Halo is owned by Bungie

Halo is owned by Bungie. Rooster Teeth owns RvB. I own this story. Those are three distinctly different areas.

Chapter 4: Squad 18, or "Hey! We really are the same team!"

"… So I said, 'there is no way you're putting me on that damned frigate'. And the commander says, 'yes there is'. Next thing you know, I've been injected three times the normal amount of Novocain, Ican't move or feel my limbs, and I'm being dumped into the back of a Pelican. And all over a beer." Spade said, ending his statement with a guffaw. Sarge sat across the passenger's compartment from him, also laughing. "You know Al, that reminds me of the time I refused my transfer orders to Headlong so I could stay on guard duty at Beaver Creek. Next thing I knew three ODSTs were dragging my ass into a Warthog, and off I went to Blood Gulch with Simmons and that loser!" When he said "that loser", he pointed at Grif. The cabin exploded in laughter once again. Except for Grif, of course.

Church was the first to ask the question. "So what you've said is Red and Blue really are the same?"

Spade was happy to respond.

"Yeah, you're all the exact same team. With the exception of Tex, who was a SPARTAN-2.5, and Dr. Dufresne, who was technically classified as non-combat personnel." Spade took out a long, tube-like device and split it open right down the center. It revealed a holographic data spread. Across the top of the spread was "CLASSIFIED: UNSC PERSONNEL RECORDS; SQUAD 18". The list read:

Squad 18 of the United Nations Space Command Marine Corps was a special project designed to provide an affordable alternative to the SPARTAN-II project. The two teams were split systematically according to team skills and "assigned" to a lonely little corner of the universe to be studied.

Personnel Records are:

Leslie "Sarge" Aarons, Sergeant Major

Richard "Dick" Simmons, Private First Class

Dexter Grif, Private

Franklin Delano Donut, Private

Lavernius Tucker, Private First Class

Leonard Lewis Church, Private

Michael James Caboose, Private

Kaikaina "Sister" Grif, Unranked

Alvin "Doc" Dufrane, Non-combat Personnel

Over the course of five years, the subjects were observed in their day-to-day activities, and eventually determined as "unfit for combat" due to friendly fire casualties and extreme hostilities and prejudice between the two "cliques" formed. The two teams were deemed combat unfit upon the death of ONI Observer Captain Butch Flowers, the severe wounding of Private Simmons, the near-death experience of Sergeant Aarons, and the friendly-fire death of Private Church. Additionally, the recruitment of Freelancer Allison "Tex" Roberts proved that the team is prone to flaws in judgment and frequent cases of insubordination.

"Wait, Sarge, your first name is Leslie?" Grif said from his seat near the pilot's compartment of the Pelican.

"Yeah, little known secret, that." Spade shouted back from the pilot's compartment. Sarge (or is it Leslie now?) sat fuming in the rear of the compartment while raucous laughter rang out in the compartment. Once again, Church began questioning Spade.

"So what was Vic doing the whole time?"

"Lieutenant Corporal Victor Stevenson was in league with Captain Flowers' observations. It was his job to report developments to the people in command of the project. Squad 18 was locked down in the canyon to prevent escape. Somehow, you managed to uplink to the outside world though. Gods be praised you didn't actually go anywhere, or who knows what could have happened." Spade quickly fixed his blunder. "No offense, of course."

Tucker then decided to speak. "So… What is all of this about?"

Spade sighed. I'm glad I don't have to explain all of this to them.

After about an hour of Caboose going "are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" Spade and Red and Blue teams arrived back at Avalanche. Church was very vocal about this.

"God fucking damnit! I was never told I was going back to this goddamn hellhole! Someone let me off this damn ship and send me back to Blood Gulch! I don't want to come back here! Damnit!"

"Whoa, take it easy Leo." Tex put a hand on Church's shoulder and (almost magically) he calmed down. He was almost docile.

"Wow Tex, you really have the magic touch." Simmons said as he watched Tex calm Church down.

"Well not really, Dick. As it turns out Church has a medication injector in his shoulder blade which shoots him full of antidepressants whenever someone touches it. It made my job easier." Tex said bluntly. Tucker suppressed a laugh. Spade was quick to issue his next few orders.

"Alright everyone, off the shuttle! We have a job to do, and let's get it done fast!" The multitude of rainbow-colored soldiers filed off the Pelican and into the warm base. A myriad of hallways brought them to the briefing room, where the same Commander who had briefed Spade at the beginning of the story stood in front of a projector.

"Welcome back, Spade. And let me be the first to say congratulations on your acquisitions." The commander gestured at the multicolor soldiers behind him. Spade appeared flattered. "Thanks, sir." The commander didn't return the thank you, instead he plowed face-first into the briefing.

"Now, as you all know, Freelancer Alison here had an AI implanted into her mind while she was part of the 2.5 program, which you learned she was part of on the ride here. That AI also got loose somewhere in the galaxy, and I've tasked you with finding it. As you already know, Omega is capable of implanting himself into any human being via radio, so he could be in anyone, at any time. Tex, your almost intimate relationship with Omega is vital in his tracking.

"Intel reported that Omega was last spotted on Earth, somewhere near the city of Voi. Satellite intel reports that he has set up an antenna and a computer from which he is broadcasting fragments of his coding into computers within the immediate area. It is quite possible that he is planning to use the antenna to spread his influence across the continent, and then the world.

"Your job is to go into the jungle, find the antenna, blow it, neutralize the Omega AI, and return here. Any questions?" The commander spotted one of the hands in the group shoot up.

"Yes, Private Grif?"

"Yeah, uh… About this mission. Do I really have to, you know, deploy with these guys?"

"There is no-one else on base with significant AI experience aside from Spade, and you guys. Sorry private, but you really have to go."

"… Damnit. Do I ever get a vacation from this soldiering job?" Grif whined.

"Dude, your entire career has been a vacation. All we ever did in Blood Gulch was sit on top of our outpost and talk about why we were assigned there. If it weren't for Tex showing up, we'd still be sitting there, and we'd still be talking." Simmons said.

"Yeah, but we were still working there."

"Grif! Belay that!" Sarge yelled from his position.

"Yeah, like I'm taking orders from a guy named Leslie anymore!" Grif retorted.

"My parents gave me that name to tough me up!" Sarge returned.

"Yeah, right. Who gives their kid the name Leslie with any intents other than to embarrass him? Besides, we never really thought Sarge was your real name in the first place!"

Sarge stood up from his chair and promptly grappled Grif, slammed him into a wall and went back to his seat. Grif fell to the ground.

"Err… Can we get a medic in here?" Spade inquired.