I'm finally back! Sorry, but I had old friends to visit halfway up the freaking continent and a mini family reunion to attend. The only thing I really got out of the whole ordeal was that I learned that I love lobster. I also got struck by tons of inspiration, but sadly for another fanfic. Maybe I'll write it in the future, but I need to finish this one first, and that'll take a while.
Anyway, some of you are probably wondering about the chapter title, specifically who the Omegas are. Team Omega is the group of soldiers that star in the machinima called, creatively enough, "Omega Team." I think it's pretty good, and it is, according to machinima(dot)com, the second most popular Halo-based comedy next to Red vs. Blue.
The thing is, it was officially announced after its first season that there would be no more episodes of Omega Team. As some of you did with the finale of Red vs. Blue, I found the ending of Omega Team a little disappointing. So, I'm going to try to do my best at giving both of them a more satisfactory conclusion. Yes, this is one of this story's crossovers, but it certainly isn't the main one, so don't worry.
I'd really appreciate it if some of you watched Omega Team all the way through (only 21 episodes) so I could have a few advisors for OOCness, and so you could know what was going on. Or you could just keep reading and ask me later. Or you could just try to piece it together yourselves; it doesn't really matter to me.
Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue, Omega Team, and all affiliated characters, organizations, and locations belong to Rooster Teeth Productions and Random Outburst Productions, respectively.
On the remote ice moon of Centauri VIII, far away from the destructive wars taking place at the center of the galaxy, stood one incredibly bored soldier. He was sitting on the railing of the wall that surrounded the base he and his five-man squad inhabited, smoking inside his helmet like he usually did. His feet were dangling over the side of the base, about a dozen meters above the colorless snow that carpeted the ground.
The man was clad in dark blue armor with black trim showing in several spots. On either of his upper arms and between his shoulder blades was a white bull's-eye symbol, signifying his role as a sharpshooter. He had his trademark sniper rifle strung diagonally across his back via the magnets that his suit was outfitted with.
"Private Romano, what the hell are you doing?" a voice barked behind him.
The man in blue turned to look over his shoulder to find another man carrying a battle rifle coming up the ramp toward him. This soldier had armor similar to the first, but he had bright green instead of blue. And where Romano had a bull's-eye, this person had a white shield sporting a blue bird with outstretched wings.
"Just having a smoke, Sergeant Cleveland," Romano replied lazily, pivoting his body so he was facing his superior completely.
"Well I sure hope you're enjoying your downtime, jackass, because you're supposed to be down there helping unload contraband!" Cleveland said irritably, motioning toward the level below.
Burying his face in one hand and shaking his head, Romano groaned, "Do I have to, sir? I mean, it looks like José and Ace have got it covered."
"In case you haven't noticed, Romano, we're on our own now," the other man reminded. "So if we're going to get through this without getting our asses killed, we're all going have to work together!"
"Alright, sir, be right there," the soldier in blue sighed as he stood up. He swiftly popped open his visor, snatched the cigarette in his mouth, and tossed off the side of the wall.
He strolled down the ramp, and saw a bit of activity going on. Two soldiers were relieving a parked Pelican drop ship of its cargo, one man in red and the other in a dark purple. They also had symbols on their shoulders and backs; the red one had a write disc with a black poker spade on it, while the man in purple had an orange-and-yellow vortex. The man from earlier, Sergeant Cleveland, was keeping his battle rifle trained on two tied-up men in tan armor. The last person that was present was a man in orange sitting in the snow with his back against a large green crate off to the side, gazing at a laptop. This individual's insignia was a circular 'radioactive' symbol with white where the yellow would normally be and light green where the black would.
"Oh, hey Lucky," the man in purple said in greeting.
"What are you talking about, José?" the individual in crimson asked, with his back to Patrick "Lucky" Romano. When he turned around, he exclaimed, "There you are! It's about fucking time!"
"Whatever, Ace," Lucky said. "Now let's just get this over with."
After several minutes of grunt work, Ace complained, "Sir, why isn't Deano unloading?"
"Yeah, wouldn't this go a helluva lot faster if he helped?" Lucky added.
"Because, Corporal Stallion, Private Roberts over there is tracking Lord Pernicious' movements through Superspace," Cleveland explained. "Aren't you, Roberts?" The man in orange didn't reply. "Roberts?" Still no reply. "Dean Jackass Roberts, do you copy?"
"Oh, yeah sir, I'm on it," Dean replied lazily.
"You okay, Dean?" José asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Everyone let the subject drop. Well, verbally. Ace, however, was curious. When he was carrying another box out of the ship, he just happened to pass by the crate that Dean was leaning against, and his eyes accidently wandered to the screen of his laptop. He couldn't decide whether to laugh in amazement or to gag in revulsion at what he saw. So he did neither.
Instead, he put the box down in the pile near the door to the basement, and when Romano passed by with his load, he whispered, "Dude, check out what's on Dean's laptop."
Ace didn't need X-ray vision to tell that Romano was perplexed. Curious, Lucky did exactly what Ace did, but he unintentionally stopped and stared at the screen several seconds before walking again. Surprisingly, Dean didn't even notice this, or if he did, he was very good at hiding it.
Lucky met Ace back in the basement and said, "Did I just see…?"
Ace simply nodded his head.
"And does that mean he's a-?"
"Most likely."
Romano paused for a moment before saying slyly, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"That we swipe his computer and totally embarrass him?"
"Oh yeah."
With the agreement made, the two exited the basement and crept up behind Dean. When José looked like he was about to ask what the hell they were doing, Lucky held a finger up to the chin of his helmet as if to say 'shhh' and motioned for him to come over. José did so, though he wasn't quite sure what was going on.
They all leaned over the crate that their target had his back against, and Ace held up three fingers and started counting down. Three… two… one…
Romano snatched the laptop, earning a "Hey!" from Dean. Said soldier in orange started to get up to pursue, but was tackled by Ace. "Get off me, you Ace-hole!"
José was just standing behind the crate, confused. "Um… what am I supposed to be doing?"
"You could help me out here!" Ace growled as he struggled to keep Dean pinned to the ground. José did as instructed, still having no idea what was going on.
"Hey, Your Royal Anus," Dean started slyly. "You do realize how gay this looks, don't you?" Realizing what Dean meant, José got off him in disgust, and Ace momentarily loosened his hold in shock, which was all Dean needed to wriggle free.
Too late. Romano had already reached Sergeant Cleveland, who barked, "Private Romano, Private García, Corporal Stallion, what is the meaning of this?"
"Take a look at what Dean was doing, against your orders, I might add," Lucky said smugly as Dean, José, and Ace arrived on the scene.
"You're all a bunch of pussies, you know that?" Dean huffed.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Ace stated nonchalantly.
Cleveland inspected the image in front of him before adressing his orange-clad subordinate. "Private Roberts, care to explain what this… obscenity is?"
"What obscenity? Lemme see!" Private García requested. He stared several seconds before saying, "Oohhh, busted."
"Oh, shut up, José," Dean spat.
"I don't have all day, Roberts," Cleveland reminded.
Dean sighed in defeat. "It's a website called yiffstar, sir. It's a porn site."
"Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Sherlock," Romano remarked, before adding, "Oh, God, I think I'm gonna hurl."
"What the hell are these things, anyway?" Ace asked.
"I know these guys," José stated simply. "That one's Renamon, a de facto sex icon from the multi-million dollar franchise, Digimon. And that one's Mew, a Legendary from another uber-successful franchise, Pokémon. And there's Mewtwo, Mew's male clone from the very first Pokémon movie that was released in 1999. Oh, they even threw Lucario in there. He was the main character in the eighth Pokémon movie, I believe."
By then, everyone was staring dumbfounded at their comrade in purple.
"You know, the one they released in 2006?" Still, nobody said anything. "…What? Do I have something on my visor?"
Ace was the first one to find his voice. "José, do I even want to know why you know that?"
"Hey, I know all the classics."
"Classics?" Lucky repeated speculatively. "Those were just some retarded Japanese cartoons from like, a thousand years ago!"
"Anime, dude, not Japanese cartoon. If you're going to insult the most successful franchises in human history, at least use the right terminology," José admonished.
"Private García's taste in shows and Private Roberts' taste in porn aside, what the hell where you thinking disobeying my orders, Private?" Cleveland didn't give Dean a chance to answer. "You weren't thinking, that's what! Now haul ass back over there and hack into the Federation surveilance network like you were supposed to do an hour ago!"
"Yes sir, right on it sir," Dean said grudgingly, taking back his laptop and going back to lean against the same crate he had before.
"What? You can't do that!" one of the bound men in tan protested. "That violates Article Five, Section A-"
"-Sub-section Seven of Federation Military law, which states that any attempt to hack into the even the smallest and most insignificant of files will result in court-martial and possible dishonorable discharge," Cleveland finished for him. "The thing is, we're no longer Federation lackeys like you are, so we don't have to abide by their rules. We're our own army now."
The other man in tan scoffed. "An army of five? How do you expect to go up against thousands of Federation soldiers with only five men?"
"We don't intend to," Ace said. "We're going after Lord Pernicious, or as the Federation might call him, Dudley."
Though they couldn't see past their visors, they could tell that the two Federation pilots' eyes widened. "Dudley? THE Dudley? Founder and leader of the Replicants Dudley?"
"You guys are nuts!" the other exclaimed. "You'll have a hundred clones all over your suicidal asses before you get within a mile of the guy!"
"Yeah, well last time they fucked with us, they had their asses handed to them," José bragged.
"Yeah, after they took our sergeant prisoner and had us hiding in our basement, gaurding a bunch of crap intel!" Lucky said condescendingly. "Not to mention that several of their clone soldiers mutinied! Face it, guys; if Dudley had known how many of us there were, what we were capable of, and if those clones hadn't defected, then we'd have been screwed."
"So, what's your point?" José queried.
"My point," Lucky started frustratedly, "is that he knows we're after him now, he knows there are only five of us, and exactly what tricks we have."
Before anyone else could argue, Dean shouted, "Hey, sir? I think I got something you should check out!"
"What is it, Deano?" Ace called back. "Your furry boyfriend break up with you?"
"Ha ha, very funny. Seriously, I think you guys should check this out!"
The three subordinates looked over to their superior, who shrugged. They all trudged over and Sergeant Cleveland said, "What do you have, Private Roberts?"
"Okay, I've got an email from someone asking for our help. They need some parts as well as a tech expert, also known as your's truly."
"And this matters to us… how?" Ace said.
"Well, we are mercenaries now, after all, and they are willing to pay us."
"How much, exactly?" Lucky queried tentatively.
"Whatever we ask." They all could just sense the smug smile on Dean's face while he said that.
"Sorry to spoil your delusions of grandeur, but while that does sound tempting, this isn't going to help us catch Lord Pernicious," Cleveland reamarked. "Now would you mind following my orders for once and track his movements?"
"Well, sir, that's where things get interesting," Dean said matter-of-factly. "Lord Pernicious' flagship, the Discriminator, is heading to a certain remote planet far from galactic civilization, the very same planet that this request is coming from."
Everyone was quiet for a moment before Cleveland barked, "Alright, pack up, men, we're going on a roadtrip! Private García, load all of our weapons and ammo into that drop ship, ASAP!"
"Yes sir!" said private saluted before taking off to carry out his assignment.
"Private Roberts, send a message warning our new employers of the Replicant's invasion, and then make sure that ship is in prime flight condition before we take off. We don't want to be stranded in deep space when we're needed as the calvalry."
"I'm on it, Sergeant Cleveland," Dean acknowledged as he started to type at a rapid pace.
"Corporal Stallion, Private Romano, get our provisions onboard, with as much extra as you can. We don't know how long this battle's going to take."
"Yes sir, I'll get right to it, sir," Ace said, also saluting.
Lucky, however, was a bit less willing. "But sir, we just unloaded the damn thing! Besides, it's the five of us against a whole fucking army!"
"Private, did I give you permission to bitch?" Cleveland snapped. "Now you haul your ass over there and do as you're told!" The officer in green promptly walked away toward the two captured pilots, leaving Lucky fuming.
"Why the hell does nobody ever listen to me?" he shouted to nobody in particular.
"Because you're a fucking crybaby, that's why," Dean responded, his fingers still not missing a beat as they flew across the keyboard. "I mean, listen to you!" He then preceded to mock him by repeating what he said with a very high pitched voice followed by gibberish, in typical childish manner.
Growling, Romano walked off and carried out his orders, thinking, Man, why didn't I quit when I had the chance?
In deep space, far from the ball of ice and snow that was Centauri VIII, on the bridge of the renowned starship the Discriminator, one aggravated man sat in the captain's chair. His armor was white with red trim, and he had a crimson skull-and-crossbones symbol as his personal emblem. His head was against one of his hands and the fingers of his other hand were thruming impatiently on the arm of his throne.
Around him, dozens of soldiers in dark grey armor were scuttling about, checking equipment and any other tasks that they were assigned to. They all looked exactly alike, save for the numbers in various colors on their backs and shoulders.
"Lord Pernicious, our drones have returned from their recon of the target planet. I think we found something," one of the crewman said, turning in their chair to face the man in white.
"'Something'? Well, that's real specific," he sarcastically responded in his faint British accent. "Red Seventy-eight, would you care to tell me what that 'something' is?"
"W-well, your Lordship," the clone stammered, "let me just bring the images on screen."
"Oh yes, do bring it on screen," he insenserely requested. He was thoroughly unconvinced it was anything important, but it was something to do while he waited for a progress report from his associate.
A large, flat screen dropped down from the ceiling. It flickered to life, showing a three-dimensional image of the planet they intended to land on.
It had many more continents than Earth did, mostly covered by grassy plains, and the land-to-sea ratio seemed roughly equal. The camera began to zoom in to one of the planet's few mountain ranges. There were numerous valleys there that appeared seperated from one another, almost appearing like potholes in a road. One was a small desert; due to the metal wreckage, it most likely got that way due to a large starship crashing into it. Another valley adjacent to it was a large swamp, and by the way that some clusters of trees seemed taller than others, it probably had a few hills underneath. There was one particularly tall mountain next to that, and it had a large dent in its peak that looked to be in perpetual winter, indicating that it might have once been a volcano. Amongst all the swirling snow in this imprint, there was a large temple-like structure made of grey metal of a design that seemed familiar. Far from the others was a small building that seemed to be made of sand-colored stone and metal. This small fortress was built into the face of a cliff and was facing a beach next to the ocean. It had one outer wall made of the same sand-colored rock and an inner wall made of metal, the latter of which had a gigantic windmill-like spinning blade that went so slow that it couldn't honestly hurt anybody.
The camera continued to zoom in on one canyon that was at the center of them all. Vegatation was scarce there; a cluster of pine trees and large patches of grass seemed to be the sum of the area's plant life. A field of large boulders off to the side of the box canyon seemed to be the aftermath of a rockslide from long ago. The most interesting feature of this place was the two bases that were on opposite ends of the canyon; they were mostly identical, the only differences being that one glowed with blue lights and sported blue flags and the other had the same only with red.
"Red Seventy-eight, wasn't I told earlier that this planet was deserted?" Lord Pernicious asked innocently, a bit overly so.
"Y-you were, Your Viciousness," the crewman stuttered. "But it wasn't always, you see. That canyon used to be a front for the Red and Blue Wars a century or so ago, hence the two bases."
Lord Pernicious thought for a moment why someone would fight for a box canyon on such a remote planet, but he dismissed the question. "I didn't send those drones out there so you could give me a history lesson, Seventy-eight. Get to the point."
"Y-yes, sir." Lord Pernicious just rolled his eyes at his subordinate's spinelessness.
"Well, the thing is," he continued, "The planet has been deserted for some time, as we said, because both the Red and Blue forces there mysteriously dissapeared, spawning a few g-ghost stories about the place. No ships, Replicant or Federation, have ever gone there. But still, we've picked up radio transmissions and other various activity coming from h-here."
At this, the camera zoomed in once more to the base covered in red lights. Sure enough, several people could be seen patrolling the roof of the base. All of them had the same model of armor that every Replicant wore, except for the difference in color; there was a person in a dark cerulean blue, another in aqua, and a third in a yellow so bright that it could make a goth's eyes bleed. Every one of them was armed, which only further complicated things.
Pernicious rubbed his helmeted chin in thought before reasoning, "If what you say is true, then who could these people be?"
"That we d-don't know, Your Gloriousness. But r-rest assured, we are hacking into every known database in the galaxy to find out."
"I don't think that that will be nesessary," Lord Pernicious said as he sat upright and crossed one leg over the other. "Why don't we just hear about it from them? Straight from the horse's mouth, as some might say?"
Before the clone could reply, Lord Pernicious pressed a button on his helmet and spoke over the ship's intercom, "All hands, prepare for a small-scale land battle. We have some interlopers on the surface of the planet that we made our rendezvous point. I want as many of them as possible captured alive. That is all."
As Lord Pernicious switched off the intercom function, he heard a voice with a faint Transylvanian accent say, "Your timing is impeccable, My Liege. Now we can put the fruits of our hard work to the test."
Pernicious swung his chair around to find a man separate from all of his clones. His armor was a sickly olive green that one could find to be reminiscent of poison. The emblem that he held was unique, to say the least. It was in skull-and-crossbones style, but it had a red-and-white capsule pill in the stead of a skull and twin medical syringes with hypodermic needles where the bones would normally be.
"Ah, Professor Köblös, I trust that Project Judicium goes well?" the Replicant leader asked.
The olive-clad man bowed. "Yes, My Lord. My team and I have already produced a hundred units, and more are on the way as we speak."
Though nobody could see it past his visor, Pernicious grinned evilly at that. He switched on the intercom again and said, "Attention all clone foot soldiers. Scratch that last note about preparing for battle; I have myself some new toys, and I'd like to test them out. That is all."
He swirled around to face the rest of the bridge. "Now, all I need you tech-geeks to do is prepare that EMP charge and drop it on that base when I give the command. Failure to do so will result in punishment most severe!" All the crewman on bridge automatically began working at twice the pace as before.
Lord Pernicious rose from his seat. "Shall we go then? I would love to see my… our, new toys before we give them a test run," he asked Köblös pleasantly.
The Professor bowed. "Right this way, sir." The two wordlessly walked away. Whoever those poor fools on the surface were, they would have no idea what hit them…
Sorry this chapter took so long, and sorry that it was so short. Well, now that school is upon us, it's probably going to take me roughly the same time to update. I'll try to get faster, but again, I make no promises.
Oh, and before I forget, yiffstar(dot)com IS a real website, so don't go there unless you either A) want to be mentally scarred, or B) think it's hot if chicks have fur and a tail. If neither of those apply to you, STAY AWAY!