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 Six:
An uneasy silence followed the Throwaways' proposal, Temple eagerly awaiting both Grif and Richard "Dick" Simmons' reactions. The two looked over at one another, unsure of how to respond to what they'd been told. "Let me get this straight," Grif finally got out warily, "You actually know what Hargrove is planning?"
"But of course!" Temple readily assured the heavyset Orc soldier, "Everyone's always underestimating us Throwaways, but we're a fairly reliable bunch. We're always around, always observing." There was a triumphant glimmer in his dark eyes as he added, "It was only natural that we'd figure shit out."
"Not to mention that that Felix guy loves to hear himself talk." Buckey remarked rather testily.
"Yes, that certainly helped." Temple agreed, giving his teammate a rather cross look for interrupting the conversation's flow.
"Somewhere in the world there's a temple with the power to utterly annihilate whatever areas or people you want?" Simmons got out weakly, the prospect making him feel utterly sick. It certainly sounded fucked up enough to be part of his father's schemes.
"Yes, our ancestors called it the Temple of the Purge. It was what was used to kill off or corrupt all full-blooded Elves." Temple informed them in a manner that seemed oddly cheerful for the words that were coming out of his mouth, "The Orcs witnessed the Unsc predecessors using it. Those human ancestors had a bit of an isolationist streak in them."
"Huh. Might be nice to have them all quarantined off in their own spaces, now that I think about it." Surge muttered rather darkly under his breath, "Humans, and all the other species too. Who the fuck needs 'em? The Orcs sure don't."
"Let's not get into politics again." Gene said, sighing at the very notion.
"Yeah, especially since every culture does bring something valuable to the table." Cronut chimed in.
"And they all have hot chicks to boot!" Buckey was quick to add.
"Non posso credere che sia stata la tua unica cosa da asporto." {"I can't believe that was your only takeaway from that."} Lorenzo shook his head with a tired sigh.
"Still, there's something to be said about having distinct borders at least, with more control over the regions than seems possible at the moment." Temple stated to himself rather contemplatively.
"Is that what you think Hargrove is after?" Simmons questioned. Knowing his father, he wouldn't put it past him. Isolationist supremacy was sort of his mantra after all.
"Oh, please. Hargrove just wants power. Same as the higher-ups here, always clamoring around for the good old days." Temple said, his tone taking on a rather dangerous edge.
The other Throwaways looked at one another nervously before Gene stepped in to get the ball rolling once more, "They're hoping to use the Temple of the Purge to stage a coup against the Unsc government. After they take over there, it's just a matter of time before the Outer Regions kowtow too." He explained to Grif and Simmons.
"So what you want to do is…?" Grif prompted when silence fell over the group again.
"Why, stop them of course." Temple noted, "The Unsc isn't as big of a threat as they used to be, and the last thing anyone needs is a potential war." He smiled thinly, "We're the good guys here."
"Right." Grif and Simmons glanced at one another again before the orange-wearing Orc asked, "And why do you need our help exactly?"
"Because you're one of us, Grif!" Temple explained as if that should have been readily obvious, "And Simmons here is vitally important to getting the Temple of the Purge up and running."
"I am?" Simmons was shocked by this revelation. It was certainly news to him. The redhead wasn't usually important to anything.
"Of course. Your ability to heal Remnants, to literally grow them inside you?" Temple exclaimed, "What do you think powers something like the temple?"
"Remnants." Simmons whispered, horrified at the idea of just what his father might be planning.
"And a whole lot of them." Temple stated, nodding his head, "It's why they've been collecting and stockpiling the things for who knows how long."
"But what can we even do to stop it?" Simmons asked, on the verge of a panic attack as Grif gently clasped his shoulder reassuringly, trying to convey a sense of calm through their bond. It helped, but only just a little.
"Take it easy. We're going to figure something out." Temple assured the human, "If we can find and get to the temple, then maybe your magic ability can help us shut it down for good."
"It runs on something called a Remnant Generator, according to ancient sources." Gene was quick to add in.
"It seems like you guys have done your research." Was all Grif had to say on the subject just then, his expression unreadable.
"Well, yeah. It's all we've been thinking about since B—"
"That doesn't really matter at the moment." Temple cut Gene off with a rather pointed look, "What we need to know now is if we can count on your support when we're ready to move."
Again, the two glanced at one another, "C—can we think about it?" Simmons asked tentatively a second later.
Temple nodded his head in understanding, "Of course. Just try not to take too long." He raised an eyebrow, "Who knows how much time we have before things get set too far in motion?"
On that rather ominous note, Grif and Simmons quickly took their leave from the assemblage.
Dylan tapped her fingers against the sides of her arms as she waited at the airship field, questioning her most recent decision. She had left Jax to watch out for Donut, which meant that her current company was …
"Do you mind?" Sharkface asked her brusquely, looking up in annoyance from his crossword puzzle of all things, "I'm trying to concentrate here and that damn noise isn't helping."
"Shouldn't you be preparing for what you're going to say when they show up?" Dylan asked instead.
"Didn't you already give them the run-down with your magic ability?" He raised his eyebrow at her, clearly not seeing the big picture.
"I did, but I can only imagine it will still be awkward at best." She surmised plainly.
"You think?" The man smirked, "There's no way around that, so why bother trying to avoid it?"
He had her there, Dylan supposed as she frowned even more but nodded her head slightly all the same. She glanced over at his puzzle, "Six down is "relic."" She muttered.
"Hey, I don't recall asking you for help!" Sharkface looked down at the questions that he still needed to answer and frowned, "What about eight across?"
Dylan almost smiled then, but stopped herself at the sound of footsteps fast approaching. She stiffened instinctively and turned around to face whoever was headed their way, only to freeze at finally glimpsing Donald Doyle and some of the colorful Guild members face-to-face, "Ah, Ms. Andrews, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person!" The general in gold and white exclaimed.
Sharkface straightened his posture behind her, and she saw only a brief flash of hesitation in Doyle's expression before he smiled rather jovially at him, "I've heard much about our new friend here as well."
"Like how his name is stupid for someone who isn't even part Seas?" A platinum blonde with orchid-tipped hair mocked from nearby, Dylan recognizing her after a few moments as South Dakota.
Sharkface growled in warning, but the petite brunette known as C.T. stepped in-between the two. She held up a hand to South in a halting measure, who surprisingly listened to the unspoken gesture with a merely agitated shake of her head, "Terrence." C.T. stated in way of greeting to her former teammate, "It's good to see you again."
"I'll have to wait to see if I can say the same." Sharkface told her succinctly, though if she hadn't expected that answer she didn't let it show on her face.
Doyle looked around at the assembled group and did his best to smile, "Yes, well, I know that was a rather long voyage but let's get a move on, all right? Just a few more things to do before we can properly rest." His smile brightened as he added, "I'm sure we'll all get along splendidly!"
"This is awful." Doctor Grey muttered as the group stood in the middle of a burnt out and abandoned village, shallow graves dug in a hurry off to the side.
"Oh yes, I guess we did forget to mention this, huh?" Florida muttered as he and Wyoming watched the others take in the shocking damage rather dispassionately.
"What is this, exactly?" Leonard Church demanded of them, feeling as though he were about to be sick at any moment.
Tex had moved off to the side, running her hand along the charred remains of a building. She frowned as she assessed the damage, "This can't be more than a couple weeks old."
"You're right. The dirt on the graves is still pretty fresh." Sarge glumly surmised as he put a comforting hand on Doctor Grey's shoulder.
The dark-skinned female smiled over at the older man, "Thank you, but I'm quite all right. It's not like I haven't seen destroyed villages before!" That was true for all of them. It was an all too common occurrence unfortunately, what with Plague Beasts running amok.
"This wasn't a random monster attack though." Church muttered, his gaze darkening as he took the wreckage in, "The attack areas seem far too organized."
"Your observation skills are as sharp as ever, Church." Florida stated approvingly.
"This was an attack by people then." Tex flexed her muscles and took the scene in warily as if expecting an ambush now, "Raiders?"
"Most likely." Wyoming informed them, "We were sent here to investigate the assaults."
"That was your agreement to help us through Orcish territory." Tex surmised, looking at her former teammates for unneeded confirmation.
Lopez and Caboose were standing by the graves, Caboose uncharacteristically silent. Church sent a worried look the dwarf's way before focusing back on the conversation. Florida tilted his head in Tex's direction, "What's to say the two aren't related?"
"You mean the Orcs think it could be an inside job?" Sarge asked, frowning at the thought.
"Who else would want to venture this far into their territory?" Wyoming reasoned.
"But why?" Doctor Grey tilted her head to the side thoughtfully, "What do they have to gain by attacking their own people?"
"That's what we're all here to figure out." Florida turned his keen gaze onto an empty alleyway between the charred husks of two houses, "Isn't that right, friend?" The air shimmered briefly and suddenly Locus was standing there, his arms crossed.
"Holy moly!" Sarge turned his shotgun on him, "We could be surrounded!"
"You aren't," Locus growled out, "And I didn't come here to fight."
"True enough. He could have picked us off one by one the second we arrived here." Florida stated with an air of cheerful certainty.
"Quit being so unsettling." The mercenary complained, as if the very idea of attacking them never crossed his mind.
"I take it your partner isn't in the area?" Wyoming asked, referring to Felix.
"He does not think this matter is of much importance." Locus muttered, "The Orcs disagree."
"And you haven't attacked us yet because we're on the same mission." Florida concluded.
"For the moment." Locus turned to walk away, "I've no orders to neutralize any potential threats today. Consider yourselves fortunate."
"His bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired." Grey remarked as Locus once again vanished.
"Eso es rico, viniendo de ti de todas las personas." {"That's rich, coming from you of all people."} Lopez muttered as he stepped over to her and Sarge, "Tu actitud al lado de la cama me asusta." {"Your bedside manner frightens me."}
"We should hurry up and skedaddle though." Sarge stated glumly, "If he's around, then his no-good partner's probably here too no matter what he says."
"Let's just see how connected all of this really is." Tex agreed, cracking her knuckles for emphasis.
"Everything has to get so fucking complicated." Church sighed, noting that Wyoming picked up a torn piece of cobalt fabric from the ground just then, pocketing his find with a shared look at Florida. They had only been here a few days, and already things royally sucked.
The door to Simmons' room closed swiftly behind them, Simmons turning towards Dexter Grif as soon as it did so, "Well, what do you think?" He asked the Orc hurriedly, "You've been with these guys for a while now, right?"
"Yeah, and about the only one I've ever gotten a relatively decent read on was Loco." Grif informed him with a shrug, "He's pretty all right, by the way. He and Caboose would make great friends."
"But if they're right about what Fath—Hargrove is doing…" Simmons trailed off, swallowing nervously as he sat down on the edge of his bed.
"Your father is definitely a dick." Grif told the Magic User, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brows, "Does it really shock you that he might be doing something like this?"
Simmons shook his head and smiled sadly, "Not at all." He admitted quietly, balling his hands up into fists in his lap, "I just don't know what to do about it."
"Whatever we do is going to fucking suck." Grif declared with utter certainty as he joined Simmons on the bed.
"We?" Simmons asked incredulously, raising a red eyebrow.
"Yeah," Grif scoffed, "Like I'm ever going to leave your nerdy self alone again."
"Grif." Simmons uttered quietly as he hesitatingly reached out and grasped the Orc's hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Grif readily returned the gesture, "Made up your mind yet, kiss-ass?" He asked Simmons, though he already knew the maroon-wearing man's answer.
Simmons took in a deep breath and let it out, a determined look crossing over his freckled features, "We can't let Hargrove or anyone else activate the Temple of the Purge. We're stuck here for the time being."
"Yeah. Pretty sucky trip, all things considered." Grif tried joking, "And I've traveled numerous times with Tucker."
"I don't know exactly what Temple and the others want, but if they are on the level about wanting to stop things from getting worse they might just be the closest things we have to allies here." Simmons declared with more confidence than he actually felt at that conclusion.
"We join forces with them then. At least until we have more information." Grif surmised.
Simmons nodded, "I think that's our best bet."
"What about Locus?" Grif asked, "Think we can try talking to him about all of this?"
"He did help me out in talking with you," Simmons bit his lip, "But I honestly don't know. He seems reluctant to fully turn on Felix, and Felix is definitely someone I could see relishing the Temple of Purge idea." Simmons rubbed at the bomb amulet still hanging heavily around his neck, frowning in thought.
"So we throw our hats in with these guys, at least until we can think of something better to do." Grif reasoned.
Simmons nodded, mumbling, "Sorry. I can't think of anything else."
Grif grinned and squeezed his hand again, "Hey, no worries, we'll figure this out." The heavyset man assured him, "We'll just keep things like the Linking Magic and stuff on the down-low, just in case."
Simmons couldn't help but smile and nod his head in agreement, inwardly glad that they were back together again.
"Should we go and tell them then?" Grif asked as he reluctantly stood up, "Get this uneasy alliance started with?"
Simmons clenched his hands at his sides determinedly, nodding once more.
Author's Notes: I apologize for how long it took me to get back to this story. I have too many WIPs, I know, though I do plan on finishing them all and Remnants is certainly no exception! :D
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this update! :)