Above Ground

by Yin

AU. Dexter Grif really only ever wanted to keep himself and his sister out of trouble, and maybe get a few naps in while he was at it. But chance encounters end up putting him in the thick of a battle to save his home. ...Figures. {Grimmons, other pairings mentioned in fic.}

17. Chapter 17

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 Seventeen:

As far as plans went, Lavernius Tucker supposed there were worse ways they could have gone.

Granted, he wasn't a brilliant tactician. He could come up with some fucking awesome improvisations on the fly, but that really wasn't anywhere close to the same thing. However, if Tucker had been tasked with making a strategy, he probably would have come up with something similar to what the Resistance was currently doing.

That is, if Tucker had been extremely unlucky and forced to come up with a plan to approach this messed up situation all on his own.

Largely the whole thing pretty much all boiled down to the element of surprise in the end. Locus and the mercenaries working with him, along with that Freelancer dick Wyoming, did not yet know that they had been found out. So, they were therefore most likely still focusing most of their energies on the retrieval of the artifact.

Tucker supposed that made sense given that the artifact was ultimately as valuable as it was now largely due to its still relatively intact condition. Undermining that in any way would no doubt put a considerable dent in the mercenaries' pay.

Also, there was always the possibility of the thing accidentally getting turned on. He suspected it was doubtful given the inactive state all of those ancient types of alien artifacts tended to be in initially, but it was probably a scenario the mercenaries were still a tad wary of all the same.

Having the damn thing suddenly turn "on" because of careless jostling without any warning could potentially result in a whole shitload of extra crispy assholes, so focusing on a safe and careful retrieval was no doubt their top priority.

Granted, in Tucker's book, that second scenario would be great if it happened and only ended up somehow miraculously affecting those jerks. But, the odds of it not then somehow vaporizing everyone else who happened to be in the tunnels, and potentially the Slums themselves, wasn't too great.

So, the ultimate idea behind the Resistance's strategy was to try to catch the Above Grounders completely off-guard before they figured out how to best move the Giant Sphere of Doom.

"They no doubt already suspect that we have been sending small scouting patrols out into the tunnels searching for suspicious activity since the peace talks began." Kimball explained at the meeting, a holographic blueprint of Tunnel 32-A's schematics projected on the wall behind her, "We can use that to our advantage."

She went on to further outline the details of the plan, which was to have one of these "scouting parties" stumble upon the group of mercenaries while they were working on safely removing the artifact.

During the disturbance that that would ultimately provide, the main forces of the Resistance would move into play to block and seal off any potential exit routes before moving forward to support the front-line fighters.

Naturally, it was expected that the scouting party would be comprised of any Resistance soldiers most likely to survive a prolonged exchange with a group of bloodthirsty mercenaries.

So it really wasn't a fucking surprise then that Tex was selected as one member of the group.

"Maybe I should go too." Felix spoke up following the announcement, a thoughtful expression crossing over his face as he stared at the map, "It sounds like there's potentially going to be some prime alien tech for the taking from all of this. Besides, I owe Locus an ass-kicking and then some."

The hard edge that seeped into his voice at the mention of his former partner was not lost on those present at the meeting.

Sarge harrumphed loudly in response to the man's remark, a grimace of distaste crossing over his weathered features, "How much would we have to pay you for that now?"

Felix shrugged, "The usual. Plus whatever black market goodies our friends down there in 32-A might have on their bodies." He fixed the older man with a level stare, "Hell, Sarge, since Locus is there I may be feeling oddly charitable this time. I'm almost tempted to pitch in for free."

The steel with orange trim armored mercenary quickly turned to face Kimball then, "But that's really just a figure of speech." He hastily told her, "I would definitely still prefer getting paid."

"Wouldn't anyone?" Grif remarked under his breath to Tucker, who couldn't help but nod his head in agreement. He knew he would have wanted that option if he'd been given a choice.

"Figures." Sarge muttered in his own aside, clearly unimpressed by the display he had just witnessed from the one person in the army he wasn't capable of tolerating. His dislike of Felix seemed to even overpower his inherent, innate dislike of the colors orange and blue. It was maybe even stronger than his inherent hatred of Grif.

"Of course." Kimball nodded in response to Felix's commentary, choosing to completely ignore the sarcastic remark her technical second-in-command had given under his breath, "The sentiment is appreciated regardless, Felix."

Felix grinned over at Sarge, prompting the older man to roll his eyes and clutch his shotgun tighter. Tucker noticed that Grif took a subconscious step away from his commanding officer just then, probably due to force of habit.

"By that logic though, any of the other Freelancers could join in on the fun too." York spoke up, his one good brown eye glancing over at North, "I think quite a few of us would love to have a chance to get back at Wyoming."

"You guys wouldn't be the only ones." Tucker pointed out then, remembering his own run-in with the white-armored Freelancer from earlier, "That asshole nearly killed me and Caboose along with North!"

And Washington as well, but that was neither here nor there considering that the blond-haired Freelancer was still working for Above Ground. It was kind of annoying how Tucker had very nearly blurted out his name too though, making his frown even more pronounced.

"Don't forget about Freckles and Agent Washington." Caboose stated quietly, and that vocal mention made Tucker want to sigh loudly in exasperation.

Leave it to his teammate to not even think twice about mentioning the Washington thing.

"Washington doesn't count here! Besides, dude, your fucking giant robot almost killed me too!" the teal-armored soldier hissed at him.

Caboose was not one to be deterred, his blue eyes regarding Tucker with a customary blank stare as if he wasn't seeing the point his teammate had been trying to make, "He did apologize later, Tucker."

Well, yeah, it was probably partially Tucker's fault too for coming up with the bright idea to get Caboose to make Freckles jump in the first place, even if that had been what had ultimately saved everyone's asses. Which kind of made up for the whole "falling into the lower level with a Freelancer who would say thanks by giving you a concussion" thing by how fucking genius it was.

The dark-skinned man sighed yet again, figuring that there was probably no point in trying to argue further despite the fact that it was his usual way of responding to Caboose's comments. Even in the rare instances when his younger teammate was actually making sense. Force of habit or some shit, he supposed.

It didn't seem like a good idea now to continue though, especially with everyone waiting around them to continue on with the meeting.

Tex spoke up for the first time since she had volunteered to be a part of the scouting party that would be serving as the distraction, "York should be the second member."

Everyone looked over at her in surprise, though her steely expression gave no inkling as to why she had reached that conclusion.

"How do ya figure that?" Sarge asked the former Freelancer as he raised a gray eyebrow, his tone implying more general curiosity than disagreement.

"York has personally been to the location already. Besides, he's a good conversationalist." She shrugged nonchalantly before adding, "I'm not exactly the best in that department."

Grif scoffed, "Yeah, no shit."

Though his childhood friend had said it under his breath, Tex fixed him with a sharp stare all the same. Tucker was convinced she had super hearing in combination with her insane super strength. Probably super everything really.

"Say something like that again and I will end you."

His chubby friend gave a tiny "Eep!" and scooted even further back, which seemed to mollify Tex.

Tucker would have mocked Grif for it, but he knew his friend's fear all too well having also been on the receiving end of Tex's threats for dumb things that had come out of his mouth. So he shot Grif a sympathetic look instead.

At least for everyone's sakes the former Freelancer wasn't in one of her "punch everything that so much as breathes funny" moods tonight.

"You don't think I could keep people distracted by talking?" Felix seemed amused, "I don't know if you're aware, Tex, but some people here claim I talk too much."

The mercenary gave a pointed look to the assembled members of the Red and Blue Teams standing in the meeting area, responding to Tucker's extended middle finger with his own. An oddly nostalgic look crossed over his features, "Actually, that was one of the things about me that would always drive Locus insane. He was just a dick in general though."

"Which is exactly why you being a part of the distraction team might not work to our advantage." The redhead explained matter-of-factly, "There's too much history between the two of you. Too much bad blood."

North nodded quietly in agreement, "We can't really risk guns going off before we're ready."

The blonde looked over to Kimball for affirmation, and she gave a slight nod. No doubt she wanted to approach this entire situation as cautiously as possible given what was potentially at stake.

The exchange was not lost on Felix, who grimaced in annoyance both at the nonverbal communication between the former Freelancer and the Resistance leader, but also at being denied his chance to face off against Locus.

"But what about Wyoming then?" He countered, apparently remembering what York had said earlier, "Wouldn't what happened with him count as bad blood for all of you?"

"Wyoming doesn't hate us. He's just trying to get a bigger paycheck." York stated, shrugging, "It's a different kind of animosity."

"Besides, you and North will be assisting the Red and Blue Teams in acting as support once things get underway." Kimball added as she knew that North had been the former Freelancer directly attacked by Wyoming during the skirmish with the Freelancer and other Above Ground forces earlier: "It might take slightly longer, but you will be getting into battle regardless."

"Wait. We're going to be one of the main attack forces?" Grif asked.

He shared an "Are you fucking kidding me?" look with Tucker, who could only frown and shrug back in response. It was definitely not going to be something he was looking forward to either, that's for fucking sure.

"Blargh?" Junior looked up at his father questioningly, the nervousness evident in his body language as he did so.

All Tucker could really do in response was squeeze Junior's hand, his son's grip surprisingly strong when he returned it despite his smaller size.

"Well, most of us will be." Sarge sniffed dismissively at what he no doubt saw as an obvious sign of his insubordinate's lack of commitment to their plan, "A certain fat, cowardly subordinate will probably just get shot immediately in the beginning of the skirmish and get subsequently trampled on while the rest of us go on to glory!"

"Se te olvidó perezoso. Usted debe estar más preocupado de lo que está dejando en si está olvidando sus insultos habituales." {"You forgot lazy. You must be more worried than you are letting on if you are forgetting your usual insults."}

There was a pause in which apparently Donut felt it was best to elaborate for his teammate, "I think he means you, Grif."

A sigh, "Yeah, I got that, Donut. Thanks for the clarification."

"Anytime, buddy!"

No one had any idea what exactly Lopez had said, but Sarge seemed to take his creation's comment as some sort of agreement with his earlier remark. He also completely misinterpreted Donut's attempt at being helpful to Grif as the pink-armored soldier somehow wanting to rub the insult in further.

If anything, Tucker was fairly certain Donut's good-natured obliviousness meant that he hadn't even really been aware Sarge had once again been insulting Grif. In fact, the pink-armored soldier always thought the two seemed to "get along just fine when push came to shove" whenever he was asked about their general disregard for one another.

The Red Team leader practically beamed at Lopez and Donut, "Now there are some Red Team members who know how to actually show initiative!" He turned his brown gaze to Grif thoughtfully, "Though I suppose you getting shot and serving as a large stepping stone for everyone following after you would be singlehandedly the biggest contribution you ever gave to the fight."

"That's the spirit, Sarge!" Donut clamored out happily, before adding with a bit of a frown, "Well, kind of."

Lopez gave the robot equivalent of a sigh and shook his head.

"No importa. Acababa olvidado usted es una locura." {"Never mind. I had just forgotten you are insane."}

"Yet you wonder why I've never bowed in awe to your incredible leadership skills before." Grif let out a sigh of his own.

"It's not exactly like you've been a stellar soldier either, numb nuts."

The two glared at each other then, and Tucker wondered if maybe there was actual vehemence in their remarks this time simply due to the stress this operation was going to be putting on all of them. Definitely would not be a fucking walk in the park regardless of whatever happened, that's for sure.

Donut had nervously been watching the exchange between the two other organic soldiers of Red Team off to the side with Caboose (who, as usual, seemed at a loss as to what was actually going on). So, before Grif had the chance to respond to Sarge's last comment, the younger soldier spoke up.

"Aw, it's too bad that our teams will be attacking directly in this fight." Donut stated in a less questioning-authority way than Grif had done earlier, and more as if he was just upset because someone had gotten him the wrong type of coffee, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm actually a pro when it comes to sticking it to the rear."

If Tucker hadn't known any better, he would have thought that this time the dirty blonde said that on purpose because he knew it would break the room's sudden tension. Donut was practically beaming when everyone turned to look in his direction, a conspiratorial light shining in his eyes.

The Blue Team member made a mental note to never play a card game with the pink-armored solider, no matter how many times the younger man insisted Strip Poker was wholesome fun.

Donut's comment certainly seemed to deflate both Grif and Sarge pretty quickly, as they groaned and shook their heads at the exact same time. When they caught the other doing the exact same thing, they both promptly tried ignoring it.

"You're…referring to attacking from the rear, right?" York finally gathered up the courage to ask.

Grif beat his teammate to a response, perhaps afraid of him breaking anymore brains before the big showdown, "Sometimes it is really just best to not ask him for elaborations." He advised the former Freelancer.

"Todos vamos a morir. En serio." {"We are all going to get killed. Seriously."}

Lopez's unknown commentary was followed by another mechanical sigh and a shaking of his helmeted head.

The planning stages following that had gone fairly quickly, all things considered.

Well, as quickly as they were going to get finished considering that half of the room had been comprised of people whose favorite pastime apparently was standing around and talking about nothing if they could get away with doing so. Still, the teal-armored Resistance fighter thought that they deserved major kudos for managing to come up with a strategy and timeframe at all!

Now all that was needed was just to set the whole fucking thing in motion.

Tucker sighed as he reflected on what had transpired for about the fifteenth time since it happened, knowing that if he didn't get moving soon his brain would probably make certain there would be a sixteenth replay as well.

His gaze lingered on Junior's form dozing away on top of his bed in the barracks. He was oddly grateful that C.T.'s foray into babysitting had tired his son out. The child had been far too exhausted to fight going to sleep despite how nervous he had gotten over the course of the strategizing meeting earlier.

That was perfectly fine in his book. Junior could fight with surprising ease due to his alien lineage, yes, but he was still just a far too young kid to have to deal with this sort of thing in the same capacity as an adult.

Better for Tucker to be worried enough for the both of them. That was what parents did, right?

He supposed he should also be grateful that Doctor Grey's mystery medicine seemed to be doing the trick too, as he probably should have been a lot less focused and cognitive given how much alcohol he'd drunk earlier.

Here's to hoping that it kept working and that the migraine wouldn't come back with a vengeance at the worst possible time in the next couple of hours. Knowing his luck? That would probably happen just as someone like that jackass Wyoming was about to take out the ridiculously handsome fighter in the teal armor with the badass energy sword.

With that both morbid and insanely high self-esteem boost sentiment floating around at the forefront of his thoughts, Tucker reluctantly pulled himself away from his sleeping son's bedside.

He reached over and touched Junior's shoulder once as if to reassure himself that he knew exactly what he was going out to fight for, before stepping out of his room to go meet up with everyone for the mission start. Junior hadn't been the reason Tucker had joined the Resistance, but his son's tiny, alien form had subsequently come to represent all of the various reasons he continued to do so.

The Resistance would be using the corridors where they had gotten Freckles through before to head into 32-A. The aforementioned giant robot being additional firepower Tucker was actually going to be glad to have around for once.

What Tucker hadn't been expecting when he turned into another hallway was for Felix to be standing there, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest plate. The mercenary had been staring directly at the Blue Team member as if he had been waiting for him to show up.

"Hey." Felix nodded in a bored fashion, detaching himself from the wall as he did so, "Pretty much everybody else is already waiting to go. We have about five minutes before we move out."

Shit! That's what Tucker got for replaying memories and not paying attention to his built-in helmet timer! No wonder the thing was annoyingly flashing off to the side of his vision.

"Caboose wanted to come find you, but C.T.'s been trying to get him to help keep the assault droid calm. Told them I'd do it instead." The dark-haired man informed Tucker.

"So you waited outside the barracks because…?"

Felix shrugged, "Didn't want to stumble on any weird interspecies familial moment you two might have been having."

"Dude, it's the fucking same thing as with any family." Tucker's response was snappy as always. He couldn't really stand it when people made snide remarks in regards to his son.

The mercenary's response was yet another shrug. This one was apparently meant to be slightly apologetic though: "Sorry. Hard thing to process, I suppose."

"Whatever. Just try not to say that shit in front of him, okay?" Tucker figured he would let it slide just this once, if only because he supposed he had to give the mercenary credit. It was nice that he hadn't just barged into the barracks and not been at all considerate of the situation, even if his wording as to why he hadn't had been all sorts of asshole-y.

"Fair enough." They started making their way through the winding passageways to the larger expanse of tunnels where Freckles and most of their other compatriots would be. Felix glanced over at Tucker after a few seconds of silence, "Is the kid asleep?"

So the mercenary was trying to make small talk now? Maybe Felix was more on edge than Tucker thought. Felix usually avoided that type of stuff when there were more pressing matters at hand.

In fact, the last time he'd really done it, was probably when he'd thought Tucker had a concussion back when they first met and had talked about pretty much anything to keep him from drifting off into unconsciousness again. Otherwise, when it was on missions that Felix felt took priority, he always pressed for people to try to remain professional. Though the freelancer usually fell into his own biting commentary when that failed given who he was dealing with.

It was possible that Felix was anxious, Tucker supposed. Especially given Locus' confirmed appearance in the tunnels.

The dark-skinned man nodded, the expression underneath his helmet turning grimmer with each passing moment, "Yeah."

If things ended up going according to plan, the tunnels where the base was located shouldn't get involved in the skirmish at all. Though Kimball had thought it prudent to keep a fairly decent sized portion of troops as security besides just to play it safe. So, all things considered, it was still a safer spot for Junior to be taking a nap in than the Slums would be.

Still, given that Tucker wasn't sure what was going to happen in the next few hours, the idea of leaving Junior without his or a more trusted companion's supervision for any length of time made him feel uneasy.

There was also the possibility that he could be killed during the fighting as well. What would happen to Junior then? What if none of his friends or teammates survived the battle either? Then what? The unknowns all seemed to be lining up right now just to kick his mental ass.

As if sensing the growing anxiety swirling around the Resistance fighter, Felix awkwardly patted Tucker's shoulder, "He'll be fine, Tucker. We'll be back before you know it."

It was an odd gesture coming from a mercenary who proclaimed that the only thing he really wanted from his involvement in the war was a terminal as big as a sports-field and a house large enough to put it in. But, Tucker supposed it was just because Felix was reacting to how he was feeling at the moment. An ally in a fight who had his mind focused elsewhere was probably considered a bad thing in any combat manual.

"Yeah, you're right." He said quietly, both to assure himself and to reassure Felix that he would have his head in the game when it came to the plan.

They made another turn in the tunnels. Tucker supposed small talk wasn't just a deflection for Felix when he felt ill at ease since he just then found himself asking the mercenary: "How do you think this whole thing will play out?"

There was a long pause before Felix finally answered, almost as if he had been mentally deliberating how best to respond to that particular inquiry. The dark-haired man's hand flexed just above the sheath that held his favorite combat knife, but he let it drop to his side a mere second later.

"I can honestly say I have no idea, Tucker." His helmet's visor was pointed straight ahead, and there was a determined gait to his step that Tucker had to speed up to match, "I have a feeling it will definitely turn out interesting though."

---

"This is so bor-ing." Palomo's voice chimed in over the comm-channel, stressing the last word and drawing it out to further hit the point home, "Like, seriously! I'm really bored!"

Volleyball spoke up then, somehow managing to sound both amused and exasperated all at once, "We know, Palomo. We heard you when you told us that five minutes ago."

"Also when you said it ten minutes before that!" Jensen supplied helpfully, "Did you manage to get your armor's automated clock stuck on snooze again?"

"Er…" There was a slight pause that all but confirmed to the other lieutenants that that was indeed most likely what happened, "Is that why the numbers keep blinking and something static-y keeps screaming in my ears every once in a while? It made me spill my soda earlier!"

"Soda wasn't allowed in the first place." John Smith reminded him.

"But standing makes me thirsty!" Palomo whined, "Now my gun's all sticky."

"You mean it isn't usually?" Kaikaina teased.

From nearby, Bitters could hear Matthews sputter slightly at the radio commentary. The lieutenant wondered just how red his teammate's face became under his helmet whenever Kaikaina and Palomo got started on their conversations.

Unfortunately, he would probably get punched for even attempting to give in to temptation and just yank the damn thing off Matthews' head one of these days to satiate his curiosity.

Jensen sighed in response to Palomo's earlier description of what was going on with his clock settings, seeing as how she took any mechanical issues that cropped up rather seriously, "I'll check your helmet out for you the next time we're off-duty."

"Thanks, Jensen!" The grin that was no doubt plastered all over his childhood friend's face was quite evident in his cheery response, "You're the best!"

Volleyball muttered something to Jensen that sounded an awful lot like "Try not to encourage him so much." Then the two women seemed to switch over to a private comm-channel to continue whatever discussion they had been having before Palomo would yet again broadcast his discomfort.

Bitters sighed, wondering how many more insightful communications would be in store for them today.

In fairness to Palomo's declaration of boredom and not so much the soda issue, there really didn't seem to be any kind of obvious threat on Level One as far as any of them could tell. They had been put on monitoring duty a few hours ago due to something big apparently going down in the tunnels themselves.

Sarge and Kimball had both been tightlipped in that regard, stating that for the moment it was better for the newer recruits to first and foremost keep their priority focused on their assignment. But, whatever it was that was happening in the tunnels, it seemed pretty far removed from what was happening with the Council representatives and their security forces here on Level One.

The most activity they had seen so far was when a group of armored Above Grounders left the hotel earlier that day. But, they were clearly heading for one of the more obvious always-sealed-to-everyone-but-hackers-and-those-with-proper-clearance tunnel routes that led back to the planet's surface.

Jensen and Volleyball had even followed them at a discreet pace in order to confirm that they were in fact leaving. They sent an "all clear" signal when the soldiers had gone through and then subsequently sealed back up the first bulkhead denying Slums dwellers access topside.

After informing Kimball of that over the comm-channel, including a description of the various armor colors the soldiers had been wearing, they had been commended for their observations. They were also told that they should continue with their orders as they stood.

Smith surmised that it seemed as if Kimball knew who the Above Grounders were, so perhaps there was more to that story than they knew at the moment.

Beyond that particular burst of activity though, there wasn't too much going on. No random assholes starting to shoot at passersby or anything like that. Which was something to be grateful for, at the very least.

In order to cover more ground, the lieutenants and private had split up into smaller teams with an open channel on to report in to one another if something should happen. They figured that that was the best way to observe the comings and goings of the "guests" of the hotel given how large a building it was.

Volleyball and Jensen were on one team while Palomo, Kaikaina, and Smith comprised another.

Bitters almost felt a little bad for Smith's arrangement seeing as how his childhood friend and Kaikaina could certainly be a handful, especially when grouped together. Though he was also rather grateful in a way that it meant he didn't have to currently deal directly with annoying commentary or over-the-top shenanigans personally.

Granted, he still had to fight the urge to bang his head against a wall when he overhead some of it on the open channel. So, it wasn't like Smith was suffering a test of patience completely alone either.

Naturally, though, that meant that he was stuck with Matthews. This arrangement was proving to be a rather awkward situation given what had happened between them before.

Which, in turn, was made even more awkward by the fact that now was really neither the time nor the place for it be addressed. Instead it lingered in the air between them like the heavy silence that would sometimes accompany whenever Palomo said a joke that fell flat, or whenever Captain Donut said an odd remark that no one wanted elaboration on.

The two rookies were right now walking through a side-alley on the left side of the hotel building. It was the location of a side door that served as an exit for emergencies, or a convenient spot tucked away from view whenever there was a guest who wanted to make a discreet entrance or getaway.

Matthews was currently pretty much looking in every other direction but at Bitters. The body language beneath his yellow-trimmed armor was very much tense, due to both the aforementioned awkwardness and because of their mission.

Bitters was, for his part, trying to mentally will the door to open largely just for something to happen. Preferably something of the nonlethal variety, of course. He was also wanting to distract himself from getting even more annoyed by the situation he found himself in with his teammate.

The Slums dweller supposed it was only fair that this time he would have to be the one to make the effort to get things back to normal between them. After all, he knew Matthews had really gone out of his comfort element to work up the nerve to do so already. Still, it was beyond frustrating knowing that he would have to wait to do that until after this whole mess was over and done with.

"I really wish we didn't have to keep our helmets on all the time." Palomo was speaking again, "I have an itch on my nose that is driving me nuts. It's not going away!"

"Oh, those itches suck major ass!" Kaikaina chimed in sympathetically, "Although the worst kind of itches are the ones you get down—"

Bitters and Matthews both glanced over at one another then instinctively to gauge the other's reaction to their teammates' new banter. It was a force of habit, really, when dealing with Kaikaina. Everyone would glance at the other people nearby just to make sure that they had heard what she said correctly.

The eye contact was brief, as they seemed to both remember the awkward avoidance dynamic they had fallen into. But, even with his roommate's helmet on, Bitters was fairly certain he could picture the blush that had formed on Matthews' face as a result of Kaikaina's sentence. Just as he was fairly certain that Matthews could most likely picture Bitters' own raised eyebrow in response to the same exact thing.

He briefly wondered if Matthews was just as tempted as he was to sometimes yank his teammate's helmet off to see if his assumptions on what was underneath were correct.

For some reason, thinking that made Bitters both smile slightly and feel oddly relieved.

"Orders are orders, Palomo." Smith interrupted before Kaikaina could finish what would have no doubt been a very colorful complaint about what were the worst types of itches to experience, "Let's at least try to keep this channel open for mission details only from here on out, all right?"

Leave it to John Smith to attempt to get things more focused. He'd been surprisingly patient up until that point, given everything.

There were a few remarks such as "Aw, you're no fun!" from Palomo and "But you didn't even let me finish!" from Kaikaina, which was promptly followed by a very mature "That's what she said to me the other—Hey, wait a minute!" from Palomo two seconds later. But, after that, the two younger recruits complied sullenly with the request.

Jensen then used the silence to voice a question that had been plaguing all of their minds for a while: "They still aren't doing anything, but doesn't it seem like all of the soldiers have been heading back to the hotel instead of leaving it?"

From next to Bitters, Matthews nodded. The auburn-haired lieutenant never did seem to remember how wasted body language was when it came to non-visual communication channels: "You're right. All of the soldiers in civilian clothes seem to be returning here."

They had recently seen a few of the poorly concealed Above Ground security forces milling around the hotel or heading inside, all with an air of purpose to their steps that they hadn't really displayed earlier when the recruits had first started this monitoring shift.

The Above Ground soldiers still seemed to be only observing things, and none of them had even remotely reached for their weapons. But, it was a noticeable shift in how they had been operating up until now all the same.

"So either it's time for the buffet…" Palomo began theorizing.

"Or the adult channels just got some awesome new porn movies…" Kaikaina continued.

"Or they have received new orders." Bitters finished for them, figuring it was best to get to the point before anymore outlandish theories were thrown out there by their two most eccentric teammates.

"Kimball may have been right about the Council reps prepping to leave in a big hurry." Volleyball surmised. Bitters could even picture the frown forming on her features.

"Quite possibly." One didn't have to see Smith's face to know he was most likely frowning in thought as well, the expression probably deepening the lines already present on his face.

Bitters shrugged, "Well, as long as they leave without blowing shit up, I say good fucking riddance."

"B—Bitters…" Matthews was regarding him with a mixture of surprise and an odd tinge of sympathy, so the lieutenant in orange-trimmed armor realized he had probably sounded way too harsh then.

There was no way that his teammates wouldn't have picked up on that. They probably had even guessed that Bitters had some kind of bad connection with Above Grounders from before.

The uneasy silence from the others over the comm-channel all but confirmed it.

He sighed at the realization and turned to Matthews, "We all knew that the peace talks were fake anyways. The sooner these assholes leave, the better."

Bitters tried to sound more assuring this time than out rightly mad in the hopes that it would alleviate the sudden concern being directed his way. Still, it was admittedly hard to do given how the Council's presence here in general after everything was just impossible for him to not view as fucking insulting.

Matthews looked like he was inwardly debating trying to think of how to respond, his free hand twitching as if he wanted to use it to grip onto the one currently holding his gun. Bitters didn't want to dwell too long on what it meant that he seemed to be able to pick up on that telltale sign of his teammate's nervous habit so quickly now.

At that moment, Smith's voice coming through the comm-link beat the auburn-haired fighter to whatever he had been about to say.

"That's true." The older lieutenant stated quietly, his voice oddly calm and rational as if he had rehearsed what he was saying in his head well before speaking it. Had he been telling himself similar things about this mission since it started as well?

"Though we need to be on alert regardless. Especially since we don't know for certain what exactly is going on."

Just as Smith finished talking over the channel, the door to the hotel that the two Resistance rookies were standing by suddenly slid open.

The surprised lieutenants turned around to stare at the exit. Instinctively, as his teammate had been standing closest to the door, Bitters forced Matthews to step back with a strong grip on his yellow-trimmed shoulder.

Matthews turned to glance at him as if to question the gesture. Or to possibly complain about the sudden forceful contact that could have tripped him. But, he quickly whipped his head back around to focus his complete attention on the possibly hostile figure now emerging from the doorway as well.

Instead of an armed Above Ground soldier staring harshly back at them though, there was a dark-skinned woman in white armor with purple trim. She peered out of the exit with her helmet off and no visible weapon in sight.

The dark-haired woman regarded them carefully, taking in their appearances with brown eyes before smiling: "Never thought I'd be so glad to see people in armor not from Above Ground before!"

The two Slum dwellers stared at each other, not quite sure how to process this strange turn of events.

The woman continued on, her voice cheery in a rather manic sounding way, "No one is telling me anything even as they're all packing up to go." A rather annoyed look flitted over her features at the recollection, "It's like the non-combat personnel don't even exist to them!"

"Er…" Bitters could not think of anything else to say, his brain suddenly failing him.

Did this lady not realize how it might come across to talk so openly to people who were technically enemies of her employers? How should they even handle an unarmed non-combat member of Above Ground military anyways?

While both he and Matthews were having their own personal inner debates on what to do, there was no doubt that the other lieutenants were wondering why their side of the conversation had suddenly gone completely silent.

Getting no response from the Resistance fighters in front of her, the woman stepped out of the hotel fully.

"Don't worry! You guys don't have to tell me anything! That would be way more understandable than my co-workers being the pricks that they are right now." She informed them, as if picking up on the reason that the two lieutenants hadn't really said anything yet: "But, I do have a question to ask!"

She glanced past them and the side-alley, her sharp gaze focused on the main streets of Level One as if she was searching for something specific there.

"I'm looking for a guy in steel armor with yellow highlights!" She stated in her oddly cheery tone, "He left in a big hurry earlier. I don't think he knows they're pulling out now since he apparently thought it would be a good idea to turn his radio off. You haven't seen him heading back here, have you?"

---

To people not born in the Slums or who simply didn't spend quite some time in them, Agent Washington imagined that the labyrinthine tunnels were a nightmare to navigate.

The tunnels' numbering didn't seem to have any rhyme or reason behind it, for starters. He honestly wasn't sure it ever had, even back when the Slums had been the only settlement on the planet and there hadn't been so many branching subsections and corridors. It made no sense. At all.

There was also the fact that most of the tunnels weren't even clearly marked to begin with. Many suffered from fluctuating power in terms of lighting, and quite a large number of them simply looked identical to countless others. Plus there were the tunnels that looked as though they had been ransacked after being abandoned, or ones that were also partially collapsed and unstable in areas.

It was not difficult to imagine people getting lost in the mines if they weren't discerning enough in regards to their surroundings. No doubt even those who had spent years traversing the various tunnel areas also had challenges in remembering exactly where they were in certain parts.

When Washington had been younger, the thought of willingly entering the underground portions of the planet had never even crossed his mind. He hadn't seen himself as being nearly as brave or resourceful as Connie back when they were kids.

All things considered, it was easy enough for him to picture himself having a pretty horrific success rate if he had ever attempted to venture down into the tunnels as she had. Besides, back then he wouldn't have been motivated by the need to get away from drama at home as she had been.

A part of Washington wondered if she ever regretted that early excursion now, given everything that had happened as a result of her meeting with the man who would later become the leader of the Insurrection. But, he also knew that she had never been the sort of person to let regret bog her down.

Agent Connecticut had adapted to what occurred in her life. His childhood friend always steadfastly acted in a way she saw as "right" even when others weren't willing to listen to her. The Above Grounder certainly regretted now never taking her talk on Freelancer more seriously, especially given the influx of memories he received from Epsilon.

But, that was just one of many situations that when he looked back on he would have handled differently if he was given the opportunity. The Freelancer had made far too many mistakes in his past, and the fact that he was more than likely again making several more now did not sit well with him.

No, thinking back on it, Washington knew that if he had gone into the tunnels as a child it would have ended badly. The Above Grounder just knew that "David" would have gotten hopelessly lost, potentially even managing to fall down a bottomless pit or something in the process. Despite there not really being anything like a bottomless pit in reality, it was an apt figure of speech regardless.

Washington had always been something of a klutz, embarrassingly enough. Though, thankfully, it seemed as if his Freelancer training had finally helped alleviate it somewhat. It only took several months of him being a laughingstock to his teammates, not to mention a shitload of trauma and betrayals, to get him to only trip over a loose cable wire twenty percent of the time instead of eighty.

In retrospect, that was probably one of those accomplishments that was best kept to himself than really spoken of out loud.

That was more or less over with now anyways, at least as far as his confidence in traversing the tunnels underneath his birthplace were concerned. He had spent countless hours upon hours going over diagrams and maps, even going into some of the more hazardous locations in the tunnels that Slums residents were wary of traversing.

It was required training for all Above Ground military, and a vital component of Freelancer routines in particular.

After all, when it came to potential threats to Above Ground society in general, it was far more likely that the danger would come from below. If only largely because of the way the situation had always been.

Somewhat naively back then, he hadn't really questioned that too much. Now that he knew firsthand all of the mitigating factors, he tried not to think of the "whys" behind everything just to make things easier in the long run.

It was especially important to try to not dwell on them when he still had a job to do.

Washington frowned at his own personal musings, moving quietly through yet another portion of tunnel that looked as if a small explosion had been detonated there sometime in the past. More than likely, that was probably an accurate assessment. This corridor was one of the corridors that had been used for mining, and it was near the spot of the famous mining uprising awhile back. There was more than enough plausible reasoning for explosions in both circumstances, as well as for why it had been abandoned some time ago.

By his interpretation of the schematics of the area, he was close-ish to 32-A. Maybe?

Okay, so perhaps while he was able to move through the mines easier now, saying that he was completely sure of where he was going while doing so was a bit of an exaggeration.

York would probably be laughing his ass off if he saw him now, trying to figure out exactly where he was. Tucker too.

Thinking of either Resistance fighter at that moment was a bad idea.

Washington mentally berated himself for doing so, all while actively trying to clamp down on his growing sense of guilt and unease. Those feelings were ones that he was constantly denying, despite the fact that they had been building up steadily inside of him ever since he ventured down here.

Had he done the right thing earlier by advising Tucker to go back to the Resistance as he had? Or had he instead just potentially jeopardized the mission and put the younger man in harm's way? Was the mission even something he necessarily wanted to see through to completion?

It wasn't as if Washington didn't know that Malcolm Hargrove was a complete and utter bastard. Whatever the Chairman was doing down here, it was clearly without the full consent of all Above Ground authorities. It was also sure as hell most likely not going to be very good for a wide range of people.

Was his getting to be truly and completely free from Project Freelancer's shadow worth it?

The only response to the blonde's inner turmoil was the looming darkness and silence suffocating him from throughout the corridor.

Standing there gathering his thoughts caused memories that he tried to avoid dwelling on to claw their way to the surface. Both his own memories and Epsilon's. The newfound prickling sensation of unease and fear Washington felt down here in the passageways definitely came from him, the Freelancer knew.

He had to take several deep breaths to fight back against a sudden urge to scream.

Yes. Yes, it was all worth it.

That was what those memories seemed to be trying to tell him.

He had done his part to lessen his conscience by warning Tucker. That had to be enough if Washington wanted to ensure that what he had done up until this point wasn't wasted.

Besides, the more rational and logical part of his mind reasoned, he still didn't even really know what exactly Hargrove was up to down here. The only thing the message had said was that his assistance could possibly be required.

At the very least, the Above Grounder wanted to go far enough to find out just what he had gotten into by agreeing to take part in Hargrove's assignments.

Once he had more information, that same rational part of him reasoned, he would finally be able to fully commit one way or the other. Or, at least, he wouldn't be standing in empty, maddeningly quiet spaces while he had inner debates with himself.

If anyone stumbled upon him in the middle of one these debates they would probably justifiably wonder about his sanity.

"Ow!"

The exclamation came from behind Washington, just as he made out the faint lettering on the side of one of the tunnel's walls that informed him he had finally found one of the off-shoot tunnels that led to 32-A.

The Freelancer spun around quickly, weapon pointed in the direction of the potential threat. His finger was already slightly starting to squeeze down on the trigger.

Instead of a poorly executed surprise attack from a Resistance fighter or someone else who had been planning to ambush him, he found himself looking at Doctor Emily Grey as she hopped in one spot while rather comically holding her armored foot. Apparently she had tripped over some rubble while struggling to catch up to him.

The woman gave a small "Eep!" at the gun suddenly being pointed at her, dropping her foot quickly to raise up both of her arms to indicate that she wasn't a threat.

Why even a non-combat employee of the Above Ground military would come into the mining tunnels with only their medical tools and no foreseeable weapon considering that they technically counted as "enemy territory," he couldn't even begin to fathom. But, the actions of medical personnel in particular had always puzzled Washington.

Given how loud her outburst was, he doubted she was a secret expert in stealth. If he hadn't been having an internal monologue with himself again she probably wouldn't have even caught him off-guard.

"Doctor Grey?" He was too startled by how close she'd gotten before he had noticed her approach to be annoyed or overly suspicious, "What are you doing here?"

"I could be asking you the same thing, Agent Washington!" She recovered from her surprise over the gun and her foot twisting quickly, acting as if this whole occurrence was a perfectly normal interaction, "The Council is pulling out, you know. Everyone's leaving."

Of course he knew.

He had turned off the radio in his helmet because Hargrove's mission required a certain level of secrecy. It hadn't even occurred to him that anyone beyond Carolina, who already had her suspicions on what he'd been up to recently, would even take notice.

"So, when you didn't show up and no one was able to get into contact with you, I figured I'd kill some time and look for you myself after I'd packed. Just in case you didn't know what was going on." Doctor Grey nodded her head, her white and purple helmet bobbing with the motion as she recalled the events leading up to now, "Even asked some Resistance guys about you. They were nicer than I thought they'd be, even though they couldn't tell me anything."

She put her hands on her hips, and a distinct measure of pride entered into her voice: "Of course, after that I remembered the tracker I accidentally dropped in one of the drinks last night. Turns out you were the lucky guy who ended up with it!"

Washington could not have heard that correctly, "Could you…repeat that?"

"I'd been wanting to see how durable those little guys really are, so that little mix-up ended up turning out rather well!" She tilted her head slightly to the side, "Guess that goes to show what happens when you're more focused on the guy you're trying to get drunk than what you're putting into your mouth, huh?"

The implication about how she viewed the drinking contest between Tucker and himself aside, Washington was still trying to process the whole "he'd accidentally swallowed a tracker because someone had wanted to see what it would do" thing. The slight headache he'd been having throughout the whole day was starting to come back with a vengeance.

"Oh, don't worry!" Doctor Grey seemed to pick up on his thoughts, "It should safely dissolve in six more hours, give or take. If not, there's always surgery if you must have it out!"

Before he could even begin to respond with how there should definitely not be a tracker floating around in his stomach in the first place, the doctor took a step forward and regarded him thoughtfully.

"So, what are you doing down here then?" She asked, sounding more curious than even remotely suspicious.

He blanched, not quite sure how to answer, "I have…business down here. Orders."

Not really a lie, but definitely not the full truth either.

Washington was running damage control in his head, trying to think of ways to get the good-natured-albeit-most-likely-really-not-all-there doctor to head back to the Slums. Before someone noticed she was either down here, or not with the Above Ground military sent to accompany the Council representatives.

He doubted Hargrove would care for any loose ends, regardless of Above Ground affiliation or not.

So, Doctor Grey's best protection was continued ignorance on what was really going on. Same as with Florida's squad.

The idea that she might get killed simply because she had been concerned for him, albeit in her own peculiar way, didn't exactly sit well with Washington.

Before he could come up with a convincing reasoning as to why she should get out of the tunnels immediately, with safety being a great one for a whole myriad of reasons, a very large explosion shook the corridor.

Then the farther away sound of repeated gunfire started following it mere seconds later.

Washington spun back around to face the entryway to Tunnel 32-A, rising dread forming in the pit of his stomach. He knew now that he had just lost whatever time he'd had to try to get the doctor to leave.

Doctor Grey let out another small "Eep!" as she looked thoroughly confused and alarmed by the sudden noise of fighting coming from further up ahead. But, she was also staring questioningly in that direction at the same time.

They hadn't known each other for too long, but it was obvious the woman had a very large inquisitive streak that in this particular instance was definitely going to bite the Freelancer in the ass.

Washington sighed.

Whatever hesitancy he had in getting directly involved due to his growing suspicions, and the thought of innocent people like Doctor Grey or even Tucker stumbling into the middle of it? Well, it seemed as if there really was nothing he could do for it now but move forward.

---

Dexter Grif hated doing pretty much anything beyond eating, drinking, smoking, and sleeping. They were the four parts of relaxation in his book. He had to admit that in this case though, sitting around doing nothing while waiting to do something extremely life-threatening and dangerous?

Definitely high up on the list of things he would like to never have to do again anytime soon.

Hell, even Donut and Caboose seemed to be able to sense that something was off. Usually both younger comrades-in-arms were far too chipper and not as fully with it in terms of the situations they found themselves in. But, right now, they seemed a lot more subdued and quieter.

It was kind of freaking him out.

Normally a lot of their antics would make him want to roll his eyes, or throw out a sarcastic remark. At this particular moment he was actually finding himself sort of missing their moronic behavior.

The Red and Blue Teams, along with a few other squads of Resistance fighters he was only more or less acquainted with and even Kimball (which had surprised him quite a bit, honestly), were standing in a large corridor directly below 32-A.

According to the coordinates York had given them, the spot with the relic should only be about a turn and a short walking distance away.

It was strange how quiet things seemed to be, save for any noise they had made on their way here and the sounds one usually associated with the mines. They had attempted to traverse the corridors as silently as possible and had done a pretty fucking good job of it, but let's face it: any large group of people moving quickly would realistically make some noise regardless of how stealthy they were.

But other than an occasional drip of liquid here or there, or a stone falling from a crack on a wall, or electrical hisses and hums as power either worked or struggled its way through an area? Things were strangely silent, particularly given what was going on further along from where they were positioned.

Though Grif supposed that could just be due to the mercenaries themselves also attempting to be stealthy, as York recalled practically stumbling on top of the group at work earlier without having even heard or seen them at first.

A glare from what seemed to be some very high-powered lights could be seen in the general direction of their targets, illuminating an otherwise completely darkened space. The lights seemed to be the portable kind that miners would sometimes carry with them when traversing the tunnels, in case they came upon a spot where the actual lighting was either dead or extremely temperamental.

That alone was a pretty big indication that someone had recently been working on something down here.

Miners wouldn't leave portable lights behind as they were a very valuable resource. He'd seen a bill for one once during his errand running days. The things were not cheap! If someone had left them on because they had been in a big hurry to leave quite some time ago, they would have stopped working long before now.

Grif had to clamp down on the ever-growing "It's a trap!" paranoia he had been experiencing on this mission ever since they had entered the tunnels.

Of course, Tucker's whole "It's too fucking quiet, don't you think?" aside a few seconds later did not really help.

Before Grif could even come up with his usual sarcastic remark to deflect his own unease over that very same issue, Felix beat him to the punch.

"It would be even quieter if someone would maintain silence like they're supposed to." The mercenary said from where he was standing closest to the entranceway that they were going to be using as soon as they were given the signal to launch their part of the plan.

"I'm just saying! If we're this close, shouldn't we be hearing something?" Tucker did lower his voice, though he'd been whispering already.

Unless they were shouting at one another, odds were very good the mercenaries in the other portion of tunnel would not be able to hear them given the distance. Still, it was probably a good thing that Sarge decided to stay quiet at this point in time given how his indoor voice was permanently set to "shouting to the heavens" volume.

"Like, shouldn't we be hearing them using some kind of machinery to move the fucking thing?"

Tucker had a point there. The equipment used to haul materials out of the mines were usually far from quiet, after all. They tended to require whoever operated them to wear shielding of some sort over their ears to avoid hearing loss. Most machinery and vehicles that Above Ground brought with them into the mines tended to be noisier too.

Apparently they had quieter machines in the city itself, but the ones that were capable of going underground were based around tech from the mining colony as they had perfected traversing through the tunnels.

Not to mention, many Above Grounders had more difficultly maneuvering large pieces of machinery through cramped passageways than those who had spent their lives doing so. That tended to lead to more banging noises in general whenever they brought equipment down into the mines.

"Maybe they're still in the brainstorming phase." Felix suggested, probably more just to get Tucker to stop talking and focus, "I imagine trying to find a way to safely move an alien relic and keep it intact at the same time would take awhile."

"Probably couldn't just push or kick it like a ball." Caboose interjected his own thoughts into the conversation, "Unless it is a ball!"

"Oh, did someone say balls?" Donut perked up at the blue-armored fighter's comment.

"¿En serio? ¿Eso es lo único que obtuvo de toda esa conversación?" {"Seriously? That is the only thing you got from that entire conversation?"}

Lopez appeared to be staring at his pink-armored teammate with as close to a look of disbelief as a humanoid robot could probably get.

Grif sighed and shook his head.

Yeah, weird as it was, maybe it had been better when Caboose and Donut had been quiet earlier. At least because there was no danger of his brain exploding from really bizarre commentary like those two little gems this exchange provided.

"…Why the fuck would the aliens try to hide an antique ball from everyone, Caboose?" The blonde's teammate asked, an exasperated note crawling into his voice. Tucker wisely chose to apparently ignore Donut's question entirely.

"Because they could not explain the rules and they didn't want anyone to feel bad!" Caboose stated matter-of-factly, without even taking a second to really think of how bizarre that would sound to everyone else.

"I don't know. From how big York was saying it was I bet it would be really hard to play something like kickball with it, even for an alien." Donut tapped the chin of his helmet thoughtfully, "Unless it was a giant ball for training mechs."

"Training mechs?" Grif echoed, fairly certain his brain actually was just about to explode at this point.

"You know, to hone reflexes or for target practice!" His teammate was more than happy to further elaborate on his theory.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Oh, no, Grif! Ball exercises even work absolute wonders on core muscles!" His younger teammate nodded his head enthusiastically, and Grif knew the pink-armored soldier was probably grinning from ear to ear under his helmet.

"Mechs do not have core muscles, Donut." He pointed out, trying to count backwards in his head from ten to calm himself down.

"But, that doesn't mean they can't enjoy the mental and emotional benefits of staying in shape!"

The counting thing was really not working too well by this point.

"Oh, I hadn't even thought of that, Lieutenant Wafer!" Caboose, on the other hand, looked to be in awe of Donut's incredible deductive skills.

"Dudo que alguno de ustedes realmente han pensado en nada desde el día en que naciste." {"I doubt any of you have actually thought of anything since the day you were born."}

"See, Grif? Lopez says he thinks exercise is important for robots too!" Donut translated cheerily.

The brown-armored robot sighed and turned to stare in the other direction.

"Yo realmente deseo que podría apagar mi audiencia a veces." {"I really do wish I could turn off my hearing sometimes."}

Caboose looked up at the assault droid towering over the group of armored humans and one very disinterested-looking humanoid robot.

"What do you think, Freckles?" He asked in the usual happy "baby tone" he tended to adopt when talking to his dog, "Want to play kickball later? We can invite Smith too!"

Freckles looked down at Caboose and tilted his head slightly as if in a nod before stating: "AFFIRMATIVE, CAPTAIN CABOOSE. ONCE ALL HOSTILE ACTIVITY IN THIS AREA IS CLEARED OUT."

Freckles' booming voice was set to a lower decibel, so even though it was loud it seemed to be fairly safe given the distance they were at.

Grif wasn't really sure if being in an enclosed space with Blue Team's killer mech was adding to any potential stress he was feeling, or helping to relieve it.

On one hand, having the extra firepower would definitely come in handy for blocking this route off as a potential exit by the mercenaries once things went underway. But, on the other hand, the likelihood of the robot accidently squishing someone was pretty high too.

Even for one of the larger offshoot tunnels, it had been tricky at times getting Freckles through. His massive size was something of a hindrance when it came to traversing the mines quickly.

Also, getting hit by friendly fire became even more of a possibility with the mech involved. Grif was already feeling a little nervous on that front, given that Sarge was cradling his shotgun in preparation for the fight to come and looking over in his direction every so often. The orange-armored fighter swore he could just hear the maniacal laughter the crazy old man was no doubt biting back on underneath his helmet.

Still, he hoped that was more of the red-armored soldier's rather questionable tactics for trying to keep his chubby subordinate on his toes than an actual threat.

It was hard to tell with Sarge, sometimes.

"Stimulating conversations like this one, children, are why you should keep talking to a minimum when out on actual missions." Felix concluded before anyone else could say more.

Grif saw the slight tilt of Tucker's helmet nearby that indicated he was probably rolling his eyes at the freelancer's patronizing tone.

Deciding to change subjects slightly before Tucker decided to vocally respond to Felix's remark, Grif leaned closer to his friend and whispered, "What are the odds they just gave up and left?"

He could picture the frown forming on the dark-skinned man's face as he responded, "As much as I'd really like for that to happen personally, probably zilch."

"Fuck." The chubbier of the two friends sighed, slouching a bit. Couldn't blame someone for wishful thinking.

"Stay focused, you two." Sarge spoke up then from where he was standing off to the side of the group, apparently having tuned in from his own preparations in time to hear them talking.

His body language was quite tense as he peered over them and towards the other present members of the Red and Blue Teams, including even Freckles in his gaze, "That goes for everyone from this point on, ya hear?"

For once, Dexter Grif did not feel the need to argue with an order from his commanding officer. Largely because he knew Sarge was right in this situation, and he had actually given an order that made sense without somehow directly or indirectly insulting Grif in the process. That one thing alone was probably the best indicator that Sarge was taking this mission extremely seriously.

"They're approaching the site now." North's voice came through the comm-channel just then.

Both he and C.T. had gone further up ahead to scout, as well as to potentially provide cover fire for Tex and York. They were going to backtrack to meet up with the advancing Resistance fighters and offer them support once the distraction part of the plan was well underway.

Silence followed his announcement, and Grif glanced further down the tunnel past the rest of his and Tucker's teams to where Kimball stood, waiting and listening as well.

Despite arguments that she should stay at the base from both Sarge and Felix, the leader of the Resistance had insisted on taking a more direct involvement in this mission. Her reasoning being that she had felt powerless enough doing nothing while trying to stay in the Council's goodwill during their forced "peace talks."

No one could really blame her for wanting to help strike back now that they knew for sure the whole thing had been a sham, though Sarge had insisted she stay further down the tunnels for potential cover at first in case things took a bad turn.

Right now, Kimball looked to be standing as tall and straight as a plank of wood.

For a few painfully slow moments, that tense and wholly uncomfortable silence that falls like a heavy blanket on you when you're waiting for things to begin descended over the corridor. It seemed as if everything was just being drawn out.

Then, just as suddenly, Tex was cussing loudly over the comm-link, "Motherfuckers!"

Which was followed by an equally pissed off York yelling, "Shit!"

The sound of heavy gunfire and bullets ricocheting and getting embedded into walls filled the space up ahead. It combined with a whirring sound that seemed to be almost directly behind where Grif was standing. That closer noise sounded distinctly like a—

Freckles was engulfed in a ball of flame, the force of the explosion throwing Grif and the other soldiers close by either onto the ground or into the walls holding up the roof of the tunnel.

Even with armor on, the heat from the blast was intense. Whirls of black smoke filled the air as tongues of orange and red licked out at the ceiling and sides of the suddenly far too enclosed space.

Grif was on Level One again, scrambling to find a ventilation shaft or another route into the mining tunnels that hadn't been sealed off yet. The smoke burned his lungs. He couldn't fucking breathe.

The smoking metal shell of the assault droid stood as if unfazed for about a second after he had exploded. Then what remained of Freckles teetered and collapsed onto his side.

As he finally fell to the ground, several fighters scrambled out of the way to avoid getting crushed underneath the burning debris.

Even worse yet, the explosion had caused cracks to form throughout the tunnel and only helped to enlarge already existing ones. The largest ones seemed to be around the source of the blast given how powerful it had been.

When Freckles fell, the dreaded noise of the ground giving way happened immediately after. The majority of the giant robot's remains disappeared from view, smoke pluming up and around the sudden hole he had fallen through. A few other weak spots gave way around that same time as well.

Grif watched in horror, still unable to even fucking breathe properly, as armored figures who weren't still yet on their feet disappeared as the weak spots collapsed underneath them. Some would hopefully be okay despite the fall, but others?

He turned away from the sight of portions of tunnel ceilings and walls caving over top of the holes in the ground.

"Freckles!" Caboose sounded as if he had been the one a bomb had apparently been strapped to.

Grif was amazed he had recovered enough to be back on his feet and scrambling towards the hole that Freckles' mechanical body had fallen through. The blonde was apparently not at all thinking of the danger of stepping on potentially unstable ground in his desire to reach his "dog."

Through stupidly blurry eyes (Grif had his helmet on, there was no way smoke and heat was clogging his vision now!), the orange-armored soldier could just make out Donut attempting to hold his friend back so that he didn't end up hurting himself trying to get to Freckles.

From closer to the entryway that was the central focus of their earlier plan, a detonator was casually tossed onto the ground. It bounced once before falling with a soft thud that was almost comical when compared to the chaos that the little device had just wreaked moments before.

"Oops. Here I thought I had used enough explosives to turn even an assault droid into a pile of ash." Felix remarked as casually as if he was discussing the weather: "Guess that just goes to show that you should always test out things you buy on the black market first, huh?"

---

Things had gone to shit in a much different way than Tucker had expected them to, and way too fucking quickly.

First, Tex and York had apparently run into some kind of trouble on their end of the plan. Then Freckles had just fucking exploded before they could even begin to react to what was happening with the two former Freelancers.

Who knew how many fighters he'd managed to inadvertently take out as well during the blast, and with the subsequent cave-ins following that?

Felix, fucking asshole Felix, was standing there looking at what was going on like he was a cat who had just found the perfect spot to lounge.

Beyond the assholes who had killed his mother, Tucker didn't think it was possible to hate anyone as much as he hated the smirking mercenary right about now.

Felix seemed to take notice of Tucker struggling to stand after having been thrown face-first into the ground from Freckles' demise. The dark-haired man's mannerisms took on an oddly perverse gleam in getting the chance to rub what he'd done in someone's face when he could stare directly at them.

"Oh, don't feel too bad about not figuring it out before now." He told Tucker as the teal-armored soldier tried glaring holes at him through his visor.

The usual smugness that came into the man's voice when he bragged about how good he was seemed to have risen to insane levels now. Considering how much arrogance Felix displayed before, that was quite an accomplishment.

"I'm very good at acting. Have to almost fool yourself to fool an audience."

Steady, steady.

Tucker was on his feet now, air whishing back into his lungs. He hated that he could imagine the acrid smell of smoke burning his nostrils if he paid too much attention to it. The Resistance fighter's body was screaming in pain that he shouldn't be making sudden movements just yet.

Around him, quite a few of the other Resistance fighters who hadn't fallen or been knocked out in the blast were recollecting themselves too.

Sarge was sitting up, a hand to the side of his helmet as he shook his head as if to clear any cobwebs from it. His other hand was gripping his shotgun as if it was a lifeline. Lopez was putting one of his arms back into its socket, oil leaking onto the ground as he did so.

Grif was still lying on the ground, nearly frozen. But, his fingers were twitching and moving slightly, and he was slowing starting to sit upright at least. The explosion had probably put his childhood friend in a state of shock.

Tucker tried not looking at Caboose, or at Donut who was struggling to keep the blonde away from the hole that most of Freckles had fallen into. All that visibly remained of Caboose's "dog" were bits of flaming shrapnel strewn about the place.

His teammate looked to be okay physically, though Tucker knew emotionally was another matter. The Slums resident could not focus on that at the moment if he really wanted to keep his attention on Felix.

Somehow the Red and Blue Teams had been more fortunate than some of the other fighters. None of them were sporting major injuries. Lopez's arm didn't count since he was already fixing it. Nor had they ended up getting caught when the ground started giving way.

Tucker had no idea how they had managed to pull that off given how they had been standing in close proximity to Freckles, but he couldn't really dwell on that either. He was thankful they weren't injured too badly, and really sorry that others hadn't been as lucky. That was about all the emotion he could stand to place on that turn of events currently.

"Felix, you—" The teal-armored soldier began.

Felix apparently wasn't done bragging yet though, so he continued talking as if Tucker hadn't tried interjecting his opinion (which, by the way, would have been a really memorable expletive that would even make someone's dead grandmother turn in their grave): "Of course, it was easier to pull off just because so many of you are complete idiots in the first place."

The mercenary was staring directly at the Red and Blue Team members, and Tucker was certain the bastard was smirking.

"The rest of you were just far too trusting for your own good, sadly." Felix carried on, glancing through the smoke and flames still circling in the air over the hole Freckles had fallen through to lock eyes with Kimball.

"Wouldn't you agree, Vanessa?"

Having been further away from the explosion due to Sarge's insistence that she hold back, Kimball had recovered quickly. She glared at the mercenary she had hired, and the grip on her gun looked to be insanely firm.

Judging by the way she was looking at the cave-ins and holes already lining the corridor, it seemed as if she was trying to ascertain just how to safely navigate any potential dangers still lurking in the corridor to get a better shot at him.

"Sufficed to say, I'm going to have to cancel the rest of my contract." Felix continued, acting as if this was just a natural end to a business deal, "Shame too. It was such a cushy gig. Especially combined with my real job."

A gun cocked behind him, causing Felix to pause his confession. North was standing there, looking as if he had just come back in a hurry.

Tucker frowned, not seeing any sign of C.T. with him. Had the two been caught in a fight on their way back or something?

"Nice way to terminate your contract, Felix." The sniper told him, the conversational tone he was trying to fall back into lined with tension.

Felix shrugged, not seemingly caring that a gun was being pointed in his direction at all, or about the various other weapons now targeting him from the front as well, "I can't say it was as dramatic as breaking into a high security military compound, but it did the trick."

No doubt Felix had been hoping to catch the former Freelancer off-guard by revealing that he knew what had transpired when he, York, and Tex had defected from Above Ground.

"So, you were working for Hargrove all this time?" North didn't seem to fall for the bait though.

"Wow. Nothing gets past you Freelancers and your incredible deductive skills." Felix replied sarcastically, "But, yes, I have been. My main goal was just to monitor what you freedom fighters were doing, and then throw the occasional wrench into the works."

"But the alien relic being found changed all of that." Kimball noted, and it was odd hearing no emotion whatsoever in her voice.

"Pretty much, yeah." He shrugged, "Hargrove decided that it wasn't really needed anymore, so I was told to put in one last hurrah to buy my partner some more time."

"Partner?" Grif managed to wheeze out the question as he finally got to his feet.

"You've already met him, I think." The steel and orange armored mercenary shrugged and shook his head, chuckling slightly, "Come on, guys. This should be an easy one to figure out!"

It was, truthfully, a far too easy answer if one looked at things carefully.

"I thought you said you fucking hated him." Tucker's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, believe me, I do." The gloating in Felix's tone was really starting to get old, "But hatred doesn't mean you can't be partners. We work well together."

At this point, York and Tex had joined up with North. Also bringing along with them a whole squad of mercenaries hot on their heels.

There were battered, crumpled up portions on several of the mercenaries' pieces of armor that seemed to be roughly the shape and size of a certain redhead's fist. As well as a few dents that appeared to look an awful lot like bullets had grazed the sides of their armor. It was easy enough to guess what the red liquid smearing parts of York's tan armor was along with the shiny smears that looked to make certain portions of Tex's black armor even darker.

It looked as though the distraction team had been met with a rather heavy surprise attack, but had managed to get in quite a bit of damage before having to pull out.

In other circumstances, Tucker would have almost felt bad for the unlucky assholes who hadn't gotten out of Tex's way in particular in time. Almost.

Even more mercenaries were suddenly materializing along the walls of the space.

"Fuck." Grif and Tucker both cursed at the exact same time. Now they were facing several lines of rather scary looking weapons pointed in their direction.

No wonder Felix hadn't really cared much about how the Resistance would react to his betrayal. He had helped to set up the entire ambush, after all.

"Of course, having connections in the Council also means we have access to improved Freelancer tech." Felix informed them once the magnitude of just how screwed they probably were had sunk in, "You can check over your radios now, if you like. We'll un-jam them long enough so you can confirm that all of the other Resistance fighters in the tunnels are rather preoccupied as well."

"Assholes." The expletive from Tex had a particular vehemence to it.

Tucker had a feeling that if looks could kill, Felix and all of his mercenary cohorts would be dead twice over. He shuddered at the thought despite himself: Tex was fucking scary, even if she was on your side.

All Felix did in response to her ire was to simply shrug nonchalantly.

"It's business. Pure and simple. Albeit fun business." He informed the former Freelancer, "Look at it this way: it took a whole lot of time, planning, and resources to find that relic in the first place. Did you really think we wouldn't be prepared?"

"So, up until this point, your role in the peace talks in particular was to what, exactly?" When Kimball spoke, it was still in a very calm manner that was practically devoid of emotion.

"Same as it had always been, essentially. I was supposed to keep you guys distracted and keep tensions with the visiting Above Ground soldiers high so that other Council members wouldn't catch on to the Chairman's true goal." Felix explained, "Divide and conquer tactics are fairly simple, but they can have very lucrative results when handled right."

His gaze swept through the entirety of the tunnel then, at the carnage he'd inflicted with just a press of a button.

"Think about it, Vanessa. How many successful missions did I help you with, which just prolonged the fighting and made Above Ground send more troops to attack you? How many of you guys did I set up to die over the years for the sake of those very missions?"

She said nothing, but the tremor in her body was apparent even from as far away as she stood to Tucker and the others. The arm holding her gun was positively shaking as if she was mentally struggling to not just raise it and open fire on the man as he was talking.

Her battle for self-control was pretty damn impressive, all things considered.

"How many am I going to kill now that I can just finally do whatever the fuck I want?"

Of course, it seemed as if Felix's goal was just to egg everyone on by this point. Maybe he just wanted to see how far he could push them.

Grif had stepped up next to Tucker during that last speech. He glanced at his tan friend momentarily, noticing how shaky he still seemed to be on his feet before whispering: "You okay, fat-ass?"

He could just picture Grif's chubby face grimacing, his focus completely on Felix and the wall of mercenaries with guns pointed at them, "I'm fine, asshole. You?"

"Pissed as all fuck, but fine otherwise." He used this time to check out the others on their teams again.

Lopez had reattached his arm by now and seemed as fine as ever, observing both the mercenaries and traitor warily. Sarge looked ready to murder Felix with his bare hands, while Donut was awkwardly patting Caboose's shoulder now that the young man had finally stopped trying to jump through the still smoking hole after his "dog."

Instead, the blonde was just standing seemingly in shock next to it. Seeing Caboose that distraught in particular only made Tucker's anger towards Felix that much more palatable.

Yeah, Caboose was a pain in the ass most of the time, but he was harmless and, as much as he didn't want to admit it out loud, a friend. No one was allowed to mess with him because of that.

Tucker still didn't know where the fuck C.T. was. The fact that she hadn't shown up with North earlier, and subsequently hadn't appeared with York and Tex was making him more than a little worried. Of all the fucking times to not know where a teammate was, this was probably one of the worst ones.

Felix wasn't shutting up anytime soon, it seemed. He continued talking as if this was his fucking Academy Award winning speech. Tucker was getting really annoyed by the sound of his voice.

"Want to know what the real hilarious part of all of this is?" Felix asked them, practically preening. He didn't pause, meaning he wasn't given them the chance to answer.

"The only reason I let the cat out of the bag is because the relic is long gone now, as these two behind me can tell you." He motioned to York and Tex, "The moment you guys came up with your strategy we sped things up, so this whole mission was completely for nothing."

The mercenary was grinning by now, Tucker just knew it. But that was to be expected since Felix seemed both madly in love with the sound of his own voice and kicking people when they're down.

"That's just the story of your lives, huh?"

There was a slight shimmer in the air next to Felix, and suddenly a man in steel and green armor materialized there. Tucker hadn't met him personally yet, but he recognized him immediately as Locus from how Felix (man, that recollection certainly stung now), Grif, C.T., and Tex had described him.

"Are you done?" Locus asked, his voice sharp through the electronic filter he spoke through, "The confirmation of the device being secured topside happened ten minutes ago."

"Geez, give me a minute!" Felix snapped back at him in annoyance, "Unlike you, I've been having to play nice for months. I really need to vent."

Felix's partner scoffed slightly, "As soldiers, our attacks should be efficient and quick."

"You are a fucking broken record. You know that?" As strange as it was to perceive, Felix seemed both annoyed and amused all at once.

"Felix." The name was said as a warning.

Felix had spoken true earlier, it seemed. There was definite loathing there, but an odd sense of camaraderie too. Tucker wondered if what Felix had said about how long they had worked together before the "split" was actually true.

"I didn't even have to fake hating you. That was perfect." Felix muttered, more to himself and Locus than to anyone else.

His volume increased dramatically for his next revelation, as Felix apparently wanted everyone to hear it: "Besides, does it really matter now? Regardless of what we say or do here, they'll all be dead soon enough."

"What?" Kimball stepped forward then, only stopping because lines of yellow light were suddenly dotting her body.

"Hargrove wants to wipe the slate clean with the Slums. Literally." Her former comrade explained, "You've got to test out a shiny new doomsday weapon somewhere once you get it working, am I right? That's a given, I'd think."

When no one responded quickly enough to that news for his liking, Felix added: "Not only will he get rid of a constant black mark on Above Ground history and your little Resistance movement, but any opposition he has in the Council will think twice about challenging him."

"Felix!" Locus was apparently losing his patience rather quickly with his partner's desire to prolong this particular encounter.

Felix glared at him, "You always did like ruining my fun."

"Your fun tends to sidetrack the mission." Locus pointed out.

"Oh? And your baiting two Freelancers into fighting you last year didn't?" Felix was no doubt raising a black eyebrow in disbelief underneath his helmet, "Nice to see how hypocritical you can get when it comes to your perception of being a good little soldier."

For a second, Locus tensed and Tucker wondered if he was preparing to attack Felix for the insult. But then the mercenary's head tilted slightly to the side. It was apparent that he was listening to something over a private channel.

"We're done here." Locus suddenly announced, and the finality in his tone was definitely not leaving room for argument this time.

"The second objective was met already?" The orange and steel armored mercenary seemed almost impressed at the revelation, letting out a low whistle, "They work fast."

Forms materialized further down the tunnel behind Felix, Locus, and their group of mercenaries. One of the newcomers was dressed in a familiar white armor that Tucker had secretly hoped he would never have to see again.

Oddly enough, hovering just above Wyoming's shoulder this time appeared to be a holographic projection of a miniature human shape, completely sky blue in coloration.

Tucker heard York swear under his breath at the appearance of his former teammate.

"Yes, well, unlike you we weren't putting on a show of it this time." Wyoming's accented voice stated cheerily enough in response to Felix's comment, "Good performance, by the way."

"Nice to know some people appreciate the effort." The freelancer looked pointedly at Locus following that.

The other mercenary growled his impatience, but otherwise seemed to decide it was best to switch tactics and simply ignore Felix.

"Wyoming. Taking a vacation this time of year?" York remarked, "And with Gamma too. That's nice."

The little blue guy had a name? Tucker wondered what the hell was up with that. The stuff that the Freelancers were familiar with was pretty insane from his view point.

Wyoming glanced at the three former Freelancers then, nodding slightly in way of greeting, "Agents York, Texas, and North Dakota. Cheerio and all that. No need for this to be terribly awkward."

"There isn't?" North stated skeptically, clearly still remembering how the Freelancer had tried killing him the last time they'd met.

Wyoming waved a hand, "Just business. Nothing personal. Hedging my bets now that Freelancer is all but disbanded."

There was movement behind Wyoming and the mysterious Gamma, and Wyoming turned to the two other mercenaries of greater import within the group: "Might want to get a move on, then. Even caught off-guard he was difficult to catch. Had to kill a few fighters too. Hope they weren't friends of yours."

"I'll live somehow." Felix smirked, "Wyoming here just paid the base a home visit. Probably best to sweep it for bombs a few times before settling in for the night."

He looked at Kimball and Sarge pointedly, "Here you thought I was trying to look out for you, Vanessa, by agreeing with Sarge that you should have stayed behind. I was hoping you'd do so because of Wyoming's planned visit, just to see the look on the crazy old bastard's face when his attempt to protect his leader failed."

Sarge glowered, "You sonuva! I knew you were up to no good!"

"I actually do have to give you credit there, Sarge, but it was fun trying to prove you wrong all the same." Felix laughed, "Am I good actor or what?"

"Act out tasting lead from my shotgun!" Sarge nearly pulled the trigger when he remembered the weapons aimed at everyone and paused.

"Good call." The mercenary said gleefully, "As much as I'd love to see all of you dead and your corpses vaporized, I almost want you guys to stick around long enough now to see how everything plays out. Just so you'll know exactly how badly you failed in the end."

Felix turned to Tucker then, the gleeful tone still coloring his voice as he addressed him: "Oh, hey, Tucker! You'll especially love this part. You see, there was a very specific reason why Wyoming went to pay the base a visit. Setting up the bombs and taking out fighters was just an added perk."

At that, Wyoming moved off slightly to the side, revealing one of the other mercenaries who had materialized into focus with the Freelancer earlier. In that man's arms laid a limp form covered in far too familiar teal armor.

"JUNIOR!"

Tucker had his sword in his hand, the energy blade paving an arc of light through the air as he raced forward before he could even process how stupid that was.

He was barely aware of the others behind him readying to supply cover fire, of the three former Freelancers distracting some of the mercenaries by firing into their midst so that they had to scatter instead of simply pulling their triggers.

Tucker aimed his sword at the mercenary holding his son, and that tunnel vision was the only thing he was currently focused on.

Which was, obviously, not the wisest course of action as he hadn't been aware of Locus firing at him. If Grif hadn't pulled him back at the very last second, the strange energy beam from the quiet mercenary's gun would have gone right through Tucker's visor.

"Now look who's being hasty." Felix scolded Locus, "Hargrove said it would be optimal to keep him alive until the sword can be studied."

Locus said nothing in response beyond his customary growl, and Tucker pulled away from Grif's grip to try attacking once more.

"Assholes!" He screamed, "Get the fuck away from my kid!"

"No can do there, Tucker. Sorry." Their former comrade said in way of mock apology, completely with an almost sad shake of his head, "Hargrove's orders were very specific."

Tucker swore at him. Screw Tex and her potential glares of death: Felix would have burst into flame then and there if a thought could have done so.

"But, hey, look on the bright side," Felix continued to just rub it in, apparently getting a rise out of Tucker's despair, "Human-alien hybrids are extremely rare and he isn't planning on dissecting the kid soon as far as we know."

The fucker was enjoying this, as he couldn't help but add in following an unintelligible snarl from Tucker: "It's probably better in the long run if he's up there given what's going to happen down here anyways."

"You…!"

Just a quick leap and the teal-armored soldier could either take Felix out or charge for his son again—

"Charges are set." The electronic voice of Gamma spoke up, cutting through the charged atmosphere of the room. He was regarding the displays around him with a very analytical eye.

"Good to hear. This was getting a bit too heated." The white-armored Freelancer titled his head to the side, motioning towards the tunnels that the mercenaries had chased Tex and York out of previously, "Ready whenever you chaps are."

"Are you done yet?" Locus asked Felix.

By the tone of his voice, it was clear the mercenary thought that his partner should have been done long before. Felix sighed, deflating a little.

"Yeah, I guess." He muttered reluctantly, "Shame to cut this whole thing off so soon though."

"Time to get moving then. Don't want to get caught in the blast." Wyoming nodded to his former teammates, "There was an explosives sale. Perhaps bought a bit too much, but they will certainly do the trick. So sorry to cut the reunion short."

His polite-sounding statement was quickly followed by Tex shouting out, "SHIT! GET DOWN!"

The ground started quaking violently as charges that must have been placed on the floors below and above their current level were detonated. The already unstable ground from Freckles' explosion bucked and several more cave-in spots opened up, people falling through them and getting buried by the dirt and rock pouring down from above.

Tucker lost his footing and fell, just as he saw a blur of motion as C.T. made her move. She was incredibly close to the mercenary holding Junior. The Resistance fighter had forgotten up until this instant that her Freelancer specialty had been more for stealth and surveillance than outright combat.

His teammate must have been trying to figure out an opportune moment to catch someone by surprise, but Junior getting thrown into the mix apparently changed her plans to a rescue mission instead.

Felix had apparently been anticipating such an action. Which figured, of course, as he was well-aware of Connecticut's strengths and had probably put two and two together about her absence way before Tucker had.

Felix was in front of her, blocking both the knife she was aiming to stab his fellow mercenary with and her free hand that had been trying to grab at the tiny alien.

He met her combat knife with his own, apparently keen on the idea of actually having a knife fight for once. The two blades struck together in vicious motions. The sound of clashing metal drowned out by the tunnel collapses and the explosions still happening at random intervals.

There was an odd shimmer around C.T., and suddenly there were two images of her. Subsequently followed by a third. It had been awhile since Tucker had seen her utilize her Freelancer armor upgrade that allowed her to project holographic duplicates of herself.

"Pretty desperate to be bringing out the big guns, huh?" Felix was grinning, "Or are you just trying to keep me from figuring out what you're really going after?"

The three C.T.s converged on him, and the mercenary somehow managed to parry the actual knife strike with one of his own. In a second, the copies dissipated. Only one C.T. remained.

She raced forward again, swooping down low as if to try a low kick to the back of Felix's knees.

Suddenly there were three of her again: the one about to kick, another jumping up to bring her knife down on the back of Felix's neck as he was reacting to her kicking form, and another side-stepping the whole thing entirely.

The last C.T. was making a mad dash past Felix while he was distracted and right towards the jackass holding Junior captive.

Felix ignored the two brown-armored figures bearing down on him, instead stabbing his combat knife upwards and managing to pierce through one of the weaker points in the side of the armor of the C.T. who had been trying to reach Junior.

"Clever, but a bit too predictable." He stated, as he pulled the knife out while the former Freelancer crumpled to the ground.

He twirled his weapon in the air, the blade covered in blood. The mercenary grabbed the hilt again, this time raising the knife high over his head in preparation to send it through C.T.'s helmet and into her skull.

Oh, fuck no!

At that exact moment, before Tucker could attempt to get up again to defend his downed teammate and save his son, a blinding flash of light filled the corridor. It was far too reminiscent of a flash grenade going off to not be one.

Then the Resistance fighter heard the rumbling of one of the last charges going off in the tunnel floor directly underneath where he stood.

His feet were dangling in the air again, though it only took a second for gravity to take its course. Tucker's world went black momentarily, and his last thought was that he needed to get to C.T.'s prone form and Junior before something even worse happened.

---

Beyond observing to see if the Chairman's mercenary team needed a distraction to get away cleanly in order to finish whatever task they had been assigned with, Washington really had no "connection" to whatever plan Hargrove had come up with this time.

He'd always been put on standby up until just a few hours ago, on the off-chance that something might have happened during the "peace talks." Admittedly, things were always so much more complicated than Hargrove tended to describe them as being, particularly when it came to matters involving questionable "ethics."

Perhaps Washington should have been more relieved than anything else that he hadn't been as kept in the loop. Maybe it was a good thing that Hargrove didn't seem to trust him as completely as he did the others he had working directly and indirectly under him for these sorts of missions.

If Washington did decide that things were going in a direction he could definitely no longer condone, he supposed that would make it easier to just walk away completely.

At the moment, though?

The Freelancer was determined just to find out what exactly was going on now. Especially with alarm bells constantly screaming "This is bad!" in the back of his head with each passing second that he spent in the tunnels.

Doctor Grey showing up like she had certainly complicated matters more. As did the fact that he had been kept in the dark on the entirety of a situation that apparently not only involved the Resistance, but also quite a large number of explosions.

That is if the cacophonic sounds they had been hearing with growing frequency were any indication as they ventured into the offshoot corridors of 32-A and downwards.

The quaking all around them from said explosions was joined by gunfire piercing through the air. That, along with the sound of a familiar voice he knew far too well now than he'd probably ever care to admit screaming had caused Washington's focus as to what he'd been supposed to do there momentarily slip his mind.

Rounding another corner as the last of the explosions seemed to be detonating, the Freelancer took in the situation.

In the midst of a whole lot chaos he saw Connie getting stabbed from behind by the mercenary named Felix. Hadn't he been working for the Resistance? Then again, Washington supposed it would have been right up Hargrove's alley to set up an agent in the Slums considering how he had been using Wyoming and Washington to get inside information on Freelancer.

Then he saw the ground starting to buckle near where Tucker was standing and, well, his objectivity slipped away even further.

The Above Grounder did still end up serving as a distraction by firing the flash grenade as he did. But, he'd be outright lying to himself if it hadn't had more to do with getting the mercenaries out of there for reasons beyond whatever mission Hargrove had given them.

Fortunately, the mercenary group didn't apparently look a gift horse in the mouth regardless of the actual reason their backup had done it. They activated their stealth armor upgrades, and Washington made a mental note that he hadn't received one of those yet.

Only the steel and green armored mercenary known as Locus cast a curious glance around the area to try to find out where the assistance had come from before the mercenaries continued on with their escape.

It really didn't matter to Washington either way if they ever found out who launched the flash grenade or not. Hargrove made those sorts of decisions, not him.

Before they'd totally vanished, Washington was surprised to note that the small, unconscious form that C.T. had been trying to get to before Felix had taken her out appeared to be a miniature alien judging by the skin coloration and appendages.

A rare sight to see now given that it was largely believed that the aliens who had crash-landed on the planet had been killed off. Did its size mean that it wasn't full-grown yet?

The blonde frowned. He would definitely need clarification on exactly what the fuck was going on here later.

Washington and his rather surprisingly quiet on the trip down here companion had first ducked into an alcove far enough away from the fight. From this vantage point he waited to ensure that there were no stragglers from the mercenaries hoping to take advantage of the confusion.

It was always better to only step into something when you knew you weren't in for nasty surprises, no matter how much he wanted to just race out to make sure his friends (odd to call them that now, given everything) were all right.

He was caught off-guard, however, by Doctor Grey suddenly racing past him. Not only had she apparently been far enough behind him to avoid getting blinded earlier, but she also was not as up to code on common sense when it came to potentially hostile situations.

Then again, there appeared to be a very valid reason as to why she acted that way. It was stemming from the fact that, for all of her craziness and eccentricities, she was first and foremost a doctor.

"MOVE!" She shouted authoritatively at Donut, North, and a red-armored Resistance fighter Washington had never seen before, pushing past them as they crowded around C.T. to assess how bad her wound was.

Luckily, the brown-armored soldier had just avoided falling into one of the new recesses in the ground after getting stabbed. That would have made treating what already appeared to be a potentially serious wound all the more difficult.

"Doctor Grey?" Donut looked at the dark-haired woman in bewilderment as she bent over C.T., "What are you doing here?"

"Hopefully keeping her from bleeding out!" She stated tersely as her focus was entirely on the former Freelancer.

Doctor Grey ran her diagnostics tool over C.T.'s injury, the hole gushing crimson onto his childhood friend's armor and all over the floor.

North, in his confusion over the sudden appearance of an Above Ground doctor, glanced up. He caught sight of Washington, who had decided it was probably best to take his cue from the doctor at that point and reveal himself.

The Freelancer also felt like he needed to know how badly C.T. had been hurt too, and how bad everything for the last couple of hours had been down here.

"Wash?" North asked, looking even more confused at the sight of the younger man.

The confusion only lasted a second or so, before realization clicked within the sniper: "Were you the one who used the flash grenade just now?"

Washington could only nod in response, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead in his mouth as he took in the situation.

C.T. was possibly bleeding out before him on the ground. Caboose was huddled over a gaping hole that still had smoke rising from it looking impossibly small for his larger stature. The last he'd seen of Tucker, the younger man had disappeared through a caved-in spot in the tunnel floor.

Who knew how many other Resistance fighters were lying around possibly injured or killed?

Hopefully Tucker had pulled himself out already. The Freelancer was subconsciously trying to scan the area for any sign of teal when out of the corner of his eye he saw Tex walking purposefully towards him. Her hand was already forming a tight fist that he knew was just seconds away from probably slamming into his skull. Or worse.

It was Tucker, flying out of nowhere, who literally ended up beating her to the punch.

Washington stumbled back at the force of the blow on his helmet. The blonde was surprised at the fact that Tucker had not only managed to catch him completely off-guard this time, but also by the fact that even with his helmet on the blow had actually hurt.

"You fucker!" Tucker sounded both enraged and as if he was about to burst into tears in any second, "You were in on this?!"

---

The last of the bulkheads sealed shut behind them with an audible whirring noise. Leonard Church couldn't help the small sigh of relief at being out in open air again with a sky overhead.

He couldn't stand dark and confined spaces, and the tunnels leading back to Above Ground were even worse than the Slums themselves. At least there was more space in the Slums proper and the lighting was a whole lot better for the most part.

Plus, as shitty as the barracks were back at the Mother of Invention, he didn't have to share a room with Doc there which was all sorts of wonderful for his continued sanity.

"Glad to be back?" Carolina asked, clearly amused by her cousin's reaction.

It was the first time she had spoken without tension this whole time, and Church couldn't help but try to go along with it.

"Oh, yeah. Even getting woken up that goddamn early to leave without any warning or reasoning whatsoever was great since we actually got to fucking leave." He grinned, "I'm in such a good mood I won't even bitch about that first part."

"Must be my lucky day then." Carolina replied sarcastically, before glancing over at the three forms sulking behind them, "Your teammates don't seem to share your enthusiasm though."

Church turned to look at his dejected teammates, their despondence plainly visible in their body languages even with their armor and helmets on. He frowned at the sight.

"Yeah, well, they're just upset that their love dramas had to end so abruptly." He told her, trying to downplay the whole thing.

"Love dramas?" She raised a red eyebrow questioningly at the phrasing.

Which he promptly responded to by rolling his blue eyes: "Please don't make me relive all of that bullshit again."

Doc had definitely been disappointed at having to leave so soon after "befriending" Donut, but he was arguably still handling it better than either Sheila or Simmons were. That was probably on account of how Doc liked trying to be cheerful for the sake of those around him no matter how he was feeling personally, though Church had a sneaking suspicion the purple medic would be trying out a new banana nut bread recipe (with more nuts!) and forcing all of them to eat it soon enough.

Sheila, though outwardly acting the same when directly spoken to, had been noticeably more withdrawn on the way back. She only really responded in her usual polite manner when addressed by someone else.

Church swore he had heard her humming a song that sounded suspiciously like the one Lopez had actually done a surprisingly-not-so-bad-job singing at the "Randy Offering" earlier. He just knew he would have to be the one to explain that to the technicians that did maintenance on her later.

But Simmons had been by far the worst. The cybernetic nerd had been more than just a little flustered upon returning very late to the hotel. A snide remark from a certain goateed and very sexually attractive teammate about walks of shame caused the poor guy to turn so red in the face that even Church didn't have the heart to joke about it further. Having to leave so quickly had apparently left the redhead very much down in the dumps.

He looked as if someone had given him a puppy, promptly taken it away from him, and then made him watch as they punted it the length of a swimming pool. Church didn't really know where his teammate stood on puppies though seeing as how kittens and puppies usually led to talks about emotions in general, and Church tended to avoid that topic with a ten-meter pole.

So, given that Simmons was a geek, take that same scenario but replace the puppy with a datapad that revealed all of the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

Church sighed, really hoping that he could avoid having anymore horribly awkward and uncomfortable "feelings" talks with anyone.

After all, it wasn't like he was an expert on any of that shit himself.

He glanced over at his cousin. He admitted that he was curious about their sudden departure from the Slums. Not because he was in any way disappointed that he couldn't hang out with those Resistance losers (and certainly not because of Tex, damn it!), but because it had been so against routine.

Fuck, he wasn't even sure if Carolina had filed a goddamned report before she had pulled them out like she did, and she sort of had a stick up her ass about maintaining proper protocol.

The Freelancer hadn't even so much as explained why they were leaving in such a hurry.

"Not that I want to get involved in whatever bullshit you've been poking your nose into," Church said in as conversational a tone as he could muster, "But something must have happened, right?"

The redhead stiffened abruptly at his question, whatever lightly teasing moment they had been experiencing before ending there, "That's not for you to know, Church."

Well, that was a pretty good confirmation that something had happened.

A figure in orchid armor with green trim approached them just then. They had picked one of the entrances to Above Ground that was more or less deserted by the general populace, just to avoid the questioning looks a group of armored soldiers would undoubtedly have received at this time of day.

"Odd time to ask for a pickup." Agent South Dakota stated in lieu of a greeting, nodding to the transport waiting behind her.

Carolina looked surprised at her appearance, "You're helping Four Seven Niner?"

The other woman scoffed, a bitter note cropping into her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest, "Might as well when you've been left out of the loop. Again."

There was a sudden tenseness in the air following that remark. The two Freelancer agents seemed to be trying to stare one another down, and Church had the distinct feeling that this was a conversation he really didn't want to be anywhere near.

He turned to see what his team was up to instead, and watched as Sheila and Doc discussed something with Simmons in hushed tones. From the way the redhead was reacting with his arms moving frantically at his sides and the odd bursts of sputtering Church was able to pick up on, the cobalt-armored soldier surmised that the group was distracting themselves by talking about whatever had happened between him and that fat-ass Grif after they'd left the bar.

The Above Grounder wasn't really sure he wanted to be anywhere near that conversation either.

Whatever exactly had happened in the Slums or the tunnels that had caused Carolina to want to move them out of there so quickly even before the fake peace talks were officially over? He imagined word would spread up here eventually, and any lighthearted moods over good memories that his teammates had would probably dissipate quickly.

Goddamn it.

He couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh. Church honestly wasn't sure if the team knowing now would be better in the long run or not.

Why did things always have to be so fucking complicated?

Carolina rejoined him then, "Better get them ready, Church." She informed him, motioning towards his teammates, "South isn't exactly in the best waiting mood."

From the edge in his cousin's voice, it didn't seem as if she was either.

He shook his head, "You almost sound like Allison when you say things like that."

It was one of those things he would sometimes think, but he never said out loud largely because he didn't want to get the shit beaten out of him. For some reason, maybe due to all of the weird stress of this whole bizarre situation, Church had just gone and blurted it out to a Carolina who seemed equally as stressed and annoyed.

He froze, waiting for the blow-out and silently praying that the end was swift and relatively painless.

Instead of turning his face into so much unrecognizable pulp though, Carolina was staring at him with what appeared to be unmasked shock. Her body language was even more rigid than before, which he hadn't even thought was humanly possible.

"C—Carolina?"

She was freaking him the fuck out, all things considered.

"Who?" When she finally responded, it was barely a whisper.

Church panicked. She was just having a delayed reaction to what he'd said, it seemed. This is it. This is when I die.

"Sorry, you—you sound nothing like Tex. At all. Ever."

He braced for the impact, already wincing.

"You were talking about Texas?"

Okay, this whole "confused" bit was really just her playing with him, right? Of course she knew he'd meant Tex! Who else could he have been talking about?

"Carolina, if you're going to kill me, just make it quick." He motioned towards his teammates, "Also, maybe take them out too so I don't have to die alone."

Church was fairly certain that was probably not something they told you to do in "Best Leader" handouts, but fuck it! If he was going to die, why should they get off scot-free? They'd probably think having him not being around would be a vacation. The assholes!

Then again, were they really the people he'd want to spend eternity with? Rooming with Doc for just a couple of days had made him want to pull his hair out or ram his head into a wall.

Shit! He better rethink that request quick.

Carolina just stared at Church as if she wasn't really looking at him for a few more minutes before promptly turning around and stalking off towards the transport without saying anything. He noticed that there was a troubled expression looming in her green eyes.

South even shot him a "What-the-fuck-did-you-do?" look out of the corner of his eye after the Freelancer leader moved past her. Apparently the sudden change in the cyan-armored agent's demeanor was something she'd noticed as well.

What had he done? The fuck if he knew!

This whole thing was way too tense for his tastes. Unfortunately, Church had a suspicion that things would only get a shitload worse for everyone from this point on.

Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

---

"How is he doing?" North asked in his customarily soft voice.

Grif stiffened slightly at the intrusion into his thoughts from where he was sitting on the rubble-strewn ground.

The purple-armored former Freelancer had been talking to Tex and York earlier, before checking up on Kimball and Sarge as they had made their way through the ranks and collected progress reports.

Good-ish news? The bombs back at base hadn't exploded along with these other ones so they were probably on timers set for later. Bad-ish news? There were lesser guards there now thanks to Wyoming to go around finding them before they did detonate.

The orange-armored soldier had to give it to Kimball: she was taking the betrayal pretty well all things considered. Though that was probably more due to how so many other things took priority right now. No doubt it would hit her harder than she would care to admit later on given how much she had ended up trusting Felix.

To his credit as well, Sarge wasn't even being remotely smug about how his feelings in regards to Felix had been proven justified. No, if anything, he seemed angrier and regretful that they had ended up turning out to be true.

Currently, the Red Team leader seemed to think it was best to just act as support for Kimball, which was good.

It seemed as if North was making his own rounds now, trying to check up on everyone who seemed worse for wear. The blonde always did seem to look out for others.

He was probably only asking Grif because he was better off than some of the others who might still not be up to talking just yet. The Slums dweller seemed to be okay beyond his initial weirdness immediately following when Freckles had exploded, and his subsequent shock and anger following Felix's betrayal. Which was pretty par the course for everyone who had been there, truthfully.

Hell, Grif had even managed to keep his freak-out over the later explosions down to a minimum which was actually sort of impressive given how he usually responded to explosions and fire now.

"Which one?" The tan man asked North quietly for elaboration's sake as he glanced to either side of him.

To his left, still squatting by the hole that most of Freckles' metal frame had fallen into sat Caboose, looking for all the world as if his entire universe had just collapsed in on itself. Perhaps it had, in a way. He had definitely been attached to Freckles, after all. Caboose was the sort who wore his heart on his sleeve all the time.

Donut was sitting with him, with Lopez off to the side. Whether or not the robot was actually trying to offer some kind of support, or just hadn't been sure of where else to sit in the crowded and heavily damaged space they were now in, who could say? It didn't seem like Donut's friendly concern was getting through to the blue-armored blonde at all right now.

To Grif's right, Tucker was in much the same position, though his dark eyes were glued to the prone form of his teammate C.T. as the crazy Above Ground doctor continued treating her stab wound.

He could only guess what was going through Tucker's mind because of what had happened, and none of Grif's guesses were either pretty or nice.

"It might be better just to ask them directly later." He muttered to North when the sniper didn't respond to his question.

"Yeah, I figured as much." The former Freelancer let out a soft sigh, pale blue eyes glancing downward at the top of Grif's head, "How about you?"

He shrugged, "I'll live, so long as Sarge doesn't shoot me for whatever insane reason he might come up with later."

There was a long stretch of silence that followed. Since North didn't seem to be in a particular hurry to leave, Grif finally worked up the nerve to ask him a question he had been debating about asking for a while now.

He figured that since North had been a Freelancer, the odds were good he could give him a better answer than most.

"So," he frowned, staring up at North expectantly to get his attention, "Think we can trust that Washington guy?"

It had taken quite a long time to get Tucker to calm down following his punching of Washington. Even Tex, livid enough at what she suspected Washington's involvement in what had happened here was, seemed caught off-guard by the dark-skinned man's wholly sympathetic outburst.

The Resistance fighter did do so, eventually, and now he was simply alternating between glaring at Washington and glaring around at the chaotic aftermath all around them. His eyes fluctuating from anger to pain to concern every few seconds.

"Y…your kid?" Washington was sputtering for what was probably the eleventh time after they'd explained exactly what had happened, "That alien I saw was Junior?"

His face turned weirdly red as the Freelancer seemed to glance over Tucker more carefully, "H—how is that even…?"

"Dude, this is not the time for you to be having a fucking freak-out." Tucker cut him off, going from being angry at Washington to exasperated at how awkward he'd become over the reveal about Junior, "Let's just leave it at that's it's a really long story and I am not showing you the scars."

That shut Washington up, though the blush on his face seemed to get oddly darker for some reason.

"So you didn't have any idea that they were going after Junior or a doomsday relic?" York asked his former teammate, sounding strained.

They had gathered in a group around Washington to keep Tucker and Tex from killing the Freelancer since, technically speaking, he had actually helped to at least save C.T.'s life even if the mercenaries had escaped during his distraction. They also wanted to figure out exactly what the Above Grounder knew about what had happened.

Only Donut had opted not to sit in on the questioning, wanting to keep an eye out on both Caboose still and be at the ready in case Doctor Grey needed any help with C.T. Every once in a while though, Grif caught him glancing over in their direction with a questioning look on his face. No doubt his pink-armored teammate would be asking him a ton of questions later.

Washington glanced at the assembled Resistance fighters somewhat apologetically, "No, I didn't."

He glanced over at C.T.'s unconscious form and very pale face, and then directly into Tucker's angry one, "Believe me."

Tucker snorted and broke eye contact, but he didn't say anything. Grif knew that meant he was trying to go over all of the details in his head to make a judgment call on the Freelancer in the steel and yellow armor from their past encounters.

The other man sighed, resignation creeping into his gray eyes.

"Well, you don't have to. At all." He stated, "I…probably wouldn't either, in your shoes."

"No shit." Sarge muttered bitterly.

"Right. Because you're fucking paranoid." Tucker noted.

It seemed like he was trying to make an inside joke, but his voice couldn't quite muster up the teasing tone he usually put into those.

Washington smiled sadly, "Exactly."

It was a little moment, if nothing else. Maybe something was said in that exchange that meant more to Tucker and Washington than to any of the people around them who didn't get the reference. Tucker certainly seemed a lot less likely to haul off and hit the guy following that.

"But, you were working for Hargrove knowing what he's capable of?" Tex countered, trying to throw another viewpoint into the debate, "You certainly do seem to like burying your head, Washington."

Washington frowned, "I've made plenty of bad choices in my life, Tex. You should know that better than most." He sighed, glancing over their heads for a moment, "There was a time when I thought that Chairman Hargrove was the lesser of two evils."

The other three Freelancers shared a look at this remark. Apparently what Washington had just said was a sentiment that they at least had a partial understanding of.

"He's been keeping me more and more out of the loop and I've…had doubts recently, yes. Very large ones." The blonde focused on each of their faces in turn, as if trying to drive his next point home as best he could, "I wouldn't have agreed to any of this, though."

The last person he set his gaze on was Tucker, who stared directly back at him for several tense moments. Eventually though, the swordsman nodded.

"Yeah. You can be a major dick, but you wouldn't be eager to blow up the Slums." He told Washington, glancing in C.T.'s direction as well with a frown, "Or see a friend get killed. Especially not one you've already looked out for in the past."

It seemed as if Tucker's confirmation put Washington more at ease, and he even looked oddly relieved. It was probably the most open expression anyone there had seen on the usually very guarded Above Grounder in a long time.

Grif noted in particular that while York and North seemed almost thankful to see that expression on the Freelancer's face, there was an almost oddly surprised look on Tucker's face. It was like he'd just seen something that was truly rare and awe-inspiring.

The expression quickly went back to Washington's usual closed-off look, and the Freelancer let out a heavy breath.

"I need to head back."

Tucker's face quickly morphed into an angry mask again, his frustration clearly evident as he started to yell, "Are you fucking kidding me? You're still going to work with those assholes after this?"

Washington didn't even slightly react to the outburst as he countered matter-of-factly, "If I don't report in, it will look suspicious."

For the first time since this exchange started, Tex actually agreed with Washington's assessment: "Besides, we'll need all of the help we can get tracking down that relic now that it is somewhere in Above Ground."

He nodded, "I'll…keep on the lookout for Junior now too." He promised Tucker, "You'll need someone with inside connections to track either one of them down."

Before Tucker could even respond, Washington turned again in the direction of C.T. and Doctor Grey.

"I hate to do this given everything, but I'll have to leave the doctor here." He stated, "She's seen too much and Hargrove won't tolerate loose ends."

"We always have use for a doctor." York assured him, "Don't worry. We'll make sure she's okay."

Washington nodded, "Thank you. She's eccentric, but…she does seem like she wants to help."

"She's already made herself more than welcome by fixing up C.T." Sarge said, looking gratefully at the two, "It would have been a lot dicier if she hadn't stepped up to the plate like she did."

That was pretty much the end of the conversation, it seemed. Washington said a quiet goodbye to the former Freelancers in their midst, before looking over at Tucker once more. He seemed to be debating something inwardly for a few seconds then, before hesitantly speaking to the Resistance fighter.

"Junior will be fine. Just…don't do anything stupid in the meanwhile, Tucker."

Tucker rolled his eyes at that, "You better follow your own advice, you fucking idiot."

"I think so." North responded at length, reassuringly, "Washington's been through a lot, but he has a good heart."

For some reason, that remark almost brought up an image of Simmons in Grif's brain, but he pushed it aside quickly.

"Well, if both you and Tucker are going to vouch for him, I guess I'll give him the benefit of the doubt too."

After all, they didn't have much to lose at this point, right? Either Washington ended up helping them or he didn't. That was all there was to it.

North smiled softly and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before heading off.

Fortunately, or unfortunately as Grif honestly couldn't tell if being alone with his thoughts or being distracted from them was better, Donut took the former Freelancer's place a few moments later.

"Hey, Grif. Guess what?" His younger teammate asked him, a rather relieved look flooding his features, "Sarge said he might at least be able to salvage Freckles' V.I.!"

Grif raised an eyebrow, "And do what with it, exactly? Make Lopez a brother? Lopez 2.0?"

From farther away, Lopez glanced up at the mention of his name in the conversation.

"Con tal de que él no se vuelve un total de polla y yo soy el guapo." {"Just so long as he doesn't come back a total dick and I'm the handsome one."}

Donut frowned, looking thoughtful, "He's not really sure yet, and maybe he's just saying that he can do it to help make Caboose feel a little better. But, that's still good, right?"

The dirty blonde had a look on his face that reminded Grif of the times when Kaikaina had come to him when they were younger, scared and unsure about something but too afraid to directly talk about whatever was really troubling her.

The tan-skinned man let out a tired sigh, his tone taking on the same soft inflection it used to do in those exact instances, "Yeah, Donut. It is."

Donut smiled sadly, "At least that's one nice thing to happen. Oh, but Doctor Grey being here to help C.T. was great too!" He tried clarifying, horribly awkward in the attempt, "I mean, with everything else that happened: the explosions, Junior, possibly getting killed off pretty soon—"

"It's probably best to think on the nicer things then, Donut." Grif advised him.

He nodded, "Right! I'm trying anyways."

"Good."

There was a pause, and the orange-armored soldier closed his eyes for a moment. The temptation to simply nap and recharge was getting harder and harder to ignore seeing as how it was pretty much his stress relief.

"What do you think is going to happen now?" Donut asked quietly, the fear and anxiety back on his face as he stared around them at the wreckage.

"Hell if I know." Grif shrugged, "But we'll get through."

"There's nothing we can't do with a little hard work and effort, right?" Donut tried smiling.

Grif couldn't help but roll his eyes, though a sort of half-smile crossed his face all the same, "Er…sure, Donut. Something like that. Only a lot less cheesy and vomit-inducing. So anything else, really."

If his younger teammate heard his ribbing, he didn't respond to it. It seemed he was already thinking about something else as another worried look had crossed over his features, "I really hope that Doc and the others aren't stuck in the middle of this."

Grif said nothing. Truthfully, leave it to Donut to pick up on the one topic that Grif was actively trying very hard not to think of right now. For one very specific reason in particular.

Realizing that Donut was waiting for reassurance though due to the mention of Doc (sometimes he was like a having a second even girlier little sister!), Grif replied truthfully: "Hopefully not."

The Resistance fighter then tried to avoid picturing the one person beyond his sister that he really wanted to check up on at that moment in person, even though he knew he couldn't and it sucked.

"Oh, I forgot to mention it earlier, but Kimball said that she got into contact with the lieutenants. She's having them hold off going back to the base until it is secure and the bombs are cleared out." Donut seemed to decide it was time to return the favor since Grif had been more patient than he usually was in talking with him, giving a reassuring sort of smile at the news about the younger recruits.

Grif almost sighed in relief. At least Kai was safe. He wondered how much Kimball had told them about what had happened. He was already trying to imagine how exactly to tell Kai about Junior in particular.

The relic was definitely a big issue, of course, and certainly more Top Priority in the grand scheme of things. But, it was also farther away, a distant kind of threat since it was a strange object none of them had any familiarity with.

Either they destroyed it, or it would be used to kill all of them. That was all it really boiled down to.

But Junior was a kid that Kaikaina sometimes babysat, who she considered part of her oddball extended family. Truthfully, Grif was dreading telling her about his kidnapping more.

He couldn't imagine she would take it well.

After Donut wandered off, Grif actually did sigh as he realized there was no point in really thinking about that conversation now until the two siblings were back face-to-face. After all, it was the only way to really have those types of conversations.

Instead, the orange-armored soldier got up and walked an extra few feet to only then plop down on the ground again next to Tucker.

His friend didn't even seem to register his presence, his eyes glued on C.T.'s still unconscious body.

"She tried saving him." He said finally, still not directly looking at Grif, "And Felix stabbed her."

Grif said nothing. It felt like one of those instances where he probably just needed to let Tucker vent.

"I was kind of an ass to her when she first joined Blue Team, you know?" His friend frowned, "And somehow I think she just got elevated to Best Babysitter in one fucking night."

"She's a Freelancer. Stab wounds probably just make her come back stronger and angrier." Grif remarked, trying to mix a little assurance with some good old-fashioned humor.

"Man, how many times do you think Tex got stabbed then?"

It seemed to work, going by Tucker's own humorous quip in response. At least a little bit.

"Probably too many times to count."

Tucker gave a small smile at the orange-armored fighter's joke, though it didn't reach his eyes in the slightest.

"She's going to be fine, Tucker." Grif decided for his next attempt to go with a direct approach as they watched Doctor Grey once again running the diagnostic tool over her patient, "And we're going to get Junior back."

Tucker's response was quick and emphatic, "We better."

There was nothing else really to say. Grif simply sat there with his friend, and tried unsuccessfully to not think about anything for a while.

He tried not to think about Junior, or C.T., or Caboose, or Freckles, or Tucker, or Kai, or Simmons. Or about how everything had just gotten about fifty times more fucked up than it had been before.

Whatever was going to happen next was going to majorly suck if this was just a precursor.

---

Author's Notes: I am so, so, SO sorry that this chapter is later than I intended it to be. I struggled majorly with parts of it, and real life in October just kicked my butt all over the place which made having the time for writing even scarcer. I'm really sorry that I wasn't able to post this until now. I'll try to get the next chapters out in my normal timeframe as best as I can!

Lots of things happened in this chapter, which pretty much just serves as a set-up for REALLY big things still to come. Finally did my really obvious plot reveal with Felix (orz, actually, I had a lot of fun writing his lines after that! XD), and put quite a few of the characters through the ringer in this one (which I hate doing, but…story purposes!). 0_0;

Not a ton of Grimmons in this chapter which I apologize for as well. I do have a ton of things planned for them later though, don't worry! There will be Grimmons aplenty in this fic when all is said and done, given how it is one of the main focuses of the story and I particularly love writing their scenes. :) Along with plot things for all of the other pairings too because they are fun to write as well, of course! :D

So, I apologize again for the lateness and I hope this chapter was at least a little enjoyable despite my struggles with it. Things will start getting more intense in the next parts! Thank you for reading! :)