Under the Maroon

Disclaimer: I don't own Red vs Blue.

(**)

Simmons stepped out of the pelican and looked around at the canyon.

Flashback

"What is it called?" Simmons asked.

"Bloodgulch," Duke answered. "According to our sources, the Freelancer program is breaking apart. They sent something very important to the program there, along with a Freelancer to protect it."

"What else do we know?"

"That's pretty much it. We don't know what it is or who the Freelancer is."

"So, I'm supposed to figure it our myself and then retrieve it?"

"No."

"What?"

"Your objective is to gather information. Everything you can find on Project Freelancer. Phase 2 of your mission begins when you receive Code Yellow."

Flashback end

"I can see why they would send something important here. Nobody would ever suspect it." His new armor felt a bit weird, but he liked the color. He walked toward Red base, where he saw an orange soldier. "Excuse me."

"Oh shit. Sarge, I was just about to do it, but...Oh, you're not Sarge. Who are you?"

"Uh, I'm Private Dick Simmons. I'm looking for Staff Sergeant "Sarge". Is that his real name?"

"Apparently."

"Right. Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you guys report in?"

"He does."

"Uhuh."

"Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to go hide in a cave so I can take a nap."

"Right." The orange soldier walked off. Simmons stood in silence for a moment. "Wow. The Commander wasn't kidding when he said the simulation soldiers were composed of the worst soldiers of the UNSC."

Then a soldier in red armor ran up. "Grif! Damn it, Grif! Front and center, dirtbag!" He then saw Simmons and walked up to him. "Who are you?"

"Private Dick Simmons. Are you the Sergeant?"

"Yep, that's me. Sarge, war veteran and Grif-hater extraordinaire."

"What's a Grif?"

"A lazy, incompetent, orange dirtbag."

"I suppose you mean the orange soldier I just saw."

"That would be him. Have you seen him?"

"Yeah, he just went into that cave," he said, pointing in the direction Grif had walked off to.

"Excellent. Listen, Simmons. I'm gonna have to punish him, so I want you to go spy on the Blues."

"Understood, sir," Simmons said, walking off.

(**)

"So, do you have girlfriend?"

"Nah. Women have always been pretty hard on me."

"Bow chicka bow wow."

"Stop doing that!"

Simmons watched the blue and cyan soldier bicker through the scope on his battle rifle. "Oh my god. I can feel myself getting stupider just by listening to those two."

A teal soldier walked up to the two. "Now, now, stop fighting. Nothing has ever been accomplished by that."

"Are you kidding me?" Simmons asked himself. "A pacifist soldier? No wonder they sent him here. Or perhaps he's just trying to isolate himself from the other team because he has something to hide." He was going to keep an eye on the teal soldier and see what he could find out. One day, he would be called back to serve the Insurrection. Until then, he'd just have to lay low.

(**)

It was a quiet day in the new canyon. Sarge was chasing Grif around, apparently trying to kill him through exhaustion. Doc and Donut were exchanging recipes and Lopez was repairing the recently destroyed warthog. Caboose had recently returned from some journey and was now building something. Tucker spent most of his time behind some rock and Washington was just patrolling the Blue base.

Simmons was currently working on his computer when his radio switched on. "Calling Dick Simmons. Calling Dick Simmons. Come in, Dick Simmons."

"This is Dick Simmons. I read you loud and clear."

"Code Yellow."

There was a moment of silence. "Understood." He switched the radio off. "So, the time has come." He exited the base and walked up to Lopez, who was currently working on the warthog. "Hey, Lopez. Are the mongooses fixed?"

"Sí, pero yo no quiero que los utilizan. Usted acaba de romper." (Yes, but I don't want you to use them. You'll just break them.)

"No, I won't," Simmons said, jumping onto a mongoose and driving off.

Lopez was dumbfounded by how Simmons apparently understood him.

"Lopez!" Sarge shouted, walking up to him. "Where is Simmons going?"

"No sé."

"Well then. Guess we'll just have to follow him. Grif! Get over here!"

"What is it?"

"Get in the warthog! We're driving! Lopez, you get on the gun!"

"Okay," Lopez said, climbing onto the back of the jeep. Grif got in the driver's seat and Sarge rode shotgun.

They then turned on the radio and drove off.