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 Two:
The Orc female Dylan Andrews ran her white and cobalt-swirled hand over her face as she stood in a back alley, away from the overly curious and suspicious glares that the human residents of Valhalla threw her way. "I can't believe they didn't even give me the chance to say no to this assignment." She murmured to herself for the fourth time since her arrival in the Unsc-controlled city.
"Aw, cheer up, Dylan!" Her rookie partner for this current job, a half-human and half-dwarf dressed in matching white and cobalt stated reassuringly, "It isn't so bad!"
Dylan was fairly certain the guy had only been hired because the job was a joke and he was her editor's nephew, so why the hell should she play nice? She wheeled on Jax before the young man could even blink, annoyance surging through her veins at the very suggestion.
"This is just as bad as I know it to be, Jax." Dylan told him emphatically, "You should know as well as I do that what we're being tasked to write is nothing more than a propaganda piece for both the Unsc and the Orcs."
Technically speaking, Dylan and Jax belonged to the largest free news agency in the Outer Regions. But she supposed money talked more than the truth, especially when two very powerful factions wanted everyone to think that they were getting along splendidly after so long being at one another's throats.
"Well, yeah," Jax remained annoyingly nonplussed as he scratched the back of his dark head of hair and grinned, "But at least we got to travel in style thanks to those fancy portals!"
Dylan groaned at his reminder at how even their traveling was being heavily regulated, "I have more integrity than this." She replied, huffing in indignation.
"It wasn't like we were given a choice." Jax reminded her gently, his tone aggravatingly patronizing.
She sighed, getting an "I know." out of clenched teeth.
There really wasn't much one could say when the people wanting a particular story were so powerful. If she wanted to continue exposing actual truths, she had to put up with this kind of bullshit. But on the other hand…!
"If we were to land an even larger story than the continued negotiations, I could write about that instead." Dylan stated determinedly, as if one was going to fall out of the sky that very moment.
After all, given how insistent both sides were on this story coming out, she just knew there was something big brewing behind the scenes that they just didn't want the public catching wind of. It wasn't in her conscience to actively lie to people, so if she could just find out what it was they were hiding…
Jax hummed in agreement with her, "Yeah, but what can we do about that right now?"
Dylan frowned in thought, "I don't know, but we'll think of something."
She was sure as hell not going to write that propaganda piece if she could avoid it.
"Would an inside source do the trick?" A cheerful voice behind them asked suddenly, "And I mean a deep inside one."
Dylan started at the pink-wearing young human who just seemed to appear there. He looked around Jax's age, and had a definitely non-threatening vibe to him that somehow managed to still set her on edge. Maybe that was because she had been quite certain no one besides Jax and her had been in the alley before, thus why she had chosen this particular spot to dive into her impromptu rant.
But then again…
"Are you the contact I was told to be expecting?" Dylan composed herself and asked, ignoring Jax's confusion as to what she meant. The brunette would tell him about the strange, glittery message that had been left on her bed at the inn later since it had started this city-wide trek.
The dirty blond-haired male grinned and did a quick, extremely flexible, bow, "That's right! And boy do I have a scoop for you if you're interested!"
Dylan shared a look with Jax before turning back to the expectant human, "I am." She quickly told him without preamble.
Dexter Grif was currently as far away from the Orcish town of Iris as he could get without being accused of desertion, closing his eyes and turning his ears off to the rest of the world as best he could in a vain attempt to ignore his immediate situation. …Which was, admittedly, largely a result of his own fuck-ups.
No one had ever told him to just up and leave when it felt like the world was caving in, to run straight to the restrictive freedom his mother and birth father's continued post-humous status as Orc citizens gave him. He had decided that all on his own, because facing the alternative (just straight up telling the puny, stubborn human why the plan had been stupid and why not being near him would suck) was just too much effort.
The potential for backfire was just too much to take. So what did he do instead? Essentially burned the bridge before someone else did it for him, even though doing so was also the worst thing he could have done.
No one could say the orange-wearing Orc was overly bright when it came to emotions, to facing things head-on. He was probably a mockery even amongst the people here due to his survival when others hadn't, his showing up only when he needed to lie low for awhile in the Outer Regions.
About the only time he had ever volunteered for service duty was when he had the chance to meet up with Simmons again back when the redhead had been sequestered as a Magic User in Valhalla. Now the situation was roughly the same, but Grif was doing it for the opposite reason, his not wanting to see the human hurt through his own naïve desire to help others.
It was a bitter sort of irony that Grif didn't want to dwell on any more than necessary.
After all, it was horrible enough that he hadn't said goodbye to Simmons thanks to how upset he had been following the Magic User stupidly volunteering to go back into captivity, but he also hadn't told his little sister where he was going either. Kai was going to be understandably pissed. Even worse, there was no way now for him to get in touch with her or the Guild again about all the disturbing military preparations going on in the Orcish territories for a nation supposedly in the middle of peace talks with their greatest enemy with how closely communications were being monitored.
Grif's running like he had made him about as much of a voluntary prisoner as Simmons now undoubtedly was.
And, because he was still a complete and utter moron, the chubby Orc was afraid to fully tear down his mental barriers to try communicating with Simmons through their Linking Magic bond again. He was afraid of what he might find out upon doing so, worried about the awful things he might learn that Simmons had already experienced.
Plus, how the fuck could he ever truly apologize?
For the millionth time since his feet had dragged him back here, Grif wondered just what in the hell he was really doing and what it was all for now. Was he just vainly hoping that the peace talks could offer him a way back into the Unsc?
"Grif, Grif!"
Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, someone called out his name. Fucking typical.
Loco was practically bouncing on the heels of his feet just a few meters away from Grif's napping spot, smiling brightly. Grif tried to not picture Caboose.
The younger Orc was a member of the "Throw Away" unit that Grif had been assigned to called the Blues and Reds. They were all a bunch of weirdos, even by Orcish standards, which was probably why they were clumped together. All of them had some startingly similar traits to people he knew from the Guild (his own Reds and Blues, if you will), but there were some noticeable differences once he paid close attention.
Naturally, Grif had gone out of his way to avoid them, especially their annoying suck-up, Gene. Even still, he'd occasionally have to interact with Loco's unit. Their leader, Temple, especially had an unnerving way of just staring at him when he thought Grif wasn't looking.
But Loco was harmless and innocent enough, and because he seemed to get along with Grif the best, the others had taken to using him to pass along messages to the heavyset soldier.
Squinting his dark eyes shut for a brief moment, Grif cracked them open once more, "What is it this time?"
Loco clapped his hands together excitedly, "The humans are here!"
Oh, right. Grif vaguely recalled the talk that Charon representatives would be traveling here to inspect some nearby Relic and Remnant sites. He hadn't paid much attention due to the bile forming in the back of his throat at the time. He groaned and got up, "Fucking perfect."
Rather than be a pissy bitch to Loco for just trying to keep him informed, he shuffled along behind the black-haired, blue-swirled Orc to the center of town where the one Teleportation Gate of this area had been set up. Odd how only the Orcs and the Unsc even had those things, now that he thought about it.
There were figures standing before the portal already, two of them the smaller stature one always associated typically with humans. One of the smaller figures, clad in orange and steel, was discussing something with the Orcish commanders.
Grif froze upon seeing the familiar coloring, recognizing that fucking asshole mercenary Felix right away. Which meant that the towering figure dressed head to toe in steel and green had to be his partner, Locus, who was currently looming over…
Grif's heart clenched painfully in his chest.
Simmons was standing there in Iris, looking horribly unsure and utterly alone even amidst the numerous gawking bystanders.
For once, Grif wasn't sure if the orange helm he still had on was a good thing.
"D, are you sure this is the place?" York asked his partner as they came upon an empty clearing amongst the trees.
From his vantage point still on his own steed's saddle, Delta nodded, "The information I gathered was quite clear on the location, York." He informed him, sounding patronizingly patient.
The brown-haired man frowned and scratched his chin, his good eye peering around the spot that was clearly quite vacant save for them and the odd woodland creature, "Right." He began, "But here's the thing: there's no one here."
They had been on the trail of a few Insurrection-now-turned-Charon operatives for a few weeks already, and the search was starting to wear thin on York's nerves since he could be doing something better with his time. Like hanging out with Carolina, who he knew for a fact had been having a hard time of it even if she would never openly admit it since they had lost contact with her cousin and the prince.
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that, my dear York." A heavily-accented, far too familiar voice spoke up from behind some trees.
Three forms emerged on the other side of the clearing just then, and York swore under his breath at the two white-wearing males and the one blue-wearing individual.
"Ah, Gamma." Delta seemed as nonplussed as always as he tilted his head slightly in way of greeting to his "relative," "I take it that you were the source of those information leaks?"
"That is correct, Delta."
York had always found Gamma's deadpan manner of speech grating, even more-so when it revealed that they had just been played. With a slight snarl, he reached for the weapon at his side…
"At ease, York. Let's keep things civil now." Florida's tone was mild as he lifted his hands in the air far from his own assortment of concealed and unconcealed weapons as if to placate York. It didn't. He had seen Florida in action far too many times to ever fully relax his guard around him.
"Right." Wyoming huffed out in agreement, "We just want to talk."
"Something big is looming on the horizon." Florida told York and Delta rather seriously.
York exchanged a look with Delta and dropped his hand with a sigh, though he didn't relax in the slightest. He really hated surprises, and uber-cryptic remarks in general.
She read the reports so many times now that the words were quickly becoming a jumbled mess. Vanessa Kimball sighed as she turned her head away from the papers to stare out the window into the daylight streaming through Armonia's streets.
"There is no mistaking the patterns beneath the surface." Donald Doyle intoned seriously, voicing Kimball's own thoughts on the matter quite succinctly.
He was right, of course. Damn it. The activity and intelligence reports they had both been getting said the exact same things.
Charon was beginning to make their move, whatever their end goal might be. They were trying to keep their activities a secret from the Outer Regions and even the rest of the Unsc, but they hadn't gone completely without notice or response.
Most troubling of all to the ice-tinted, dark-skinned Seas was that it seemed as if the Unsc might be trying to build up an even stronger military force in the Outer Regions as a response to what they suspected was "outlaw" activity against their interests.
Kimball frowned in response to Doyle's comment, "Your continued presence in my office certainly attests to that." She told him, her eyes noting that he had shut her office door for privacy.
Doyle sighed, "I had thought perhaps in some way to reassure you since you have been troubled by the admirals and generals visiting the embassy almost daily now." He stayed a few meters away, as if scared she might take her anxiety out on him.
"By reminding me how bad things have been getting?" She asked in a wry tone.
Doyle's face went completely red, as though the idea hadn't even crossed his mind until she had just said so. It probably hadn't. She rather thought that quality of the human was oddly endearing when she wasn't being infuriated by it.
Right now? Now, she was just more exasperated by too many other things to name.
"I'm actually grateful." She stated quietly in order to reassure Doyle that any frustrations she was feeling at the moment were not directed at him this time, "I'm just wondering what exactly the endgames are for the Unsc and Charon in all of this."
Not to mention that there was always the wild card of the Orcs to the west to contend with. They had been rather quiet since their negotiations with the Unsc had begun, but there was definitely some kind of activity happening within their borders all the same.
There was another world-weary sigh from Doyle as he slumped into his seat across from her own and she thought how odd it was that he visited enough now to have a designated seat in her office, "I don't have the faintest idea." He mumbled.
She nodded grimly, "We are sorely lacking in information."
Donut had planned on alleviating that concern for them, but something had obviously happened upon his and Simmons' return to the lands dominated by the Unsc that prevented him from contacting them.
Neither Doyle nor Kimball had to say out loud how they knew that the lack of serious intel was putting them at a very real, very insurmountable disadvantage.
"You're the prince of the Unsc Empire." Dylan stated, staring at Donut blankly.
The pink-wearing human had taken the Orc and Jax to a small, hole-in-the-wall café that had been adjacent to the alleyway where he had first appeared. Somehow, over three cups of steaming, rose-infused tea, the story was now finally falling into place over just who exactly her mystery contact was.
"Well, I'm not one to brag but…" Donut trailed off as he set his teacup carefully down in the prissy way of royalty, nodding his head once to confirm her statement.
Jax seemed just as taken back by the reveal as she was, "You'd been gone for a while or something, right?"
Yes, that was quite true. The Unsc had tried covering up the fact, but rumors of the prince's disappearance had still spread throughout the various regions regardless. There had even been the very real threat of Unsc forces amassing to try and find him.
"Oh, that was just a vacation that got a little out of hand." Donut said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "But I think I maybe should have been polite and left a note since my parents are overreacting now about me ever even leaving Valhalla again."
So, Dylan surmised, he was essentially being confined to the imperial capital. No wonder Donut had gone through such strange lengths to even have this little chat with them. …Though that still didn't explain the glitter.
"Trouble is brewing and, unlike this fabulous tea, I'd hate to leave it stooping for long. Especially when my friends are jammed in tight to this mess." The dirty blond stated without preamble, a serious glint in his brown eyes despite his odd word choice, "I have to plow them through from behind!"
"So you want us to pass along information for you?" Dylan asked while Jax promptly choked on a sip of tea. She was a professional, after all.
"You reporters do have access to places I can't get to anymore. With your well-oiled desire to delve into what's really going on, I think we could have a great working relationship." Donut agreed, nodding his head in confirmation.
Dylan smirked, "I can't really argue with you there." Not only was she intrigued, but having a source within the royal family itself? That was any reporter's dream!
"What kind of story are we talking about here?" she asked at length.
Jax looked between the two of them, "Whoa, Dylan," he began, sounding oddly cautious for a person who once got shot with an arrow in order to get a good story, "Are you sure about this?"
She nodded, "I am." And before he could even ask about his uncle, Dylan added, "We can always send in false propaganda pieces to cover up our tracks."
It was what was essentially expected of them to begin with. But, as she saw Donut beaming appreciatively over at her, she just knew there was a bigger story looming on the horizon. Dylan Andrews was going to tell people about it.
Besides, thanks to her and Jax's own unique magic abilities, they could easily do so without leaving much of a trail. She could hardly wait to get started.
The vision that accompanied healing the Remnant this time was much more vivid, much more intense than any he had while "practicing" his ability within the confines of the Magic Division's secret lab.
Perhaps it was because the misshapen blue object was still located where it had been created, the memories it held of its birth more "pure" as a result. Whatever the reason, he was met once again with the appalling images of Elves turning into Plague Beasts, of them dismembering those who hadn't.
Only this time, this time he saw Orcs standing guard on their fortresses, watching the carnage taking place impassively.
As the glowing light that was housed within the object became bright and vibrantly pulsated once more, Richard "Dick" Simmons dropped to the floor of the ruins on knees that were too weak to hold up his pitiful weight once more. He gasped for breath, sweat trickling down his face as he did so.
Felix stepped over him as if he wasn't even there to retrieve the now restored item in the center of the space, smirking expectantly towards the Orcish general who had been tasked to oversee the event, "Well, what did you think?"
The man appeared to be in awe as he stared at the Remnant in the mercenary's hand, "Incredible." He finally breathed out, "And to think we had written off so much of this cache as worthless!"
"Isn't it though?" Felix hummed happily as he put the object into his satchel, "And here's another one to add to the collection."
Simmons was glad that the hulking Locus nearby wasn't also a gloater. Felix was often more than he could take.
The sounds of distant fighting and commotion entered the hall as the doors flew open, a cobalt blue-armored Orc entering hurriedly as Simmons tried not to think of his cousin Church. There was one last monstrous roar from outside before the familiar stillness of victory took hold.
"Sir," the Orc who had just entered lowered his sword to salute the Orc general as more figures covered in shadow filed behind him into the room, "The last of the Plague Beasts in this area have been dealt with. With only minimal injuries."
The general smirked rather cruelly as he cast a dismissive glance the reporting Orc's way, "As if it would matter if there were any serious injuries amongst you Throw Aways, Temple."
The man stiffened, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side, but neither her nor the rest of his group spoke a word in protest.
The general then turned back to Felix, "We should move on."
Felix nodded and turned to join Locus and the general in leaving, though he paused briefly to cast a cold glance down at Simmons' still hunched over, exhausted form, "I'd move your scrawny ass if you know what's good for you." He advised him mirthlessly before heading to the exit.
Simmons struggled to get back onto his feet, his head still reeling and his body far too weak due to exertion. He wasn't the least bit surprised when he stumbled and pitched forward again.
The face-first fall to the stone below never happened like he expected it too, however, and he was startled to find a hand gripping his arm and helping to keep him somewhat steady.
An arm covered in orange armor, to be exact.
Simmons' green eyes widened when he caught sight of far too familiar brown eyes within the confines of a masking helm, his heart nearly wanting to scream for joy and break all at once as a far too familiar tingle raced up his arm—magic giving him just a bit more strength.
He'd recognize this presence anywhere, and he wanted to shout at the top of his lungs questions about what the fuck Dexter Grif thought he was doing.
Simmons' stupid throat closed up though, and all he could manage to squeak out was a truly pathetic, "Th—thanks." as his mind screamed at him and he tried not to fucking cry.
Grif said nothing, and Simmons couldn't stand it. The massive hall was suddenly suffocating and small. He tried opening his mouth again, and the Orc's grip tightened around his arm marginally.
"Making me wait is not a smart move, you know." Felix called out testily from the exit.
And Simmons knew that he couldn't, shouldn't say anything or let on that he knew one of the Orcish soldiers in their midst if he wanted Grif to stay alive, even as his entire body ached at the solidifying realization of Grif being there. Close by.
Instead, he reluctantly pulled his arm out of Grif's suddenly limp grip, nodding his head sheepishly in thanks again before he made his way past the other Throw Aways and over to where his current captor waited.
All the while, he felt Grif's eyes never once leave his back.
Author's Notes: I apologize for how long this chapter has been in coming. To make up for the wait, I shall be posting a few more chapters for this story before jumping to another WIP! :D
Reunion time, though Grif and Simmons might have to wait just a bit more to have a "proper" chat with one another. But oh, it's coming soon! :D
And I introduced a few more important characters for Volume II as well in regards to Dylan, Jax, Loco, and Temple. Here's to hoping I can do them all justice in this story too!
Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope the next few updates will not be disappointing! :)