The Man in Burgundy
Chapter Two: In Memoriam
Alright, first, a few notes.
-I only recently realized that the main character of 'Hey You, Electric Blue''s name is Walker as well. This is a complete coincidence, my apologies to anyone who was confused.
-The plot for this story is already basically planned out, spanning seasons Eleven and Twelve, though Thirteen is a bit of a wildcard.
-And finally, it is unlikely I will be adding any other OC's, other than perhaps a few side characters. I like working with a tight, concise cast.
Let's go!
()()()()()()()()()()
"Contact on our nine o'clock!"
"David, watch your six!"
"Light the motherfuckers up!"
"Holy shit, there's a lot of them!"
"Watch your ba-AAGH!"
"Nathaniel!"
"Jesus Christ, there's too many!"
"Just keep shooting, you sorry excuses for soldiers!"
"Sarge, we're fucked!"
"Shut it, Mark, and keep shooting!"
"Guys, Nathaniel's down!"
"I'm trying to call in a medevac, but there's too much interference!"
"David, where the fuck are you going?!"
"DIE, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!"
I sprinted out of cover, LMG in my hands and spraying out a hail of bullets, tearing anything in front of me to shreds. I felt the weapon click in my hands as it emptied, and I threw it aside, grabbing at my sledgehammer I had over my shoulder constantly.
I saw the first enemy rise from cover, brandishing his rifle, and swung my hammer with all my strength, seeing his jaw splinter beneath the head as the shock reverberates up my arm. His companion charged me with a knife, holding the shining steel blade over his head. I roared, a call promising death, and spun on my heel, bringing the hammer crashing into his shoulder, feeling bones splinter and shatter beneath my strength.
The knife-wielding man went down screaming in agony, even as I leapt over his pain-wracked body and charged the last guerilla. The man held a rifle in his hands, an AK-74, if my estimates were correct, and pulled the trigger, the muzzle flash lighting up my face as my hammer struck his skull-
()()()
BLAM!
I was torn from less tha peaceful sleep in the corner of the main room by loud cannon fire. I immediately rolled out of my surprisingly comfortable sitting position, grabbing my gun mid-roll, and rising into a standing position, before sprinting out of the front door. I found myself staring down the barrel of a tank cannon.
"Holy fuck!" I screamed, rolling to the right and bringing Very Good Advice up in an arc, nearly firing before I realized who was in the cockpit. "Sarge?"
"Oh, hello there Corporal!" The red armoured officer replied, looking at me. "We're just-"
"HEY! WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON OUT HERE?! WHO'S SHOOTING AT US!" I heard Grif yell, as the gold armoured soldier walked out of the base.
"It's just Sarge, Grif." I called back. "Though I have to ask, why are you shooting our base?"
"Because the base is in terrible condition, and in need of renovations!" Sarge said, before firing the cannon again, nearly hitting Grif, who screamed before running back inside.
"WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING?!" Agent Washington yelled, as he sprinted towards us.
"Well if it isn't our old friend Agent Washington." Sarge said, looking at Washington. This resulted in him also pointing the cannon at the light blue and yellow armoured ex-freelancer.
"Don't try to butter me up." Wash replied, pausing for a moment before adding; "And don't point that at me."
"We're just using the tank for a little… construction work, I suppose." I said, looking at Washington. "I honestly have no idea, I just woke up."
"And which of my men authorized this?" Washington asked, the rest of us remaining silent. Wash sighed. "It was Caboose, wasn't it."
"Probably." The ever present blue idiot answered.
Washington only sighed. "Sarge, get out of the tank."
"Absolutely not! Position's nine-tenths of the law, and the other tenth's a tank. I've got both." Sarge replied.
"Your quarters are fine!" Wash said exasperatedly.
"YEAH! SO GET OUT OF THE TANK YOU SENILE OLD-" Grif's tirade against Sarge was ended abruptly with a blast from the tanks main cannon. "SON OF A BITCH!"
"Sarge. Out of the tank. Now." Wash said, in a voice that brooked no argument.
"My turn next!" Caboose said excitedly.
"Caboose, be quiet." Wash said.
"…My turn next." Caboose whispered. I couldn't help but smile at his reasoning.
"This is an outrage!" Sarge said, jumping out of the tank. "Blue base is directly beneath the crash site, and has an unfair advantage!"
"Sir, we're not even fighting!" I said. "We're literally just waiting for rescue! While in bases on opposite ends of a canyon. Divided into teams based on colour. While heavily armed…"
"But maybe it's just in our nature to fight." Sarge said, sounding oddly philosophical. "It's almost instinctual! If we're not trying to stab each other in the back, we'll surely die."
"Dear God I hate you." Wash muttered, shaking his head.
"That's the spirit!" Sarge said.
"We may be peaceful, but you are still way closer to the food storage than we are, and that is something I will not stand for." Grif said, having apparently recovered from getting blown up.
"Grif, you wouldn't stand for anything." I said, looking at the overweight man. "You're too freaking lazy."
"If you were a few feet closer, you'd be sorry." He muttered, sounding hurt. I grinned beneath my helmet.
I watched Washington and Sarge finish their argument until Wash left, taking Caboose with him. Sarge walked over to us.
"Men, we have a problem." He said, looking at the three of us.
"Is this about Red Base, sir?" I asked, looking behind me at the makeshift shelter. "Because, to be honest, it's an easy fix. We just need to move the rain tarps to the roof, and take some more of the hull plating to replace it on the wall."
Sarge, Grif and Simmons just stared at me silently, in what seemed to be either awe or confusion. I shifted beneath their attention, feeling uncomfortable.
"Well… if you want to try and do that…" Simmons seemed almost reluctant to approve, even as Sarge nodded appreciatively.
"You see Walker, this is why I like you so much. Straight to the point, no dancing around the issue like SOME people I could name." Sarge said, looking pointedly at Grif and Simmons.
"I don't know, so long as I don't have to help." Grif said, grunting and walking back into the base.
"Well then… I guess I'll get started." I said, setting off towards Blue base.
()()()()()
"Sixty-eight… sixty-nine…" Tucker groaned.
"Tucker, you can't keep stopping at sixty nine." Wash said.
"No, this time my legs went out!" Tucker replied, sounding desperate.
"Hey, Agent Washington!" I called at the light blue armoured freelancer, seeing him talking to Tucker.
"What do you want?" He asked exasperatedly, looking at me.
"I just wanted to know if I could borrow your welding kit." I said.
"Why do you want my welding kit?" He asked, looking pointedly at me.
"Because I'm going to work on Red base. I want to replace the rain tarps with metal hull plates, and move them to the roof." I said, gesturing in the general direction of the Red base. "I'll need a welding kit to keep everything together."
"…Alright, but bring it back once you're done." Wash replied, and I inwardly sighed in relief.
"Thanks." I said, before pausing for a moment. "Where exactly would I find the welding kit?"
"Follow me." Washington sighed, before walking towards Blue base. "Tucker, I want five laps around the canyon."
"Why isn't Caboose doing anything? Shouldn't he be doing dumbbell rolls or inverted pushups or something?" Tucker asked.
"Caboose is having one of his… off-days." Wash replied.
"Oh." Tucker said, all arguments ceasing.
"What do you mean, 'off-days'?" I asked, imitating confusion to the best of my ability.
"You'll see." Wash said, before walking up the ramp to the base. "Tucker, remember, five laps."
"I still hate you!" Tucker yelled as he ran off.
"When have you not…" Wash sighed, before beckoning for me to follow him.
As we walked up the ramp, I found myself reflecting on last night's dream, wondering whether it had been a nightmare or some sort of memory. That second thought sent shivers running up my spine. Had I died before? In the spur of the moment I looked at my hand, half expecting to see dead, rotting flesh. Nope, just my gauntlet. Surprise surprise.
A minute or two later and we were standing in a surprisingly neat storage room, and Wash was handing me a welding kit. I looked at the tool, before looking back up at the blue armoured ex-Freelancer, who seemed to be very intent on studying me. I coughed.
"Umm… can I help you?" I asked.
"Where did you really come from?" He asked, in a tone that brook no argument. "I want the truth."
"What do you mean?" I asked, acting confused. "I came from the ship, same as you guys."
"And before that?" He asked, leaning towards me.
"Umm… I was stationed in Outpost C-14!" I blurted out, Wash seemingly accepting the answer.
"Interesting, considering C-14 was destroyed by Insurgency forces over a year ago." He said, and my heart sunk. "Now that the customary lies are out of the way, answer truthfully."
"Ugh… I don't know how I got here, and you're not gonna believe what I say, but the last thing I can remember is being shot." I said.
"So… amnesia?" Wash said, tone amused. "Interesting, UTAH, considering you were stabbed, not shot."
"Wait, what?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"Oh come on, Utah. Did you really think you could fool me with that 'I can't remember' bullshit?" Wash asked, stepping closer to me. "You abandoned the Project, stole an AI, and now you just so happen to show up in the same canyon as me? I don't believe it."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" I said, absolutely confused and simultaneously terrified at the fact Wash had a gun out, and I still had Super Good Advice on my back.
"Take off your helmet." Wash said, as I hurried to comply. I pulled off the Warrior class helmet to reveal my clean shaven face, mangy mane of brown hair and eyes my former drill sergeant had described as 'the deepest shade of blue she had ever seen'. "So it is you…" He breathed, looking over my eye.
Out of instinct, I brushed my hand against that part of my face, feeling a small gouge. I took my helmet and examined my reflection in the white visor, seeing a large scar running the length of my left brow. My eyes widened, and my hand flew up to it again.
"I-I don't know where that came from!" I said, incredibly confused by this turn of events. Was I a Freelancer? Was I dead? Was I just really, really fucking drunk and dreaming about this whole thing?
I didn't fucking know anymore, and I fell to my knees.
"I… what… who…" My mind was almost shattered. It was bad enough being stuck in the universe of a FUCKING WEB SERIES, but now I apparently had some sort of double amnesia? I couldn't recall anything about being a Freelancer, but I had scars I didn't recognize and armour that was clearly more advanced than the stuff the Reds and Blues were wearing.
I could barely remember my previous life either, now that I thought about it. I could remember big stuff, my name, my age (twenty-seven), my looks, my sexual preferences, a few names, a few days, but everything else was drawing a blank. What the fuck was going on?
I realized Wash was looking down at me, and I looked up at him, on the verge of tears.
"I don't even know who I am anymore." I said, rising to my feet. "I don't know jack shit about my life before now, all I can remember are a few days, a few names."
"What day did we accidentally see South naked?" He asked. I genuinely wished I had an answer, that sounded dually awesome and terrifying. All I could do was shrug.
"I have no goddamn idea." I said. "I can barely remember my life before the time I apparently spent as a Freelancer, and I can't even remember anything from that period."
Wash looked genuinely confused as well, and removed his helmet, allowing me to see his face. His brow was furrowed in puzzlement, but I found the sight of his face sent me into a shock. My head jolted back, and it felt like lightning was racing up my spine, into my skull, jumpstarting my memories.
()()()
"Welcome to Project Freelancer, Agent Utah." The Director said, in his typical Texan drawl. "These are your teammates."
I looked over the assembled super soldiers. A man missing an eye was grinning at me, clad in tan armour. A blonde man in purple and a blonde girl in pink were both looking at me, the man clearly examining me as the woman just scowled. The next in line was a grey haired man clad in blue, a welcoming smile on his face. After him was a redheaded woman clad in cerulean, a cold look of judgment on her face as she looked me up and down.
The man next to him was interesting, clad in gray and yellow, looking at me with curiosity. It was his face that got my attention, though, surprisingly youthful for a project like this. His brown hair and blue eyes were similar to my own, and it felt like I was looking at the twin I had never had.
I realized the Director was speaking, and quickly turned to look at him.
"Carolina, and the last in line here is Washington. Your other teammates are either incapacitated or off on missions." He said, before looking at me. "You will be bunked with Washington."
"Understood, sir." I said, nodding, before looking back at my unlikely twin. This would be interesting.
()()()()()()()()()()
Well, that was fun to write, and almost twice as long as Chapter One! Thanks to the almost ridiculous number of reviewers I received, and thanks to the horde of people who already followed this story. See you later!