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 Fourteen:

With a contented yawn, Dexter Grif awoke to the sight of an incredibly red-faced and all too tired-looking Richard "Dick" Simmons. The Orc smiled at him haphazardly, still too drowsy himself to really notice Simmons' predicament. All he knew was that an embarrassed Simmons was one hell of an easy target to make fun of. A guy had to get his kicks somewhere, doesn't he?

Suddenly, Simmons regretted that he had decided to stay in the room until the chubby man awoke. If he had just made a run for the door like his anxious nerves had screamed at him to do, he wouldn't be in this situation!

"What's wrong?" Grif teased while stretching orange-lined arms over his head, "Didn't sleep well?" He smirked, an odd sort-of blush crossing over his features as he no doubt remembered his dream from the night before, "I slept great!"

Simmons could not have prevented the heat washing over his face at that remark even if he had tried. I…I bet you did! He thought, but didn't dare say out loud as memories of the partially shared dream came flooding back to him, unbidden.

"I…I'm glad." Was all Simmons managed to squeak out instead, too embarrassed to ask if Grif knew that the redhead had shared his vision.

It had all felt so real too. Damn it! He shouldn't be dwelling on it any more than he had. After all, the seemingly endless hours he had stayed up last night reminiscing about the dream really should be enough. His brain just didn't know when to call it fucking quits sometime. Right now, Simmons certainly shouldn't be imagining Grif's feverish hands on his all too equally hot pale skin…

The maroon-wearing man's racing thoughts must have been evident on his face just then, because Grif was now suddenly more alert and looking at him in genuine concern. "Are you okay?" He finally asked, "Because, joking aside, you really do look like you didn't get any sleep. No offense, but you kind of look like shit."

Whose fault do you think that is, fat-ass?

But, Simmons couldn't bring himself to say that out loud, especially thinking back on all of the moaning that had come from Grif's side of the room. The truth was that he almost, almost found himself regretting that his part in the dream had been cut so short. Instead, he tried focusing on an equally, if not more, urgent matter. One that wouldn't result in his head catching on fire in embarrassment.

"I—I do not! And, I—I'm fine!" Simmons tried reassuring the Orc while desperately looking anywhere in the inn's room that wasn't directly near him, "I'm just nervous about the tournament today. Yeah, that's it! The tournament!"

Which wasn't really even a lie. At least, not entirely. It might not be the reason that Simmons was acting like a spaz case currently, but he was getting anxious about the tournament, especially as the deadline for it got closer.

Grif's expression became serious at the reminder as to why they were in Rat's Nest. The Orc nodded his head in understanding, "I get that, I really do." He told Simmons emphatically, "But we've just got to do what it takes to take these Charon assholes down and get Kai and the others back."

Simmons was relieved both for the change in subject as well as for seeing Grif more determined than depressed like he had been the other night. Before it had happened, obviously. Damn sexy dream of his and Grif's! His face flushed again at the reminder of the previous night before he remembered Grif's actual words. He couldn't help but nod his head in agreement with the Orc, "Absolutely."

"As much as I'd love to stay in bed, let's get a move on." Grif was, surprisingly, already moving to the door that served as the entrance to their shared room. He opened it just as Simmons was about one step behind him, as if waiting to make sure the redhead was following his lead.

They were both greeted by the sight of Tucker and Washington standing awkwardly in the inn's hallway. Tucker was rubbing the back of his head while Washington looked about ready to turn a shade of red that would make Sarge proud. Simmons could feel not only his own curiosity piqued, but Grif's as well. Damn Linking Magic!

"Y—yeah, let's just…umm…" Tucker began before trailing off, the Beast Folk for once seemingly at a loss for words.

"Yes. Let's." Washington finished for the dark-skinned man as the two quickly moved down the stairs without realizing their conversation had had witnesses.

Simmons felt apathetic amusement coming from the Orc in front of him, and when he glanced towards Grif's face he made out a smirk. Uh-oh. That can't be good. Simmons felt a twinge of sympathy towards Tucker and Washington, only to realize Grif had felt it too when the slightly older man directed a chilled wink his way.

No sooner had Tucker and Washington left, then Sarge and Doctor Grey emerged from another of the inn's rooms. The Beast Folk's dark head of hair was momentarily resting on Sarge's shoulder before she straightened her posture at the sight of Grif and Simmons in the hallway.

"Boys." Sarge greeted the two gaping men as if this was all to be expected, nodding his gray head of hair. There was a literal bounce to the older man's step and both Grif and Simmons suddenly felt nauseous.

Doctor Grey smiled at them, "See you downstairs soon, yes?" There was an amused, almost maniacal gleam in her dark eyes as her fox tail twitched in delight.

The crazy couple had already disappeared out of view when Sheila and Lopez emerged from their room. The artificially constructed man actually hummed as they walked by, hand-in-hand.

Grif turned his head slightly so that he could fully stare at Simmons in bewilderment, "What the fuck is up with this hallway?"

"B—beats me!" Simmons felt his face going even hotter, and he desperately tried not thinking of last night again.

Fortunately, Grif was an expert at keeping things grounded. The heavyset man shrugged and let out an exasperated sigh, "Come on. Let's get downstairs before anyone else we know walks out here in a pair. I'm starving."

Simmons agreed with the first sentiment, though he rolled his eyes at the second, "You're always hungry, fat-ass."

"It's the only thing worth getting out of bed for, Simmons." Grif told him in a pseudo-sage voice.

Just this once, Simmons was grateful for how quickly Grif could get him to fall back into their usual routine. Not that he'd ever tell the Orc that. Instead, he rolled his eyes and made his way towards the stairs.

Kaikaina Grif couldn't help but roll her eyes when everyone's favorite jackass with a bad dye job came once more into the dungeon area. Only, her mood sharpened to serious when she noticed that the human was with another guard.

The duo were dragging along two rather beat up-looking people between them. One was a blonde and the other was a dark-skinned guy. Kai didn't recognize either of them, so she assumed they were just unlucky assholes like the rest of them.

Without so much as a word, Bitters did a sweep-over of their cells with his brown eyes. The jerk in orange-trimmed armor noticeably lingered on the unresponsive Matthews in concern before he motioned to the cell closest to Kai's own. The other guard forcibly shoved the hot blonde chick into the cell, and Kai couldn't help but feel a bit proud when she glared defiantly at the guard.

The dark-skinned young man that was with the blonde was put in a cell right next to Jensen's, stumbling to the ground at the none-too-gentle push he received. The clang of cell doors rang loudly through the dungeon.

"Good job, Bitters." The nobody-fucking-cared-what-his-name-was guard said, "That will get the bosses off our backs for a little while."

Bitters made a noncommittal noise, and the two left without so much as a backwards glance at the cell occupants.

Kai couldn't help but roll her eyes once more after the guards had left, "What assholes." She muttered under her breath.

And here Filss had been talking about how they could possibly trust that Bitters guy too. He didn't fucking seem any better than the rest of these douchebags. At least from what she could tell. Grif always said she was a horrible judge of character, but fuck that! The half-Orc knew bitches when she saw them.

"Ow!" One of the newcomers expressed loudly. When Kai turned towards the voice, she saw that it had been the young human with aqua trim on his clothes. He was rubbing his knees in response to their painful impact on the floor moments before.

"Are you all right?" Jensen asked him in concern, brown eyes alight with sympathy.

The dark-skinned man grinned up at the brunette brightly, "I'm okay!" He said reassuringly, though he paused after getting a closer look at her face, "Hey! It's you!"

"Er…" Jensen was clearly confused by the stranger's statement, "Yes?"

"You're Katie Jensen, right?" The young man continued, "Andersmith is looking for you!"

Recognition clicked on the tanned girl's face at the obviously familiar name, "He is?"

The blonde glanced over at Kai and Four Seven Niner then, "And you are the sisters of Grif and Caboose respectively, yes?"

"What are you two? Cops?" Kai couldn't help but narrow her eyes suspiciously as she spoke, "How the fuck do you know that?"

The hot blonde laughed, "Relax. We're trainees from the Guild."

Jensen seemed to visibly be put at ease by the new information, and Kai even saw Matthews lift his head slightly in curiosity at the newcomers. Figured they'd both be Guild fans. Kai wasn't so easily convinced, "Big deal. So, you're rookie cops."

The young man's stupid grin was back on his face, and the Guild trainee was practically beaming as brightly as the sun in the dank and mold-filled dungeon as he exclaimed: "Don't worry! We're here to rescue you!"

Silence followed that proclamation for a good long while until Four Seven Niner cleared her throat behind her locked cell door, "Well, you're doing a bang-up job of it so far."

Following Grif's fourth breakfast, Lavernius Tucker was treated to an amusing aside in which Church had turned to his cousin and said "You sure know how to pick them." Which, in turn, had resulted in an equally amusing scene of Simmons promptly turning red as he told Church to shut the fuck up.

With the early morning amusements out of the way, everyone in the Guild's traveling party gathered in front of the Rat's Nest inn. They were more or less ready to head to the tournament, some visibly more excited than others.

Tucker, as he watched Caboose lively waving Freckles around and regaling Andersmith with the tale of how he had found the talking gun in the first place, was rather grateful for the distraction from his thoughts. After all, his mind was circling around having woken up to Washington petting his head yet again. He was willing to chalk it up to the blond's nerves this time, but this shit was getting ridiculous! The Seas wasn't exactly the type of hot chick that Tucker wanted to pet him, if you get his meaning. Bow-chicka-bow-wow!

"I…I'm still not sure if I'm ready to be out in the ring." Doc was saying to Donut, the two having stepped over towards Tucker to talk privately, "As a pacifist, it goes against my beliefs to…!"

Tucker couldn't help but roll his eyes at the continued protest and also at the duo's obliviousness to the fact that the Beast Folk was literally standing right there and could overhear everything, "Think of it more as helping out with the rescue mission, Doc." He advised, rubbing his temple out of annoyance.

The healer frowned, "But…!"

"Tucker's right, Doc!" Donut chimed in exuberantly before the flower-crown wearing man could say more, "Think about how you'll be helping to aid people in really big trouble instead. Why, you'll be coming around in no time. You're being really heroic!"

That seemed to do the trick and bolster Doc's nerves a bit. Tucker had to give Donut credit. The pink-wearing man was a kick-ass motivational speaker, even if he was saying weird-as-fuck shit along with it.

The traveling party slowly started making their way to the tournament grounds, Tucker's own growing nerves being rather bolstered by the large group of comrades that he had around him. Not that he would ever say that out loud, mind you. They were all assholes still, after all.

"Hey, bitches." A familiar voice said from off to the side, "Took you long enough."

The group all glanced in the voice's direction to find South Dakota standing there, arms crossed over her orchid-armored chest. She looked largely unimpressed at the group assembled before her, as if they weren't anything to be concerned with.

"Wash." South said, smirking in the former Freelancer's direction before turning to incline her head towards Tucker, "Wash's boy toy."

Tucker felt his face heat up at the comment as memories of last night resurfaced. The teal-wearing man could tell that Washington was close to blushing as well. Still, with a lot of effort, the Seas had managed to school his expression into a neutral one.

"Who are you, little lady?" Sarge asked after shooting Washington and Tucker a questioning glance, a gray eyebrow raised in curiosity as one of his hands reflexively moved towards his shotgun.

He could see the rest of the group look around in what was akin to morbid fascination, although Grif mostly just looked bored as hell. Obviously, the identity of the woman with orchid highlights in her hair was something that all of the others were curious about too. Well, all save Church, who scowled at the newcomer's presence and muttered "Aww, shit. Not her too." under his breath. Tucker shook his head at Church's comment, deciding that he was going to dub all this shit "Freelancer problems" from now on.

"First of all, old man, I wouldn't call me that again. It wouldn't be good for your health." South informed Sarge without missing a beat, "Second of all, I am clearly you lot's best bet for making it through this tournament in one piece."

Everyone turned to Washington for confirmation on what she had just said, and the Seas shifted uncomfortably on his webbed feet at the sudden attention, "South is an old acquaintance of mine. She'll be…assisting us."

Tucker noticed how cautious Washington was with his wording and frowned. The blond obviously didn't believe what he was saying. But, it seemed like the others bought it, so the Beast Folk opted not to say anything about Washington's hesitation. At least not in front of everyone else. After all, Doc looked like he was about to faint as it was and Simmons' anxiety had turned him even paler than normal.

South's smirk only widened at Washington's introduction, "That's right," she said, "And you fuckers better not slow me down."

Infiltrating the Charon guard ranks at the Rat's Nest tournament grounds was a relatively easy enough task for both Carolina and Tex. Carolina could begrudgingly admit that they made for a frighteningly good team when they actually choose to work together. It seemed that today, however, the ease at which they had carried out their assignment was largely due to how minimal security seemed to be around where the "main event" was going to be held.

As they explored the premises, it became noticeably obvious that the majority of Charon's guards were located elsewhere, despite the tournament having many skilled and violent participants who could be deemed as threats.

"The ruins by the village has the highest concentration of security forces." Carolina noted as the two women stood side-by-side against a stone wall that gave them a good vantage point.

"Which means there's more to the area than it just being a place to temporarily store Magic Users." Tex muttered, nodding her head slightly in agreement to what Carolina had observed, "They wouldn't have this much security just for that."

"I'd say that's true enough." Carolina stated quietly, a contemplative frown crossing over her features. Just what the hell was Charon and the Insurrection up to?

"You'd both be right too." An all-too familiar voice spoke up from their left.

Both women spun around to see who had managed to get the drop on them, not at all shocked to find C.T. standing there. When it came to subterfuge in Project Freelancer, the brunette had always been one of the best.

"Carolina. Tex." She said as she nodded her head in their direction, "It's good to see you again."

There was no malice in their former teammate's words, but Tex stepped forward with fists clenched at her sides all the same. "And what, exactly, are you doing here?" The blonde demanded as Carolina got into a readied stance herself.

"Relax." C.T. held up her hands as if in surrender, "I'm not here to fight old acquaintances or blow your cover."

Tex and Carolina shared a look, their stances not relaxing in the slightest. "No offense," Carolina finally said, "But I seem to recall you having no problem fighting us before."

"True enough, but that's not what I'm doing now." C.T. explained, taking the fact that they hadn't moved yet as a sign to continue, "I want to find out what exactly Charon is storing in these ruins too." She told them emphatically, "And I want to put a stop to anything heinous going on. Such as kidnapping, for instance."

The two other women both looked at one another again, Carolina's attack stance relaxing by a margin as she asked, "How much do you actually know about what is going on here, C.T.?"

C.T. smiled thinly, "Enough to make working together again extremely worthwhile. For all of us."

The Guild's traveling party, with South in tow, made their way to the large, expansive tournament grounds just outside of the village of Rat's Nest and close by the ruins. The same ruins where they knew that Charon was keeping the kidnapped Magic Users.

Dexter Grif schooled his face into its normal apathetic expression, but inside he was roaring to save his sister and the others. His Orc blood was practically bubbling, and he had to remind himself he had an "I don't give a shit" reputation to maintain.

Right now, everyone was assembled in the giant fighters' pit erected specifically for the tournament. The non-participants were getting ready to move into the viewing stands located directly behind the arena, though currently they remained to offer the others their well-wishes and support.

From next to where Doc was talking to Donut, and near where Caboose was animatedly saying something encouraging to Andersmith, Simmons watched Grif swing his staff in a few practice arcs.

"I—I can participate too, you know!" Simmons exclaimed to the Orc, trying once again in vain to convince Grif to let him join the tournament too.

"Drop it, Simmons," Grif replied as he simply shook his dark-haired head for the umpteenth time that Simmons had brought the subject up since they had made their way from the inn, "It is not gonna happen."

For starters, the orange-armored man really didn't want to see the redheaded human get hurt, especially since he knew that the kiss-ass still wasn't the best under pressure. Besides, Simmons' healing magic ability would prove more useful after the fight than during it.

"But…!" Simmons tried protesting again, but both Doctor Grey and Church were suddenly on either side of the maroon-wearing man and gently leading him away towards the stands.

"Grif is right." Grif heard the Beast Folk woman say, "We have to get ready to cheer them on from the sidelines."

That's right. It was only going to be once the tournament was underway that they would commence their part of the plan. It needed to look like they were participating just like everybody else, which meant their friends in the spectator crowd needed to be just as convincing.

"Your Orc boy toy's going to be fine, so stop worrying." Church told his sputtering cousin in his own comforting way.

"Even if he isn't, the two of us can get him right as rain in no time!" Doctor Grey nodded her head in agreement, "Provided he isn't horribly injured or fatally wounded!"

Grif wasn't quite sure what to make of how cheerful she sounded at those particular prospects, suddenly wondering just how much of that exuberance towards his hypothetical harm was due to Doctor Grey's own craziness or Sarge's influence. He guessed it easily could have been a combination of both.

"But…!" Simmons attempted again, but whatever he said next was lost to Grif's ears as the three got further away from the fighters' pit.

Grif visibly relaxed when he saw Simmons and the others make their way to the spectators' viewing stands, grateful that he could still make out the human's red hair from far away. He turned his head just then to see Tucker grinning at him with a knowing look in his eyes.

"What?" Grif asked, already regretting it when he saw the expression on his friend's face.

"Oh, nothing." Tucker replied as his shit-eating grin only widened, "I just think it's cute how you show you care."

Grif's face became rather warm as he muttered a quick, "I fucking don't. Shut up, Tucker." under his breath at the feline Beast Folk.

Mere moments later, a brown-haired man with slightly pointed ears and wearing steel armor with orange trim sauntered into the middle of the arena as though he owned the place. Everyone became quiet at his presence. The man seemed to be pleased with the attention, throwing a dagger up and down in the air as if toying with the weapon. Grif didn't doubt the man knew how to fight. His very aura seemed to thrive at the prospect of violence. Whoever he was, he was dangerous.

"Quite the impressive turn out for a free-for-all." The newcomer stated in a loud, jovial voice, "This is going to determine who among you is ready to be new recruits for Charon." The man paused as if for dramatic effect before continuing, throwing the dagger once more and catching it before continuing, "Whoever survives the next round, or who at least stays conscious throughout it, will be given a grand tour of our facilities. Oh, and a good share of treasure to boot."

Dude obviously liked to hear himself talk. There was cheering from the tournament participants at that and Grif found himself glad that Simmons had gotten away from the rowdy crowd. He could feel a spike of anxiety that didn't belong to him, and his eyes glanced towards a familiar redhead wearing maroon in the viewing stands. The cheers and Simmons' anxiety lasted for a good long while before the man in steel armor with orange trim raised his hand for silence.

The speaker then snapped his fingers as he threw the dagger in the air once more, catching it just as the grinding sound of a gate being opened came from behind him. He smirked before shouting out: "Now enjoy the fucking show!"

Grif decided that, whoever that asshole was, he hated him. Possibly more than he's hated anyone else in his entire life.

A trap door in the center of the arena opened, and a giant crab-like Plague Monster emerged from its depths. The red Relic on its head flared angrily as it snapped its claws viciously in the direction of the competitors.

What the hell? Grif could feel Simmons' anxiety flare up to mirror his own.

From next to Grif, the chubby man heard Washington mutter, "Just what kind of a tournament is this?!"

The blond wasn't asking anyone in particular, but his former Freelancer teammate answered all the same. There was even a smile in her voice when South responded, "The fun kind."

Before the Orc or Seas could react, she had grabbed onto both of their shoulders and roughly slammed their heads together. Grif's world went dark just as the enormous Plague Monster was nearly on top of them.

The last thing he was aware of was someone else's panic.

Author's Notes: Of course that cliffhanger of an ending was too tempting to pass up! XD I am mean, haha. Have no fear though, explanations will be had in the following chapter! :D From here on out, things are going to start getting more intense for our heroes!

As always, thank you to those who take the time to read this fic! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.