to her companions.
The annoying humming that had been coming from behind Church stopped, "Oh, we can have a sleepover!" Caboose exclaimed excitedly, "They are so much fun! Aren't they, Freckles?"
"AFFIRMATIVE, CABOOSE." The talking gun stated emphatically, and Church had the sudden mental image of Caboose propping Freckles up on a pillow to play Truth or Dare.
He shuddered at the thought, "Shouldn't we drop Caboose off in the next town we stop at since we'll be leaving Dwarven territory?"
"Aw, you can't leave yet!" Caboose exclaimed with a childlike wail, "I want my sister to meet my bestest friend!"
"EXCUSE ME?" If a gun could huff in indignation, Freckles just did.
"Second bestest friend." The dwarf corrected.
"BETTER."
Before Carolina could put her two cents in about what they would be doing next, there was movement in the brush right in front of them.
"I'm afraid whatever plans you have are going to be cancelled." A familiar female voice stated.
Carolina stiffened and Church paled considerably at the sight of the black-clad figure that emerged from the nearby foliage. Caboose looked between the two siblings, thoroughly confused by the reactions of his friends to the newcomer in their midst. It was as if a ghost had just emerged from their pasts.
Guild business was probably the only reason for Tex of all people to be all the way out here in Dwarven territory. It would have to be big business to boot. Which usually meant a whole lot of pains in the ass when all was said and done.
Church sighed, the satchel on his shoulder suddenly becoming unbearably heavy as that realization sunk in, "Aw, damn it." he muttered under his breath.
Tex's smirk only widened at Church's comment.
Simmons couldn't help but pause in the doorway of their shared room at the Peaceful Harbor inn, his mind going in several different directions all at once.
Grif noticed his unease, casting a glance back in the red-haired Magic User's direction, "Everything okay?" he asked.
Simmons blinked, not sure how Grif wasn't having the same reaction he was having. "Are you sure this is our room?" he asked incredulously.
A nod, the Orc still looking confused as to the reason for Simmons' hold-up.
"But, there's only one bed!" Simmons tried pointing out the obvious, gesturing towards the offending furniture as if he could somehow make it spilt into two by sheer willpower alone.
Grif glanced at the bed he was currently sitting on, patting the mattress as he did so, "Your observational skills are as sharp as ever, Simmons." He teased.
"How…? Why…?" Simmons was finding it hard to form a coherent sentence just then. Did the Orc not just get the implications here? His brain was about to break!
The chubby man shrugged apathetically, "It's just Tucker's way of playing a prank on us." Grif informed him, "Though joke's on him because I can sleep in any situation."
Of course the lazy fat-ass would say that. The orange-wearing Guild member's ability to sleep anywhere and at any time would almost be impressive in any other scenario. Simmons stared at the bed, his face heating up.
"What about you?" Grif asked him, looking oddly serious for a moment.
"Huh?" Simmons blinked, not sure of what the Orc meant by the question.
"Think you can stick with it for one night just to tell Tucker to fuck off tomorrow?" Grif asked, a lazy-but-maniacal smirk crossing over his face.
Through sheer force of willpower, Simmons managed to get the heat down on his face as he swallowed nervously and finally nodded his head, "Y—yeah. Definitely."
"Good." Grif nodded to himself, looking rather pleased with Simmons' answer.
As Simmons cautiously stepped into their shared inn room then, he felt a sharp note of pain coming from his knees. The Magic User winced, having momentarily forgotten about how his knees had gotten scraped up pretty badly earlier. It definitely sucked that with his sorry-as-fuck magic ability he couldn't even heal himself.
The pained expression wasn't lost on Grif, who frowned as he regarded the redhead, "Your knees?" He asked.
Simmons nodded, not trusting his voice to not go into squeaky mode at the moment.
"Come here."
Grif was rummaging through a bag he had brought with him and had thrown to the side of the mattress upon entering the room, motioning for Simmons to sit on the large bed next to him. Simmons did so, and Grif procured a bottle of what looked like ointment.
Without any warning, the tan-skinned man was pulling the legs of Simmons' trousers up to expose his injured knees and began slathering the cold cream onto the redhead's scrapes and cuts. Simmons shivered at the cold sensation flooding over his wounds just then, his face turning red and heart speeding up at Grif's warm and oddly gentle touch.
"This shit works really quickly on cuts. I used to use it on myself and Kai all the time when we were younger." Grif said in way of explanation a moment later.
"Th—thanks, Grif." Simmons smiled slightly, grateful for being the object of someone's attention and care.
"Well, it's my fault you got hurt in the first place." Grif finished and almost reluctantly pulled his hands away, not able to look Simmons in the face, "…Sorry."
"You were upset, Grif. There's no need to apologize." He tried reassuring the Orc, feeling a sudden foreign pang of distant guilt that he recognized wasn't his own.
"Yeah, but getting you hurt too isn't going to get Kai back any quicker."
"Neither would have running into a burning building that she wasn't even in." Simmons pointed out.
"Yeah," Grif sighed tiredly, "I know, I know. You're right and you know how much I hate that. Thanks, Simmons."
Simmons couldn't help but smirk, "Hey, so long as we're both there to watch each other's backs, right?" When Grif nodded, the pale man added, "We're going to find Kai, Grif."
The dark-haired man nodded again, "Yeah, we are." There was a moment of contemplative silence before Grif spoke up again, "Did you know that I got my power at a fucking ridiculously young age?"
Simmons shook his head. He hadn't known that at all. Even though he felt very connected to the Orc, Simmons realized that they hadn't known each other for very long. There were many things he needed, wanted to know about Grif. Simmons wondered if Grif felt the same about him as his right hand wandered to the tip of one of his scarred ears.
"Well, I did. It was pretty tough getting powers that young, not going to lie. Dealing with that shit." The tan-skinned man continued as if he hadn't noticed Simmons' subconscious nervous twitch, smiling ruefully, "Kind of hard to control something like an explosive touch when you're a little kid."
"I can imagine." Simmons was rather glad, for once, that his power had been a relatively harmless one that had developed in his teens, as was usually the case for most Magic Users.
"I'd heard about groups kidnapping Magic Users back then." Grif recalled, "Those stories always scared Mom the most."
Simmons remained silent, not sure of where Grif was going with this and afraid that pressing him might get the Guild member to stop talking entirely even though the curiosity was killing him.
"Anyways, when I was approached by Charon, they offered me help in training my abilities and jobs to boot! I was so fucking relieved," Grif continued, letting out a bitterly apathetic laugh, "And now look at what's happened."
Simmons just barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch the slightly older man's shoulder then, "You couldn't have known, Grif."
"Sure, I could have. If I'd bothered paying attention to all the fucking talk about them. I was too busy thinking I was a fucking rebel or maverick or some shit."
Grif's voice sounded pained just then, and Simmons could practically feel the hurt radiating off of him in waves. He bit his lip and, surprising both himself and Grif, pulled the tan-skinned Orc into a hug.
"It'll be okay, Grif." Simmons mumbled against the chubbier man's shoulder.
There was a sharp intake of breath from Grif following the motion and then the dark-haired man was returning the gesture tightly, to the point where Simmons nearly couldn't breathe. But, the relief that was seeping into Simmons' bones just then made him smile despite the oddness of that particular sensation. He was his typical "so nervous that he wanted to puke" self, but Simmons felt something else underneath the surface that was hard to describe.
"I've been feeling odd lately." He finally murmured after a few seconds of contemplating if he should mention the sensation to Grif or not given how strange it seemed, "Like I'm feeling more. But…but it's only around you."
His musings caught ahold of Grif's ears, and the Orc hummed knowingly at Simmons' comment, "Yeah? That's probably an effect of the Linking Magic."
"Oh." For a moment, Simmons felt at ease and like everything was peaceful now that there was an explanation out in the open. That is, until he realized that sense of peace wasn't his. In that exact moment, the words Grif had spoken actually sunk in.
He pulled away from the hug, wide-eyed as the all too familiar panic attack came back in full-force, "The Linking what?!" Simmons knew his voice had reached his high-pitched stressed squeal, but he couldn't even bring himself to feel self-conscious about that at the moment.
With the Magic User's change of tone, Grif seemed to remember just then what it was he had meant to tell Simmons, the Orc smiling sheepishly at the bewildered human, "…Oops?"
Lavernius Tucker definitely did not want to head on up to his room yet given how loud Grif and Simmons' voices were drifting down to the inn's lower level. Tucker shook his head, having an idea as to what brought this particular fight on. Grif must have finally grown a pair and fessed up to the Linking Magic. Simmons must have reacted exactly as Tucker bet he would. Grif owed him some money…that is, if his friend managed to survive a full-on bitch fight with Simmons.
Tucker heard a high-pitched squeal that definitely belonged to a panicking redhead, and guessed that his Beast Folk hearing wasn't doing him any favors right now. Shit, they fucking argued like an old married couple already. It would be cute if it wasn't currently annoying the hell out of him. No way in hell was Tucker getting caught up in this particular lovers' spat. So, he wisely remained in the small lobby of the inn, nursing a drink instead.
Someone familiar sat down next to him seconds later. The Beast Folk couldn't help but glance over at Washington in amusement, the Seas looking as lost as ever when it came to what to do with his free time.
It was oddly cute, in its own way. But, that still didn't mean that Tucker wasn't going to have some fun at the older man's expense all the same.
"Sitting with me again?" Tucker spoke up, "Not that I can really blame you. I mean, come on!" He gestured to himself with a growing smirk on his face.
Naturally, the other man's face turned red and he spluttered once more, "I…I wasn't, I mean—!" Washington began before cutting himself off in embarrassment.
"Uh-huh. Sure." Tucker nodded his head, grinning, "You are so not making this any easier on yourself, dude."
The blond sighed, "You're impossible."
"Apparently you love that about me." Tucker shot back.
Washington sighed and closed his gray eyes, looking as though he were counting to ten mentally. With that action, the Beast Folk found that he missed looking into the former Freelancer's pupils, noting that they were a few shades lighter than the gray of his skin.
Perhaps that was why Tucker took pity on Washington by stopping the teasing. He would hate to make the whole "roomies" thing awkward. After all, Grif and Simmons were probably going to be taking that "awkward" award for a long while at the rate they were going and Tucker wasn't looking to compete with them anytime soon. Besides, for reasons that were still largely unknown to him, the dark-skinned man found himself actually enjoying the sullen Seas' company.
Tucker decided to take the conversation in a more serious direction just then with a question that he had been curious about for a while now, ever since Washington had said he wanted to travel with the Guild members to Peaceful Harbor. He felt the condensation around the glass he was holding on his skin.
"So, since this part of the mission turned out to be one fucking huge bust," Tucker began, "What are your plans now?"
"My plans?" Washington echoed, opening his eyes to regard Tucker carefully.
A nod followed by a question: "Yeah. Are you going to be staying with us, or what?"
Truthfully, an inexplicable part of Tucker was hoping that the answer would be "yes."
Washington frowned in contemplation, "I honestly hadn't given it much thought." He admitted to the Beast Folk sitting next to him, "I—"
But, whatever the blond had been about to say was cut off by the inn's door opening wildly and Donut literally skipping through the doorway. Tucker noted that the younger Guild member's hand was tightly gripping onto the arm of a purple-wearing human who, oddly enough, had a ring of flowers around his brown head of hair.
"Hey, guys!" Donut caught sight of the two men almost immediately, the smile on his face only matched in brightness by the one on the stranger's face as he brought the bespectacled stranger to a stop right in front of Tucker and Washington's table, "This here is Doc! He has some information about you-know-who that might help us!"
Author's Notes: Well, if any of you guessed that Doc would be at Peaceful Harbor, you were right! XD
Now Simmons finally knows about the Linking Magic between him and Grif, so we will have to see what will happen between the two of them next! :) As well as see how the "recruitment tournament" Charon is throwing will enter into the mix.
Thank you very much for taking the time to read this chapter! :D