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.}

19. Chapter 19

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 Nineteen:

"…So that's that." Church finished rather unimpressively, shifting on his feet uncomfortably.

He stood with arms folded across his chest, waiting for some kind of response to his declaration from the group gathered around him.

The current silence that was lingering on for minutes wasn't exactly what he had expected.

The Above Grounder grimaced, and all of the negative emotions that had been festering in him since this whole shit fest had started boiled over into a wave of impatience and frustration: "Come on, guys! You can at least acknowledge what I said, for fuck's sake!"

His teammates all glanced at one another for a moment before regarding Church again, sitting before him in the private room of a restaurant.

Carolina had insisted he speak of the matter to them off-base for fear of listening ears. Also, because the fucking universe hated him, it apparently happened to be a few days before Doc's birthday. Since the team members were off-duty, he had the joy of arranging a celebration.

"That is a really off-putting thing to say on someone's birthday, especially when you first walk through the door, Church." Doc stated after a measure of what appeared to be careful deliberation on his part, "The waiter hasn't even come by to ask about appetizers or drinks yet!"

That all too familiar eye-twitch that seemed to occur whenever he interacted with the purple medic was starting to flare up again, "Is that really what you're focusing on, Doc?"

The medic sniffed slightly, pushing his glasses back up his nose, "Well, it would have been polite of you to have at least said hello first."

"As well as wish Doc a happy birthday, Church." Sheila added, always rather formal when it came to what she considered correct social protocol.

He groaned, counting backwards from ten in his head before trying again, "You guys do realize given what I just said that meeting for the fucking birthday party off-base was just a ruse, right?"

"Still! Polite is polite." Doc noted firmly.

"Doc, if we survive this I promise I will actually try doing yoga with you once as a birthday present." Church tried reasoning weakly, "Also, you can tell me all about whatever bizarre New Age healing technique you've discovered without me yelling at you for ten minutes."

"Oh, you'd be amazed at what they're saying orange juice can cure now!" Doc was excited, "Only one of those things is toe fungus!"

The Above Grounder was certain two of the other things orange juice could apparently cure were supposedly gunshot wounds and broken bones, at least if Church was recalling a recent one-sided conversation with the brunette that he'd barely been paying attention to correctly. Really, the only thing Doc's comment had reminded him of was the reason why he tried so hard not getting injured while in Doc's presence.

Choosing to ignore his team member's comment entirely, Church let out a tired groan, "So, do you guys have any thoughts to add to what I had actually been talking about?"

Silence again. His three teammates shared another significant look amongst themselves, though this time there was an air of uncertainty in all of their body languages.

Finally, Simmons spoke up in his often pretty hesitant-sounding voice to ask what they were obviously all thinking: "You want us to…break into a top-secret research facility?"

"Isn't that really against the rules?" Doc chimed in moments later, chewing his lip anxiously and furrowing his eyebrows together.

The ridiculousness of that question completely threw Church for a loop, "Of course it's against the goddamned rules!"

He sighed, trying to count backwards from ten in a vain attempt to reach his nonexistent happy place. If it ever had existed, Church was pretty sure it had burned down in a mental inferno some time ago.

"What part of the whole breaking into a top secret facility plan implied we'd be doing anything remotely legal, Doc?"

The purple-wearing medic slumped a little in his seat, mumbling quietly, "I just wanted to be sure."

There was another uneasy silence then, and the three looked amongst each other for what was probably the twentieth time since Church had spoken.

Doc and Simmons both looked extremely nervous. Hell, Simmons looked even paler than usual which was saying something. Despite being a robot and having limited body language as a result, even Sheila seemed more than just a bit out of sorts.

In all honesty, he could hardly blame them for their hesitancy.

"Look, guys, I know I'm asking a lot here…" He began again, trying for a more patient approach.

"Breaking into a military facility is a serious crime!" Simmons spoke up, his voice rising to that almost annoying pitch it got into whenever he was really upset, "We could get arrested or...or even killed!"

Sheila raised her hand then, polite as always, "Church, if this is about the change in my scheduled maintenance, I have no desire to involve anyone else in it."

"Change in maintenance?" Simmons broke through his panic to stare at Sheila in surprise.

Church sighed, "Yeah, Carolina told me about what happened with your check-up too, Simmons." He informed him, "Turns out Sheila's gotten very similar update orders recently as well."

Simmons frowned, looking immensely troubled, "B—but why would they…?" He began, before stopping and shaking his head and trying to start again, "And for both…?"

"It does seem like a very large coincidence in terms of timing." Sheila muttered as well.

"It's strange as all fuck, believe me." Church grimaced, "As much as I'd like to be in denial still, I really don't want you guys getting caught up in Hargrove's bullshit."

"Aw, you really do care!" Doc looked positively touched at that less-than-stellar declaration.

Church promptly gave him the finger, "No, I don't and shut the fuck up, Doc." He sighed, "I just don't want to get killed by extension because you idiots dragged me into all of your dumbass problems."

"That's still probably the nicest thing you've ever said to us." Simmons sounded as though he was getting fucking teary-eyed. The cyborg wiped his organic hand over his face in one frantic motion that all but confirmed that.

"That sounds more like the Church we are all so fond of." Sheila said, the smile evident in her voice despite her not really having anything akin to a face underneath her helmet.

He couldn't help but smile slightly. His team may be a bunch of assholes, but the Above Grounder was pretty okay with that. Wouldn't have it in any other way, really.

"So, we would be doing this to figure out about the sudden secrecy with Sheila and Simmons' check-ups?" Doc, for once, actually seemed to be following what was going on. Perhaps the display of emotion from everyone had convinced him it was more serious than he originally believed.

"If only." Church groaned and rolled his eyes, "That's only just the tip of the goddamned iceberg."

"Th—there's more?" Simmons squeaked out again.

"Shit loads more." He closed his eyes, "We're also hoping to find the location of a super weapon that's probably going to kill everyone in the Slums unless it's destroyed."

"WHAT?"

The dark-haired man didn't have to have his eyes open to picture Simmons as he exclaimed out loud, the cyborg's chair scraping the floor as he hurriedly stood up. No doubt the redhead was panicking, mind probably flying to that orange-armored fatass he was so clearly crushing on and his other friends in the Slums.

Even Church had thought of those assholes more times than he'd care to admit ever since he had heard the whole story from Carolina and Washington. He even thought of Tex, despite how fairly certain he was that even if there was some attack on the Slums she would probably find a way to crawl back out.

It would probably only make her even angrier, which was a terrifying thought in and of itself.

"That was the real reason for the peace talks a little while back. Why we had to leave them so quickly." Church elaborated further, "Apparently, Hargrove got his hands on a really nasty piece of ancient tech left down there by the aliens."

"Shit." Simmons looked as if he was about to be physically ill, not that the cobalt-wearing soldier could blame the cyborg for that.

"That's…" Doc began and stopped, swallowing nervously before starting again, "That's horrible. All those people…"

The medic's hand subconsciously went to press his glasses up against the bridge of his nose. Church never commented on the fact that the new frames of his glasses seemed to be a rather obvious shade of pink, despite all of the good snarky jokes that it could provide.

"Tell me about it." Church let out another sigh, fixing his teammates with a level stare, "Which is why you can see that we need to do this, or at least try."

Even if the odds were very good that they would probably fail very badly, but hey! Maybe they wouldn't.

"Will breaking into this facility assure that we'll find the location of the super-weapon, Church?" Sheila's voice had taken a decidedly "down-to-business" tone, which made sense given how serious the current atmosphere was.

There was no doubt she also had people she would prefer didn't die down there. One of the only other humanoid robots she had ever been able to interact with being one of the prime contenders.

Before Church could respond, a very familiar voice spoke up from behind him, "We won't know for sure until we find what we're looking for inside the facility, Sheila. But, it's our best bet currently."

Church's cousin was standing in the doorway, looking authoritarian and imposing even in her civilian attire.

His team stood to awkwardly salute Agent Carolina. She gave a curt nod in acknowledgement, her red ponytail bobbing slightly as she did so.

"How much of that did you hear?" Church asked her.

She glanced down at him briefly, "Just the tail end, but I take it that means you told them everything?"

He grunted, "As much as I know, anyways."

Carolina frowned. He wondered if she was contemplating getting annoyed with him. When she reached a hand out, he was about fifty percent certain she was going to just make it into a fist and punch him.

Instead, she patted his shoulder awkwardly as her eyebrow raised slightly in amusement at his little bit of flinching, "For what it's worth, Church, there is quite a bit I still don't know about things either."

She looked thoughtfully at the art pieces hanging around them on the walls. Apparently the cousin of the restaurant's owner painted them and gave a discount to his family, but Church was of the opinion it probably wasn't a big enough one to warrant putting the crap on the walls of a place where people ate.

"Maybe we'll all find answers soon." The redhead stated, not really addressing anyone in particular.

"Would that be a good or bad thing?" A part of Church was almost afraid she was right for some reason.

She sighed, and for the first time in a while he thought Carolina actually looked as tired as she probably felt on the inside ever since all of the shit had begun with Project Freelancer, "Guess we'll find that out too."

Carolina turned to everyone then, fixing the entire breadth of the room with her imperious stare, "All right, then. You've heard from Church the plan and why we're doing it. Any complaints?"

By her tone of voice, it was obvious she wasn't going to probably suffer any. Still, it looked as though coercion by threats wasn't necessary this time, as the group quickly shook their collective heads.

A thin, sort-of smile ghosted over Carolina's features, "Good."

Before Church really took notice of what she was doing, his cousin strolled over to Doc with a small package covered in gift wrap featuring an assortment of cats.

"Doc, this is from Agent Washington." She said, putting the box in front of the medic, "He saw your birthday in your files and wanted to be polite since you'll be assisting us."

"That was really nice of him!" Doc beamed, momentarily forgetting about the serious matter they had been discussing only moments before.

Carolina nodded, "Happy Birthday then, I suppose." She glanced down at the menu underneath the gift she'd placed in front of Doc, "Since we're all here, I'll pay for everyone's meals."

She seemed unsure at her own gesture. Awkward even. To be honest, it was something of a shock that she'd even offered. But, Carolina often tended to showcase she cared in odd ways.

The Freelancer had probably felt like it was the equivalent of giving them a last meal if things didn't go well, Church reasoned. Admittedly, it was not the most pleasant of thoughts when viewed in that regard.

Fortunately for the medic, Doc didn't seem to catch on at all.

"Thank you, Agent Carolina!" He exclaimed, looking absolutely touched. The medic glanced past her at Church, smiling brightly at the goateed soldier too, "Not exactly what I'd first expected, but this was a really nice birthday surprise after all! Thank you so much, Church!"

Just like that, the annoyed eye-twitch was back in full-force.

Leonard Church groaned, once again reminded of their earlier conversation, "Oh, fuck it."

---

There was a cautious, nervous energy hanging in the air as they prepped. It was understandable, really, given what they were getting ready to do.

Historically, fighting Above Ground directly had never ended well for the Slums.

The one past instance of a confrontation that actually had taken place topside was even less positive to think on than other battles had been. After all, none of the Insurrection members had even managed to make it back down to the tunnels before they had been mowed down.

Yet the Slums had still been punished for it all the same.

Granted, that wasn't exactly the sort of thought that was helpful right about now, but no one in the Resistance could be blamed for recalling it all the same. Especially given what they were about to walk into. For all they knew, they were going to meet the same fate as the Insurrection.

It was no wonder that memories of that ill-fated battle were on constant repeat.

The former Freelancers had taken those who would be helping with the assault through a myriad of twisting tunnels leading away from the barracks and the Slums proper. Dexter Grif guessed that it had probably taken them at least half of a day's to traverse the tunnels.

Of course, Grif's estimations of time were rocky at best as he never had bothered to get the time display in his helmet fixed when it had stopped working. He always figured he'd get around to it sometime, so why hurry it along?

From what he could tell, none of the later corridors they had entered seemed to have been named. In fact, given how there had been no tell-tale sign of lights or power being active in the corridors at all, it didn't seem like anyone had been traversing these particular sections of tunnels for a good long while with any regular frequency.

The few pieces of machinery lying about seemed even more ancient than the old equipment that the miners still used, and those were so old that they tended to border on "antique" status more often than not.

Once, they passed a rock formation that had sort-of resembled a skeleton in the right light and from a certain angle. At least, it looked like one to a particular person's overactive imagination.

Grif was only just now getting his hearing back from Donut's high-pitched shriek.

His pink-armored teammate had even somehow managed to bruise his arm despite his armor when he had latched on for dear life too. Though that would have paled to the shotgun shell-sized hole Sarge had almost put in his skull by instinct when he had turned around to face whatever "threat" it was that Donut had seen.

Grif supposed it said something that Sarge hadn't actually shot him. Though it was still pretty troubling that the old man had automatically targeted him instead of looking around for a hostile all the same.

Here's to hoping his leader would be able to focus more on actual hostiles whenever they were firing on them later.

Eventually, the four ex-Freelancers had stopped at a rather familiar-looking type of bulkhead looming imperiously high over their heads. The Resistance fighter had seen enough of them living in the Slums and traversing its adjacent upper level tunnels to know exactly what it was.

It was not surprising that the red, harsh lights that indicated all systems for it were still in perfect working order either, despite how dilapidated everything else getting to this point had been.

Above Ground definitely made sure all of its doors were secure and operational, just in the off-chance that someone with a really determined mind and heavy industrial equipment at their disposal couldn't force their way through an insanely heavy series of dead bolted doors in twenty or so years.

"This is the farthest exit to Above Ground from the Slums." Tex stated without preamble.

Sarge frowned, "I'll say. I'd always thought the only entrances to the Slums from Above Ground were closer to the heart of the city."

North looked slightly apologetic at the other former Above Grounder's confusion, "This one was built much later. At the Council's discretion."

York touched his hand to the thick metal of the bulkhead blocking their path, looking thoughtful, "They kept knowledge about it on a very need-to-know basis. Even from most in the military."

"Gotcha." Sarge nodded his head in understanding, "So, in other words, you guys only know about it because of your top secret freaky Freelancer training."

York looked rather amused by the phrasing, a grim sort of smile crossing over his face, "Pretty much, yeah."

"While they usually don't stop the random teenager from going "slumming" or anyone else like the "Throwaways," the entry ways are somewhat monitored. On the off-chance that someone from the Slums might figure out how to open them from their side." North said, looking carefully at his brown-armored comrade as he added, "Especially after the Insurrection incident."

C.T. flinched only minutely, though the blonde former Freelancer still looked apologetic for having brought it up at all in front of her.

"They tend to focus more of their attention to the entrances closer to the Slums and the heart of Above Ground for the very same reasons that you gave, Sarge. Everyone knows about those ones." She added in to the discussion, smiling ruefully, "Actually, I used that to my advantage. Came down through this very tunnel when I defected."

The red-armored soldier harrumphed, "We're using a similar strategy now then? Use this top secret tunnel to gain the element of surprise?"

Tex had dropped down to examine the computer terminal that would grant them access to the next door if they could enter the correct code sequence, her fingers ghosting over its surface.

"Won't be much of one." She muttered, "They'll catch on pretty quick, regardless. Especially since we're opening the doors from this side."

"Wow, you're a walking ray of sunshine." Tucker remarked, causing the woman to glare up at him.

"I'm telling you what's going to happen." She stated as the man in teal armor took a cautious step back just in case she decided it was worth punching him into a wall or something: "It's best to go in fully prepared."

"Besides, this is our best bet." Kimball spoke up, moving to disperse the altercation before things escalated since everyone was a bit on edge, "We wouldn't have even gotten a few extra seconds at any of those other locations, so we have to make them count."

"Hopefully this way no civilians get dragged into things!" Donut said brightly, also trying to lessen the serious mood that had steadily fallen upon everyone, "Let's try to look on the positives, guys!"

Kimball nodded her head in his direction briefly, shooting him a thankful look, "That's right, Donut. We're already well underway with evacuating the Slums. Just in case."

That was a loaded "just in case" if Grif had ever heard one. Just in case they failed and Above Ground decided to retaliate. Just in case Hargrove had gotten his doomsday device running, though the Slums dweller doubted any of them would be at a safe distance if Above Ground did end up using the fucking thing no matter where they went.

Their current group consisted of about half of the Resistance, while the rest stayed behind to help look after the general populace of the Slums.

The plan was actually pretty straightforward. Once their group had made it to the surface, they would serve as a distraction for the reconnaissance team to finally get the location of the relic.

Grif actually had no idea who else the reconnaissance team included beyond that Agent Washington guy and that Agent Carolina lady. For whatever reason, it seemed like no one was volunteering to give up the identities of the other members.

"Being this far away will also help with our strategy as well." North chimed in.

Kimball inclined her head again, "Exactly. Since we'll be causing them to go out of their way more to really counter us."

There were only a few small Above Ground bases in the area that were used for training, apparently. If the Above Ground military wanted to really attack their group hard from the get-go and nip a potential problem in the bud, they would have to move more troops in and away from other areas.

"Think the codes are going to work?" Sarge, the self-exclaimed expert on all sorts of "mechanical doodads," had stepped up next to the black-armored Texas at this point while peering at the terminal thoughtfully as she started entering in codes.

"Should." She huffed, not bothering to pause or look up from what she was doing to face him, "Carolina sent them. She's a stickler for accuracy."

"Oh-oh! I want to see!" Jensen spoke up excitedly, almost like a little kid, as she raced over to the two more experienced soldiers. She paused suddenly, becoming sheepish again following her outburst, "I mean if that's okay, sirs."

Tex shrugged, "Suit yourself, kid." She didn't miss a beat before adding, "Just don't touch anything or I will have to kill you."

It didn't sound like a joke at all. It probably wasn't, knowing Tex. But, Jensen was way too excited at the prospect of seeing something she normally wasn't able to get too close to from a technological stance that she didn't even react nervously.

"Come on!" She grabbed Volleyball's hand to pull her friend over as well.

The blonde was obviously not as interested, but she was willing to put up a front for the tanned girl's sake given how nervous the younger lieutenant had been about everything earlier.

"Lopez, don't you want to go check it out too?" Donut asked their mechanical teammate.

"Oh, por supuesto, sólo porque soy un robot que quiero ver cómo funciona una maldita puerta. Es por eso que estoy tan buenos amigos con la cafetera." {"Oh sure, just because I'm a robot I want to see how a fucking door works. It's why I am such good friends with the coffee pot."}

Donut grinned, grabbing the brown-armored robot's hand and forcing Lopez to come along with him, "Yeah, it's exciting isn't it? I love watching things get inserted!"

"Echo de menos hablar con la cafetera." {"I miss talking to the coffee pot."}

John Smith (correction! John Elizabeth Andersmith, apparently) was talking to Caboose and C.T. about something. The younger blue-armored soldier was tightly clutching Freckles' decidedly more travel-friendly form to his chest as if he intended to never let it go.

Tucker swore he'd even slept with the gun the previous night, which wasn't as disturbing to Grif as it had apparently been to Tucker given all of the times he swore he'd seen Sarge cuddling his shotgun.

At least there was a Virtual Intelligence in Caboose's new best friend. Plus, Grif was fairly positive that the blonde didn't dream about shooting him personally.

Kimball seemed understandably lost in thought, a frown falling over her features as she mulled over things to herself. Both North and York were talking about something close by to Tex and the others at the terminal.

As Grif watched, Doctor Grey wandered over to Andersmith and company. She was most likely trying to give C.T. some last minute medical advice in regards to not restraining her injury.

He scanned the various armor-covered bodies in search of his sister, only to spot Tucker attempting to wave him over.

Grif sighed because he didn't really want to move from his spot, but he figured it would probably count as rude not to. Probably best not to get into a fight with a friend over something that trivial before both of you potentially headed off on a death sentence, so Grif moved over and stood next to Tucker.

His friend's brown eyes were fixated on the door in front of them.

"You do realize we're kind of fucked, right?" Tucker asked without preamble the second Grif was in earshot.

Grif nodded, "I said that myself when Kimball announced we were going to attack."

"They're sealing the doors back once we go through them. Just to make things harder for Above Ground to retaliate on the Slums." His friend frowned, "There's no running back the way we came."

Yeah, that had definitely been a rather sucky part of the plan. Not that a whole lot of it didn't suck, truthfully. It was just that they didn't have much else they could do in the current situation and that sort of made things suck a whole lot more.

"So if you want to go back, or get Kai to…" Tucker rambled awkwardly, shifting his feet.

Ah, so that was what this was about. Tucker didn't want to see his closest friends get killed.

Given the situation, Grif could relate. He wasn't even going to mock him for it as one of them usually tended to do whenever the other brought up something heavy-handed, considering the orange-armored soldier felt the same.

"You know, same thing applies to you too." He stated instead.

The dark-skinned man made a face, "You know I can't."

That was true. This was the best chance his friend had to help find Junior and to bring him back safely

"Even if we stayed here, we could all end up dead anyways." Grif sighed, "Might as well help out my asshole friends and dumb-as-fuck sister while I can."

"Aw, thanks, man." Tucker grinned, showcasing a genuine smile despite his concern.

It was oddly infectious.

"Anytime." He grinned back, "You owe me a dinner and some booze if we both get back."

"What? No fucking way!" His friend exclaimed, shaking his head emphatically, "I've seen you eat, dude. I don't get paid enough!"

Grif gave him the finger then, Tucker responding likewise as both still grinned like idiots at the same time.

"Tucker! Tucker! Look at the photos Doctor Grey has for why you shouldn't pick a scab!" Caboose called out suddenly.

Tucker groaned, putting his helmet on, "I really wish you hadn't mentioned food just now."

"Having a sensitive stomach is a sad, sad thing." Grif joked, his tone taking on a pseudo-sad note as he did so.

His friend turned to leave then, casting one last look over his shoulder, "Hey, Grif?"

"Yeah?" The Slums resident raised an eyebrow as he waited for Tucker to spit out whatever he seemed to be struggling to say.

"Try not to die, fatass."

"You too, asshole." Grif smirked, "Kai's already talking about how to celebrate when we get Junior back."

Even with his helmet on Grif was fairly certain Tucker smiled a bit, the touchy sentiment over a split-second later as his friend turned to see whatever it was that his teammate had been exclaiming over.

"Dex!"

Kai was suddenly jogging up to him now from who knows where she had been before. In a way, Grif felt both relieved and drained. He wasn't used to a ton of personal exchanges all at once.

"What's up, Kai?" He asked, "Have you and the other lieutenants changed your minds and want to head back?"

Everyone in the Resistance had been rather surprised when the newer recruits had insisted on being part of the main attack force, their argument being that they probably wouldn't be the best at coordinating the evacuation efforts.

The two Grif siblings in particular had almost gotten into another argument over it.

She made a face at the reminder, "Fuck no, bitch!"

"Kai…" He began, knowing it was pretty pointless even as her name got out.

"I'm going because my friends are going, and you are too." She stamped her foot emphatically, looking decidedly serious once more as she had when they'd reconciled over her joining the Resistance before, "I'm going to help look out for you now too, Dex."

He sighed, feeling exasperated and oddly proud all the same. She certainly had grown up to be assertive and stubborn. That's for sure.

Knowing that she'd put a lid on that potential argument, she grinned, "Besides, we have to help Tucker find Junior, right?" she asked, waiting expectantly for the confirmation she knew would follow.

He sighed once more, "Right."

She grinned, changing topics quickly to whatever it was she'd probably run over here to say in the first place before her brother had sidetracked her, "Palomo was talking about throwing a party after all of this and we were talking about party favors."

"Uh-huh." He couldn't help but be amused by Kai's random thought processes.

She looked absolutely serious, knitting her brows together, "Do you think we should do a survey to figure out everyone's favorite edible condom flavor?"

"Yeah, yeah…" He paused, her words sinking in a moment later, "Wait, what?"

Now it was Kai's turn to look exasperated as she informed him matter-of-factly, "It's a legitimate question, Dex! What if we don't get flavors someone likes? Or what if they have an allergy to the ones we get? That would be fucking rude!"

"Goddamnit, Kai!" Leave it to his sister to knock the worry right out of his head.

"I already know Volleyball's favorite." Kai winked, looking over his shoulder to where the woman in question was standing and giving a small wave in their direction that she promptly returned.

"Should I even ask what's going on with you two?" Grif asked, having picked up a definite trend now in their more recent interactions.

Though, truthfully, he didn't actually mind it at all. Volleyball was a pretty nice girl, and certainly so far the only potential romantic partner his sister had ever had that he hadn't wanted to strangle at some point. Hopefully, given that, it would be a more long-term relationship.

She grinned, "Same thing that's happening with you and shy guy you're married to."

He sighed. Of course, she'd have to mention Simmons now of all times.

"Kai, I've told you before—"

She smiled nostalgically and cut him off, "You don't have to hide it from me, Dex. I can tell. I like Simmons. You two always had fun together." She gave a sage nod of her head, "I think you should think on that some more when you have the time for it."

Grif frowned, not quite sure what to say whenever she seemed to make a little more sense than usual.

But, given the current state of things as they were…

"It doesn't matter even if I think about it later, Kai." He finally forced out, "Because right now I really hope neither of us run into Simmons again."

Seriously, what would that be like, all things considered? He didn't want to kill Simmons, or end up getting killed by Simmons or one of his teammates in a fight.

Besides, the Slums might not have much longer no matter what they did. Simmons had a fucking life he could still live. Grif didn't want to see that disappear along with everything else.

Kai remained silent for a long while before nodding her dark-haired head again in understanding, "Okay, but promise me. Afterwards?"

"We'll see." He stated, noncommittally.

"We could all check out Above Ground together one day!" She grinned at the prospect.

Just like when they had been little, and even when things were tough and bleak, his little sister could still make him smile a bit just by being her naively enthusiastic self.

He couldn't help but smile slightly back despite himself, "Maybe."

"Then you two can finally get at it!" She continued, completely ruining the moment seconds later. His little sister definitely had a knack for that too: "Just ask me for any advice you might need, Dex!"

"Goddamnit, Kai!"

He could feel his face actually get fucking warm.

Good to know that even if he did survive this whole thing, Grif was fairly certain that his sister would end up unintentionally killing him one of these days through embarrassment.

---

Waiting for a series of doors to open just so you could walk into a situation where you were most likely not coming back wasn't exactly a fucking highlight in Bitters' book.

Granted, sitting and waiting down below for the same thing hadn't exactly been a highlight either. So, he ended up choosing the lesser of two evils instead, or whatever terminology was more fitting for this particular type of scenario.

Besides, it wasn't like the Resistance fighter was just apathetic and uncaring about the situation.

No. He was actually fucking pissed as all hell.

Might as well get the chance to blow something up along the way too, right? Especially if…

"We're all going to fucking die."

"Dude." Palomo made a face at him from where he had been crouching close to the ground, having just damn near broken Bitters' brain on the topic of flavored condoms.

"I think I know what your favorite flavor would be, Bitters! Any idea on Matthews'?"

Why the fuck would his friend think that Bitters would even know that? Besides, just what flavor did Palomo think was his favorite? …Most importantly, did Bitters honestly want to know the answers to either of those two questions?

His childhood friend had apparently decided following his query that sitting and counting the different sized cracks in the floor was a helpful diversion, "You're lucky Smith didn't hear you say that."

Bitters winced, not having needed the reminder.

"Shut the fuck up, Palomo."

Lieutenant John E. Andersmith had gotten a bit tense as of late given the severity of the situation they were in. Any remark from Bitters that constituted as slightly negative was met with a smack upside the head from the butt of a rifle, as Bitters was "disturbing morale".

Bitters' remarks were probably more than just slightly negative, if he was being really honest with himself.

Still, the fact that his friend usually found it pretty hilarious didn't help any.

"I'm just saying!" Palomo grinned and stood up. The expression somehow reminded Bitters of when he'd find Palomo sitting outside of their apartment complexes after the boy's parents would lock the door on him.

That grin didn't change much even after Bitters' family unofficially adopted the neighbor kid. If anything, it had just become wider. Something Bitters wouldn't have even thought possible back then.

The slightly older lieutenant rolled his eyes, his irritation evaporating a bit in light of that memory, "Why don't you help with the evacuation effort instead, Palomo?"

Truthfully, the idea of the closest person he still had to any sort of family getting gunned down wasn't a prospect he was too keen on. Even if Palomo could be annoying at times.

He'd tried to convince many of the others to do the same. Actually, that was one of his main reasons for constantly spouting negatives about the mission.

Kaikaina was surprisingly adamant about going, though he supposed he could understand that given Tucker and Grif's involvement. Volleyball had been rather stubborn too when he tried talking to her about it. The eye roll she'd given him really had been something.

He had thought for sure maybe he could get through to Jensen, but the maroon-trimmed younger lieutenant had been pretty insistent that she was going if he and the others were. Her lisp had gotten even more pronounced as she became more emphatic on the subject, and Bitters had actually been a bit nervous when the girl had gotten into his personal space with the affirmation that all of them should do it or none at all.

Not that he'd admit it out loud, of course.

Bitters hadn't really bothered with Andersmith because he was definitely old enough to make that type of decision on his own. Besides, he'd had his ass kicked more times by the older recruit than he'd care to admit recently. Apparently Andersmith was taking the training with Sarge very seriously. Who knew?

As for Matthews…well, Matthews wasn't even attempting to talk to him about it. Seriously, if Bitters even so much as tried Matthews would get up and walk away. Maybe that was for the best given how he suspected the topic could actually start a rather nasty argument with his roommate, but still.

If he could, Bitters would have at least forcibly dragged Matthews, Palomo, and Jensen away. But, they apparently all had the same fucking death wish he had and it kind of pissed him off even more.

At least this way he'd be able to shoot at something and vent a little before he died.

"That's cool and all, but not really my thing." Palomo said after giving Bitters' question some thought, "Besides, I'd probably try flirting with all the ladies and get my ass kicked again."

Well, at least he'd learned something from that whole fiasco recently when Jensen had blindsided him with a wrench after he had made some ill-conceived comments regarding her.

"Besides, you and everyone else are going and I…" His friend paused and frowned, "I'd rather not be alone if something does happen."

Bitters swallowed nervously, at a loss as to what to say. It was rare for Palomo to look at things seriously at all. The only times he'd ever done so was following the massacre at Level One and when his two bunkmates had died.

Awkwardly, Bitters clasped a hand on his shoulder, "We're all going to be fine, Palomo."

It was probably a huge fucking lie, but more than anything Bitters wanted to believe it just then. If only for Palomo's sake, and for the sakes of all of the other apparently suicidal morons he considered friends. He even finally started to understand why Andersmith had gotten so bent out of shape by his remarks too.

"Oh, I know!" Palomo beamed, suddenly back to his carefree usual self, "We're all like fucking superheroes, you know?"

"Superheroes. Right." Bitters rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smile back slightly.

"Dude, I'm serious!" Palomo looked thoughtful, "Actually, totally forgot about it until now, but Jensen asked about my favorite comics earlier. Didn't know she was into that stuff."

Apparently, after the whole wrench-to-the-face incident, the two younger recruits had started conversing more as friends. Having someone actually call him out on his behavior had at least helped Palomo interact better with their female comrades in general.

If anything, he was really trying to go out of his way to be genuine friends with them now instead of just practicing very ill-conceived pick-up-lines on them.

"Can I borrow some of yours to show her later?" Palomo asked, "I kept bumming them from you when we were little, so I don't actually have any."

"Sure." Bitters nodded, "I'll transfer a few to you later."

If they both got out of this safely, he'd be more than glad to even.

"Thanks!" Palomo grinned, then paused before looking contemplative again, "I should just let Kaikaina ask her and Volleyball about the condoms. Right?"

That warm and fuzzy moment they just had? Yeah, it lasted for about a good two seconds.

"Yes." Bitters rolled his eyes exasperatedly, "Unless you want to get brained again."

"Not really. It hurt a fucking lot!" His friend laughed.

Bitters groaned, "Shut the fuck up, Palomo."

"Aw, you know you love me!" He stuck his tongue out at him.

Bitters couldn't help but groan again. Sometimes he really wished he had more friends.

"I'm going to go see if Captain Tucker needs anything." Palomo stated, his dark eyes looking around for a few seconds before turning to Bitters again, "You might want to talk to Matthews though. See if he's okay? Last time I saw him, he was looking pretty sick."

Figures.

Bitters nodded slightly, knowing that technically he was being asked that not only on account of Matthews being his teammate but also his roommate.

"Ask him about the condoms too!" His friend said innocently enough, "It's probably better if you do than me or Kaikaina!"

Seriously, where was bleach when you needed it?

Matthews was off to the side of the tunnel, his eyes focused on the group accessing the terminal with obvious interest. Palomo was right: the auburn-haired soldier did look more than just a little green behind his glasses, and he was fidgeting nervously. His hands were up in front of him again too in that posture he often took up when he was feeling anxious.

Honestly, Bitters was rather surprised he wasn't pacing around like a nervous wreck as he would sometimes do in their room.

Bitters stood next to Matthews in mutual silence for a few moments, not really sure if Matthews even knew he'd come up to him given his focused attention elsewhere.

The slightly older lieutenant finally spoke up, hoping that if he worded his remark carefully it wouldn't cause a massive blow-out between them right before the fight: "I was kind of surprised you volunteered for this part."

Matthews flinched slightly, hands dropping to his sides as a suddenly annoyed look crossed over his face, "W—why? You did! Everyone else did too!"

Bitters said nothing, kicking himself mentally for even bringing it up at all given that he'd suspected this would be the reaction he'd get.

"I—I know you're trying to get everyone to change their minds, but if you're still going that isn't fair!"

Matthews seemed to realize what he had said moments later, and his face turned bright red. He looked anywhere else but at his roommate, hands fidgeting again. After a few minutes, he finally seemed to decide that the rock wall of the tunnel would be great to have a staring contest with.

Bitters stared at Matthews' ears, noting how red they were as well. He wasn't quite sure what to do at this point.

"We're a team! So, like it or not…we—we're in this together." Matthews finally collected himself enough to say.

Bitters tried arguing, "Yeah, but—"

"Besides," Matthews cut him off and rambled on, apparently wanting to rush past all of the awkwardness of the last few seconds entirely, "Captain Grif and Sarge might need help too."

Figures his teammate would fall back to his sucking up tendencies.

Bitters didn't know if he should be more grateful that it hadn't gotten into a fight, or more annoyed by Matthews' penchant for being a kissass to really questionable authority figures.

"You do realize if Captain Grif so much as smells a burrito while out on the field he'll abandon us, right?" He asked, only partially joking. The older man's food drive was incredible.

"That—that's not true!" Matthews shot right back at him, glaring.

He'd actually gotten the auburn-haired soldier to look at Bitters directly instead of the damn wall again. Good. He smiled to himself at the little victory.

Without thinking about it, Bitters reached out and clasped his hand around one of Matthews' wrists.

His grip was not really tight or constraining, and the glasses-wearing rookie could easily pull his wrist out enough just by giving a slight yank if he wanted to. Subconsciously, Bitters was just trying to keep Matthews focused on him.

"Wanna bet?" He asked his roommate.

Matthews said nothing in response, instead staring down at his outstretched arm and Bitters' hold on his wrist. He didn't try to break away, but he looked as confused by the action as Bitters was starting to suddenly feel. That left the two of them standing there rather awkwardly, not quite sure what to do next.

"Hey, wait a minute!"

They were interrupted from said awkwardness by Palomo shouting rather loudly from farther away.

His friend was counting something off on his hand, a look of concentration that almost bordered on comical crossing over his face, "How come Red Team gets more members?"

"What are you talking about?" Andersmith looked rather confused next to him.

"It's true! For this mission Red Team has Sarge, Captain Grif, Donut, Lopez, Volleyball, Jensen, Matthews, and Bitters." Palomo counted off again using their names as he went, "Blue Team has Captain Tucker, Captain Caboose, Smith, me, Kaikaina, and C.T."

"Don't forget about Freckles." Caboose stated quietly.

"CORRECT, CAPTAIN CABOOSE." The gun spoke up to reaffirm his presence.

"Right, and the cool-as-fuck talking gun." The dark-skinned rookie amended, "But, that's still only seven to their eight."

"Wow. I'm sort of surprised you can count that high." Volleyball remarked jokingly in the silence that followed, resulting in a few snickers amongst the gathering crowd.

He pouted, ignoring the joke, "But, why do they get more people?"

"Because that's the way Nature intended it. To further demonstrate that we Reds are vastly superior to you in every way, we've been blessed with more numbers." Sarge stated matter-of-factly.

"Uh, it's only one more person, guys." York spoke up, though it seemed as if he was trying to not double-over laughing at how serious Sarge had taken the question, "Chill."

"Besides," Sarge noted in a conciliatory tone to Palomo, "The Red Team is unfortunately cursed with having Grif as a member. That's like removing one decent soldier and replacing him with three grossly inadequate ones."

"Hey!" Grif's voice protested from off to the side.

"Better make that four." Sarge amended quickly.

"Thanks for the inspirational moment right before the fight, Sarge."

"I did say "grossly inadequate" instead of "useless", didn't I?" the older man shook his head sadly as if disappointed by the orange-armored fighter's protests, "Learn to hear a pep talk when it's given, dirtbag."

There was a beeping noise by the door and all talking stopped, the massive gate moving to the side slowly.

The eerily dark corridor was bathed in a dim sort of red light beyond, leading to another looming bulkhead on the opposite side.

Tex stood up and put her hands on her hips, nodding her head satisfactorily at her handiwork.

"All right. The next series of doors shouldn't take nearly as long to get through." She stated, glancing at everyone over her shoulder, "Let's get our asses in gear."

A more serious mood settled over everyone as they advanced, Kimball taking the moment to turn around and address them once more.

"There's no going back once we're up there. We'll be completely cut off in enemy territory." She began, "Stay as close to your team as you can. When the pull-back order is given, do not hesitate to get to the safe location coordinates. Is that clear?"

Everyone nodded, and she put her helmet on, "We all have a reason why we're fighting. Don't forget that."

For a few seconds, there was silence before Palomo tentatively stated into the somber atmosphere, "Should we…sing a song or something?"

Tucker sighed, "Shut the fuck up, Palomo."

"I love singing!" Caboose chimed in happily, looking down at his weapon, "I sing to Freckles all the time, don't I?"

"AFFIRMATIVE, CAPTAIN CABOOSE!"

Tucker groaned, but chose to say nothing.

Bitters let go of Matthews' wrist then. Thankfully, given Palomo's outburst and the door opening, no one had noticed. Or, even if they had, no one had chosen to say anything about it.

Matthews' hand fell to his side, but only for a moment before he put on his helmet once again as well and the two teammates went to join their comrades in moving forward.

Bitters glanced over at Matthews once more, "You heard Kimball. Stick close." He paused there, catching himself before he said something else that probably could have led to another awkward moment, "Stay with the team and try not to get shot."

He could just picture his friend's ears getting red again underneath his helmet at that as he stated rather empathically, "S—same to you!"

Bitters nodded, glancing around at everyone else and desperately trying to ignore his ever growing sense that they were all fucked.

---

There was very little to be said on Felix's thoughts when it concerned not doing something. He was a simple kind of guy, after all.

He loved things like leading people on while undermining an entire population in the process. Or killing some more people (hopefully lots, really. Let's be honest here). Or getting to blow shit up.

If he could get paid a shitload of money for doing those things that he loved, he was pretty much content.

But, doing absolutely nothing for fucking months on end while stuck on glorified guard duty while Hargrove tested out his new toy?

That was practically a punishment!

The steel and orange armored mercenary hadn't even seen hide nor hair of any of the remaining Freelancers around the Mother of Invention. So, he couldn't even try to get under their skin while they were holed up there.

The leader lady and mope-y agent were keeping out of the way. Hell, even that violet-armored chick whose buttons he had the feeling he could push easily enough wasn't anywhere to be seen. Wyoming seemed to be oddly absent too, which was bit odd given how they were on the same payroll.

The Chairman better give him a huge bonus when all was said and done to make up for it. Or, better yet, let him press the button whenever that super-weapon was finally pointed at the Slums.

Felix smiled inwardly at the thought, not wanting the other two mercenary members currently checking over their equipment in the locker room to see. People were apparently "creeped out" whenever he smiled out of turn at the thought of killing things while tossing his knife in the air.

Whatever. Fuck them.

He thought their names were Jackson and Zachary Miller, but it was hard to tell who was who in their group of mercenaries sometimes since everyone else tended to like wearing the same steel armor.

No bonus points for originality there.

He could care less for Zachary Miller half the time, but Jackson was halfway decent. His team could at least be trusted to follow through on missions with minimal fuss if Felix or Locus were predisposed elsewhere.

Yeah, it was true that would be a bit of a let-down to not be there personally to see all of those gullible Resistance idiots get killed. But Felix was okay with that, so long as he could still imagine how they looked when they died.

Typical Locus, though, would of course have to walk in just as he was picturing the imaginary scene in his head. His asshole partner really was a fucking killjoy sometimes just by fucking existing.

"I'm bored, Locus." Felix stated, hoping for a reaction from the other mercenary. If nothing else, it would satiate some of his boredom.

It was a game, really, to see just how much he could push the stoic soldier façade his partner tried to uphold all the time. Seeing the cracks and remembering where to poke next always made the prospect of future interactions even more entertaining.

"Then do something and stop complaining."

Figures that Locus would respond like that. He tried very hard not to rise to any bait at first, though that usually only pushed Felix to try more.

"Weapons maintenance again?" Felix asked him as the man sat down, taking apart one of his guns, "I'm pretty certain your weapons could fire themselves now with how anal you are about them."

Methodical. To the point. That was Locus in a nutshell. Total opposite to how Felix tended to approach things.

"We're soldiers, Felix." Locus was definitely taking things in a precise manner right now, "Being prepared is a part of that."

"You don't think I am?" Felix smirked dangerously, tightening his hold on the hilt of his knife.

Yeah, he approached most things in their profession very differently from Locus. Still, if anyone implied he didn't have his shit together, it would be a fatal mistake on their part.

"Then act like it."

Felix barked out a laugh, "Right, because clearly we're all about the code of conduct of soldiers here."

Locus stared at him through his darkened helmet, and Felix glared back. Being stuck underground for so long, he'd forgotten how great it was shoving stuff like that in his partner's face.

Jackson had the sense of mind to excuse himself then. Miller seemed to be debating it for about a second more before standing up. Clearly, the merc needed to adjust his sense of survival.

Before anything could be said or done further though, Locus spoke up and changed the atmosphere completely, "The assistant to the Council is making inquiries."

"Oh, that Doyle guy?"

Felix frowned, only knowing the name briefly from earlier personnel reports he'd been forced to read. Couldn't say the guy had left much of an impression on him from those records though, but he supposed anyone looking into sensitive matters wasn't exactly ideal at the moment, "Should we kill him?"

It would at least give him something to do, though Felix doubted it would take that long.

"We haven't received orders yet." Locus paused, "Doing so now given his role might prove problematic."

Right. Because a secretary who had direct access to all of the Council members and their business suddenly dying would create speculation amongst the group itself. Hargrove was still waiting for the right time to officially deal with his detractors on the Council.

"So he's on the Observe For Now list. Fine." Felix sighed in annoyance that Locus had even bothered mentioning it then, "Get one of Jackson's people to monitor him."

There was a sudden beeping coming from the orange and steel helmet sitting on the seat next to him, a sound that Felix knew very well what it meant. They'd attuned their systems to the Above Ground security computers, after all.

His dark-haired head perked up slightly at the signal that one of the tunnels had apparently been opened. From the other side.

Felix grinned. Leave it to Vanessa not to disappoint in the end.

Slipping into the ensuing chaos that followed would be easy, and it certainly would help to stave off boredom even more than just a random kill might.

"Are you coming?" He asked Locus as his helmet slipped into place and sealed shut.

There was no doubt in his mind that his fellow mercenary was impassively staring at the notice flashing along his helmet's visor.

"No." His steel and green armored partner continued taking apart the gun he'd been working on earlier, "This might be a ruse."

Leave it to Locus to think of something like that. Felix supposed it could be some kind of diversionary tactic now that he thought about it, but hell! He'd still have people to kill in the meanwhile, right?

No point in sitting on the sidelines on the off-chance that something else might also happen. It might not, and then he'd just regret wasting time all the more.

Besides, Locus was more than capable of handling something else should it come up while he was enjoying himself.

"Fine. Stay here and see if anything else pops up then." Felix shrugged indifferently at Locus' remark, "I'm going to have some fun before the soldiers kill everyone."

He headed to the door, not even looking back as he called out, "Miller! You're up too."

"Of course!" The lower ranked mercenary in steel armor trotted along after him with almost eager steps.

At the most, Miller would get some more kills under his belt. At worst, he'd prove himself a liability and Felix would kill him along with (hopefully!) a shitload of his "old friends" from the Resistance.

Either way, he'd be good.

---

Agents Carolina and Washington, along with a small glowing green figure that Carolina had hastily introduced as Delta without much in the way of further explanation, had been silent for quite a while. Richard "Dick" Simmons watched as the three clustered together, listening intently to some hidden communication channel.

Despite not having much of an introduction, it was easy enough to tell that Delta was an A.I. if you were well-versed in technological fields of study. Simmons could scarcely believe it, though it made a lot of sense given how advanced Freelancer technology was.

He had been struck by an odd sense of déjà vu when seeing Delta for what was technically the first time. It had actually reminded the cyborg quite a bit of all the odd green flashes he'd seen over the cyan-armored Freelancer's shoulder before.

How long exactly had she been keeping quiet about Delta's existence?

Not that that was the only strange thing going on. Watching the Freelancers and the A.I. listening in on the hidden communications channel was a bit odd too. It wasn't as if any of the other people involved in this mission could even listen into the private channel through their armor, unless they were given access to it.

They could probably try hacking it, which he supposed either himself or Sheila could probably do if given enough time. Doing anything that could potentially cause Agent Carolina in particular to get angry with them, or to think that they were somehow implying some kind of question to her authority, wasn't exactly something any remotely sane person would attempt.

Still, they could easily have just stood away from one another instead of huddle together in a group. Simmons supposed that it was some kind of a throwback to Project Freelancer, and as an outsider he just didn't understand.

It was absolutely and utterly bizarre to think that all six of them (seven, counting Delta's holographic form) were next to a secret research complex, one that none of them beyond the two Freelancers and the A.I. had even known existed before.

They were currently hiding in the bushes, near a side entrance: about to become traitors to Above Ground.

It was more than just a little nerve-wracking too, given the sheer amount of goosebumps prickling Simmons' still organic skin underneath his armor. Not to mention there was a growing nausea building up in the pit of his stomach, which was a mixture of organic and mechanical parts now thanks to the surgery. The cyborg almost wished it had been replaced entirely just because of his tendency to want to throw up when fully flustered.

Truth be told, this was definitely not what Simmons had planned when he'd decided to stay in the military after his forced training had been completed.

But, both his logical side and his conscience argued, given everything they knew what choice did they really have now?

This wasn't even just about all of the really bizarre stuff that apparently may or may not be going on involving him and Sheila either. Simmons was fairly certain on his end it was still more than likely just a fluke given that he had still been in the system because of the cybernetic soldier program. But, Sheila? That worried him a bit more because she was his teammate.

It wasn't even just about the darker side of Project Freelancer, the one that the more he found out about the more he wished he honestly didn't know.

Now thousands of innocent people were in danger too! Including quite a few people he knew personally.

Including Grif.

It was nearly enough to make him want to hyperventilate, to be anywhere but here. But, he couldn't. Not when images of Grif, of Kai, of their friends, of Sheila, and of Agent Washington flashed through his head.

Speaking of the Freelancer, Agent Washington appeared just as thrilled to be at their current location as Simmons felt given the visible tenseness in his body language. There had been a pained grimace the last time he'd seen the older blonde's face before it was hidden behind his helmet, but Agent Washington commendably still plowed through without a single remark.

For once, even without any lungs, the breathing exercises Doc had kept trying to suggest to him for calming techniques actually seemed to be helping. They were helping to keep him grounded, at least a little bit.

Focusing on them and the images of his friends that kept flashing through his mind was helping to remind the redhead why they were doing something that every protocol he'd ever read screamed at him was treason.

Simmons shot the purple medic a grateful look, even though he knew Doc wouldn't see it. His friend was humming to himself and glancing around them as if simply observing the landscape, but there was a lot of nervous energy visible in his posture too.

It felt like the minutes were being dragged out, and Simmons wondered if they would just be standing almost stupidly outside the complex until a patrol walked by and spotted their contrasting colors trying to blend in with the very green shrubbery. Truthfully, only Sheila's armor and possibly Washington's would remotely serve as a camouflage in this terrain.

Finally, Carolina stood up straight and dropped her arm back to her side. The redhead had previously lifted it to her helmet while listening to the private channel, so that was a good indication that they were about to take some kind of action.

"They've engaged." She announced to the group who hadn't been privy to the channel, "Let's move."

"So, they're fighting now?" Simmons asked tentatively, "The Resistance got to the surface safely?"

It was rare to think of them stepping foot on Above Ground. Understandably, the Resistance had never attempted to do so before even during the more intense batches of fighting given what had happened to the Slums after the Insurrection had attacked topside. Their doing so now definitely helped to showcase just how desperate this whole situation was.

Simmons wondered if Grif was one of the fighters who had gone on the mission. He'd always dreamed of showing the Slums dweller Above Ground, ever since they'd first met as teenagers all those years ago. But he always wanted that to be in peaceful circumstances.

It had only seemed fair, after all, given how much of his home Grif had shown him. Truthfully, Simmons imagined Grif's face when he saw the sky for the first time at what probably counted as an embarrassingly high frequency.

The idea that the tan man's first exposure to the surface could literally end up being his last, and that it would be mired with fighting and death was…well, thinking about it now only made the nauseous feeling come back again in full force.

What if he didn't get to see Grif again? He really wanted to believe he would, even if it was just to yell at him for being a fatass. Or to hear the Slums resident talk about how Simmons really should try to nap more.

He even wanted to hear Kai tell him raunchy jokes just to see him get riled up, to even have her act as an oddly supportive cheerleader for whenever he did finally work up the courage to just say something about all of his feelings towards her brother.

If he couldn't see them? If he couldn't see Grif again? Simmons wasn't sure what he'd do. He didn't want to think about it at all.

Everything they were doing now had to succeed. Everything. That was all there was to it.

Trying to get out of his thoughts, the cyborg looked around the area. The door of the side entrance looked to be pretty average fare for a military complex. The heavy metal was sealed shut, with a small side panel for access.

Only two of the lights on the panel were even flashing: a dim blinking of red intermittent with green that seemed to indicate that even the auxiliary power for the locks was barely operational.

Simmons frowned, not quite sure why the outside appearance of the facility looked to be almost dilapidated. Especially since there was a rather odd sheen throughout the place when he peered at it with the red-tinted vision of his artificial eye. Was the damned thing not functioning correctly at all anymore?

…Or was something else going on here? Was the place designed to look abandoned on purpose?

The amount of work that would probably go into a ruse like that was sort of mind-boggling, given how it would mean repurposing the entire way a military building's infrastructure was generally set up. It would mean that whatever was inside was something that the military really wanted to have appear like it didn't exist at all.

It was a good sign that they were probably on the right track if that were what was going on, but he couldn't help but suppress a shiver at the thought all the same. The possibility was more than just a little unnerving.

The cyborg was torn between hoping it was a fluke and not, given just how far everyone had gone on this hunch alone.

Delta appeared to float over to the locking mechanism, observing it for a split-second more before turning to address Carolina, "I can bypass the security lock, but it will most likely prove exceedingly more difficult for any other doors we encounter later on."

She nodded, and from the slight shrug in her shoulders it seemed as if the red-haired soldier had assumed as much already, "That's fine, Delta. We'll just have to deal with those as they come up."

Before turning back to the door, the A.I. Fragment glanced over at the others huddled around him, "Private Simmons? Sheila? Would you mind assisting?"

"Uh…" Simmons glanced over at Sheila, who had also tilted her head quizzically towards her human teammate in surprise at the request, "Sure."

Despite the bizarre request, they both complied and stepped forward to join Delta by the door. They were probably technically the mechanical experts of their team, but that was probably not saying a whole lot.

"Attempt to access the lock manually from this panel while I do so from inside." Delta instructed calmly.

He disappeared into the panel without any further explanations. It was true that both Sheila and Simmons had done similar work in training and out on the field before. Granted, not under the insane amounts of pressure they all now had working against them.

Still, given that Delta most likely could do things a lot quicker on his end directly, Simmons wasn't quite sure why he would ask for their help. Maybe he was just trying to make the others feel more included since they were pretty much all out of the loop beyond Washington and Carolina?

He wasn't quite sure if an A.I. would think about such things or not, though Delta seemed quite courteous so he supposed it was possible. Sheila always tried to be inclusive of her teammates even when it was obvious her skills were much stronger too. She was often forcing Church to interact with everyone in particular.

The two of them worked as instructed, attempting the usual button sequences for bypassing security locks. A lot of the time using tools and taking the entire panel apart was completely unnecessary if you knew how the lock worked.

In a matter of moments, whether from their end or Delta's, the flashing red light turned green and the flashing green light turned red. Both became solid specks on the console to indicate that lock had been disengaged.

The door slid open. Delta emerged from the panel seconds later as if he was a ghost coming through the wall. A brief aura of greenish-tinted light in his shape remained in Simmons' vision around the panel for a few seconds.

The A.I. glanced at the panel and then at the two of them thoughtfully, nodding his head slightly, "It appears our theory is quite plausible, Agent Carolina."

Carolina nodded, and it was easy enough to picture the contemplative frown forming on her face as she glanced from the door to the two soldiers under her command, "Possibly. We'll need more evidence first."

"Theory?" Sheila inquired.

"As to the odd interest in your and Private Simmons' continued maintenance, Sheila." Carolina was looking over her weapons once more, not looking at either of them anymore.

"The two of you don't care to elaborate on that for everyone else at the moment, I take it?" There was an almost exasperated note to Washington's voice, and Simmons glanced over at him sympathetically.

He'd be lying if he didn't say he was extremely curious himself, as well as more than just a little unnerved by the whole thing. But, he knew getting information out of Agent Carolina in particular was nearly impossible if she didn't think it was time to divulge something. None of them save for Church had really known her for as long as Washington had.

He could imagine that tight-lipped side to Carolina's personality had been something Washington had seen quite a bit throughout their time together in Project Freelancer too.

"We're hoping to be able to access files about it directly soon." Delta informed Washington and the others, motioning towards the building behind them, "By my calculations, they should be here as well."

Washington took in a deep breath then, "The cybernetic enhancement program was also developed by the Director."

It wasn't a question, it was a direct statement. It was said is such a way that it almost sounded as if the Freelancer had finally pieced something together, and that he was almost kicking himself for having overlooked it earlier.

Simmons glanced between him and Carolina. Even though the situation was definitely directly involving him, he was unsure of what to say. The Director was the architect of Project Freelancer, after all. It still felt like he was horribly on the outside of this whole thing.

No doubt this is what he got for jumping into something like the cybernetic enhancement program without really thinking things through, for just being caught up with his emotions and wanting anything to just distract himself from them.

The cyborg was mildly surprised that Church hadn't spoken up yet in his typical Church fashion. He tended to love rubbing it into people's faces when they made a huge mistake. However, when he glanced over at the strangely silent "unofficial" leader of Captain Flowers' squad, he was surprised by how uneasy and almost troubled his body language was.

It was as if Church was mulling things over in his head, just taking in everything that was being said right now.

"The initial development phases, yes." Delta stated in response to Washington's comment, "Though there were no doubt modifications made by Chairman Hargrove specifically following events with Freelancer."

"No doubt." Church finally spoke up, sounding more strained than angry as he snarled out, "Why don't we just get moving so that we can finally figure out what the fuck is going on?"

Pointedly, he was avoiding looking at either Simmons or Sheila at the moment. Carolina seemed to agree with his sentiment.

"Hurry up!" She commanded, all but shoving everyone else through the door before slamming the side of her hand against the control panel on the inside portion of the doorway.

The door shut behind them, the sealing sound in the silence echoing around them oddly unsettling.

The area inside, for all intents and purposes, looked pretty much abandoned. Just as the building had on the exterior. None of the computer terminals lining the walls seemed to be operational, and the vast majority of the lights weren't even on the emergency and conservational dim settings.

It was eerily reminiscent of several clichés straight out of the old horror movies he watched as a kid.

The group peered around them, unsure as to what to make of the sight.

"Um…" Simmons began cautiously, trying very hard and failing miserably to keep his voice from getting into its higher pitched squeak it did whenever he was extremely nervous, "Are we sure this place is still being used?"

There was that odd glow still, but maybe that was just a trick of his artificial eye and nothing more. After all, it still always cast Church in the same aura Sheila and Delta were often bathed in.

"Well, it is such a lovely day outside. Maybe everyone went camping!" Doc added in, trying to break the unease building around them with his own odd brand of bedside humor.

However, the more-or-less joking suggestion was ignored in response to Church's much more volatile reaction to the surroundings.

"What the fuck, Washington?" He practically snarled at the steel and yellow-armored Freelancer, "I thought you guys were sure this was it!"

Apparently, Church was at least still coherent enough despite his rage that he realized addressing Carolina that way too would have been foolishly suicidal.

Before Washington could respond, and from the large intake of breath he took beforehand it seemed as if he was about to let out a colorful outburst of his own, Carolina stepped in with a stern warning evident in her tone, "We are, Church."

He rounded on her then and countered, "Then why are there no guards if this place is so goddamned important, huh? Why is there no power?"

"That's all just to maintain the appearance that this place isn't worth anyone's time." When Washington spoke, the anger that had been in his body language before had deflated and his voice had an oddly hollow note to it, "Because it's always best to hide things in plain sight."

"Really? Well, they've done a fucking stellar job on that because it all looks like it's imaginary to me." Church seemed to be getting angrier by the minute.

Simmons supposed he could understand where Church was coming from. They'd risked a lot coming here due to everything that was at stake. The Resistance, and most likely from Church's point of concern namely Tex and possibly the Caboose kid, even more so.

If this was just a dead end, then what?

The idea of a bomb that could take out the entire underground population of the Slums in the blink of an eye being built somewhere was absolutely terrifying. Anger was a pretty understandable response to that kind of helplessness. Besides, Leonard Church was pretty much always fused towards anger.

"That's not entirely true, Church." Sheila spoke up quietly just then, her gunmetal green helmet tilting this way and that as if she was observing something around them.

He paused, caught off-guard by the robot's statement, "What do you mean?"

"There seems to at least be quite a bit of power being diverted to some part of this building." She glanced over at Simmons expectantly, "You feel it too, don't you, Private Simmons?"

He nodded his head slightly, though "feeling it" wasn't exactly the right word choice for him personally. That disconcerting glow around the walls that he had more or less now associated with general power supplies ever since becoming a cyborg was quite apparent here, despite how abandoned and shut-down everything looked on the surface when he observed the building through his organic eye only.

In fact, it almost seemed to form a trail of some kind. It was more than that too.

"There were a lot of spikes in power around the building grounds too." He muttered quietly in confirmation of what Sheila had said, pausing as he tried to accurately figure out what that could have meant, "Possibly like there were…automated security defenses?"

"That's correct, Private Simmons." Delta informed them, nodding his small head a fraction, "I used the schematics of the building to help us successfully bypass all of them."

Carolina shrugged slightly, "Further evidence for our theory, Delta?"

"Perhaps." The A.I. Fragment was cryptic.

"Okay, like that hasn't already gotten fucking old already." Church muttered under his breath.

"Furthermore, this place is strange." Sheila stated, ignoring the commentary from her friend.

"Well, it isn't a very hospitable place. I'll give you that." Doc looked around thoughtfully, "Though it could be more warm and inviting with just the right accents."

"Jesus, I hope that Donut kid survives this fucking mess." Church groaned, his helmeted head falling into his hand, "You two are perfect for each other."

For a moment Doc almost seemed caught off-guard at the sudden remark, and his back stiffened. He hadn't said anything about Donut in a long while since they'd come back to Above Ground after the "peace talks" fiasco, but it had been pretty obvious that his friend had been upset at how abruptly they'd had to leave and that the continued fighting had made him rather concerned. He had been exceedingly worried when Church and Carolina had explained about what Hargrove had really wanted from the tunnels during the delegations.

Doc just usually tried focusing on more cheerful topics in order to help divert his own mind and others' from those matters when he could. That had always been Doc's way of dealing with things, even back when they had first met each other during training.

Church glanced at the silent medic and almost seemed apologetic for having brought up Donut at all, "Listen, Doc—"

"Aw, thanks, Church!" The smile plastering Doc's face underneath his purple helmet was no doubt exceedingly large, "I knew you were worried too!"

Doc outstretched his arms as if to give the other man a hug, and Church backed away, quickly, "For the love of—Doc, if you hug me, I swear I will fucking shoot you!"

That probably would have been a more viable threat if Church could actually shoot worth anything. Washington chose to speak up just then, turning attention back to Sheila's earlier remark instead just to be on the safe side.

"This complex is strange? How so?" He asked the robot.

"There is something familiar about this place." She paused before continuing, trying to describe it more concisely, "As if I've been here before—or knew someone here."

Church looked at her as if he was frowning under his helmet, "We've never been here before though."

"Yes." She seemed quite troubled by her own confusing remarks as well, "Besides, no one even seems to be here."

Washington, Carolina, and Delta all shared a look. That was a common occurrence whenever they seemed to know something that the others didn't yet.

"Regardless, we need to keep moving." Carolina finally stated, "Speculating here is only wasting time we don't have."

She tilted her head slightly, hands tense around her guns, "Simmons. Sheila. Think you can point us in the right direction?"

Both Sheila and Simmons turned to the left where a halfway open door seemed to lead into a corridor that appeared to look like any other in the hallway. But there was definitely no mistaking the power trail pulsing just underneath the surface of the walls, floor, and ceiling of that space.

Carolina turned to him questioningly, and Delta nodded his head slightly in quiet agreement with the two physical beings' assessment.

Washington looked at Carolina questioningly, "Another test?"

She shrugged, "Just trying to make sure." She regarded him thoughtfully, noting the odd physical tremor that had started up in the other Freelancer as they were standing in the hallway, "How are you feeling, Wash?"

He squared his shoulders and tried to not look as shaken in his body language as he had been moments before, "I'll be better once all of this is over and done with."

The woman said nothing, briefly patting his shoulder as if in a comforting gesture before turning professional once more.

The group moved forward, forcing the door open as they went. It was one of the few times where Simmons' strength enhancements actually proved useful. He imagined he would have just embarrassed himself otherwise, given that even with him, Sheila, and Washington shoving it took quite a bit of effort for the door to give way further.

The way they went through led into a series of more or less identical doors to the first one that they had to jimmy open. The power for them seemed diverted on purpose, upon closer inspection. Perhaps as another ploy to get people to think of the way as a dead end despite the energy trails all around the space.

They went through several non-descript rooms that could have belonged to any type of research facility or technological center, with nothing too high-end or extremely expensive by appearances at all. Then they went down several flights of stairs. Which was good since, as expected, none of the elevators were working.

The stairs lead down into an underground corridor with one large double-door of thick metal on the other side.

There was no mistaking where the power had been routed to in the building. The sealed door was practically blinding to look at with Simmons' cybernetic eye due to how much power was going through it. Even his organic one was starting to tear up by reflex.

"Th—this is it." Simmons heard himself say nervously, as if from far away.

"Yeah, no shit." Church muttered in response, though the remark seemed to lack his usual bite.

The locking mechanism for this door seemed even more complex than the first one had been. Numerous multi-colored lights flashed across its surface in a way that was downright intimidating.

It reminded Simmons quite a bit of the mechanisms that kept the bulkheads into the Slums and its corresponding tunnels sealed away from Above Ground. It had taken him almost an entire day to figure out how to bypass those when he'd ventured down below for the first time.

True, he had been little more than a teenager then, but he doubted he'd be able to bypass a lock of similar proportions in a speedy amount of time without proper code sequencing. Given the situation, time was something they didn't really have a ton of.

"Delta?" Carolina glanced at the silent figure floating near her shoulder.

He flickered out of view for a second, appearing at the door moments later.

"I'll handle the lock on my own this time." He stated, disappearing into the side-panel.

There was a large whirring sound from deep within the walls of the space, and the lock's lights turned differing solid shades to correspond with the door being unlocked. The two slabs of metal slid slowly to the sides as Delta reemerged, the group of soldiers running up to meet him at the doorway.

"That was faster than I expected." Carolina told him, sounding genuinely impressed at the feat.

Delta seemed surprised as well, which was odd to see on the rather calm and collected A.I. Fragment, "I had assistance."

"Who?" Carolina glanced behind him questioningly.

The sterile and brightly lit hallway beyond the open doorway was a stark contrast to the almost dilapidated rest of the complex. There were all sorts of equipment lining the walls, and Simmons really only had a vague idea about what half of them probably were. A faint humming sound echoed throughout the space.

Even more surprising than that was the tiny humanoid armored hologram hovering above the floor, glowing a dim purple and flickering as if somewhat unstable. It seemed similar to Delta, but even smaller. Almost as if to bring to mind a childlike form.

Carolina actually let out a sharp intake of breath, and Washington stared in open shock as both Freelancers said simultaneously, "Theta?"

The small figure seemed to be struggling to maintain its shape as they got closer to it.

"Oh great." Church sighed, "Another one."

Carolina swallowed nervously, "How are you able to be this far away from your containment unit?" She asked, "How are you even able to be outside your containment unit?"

"In the aftermath of what happened with the defections and with the Meta, some of the scientists were understandably rattled." Delta explained, as the smaller form seemed to shrink away from Carolina's questions almost fearfully, "They weren't as thorough in handling my or Theta's containment units as they should have been."

Washington was looking at the wavering holographic image in concern, "Still, it's a strain to be so far away from the containment unit regardless, isn't it? Then to help hack into a computer lock at the same time—"

"I—I had to!" Theta yelled out suddenly, the outburst causing his form to become even more blurry, "He's in trouble!"

His voice definitely was that of a child's. A very upset one at that.

"Who is, Theta?" Washington's tone was gentle, but urgent.

For some reason though, by how he asked the question, Simmons had a sneaking suspicion the blonde had a pretty good guess as to who Theta was talking about already.

"Epsilon!" Theta glanced back behind him, to a room where the humming seemed to be the loudest, "I think he's dying."

"Well, that's just fucking fantastic." Church whistled, looking at Washington and Carolina's stiffening postures, "Isn't he the one we came here to find?"

Theta turned at the sound of Church's voice, tilting his head slightly in confusion, "Aren't you—?"

He was cut off, however, by the doors sliding shut behind them again with a resounding thud. The sound caused everyone but the Freelancers and the Fragments to jump slightly in surprise.

At the same time, a very familiar voice boomed out at them through the surrounding computer terminals.

"Greetings, Agent Carolina and Agent Washington." The polite, feminine tone stated cordially, "I see you have brought unregistered visitors with you. Would you like me to go ahead and set up temporary visitor access for them? Or should I proceed with the security measures for trespassers?"

Sheila had gone even more unnaturally stiff than her robotic body tended to be, as if she was in shock and attempting to process what she was hearing. Everyone else, save for Washington and Carolina, just appeared confused. Church was turning his head frantically from side to side in utter bewilderment.

"Why the fuck does the V.I. for this place sound like Sheila?" He demanded, turning to the two Freelancers with a very obvious you better fucking explain this right now glare even through his helmet.

At Church's voice, the Virtual Intelligence program that had spoken up moments before paused. Then, the polite chords continued on as if not missing a step, "My apologies, Director, and greetings. I did not recognize you earlier."

"Director?" He sounded even more confused at that, looking over at Carolina again questioningly.

Carolina spoke up quickly, seemingly just as uneasy with the remark as Church had been, "F.I.L.S.S., he's not—"

Whatever she was about to say was lost with the sound of a gun going off.

Surprisingly, it was Church who shoved his caught off-guard cousin to the ground. Apparently, he'd been in the best position to see what had happened given how he had been turned to look directly at Carolina from that angle at the time.

A spray of red liquid erupted from the sudden hole in the Above Grounder's neck as the bullet pierced through the armor there. He had knocked Carolina to the ground, his body crumpling on top of hers in the aftermath.

"CHURCH!"

Simmons wasn't sure which one of them screamed the loudest, but he could just picture Church complaining about "the assholes" killing his ears all the same.

Agent South Dakota lowered her weapon from where she stood just off to the side of the closed entrance, her orchid helmet nowhere to be seen and a humorless smirk crossing over her features.

"I guess that's what you get when you forget to look over your shoulder, huh?"

---

The sky was incredibly blue. It was way bluer than Dexter Grif had ever thought it could be, with odd puffs of white that his brain automatically compared to marshmallows.

What could he say? The Slums dweller hadn't eaten in about four hours! Everything by this point was reminding him of food.

It was probably all sorts of weird how the sky was the first thing his attention was drawn to when they stepped foot on the actual surface of the planet, in very hostile circumstances to boot. Knowing that Tex was undoubtedly correct about how they only had a few seconds, since she always tended to be about these things even if they argued sometimes, Grif couldn't help but glance upwards all the same.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he noticed pretty much everyone else who had been raised underground in the former mining colony do the same. So he knew it wasn't just a knee-jerk reaction only he had. None of them had ever seen the sky in person, after all.

Of course, he had to look down really quickly just to make sure that his feet were still on the ground. There was an illogical part of him that, upon seeing the vastness of the sky overhead, wondered how the fuck they were able to keep from floating away.

No doubt if he were with him Simmons would have said something about gravity right there, and Grif would have to then mock him for being a know-it-all nerd.

The sky made the cavern ceiling towering high above Level One look downright suffocating, a perspective he'd never even thought of before. A part of him was exhilarated at the realization, but another part almost wanted to throw up. It was a bizarre combination.

The natural brightness of the surface wasn't something he was used to either. There was artificial lighting in the Slums to mimic day and night cycles, but it really didn't come close to natural sunlight when you experience it for the first time. Besides, the tunnels they'd used to reach here hadn't even had one tenth of the lighting the Slums usually had to begin with.

If they hadn't been wearing their helmets, Grif imagined the sudden influx of light would have been at least temporarily blinding. It was still enough to make his water in reflex a little.

At least, he'd try telling himself that was why he teared up a little later on.

The second the last sealed door had moved away, the entire world had opened up to a decidedly alien-looking place of vibrant colors and bizarre softness underfoot. Again, not helping with the whole notion of not standing on fully solid ground.

It was enough to completely throw someone's perspective off balance for at least a moment or two.

Grif had never realized before just how cut off the Slums had been in so many other ways beyond just in abstract terms and treatment before. But, it was now hitting him smack in the face and it was beyond overwhelming.

Of course, all of that philosophical pondering only lasted for about five seconds before all shit broke loose and the Above Ground troops in the area moved in.

The Resistance groups scattered, just as they had been designated to do earlier during the initial planning stages. It was an attempt to divide the Above Ground troops' attention even more as they moved in to mow the Slums dwellers down.

Tex had sealed the tunnel behind them as planned, so that the Above Ground soldiers really couldn't attempt to force the Resistance fighters back underground even if they had originally planned on doing so. Apparently, the alternate strategy the Above Ground military came up with was just to make things very bloody and brutal.

Someone hit him in the shoulder, snapping him out of his daze.

It was Tucker, nodding his head for a moment in understanding before his sword was out in front of him in a flash of blue even more blindingly brilliant than the sky. Kai had torn her gaze from up above their heads as well, giving her brother a small wave that seemed to say "Better see you later, asshole!" before she followed after their childhood friend and the rest of their team for this mission.

He returned both of their gestures, before pulling himself away from his shocked stupor along with everyone else to the sound of Sarge shouting incomprehensible orders over the sudden explosions and gunfire going off all around them.

There was a forest nearby. Holy shit! He'd never seen one of those before save for in old video reels and films, although it was probably a bad idea to think too much about it right now.

Near the forest was a shallow ravine of some sort, along with a meadow-y area that the Freelancers had identified as sometimes being used for military training. That seemed to explain some of the sparse-looking buildings dotting the terrain and the odd pieces of equipment strewn about it.

Multi-colored blurs moved from the outlier edges of the Resistance fighters as they separated and scattered, directly into the oncoming Above Grounders. As they moved, there was a whole lot of shouting and bodies dropping.

That must have been Tex, North, and York then. Their part of the plan had been to try to cause as much mayhem as they could amongst the highest concentration of Above Ground soldiers as the Resistance teams reorganized for their parts of the battle.

Kimball and a contingent of other fighters were escorting Doctor Grey and a few other non-combative Resistance members through the forest. They were heading away from the fighting and hopefully in the direction of the "safe area" that Tex had been sure would still be there in order to get them set-up for potential injuries, equipment maintenance, and stronger communication lines.

It had been a compromise on her part, but Sarge and some others didn't want to risk the Resistance's de facto leader in the first skirmishes. Kimball wasn't directly involved in the initial fighting, but she was there and able to ensure support for it regardless.

Blue Team was taking the middle ground between Kimball's group and the Freelancers, acting as a buffer to keep the enemy attention away from the non-combative personnel should they be some of the "lucky ones" who didn't manage to immediately get killed by Tex and the others.

Grif couldn't really see what his sister and some of the others were up to, but he could see multiple versions of C.T.'s brown armor amidst the chaos. Tucker was definitely getting into the thick of the action with how often the orange armored soldier saw the arc of his friend's energy blade slicing through the air whenever he turned his head slightly in that direction. Which wasn't too often, really. Had to focus on not getting shot at or killed himself, you know?

He heard a thunderous, incomprehensible roar nearby that, to Grif's best guess, was Sarge's randomly indistinct battle cry to pump up his blood. Also, to no doubt try to scare the shit out of any enemy soldiers nearby as Grif was almost sure saw a few of them jump a bit.

Afterwards, Sarge pushed Red Team towards the ravine. It was the space that separated the area they'd emerged from within the tunnel to the city proper.

By the time they had gotten close enough to it to hold a temporary position of sorts, Grif had lost count of just how many enemy soldiers there were, of how many bullets their team had shot and that had been shot at them.

It seemed like an endless wave of Above Ground soldiers in his mind given what they were facing, but it probably wasn't even a fourth of the actual army on the surface. Truthfully, he wasn't all that fond of math, especially when he wasn't getting shot at. So, he sure as fuck was probably less likely to accurately guess numbers in the middle of an active combat zone.

All Grif knew was that it seemed like time was at an odd standstill, at least until Volleyball and Jensen had managed to acquire a vehicle. He noticed it when he was struggling to get up from a dive roll he'd had to do in order to avoid a grenade someone launched in his general direction.

Okay, so maybe he did need to cut off on eating so much or something. He probably shouldn't get that winded in the middle of a fucking firefight.

Jensen had apparently gotten the abandoned thing running after its Above Ground driver had decided to give up on it, and Volleyball took the wheel. As Volleyball swiveled the machine in front of Grif's momentarily out-of-breath form, Jensen had taken out the Above Grounder with the grenade launcher.

"You okay, sir?" Volleyball called out over the sounds of fighting and explosions.

No longer having to worry about someone firing on him as he was recovering, Grif got up in record time, nodding his head towards the two female lieutenants in gratitude for the save, "Thanks."

"Anytime, Captain Grif!" Even with her helmet on, he could picture the face-splitting grin on Jensen's freckled face.

He couldn't help but grin back.

"Kai will probably eviscerate your corpse if you get killed out here!" Volleyball joked, though they both knew that was probably scarily accurate to what would happen.

Then the lieutenants were off again. From what Grif could tell over the course of the battle, they were doing a pretty damn amazing job of swerving throughout the soldiers and generally just causing a lot of confusion, at least until a rocket launcher came into play.

Both Resistance fighters had apparently seen it coming and jumped ship well before the subsequent explosion. The vehicle's velocity crashing it into a group of about six Above Grounders who had to scatter to avoid getting run over and blown up by the already moving rocket.

Donut was able to use the open terrain to his advantage. Despite the small cries of fear that he'd occasionally let loose whenever an enemy came too close or a bullet flew his way, he was "tossing away" (definitely his choice of words, no one else's) with surprising precision and also keeping the squads from getting too clustered together.

"Hiya, Grif! Hi, Lopez!" He yelled at them when the orange-armored soldier came into view, still sounding amazingly cheerful despite his nervousness.

Grif and Lopez were apparently of the same mind with helping to provide the "lightish red" fighter some cover while he threw his grenades in their amazingly accurate and rather deadly arcs. The younger Resistance fighter was doing a great job, but it was definitely leaving him open in terms of how quickly he could respond to enemy fire.

Grif's initial reaction was to groan in exasperation despite the danger they were in, "Could you not be so perky when we're about to get killed?"

"Aw, but being perky helps me stay focused!" Donut's head bobbed slightly, and he threw another grenade, "I am screaming on the inside though! If it helps."

"That really doesn't, actually."

"Prefiero maldiciendo interiormente a mí mismo. Pero sí que, incluso cuando no estamos recibiendo disparos." {"I prefer cursing inwardly myself. But, I do that even when we aren't getting shot at."}

Donut nodded his head in the robot's direction, "Exactly, Lopez! Even if we're scared, look at us all still fighting together as a team!"

The robot made a noise that sounded vaguely like an electronic snort.

"Si uno de ustedes muere, yo no llevo ninguno de sus cuerpos de vuelta. En especial, no la propia grasa." {"If one of you dies, I am not carrying either of your bodies back. Especially not the fat one's."}

Lopez paused, glancing at the two of his longest human teammates. Donut was almost out of grenades, and would have to fall back to a gun soon enough. Grif wasn't even honestly sure how much ammunition either he or Lopez had left.

"Pero supongo que lo perdería chicos ligeramente." {"But I guess I would miss you guys slightly."}

"You're right, Lopez, teamwork is best!"

"... Sólo un poco." {"...Only slightly."}

They were forced to scatter moments later, as Donut threw the last of his grenades. Lopez and Donut ended up managing to get to where both Jensen and Volleyball were firing off shots from behind the cover of a large rock. The pink-armored soldier quickly armed himself with his own gun as they did so.

Figures that Grif managed to run towards the directions of the much more open area, which meant scrambling to avoid getting shot. He sighed inwardly at the slightly envious thought of being able to stay stationary at least for a moment or two behind cover like the others. It wouldn't be anything long-term, but he could use the breather from being winded for a moment.

Matthews and Bitters had been holding their own pretty decently earlier too, from what he'd seen of them. Similar to Jensen and Volleyball, they seemed to be using the terrain to their advantage quite a bit. Grif wondered if maybe there was something to Sarge's training regimens after all. But, he'd lost sight of them after the three older Red Team members had been forced to scatter.

Now no matter how hard he looked he wasn't seeing any signs of tan with yellow or orange trim armor around the battlefield. Maybe they'd had to take cover somewhere or something. Thinking about worst case possibilities wasn't going to help anyone at the moment.

As far as Sarge was concerned, well…the crazy old guy seemed to be doing rather okay and holding his ground. At least, if the shouts of "Eat lead, dirtbag!" and "Yee-haw!" were to be believed. For once, Grif was rather glad for the Red Team leader's dogged tenacity and homicidal tendencies. When they weren't directed at him, they could be a wondrous thing.

It was probably no more than ten or fifteen minutes, truthfully, since they'd emerged from the tunnels. But, the battle seemed to be taking forever.

There were a lot of dead and wounded on both sides. Grif tried not to look down too much to see which acquaintance of his he was stepping over as he ran along. He was inwardly praying that most of the causalities were of the assholes who were shooting at them instead, but knew the odds for that weren't as favorable.

Suddenly a sharp, piercing noise filtered through his helmet. It was the decided upon signal for retreating. Why the fuck they couldn't have just had someone yelling out the order over a comm-link was beyond him, but it certainly got your attention in a "makes your ears want to bleed" kind of way.

The sound was almost too disbelievingly good to be true.

The next part of the plan he could definitely agree to: take cover in the forest and get to the safe location as quickly as humanly possible.

Too late he noticed to the side a person in white armor aiming a gun at him, but suddenly there was the tell-tale crack of a shotgun being fired. The Above Ground soldier crumpled before he could even react.

Sarge harrumphed, lowering his weapon, "Disappointingly slow reflexes as always, Grif. I should've just let him shoot you to make a point."

"…Uh, wouldn't me being dead refute any point I could've possibly learned?" The Resistance fighter couldn't help but ask despite the shock, raising a black eyebrow underneath his helmet.

Gah, it was really hard equating Sarge with any type of gratitude, but there it was. Grif did owe him big time for the save.

"No time for fancy semantics! You heard that signal!" Sarge was waving his arm, "Get your ass in gear, dirtbag!"

Which was pretty much the closest thing Grif would probably ever get to a warm and fuzzy moment with his commanding officer, as sad as that was.

Still, he couldn't help the shaky sigh and odd sort of smile he found creeping onto his face all the same as the older soldier gave a slight nod, waiting as long as he probably dared from a sound tactical stance before rejoining the last of the stragglers and his subordinates in the forest.

Grif was glad to see that none of the Red Team members seemed to be the worse for wear beyond a few dents and scrapes in their armors. He also noticed a few stragglers from other teams in the Resistance headed into the forest, disappearing amidst the cover of the trees. The foliage cover would help keep their visibility down, yes, but they would still need to be quick due to the other types of sensors at play.

Grif was about to do the same as the others when he realized something, his feet suddenly stopping in their tracks.

He hadn't counted either Lieutenant Matthews or Lieutenant Bitters amongst the Red Team members who had fallen back.

It was stupid to wait any longer. He knew that. Anyone who hadn't made it to the tree-line yet was probably not going to. Standing out here right now was pretty much like walking around with a target on your back. Okay, so maybe orange armor wasn't exactly the most blending-in color either in that regard.

Best to just do a sad sigh and mourn later.

Sure, Matthews could be an annoying kissass sometimes and no one really likes a kissass. And Bitters' apathy and attitude could be draining, even for him. But they were just kids, around Kai's age.

They got him snacks all the time and, beyond a few pointed remarks from Bitters on the subject, they were cool enough to let Grif nap even when technically he probably should have been doing something productive.

He wondered if Sarge would have left if he'd thought they could have been still alive, or if Kimball would still retreat. If Kai was hurt or lost somewhere, Grif would be fucking pissed as all get out if Tucker or C.T. left her behind. Yes, even in the face of a logical argument.

Fuck. If he stayed more or less hidden in the trees, maybe he could stick around long enough to just make sure. One way or the other.

"C—Captain Grif!"

It was Matthews' voice that shouted, sounding both relieved and strained all at once.

Both he and Bitters were trying to run with a halting limp up from the edge of the ravine, but their progress was painfully slow given the fact that Bitters appeared to be wounded. Gunshot wounds to the apathetic lieutenant's right side and upper leg were seeping out blood.

It seemed as if the two recruits had actually fallen down into the ravine at some point since their armor was really scratched up and torn. On closer inspection, Grif realized their armor also had burn marks, as if they'd been close by an explosion.

Matthews was half-supporting, half-dragging his wounded teammate across the space only a couple meters from the older Resistance fighter and the cover of the forest. Just then the tell-tale shining white forms of Above Ground soldiers were catching sight of them as well.

Grif swore, racing down the short distance to the two fighters. He began practically pushing the two younger men up the slight incline to where the wooded area was waiting, firing off a few of his remaining rounds as he did so to try to keep the Above Grounders at bay.

The soldiers were still approaching, a rather huge group that was spreading out as if to block off any other potential escape route. They fired a few times, but either they were horrible shots since they always seemed a few centimeters off or…

They want to get closer. Either they want to kill us at point-blank range because they're fucking pissed, or they want us alive.

Alive probably meant torture, then death.

After what felt like forever, the three Resistance fighters made it stumbling to the woods.

Grif shoved harder, causing the not-quite-with-it-due-to-blood-loss Bitters to nearly trip. Thankfully Matthews somehow managed to keep a firmer grip than Grif would have given him credit for on his injured teammate and kept them both steady.

The Slums dweller felt slightly bad about possibly making Bitters' injuries worse, but he'd apologize later if they ended up actually surviving.

"Keep moving and don't look back." Grif told them, his voice sounding oddly composed despite the fact that he could barely hear it over his heart pounding loudly in his ears, "We'll meet at the safe zone."

Matthews flinched slightly, and both he and Bitters glanced at each other before he spoke up, "But—"

Of all the times for the stupid kid to not be a suck-up, he had to pick NOW?

"Get the fuck moving!"

Reluctantly, Matthews gave a small nod. Then he was moving through the trees with Bitters in tow with a lot more speed than Grif would have thought possible, especially given how much the other lieutenant was probably leaning on him.

Grif thought he saw Bitters glancing back briefly, but the older fighter was off and running to the side not a second later. The orange-armored soldier was uninjured and, while grossly out of shape for this kind of activity, at least he wasn't hurt or dragging someone else who was injured.

He figured he could divert attention from the two younger fighters for a moment to better their chances of actually getting out okay. Then he'd dart further into the forest and hopefully get to safety himself not too long after.

Shots were fired as he peeked out at the soldiers who were now just a few steps away from giving chase into the woods after him. Grif fired back. Those were his last two rounds. The third one gave a pathetic click when he pulled the trigger.

The Slums resident turned around, hoping the soldiers focused on him but would also waste time to debate about potential Resistance ambushes before deciding to give chase.

Suddenly, a figure in way too fucking familiar steel and orange armor materialized directly behind him. He was aware of the butt of a gun slamming right through his visor, then all he saw was black.

---

When Grif came to, he was looking up at the sky again. This time it was obscured slightly by leaves and thick branches. Liquid was dripping down his face, and one of his eyes appeared to be swollen shut.

He had been right though. Now that his visor was shattered, the sunlight kind of hurt.

The orange-wearing soldier laid there on the forest floor trying to gain some measure of breath, while also trying to get his head to stop spinning and threatening to spill open. Honestly, there wasn't a whole lot that didn't fucking hurt at this moment.

"Wow." A smug voice sounded from just a little further away, "Did not picture you doing the whole heroic thing before. Who would've guessed?"

Felix stepped into view moments later. Apparently he'd been off to the side wiping the blood from Grif's face off of his gun. He could just picture the mocking grin on the asshole mercenary's face.

If he wasn't fairly certain he'd be dead if he so much as tried it, Grif would have used the little bit of energy he had left to give Felix the finger.

"The two guys you were covering? Matthews and Bitters, right? I thought I recognized the trims." The mercenary was talking as if it was just a normal conversation, like how he'd sometimes talk with everyone when he had been initially "hired" by Kimball.

Granted, Felix didn't seem particularly interested in hearing Grif's reply. The Slums resident was really starting to think the mercenary just got off on hearing himself talk.

"They actually managed to get away because of you." Felix scoffed, shaking his head, "Not that it will matter in the fucking slightest. Such a shame."

There were more footsteps approaching now, and hushed orders flowing around. It looked like the regular Above Ground military had finally begun combing the area in the off-chance that there were still Resistance stragglers.

Hopefully, Felix was right and the lieutenants had gotten far enough away at least.

Felix bent over him on the ground, positioning his helmet so that he was no doubt sure that he was making eye contact with the Resistance fighter.

"Looks like you're the only one of you morons on this battlefield who is still breathing, Grif." His tone took on a darker jovial note as he added, "Though I can fucking guarantee you'll be wishing you weren't soon enough."

---

Author's Notes: I am sorry that it took so long for this chapter to come out. Holidays were throwing all sorts of curveballs into my schedule at the last minute.

Also, really sorry for the double-cliffhanger ending! O_O …Things kind of got pretty intense there, huh? On the plus side, this chapter is technically only half of a much larger one I'd initially planned. Kind of ended up picking cliffhanger parts simply because they felt like good stopping points when the page numbers kept getting higher, haha. I already have the first part of the next chapter written out, so hopefully it shouldn't take as long to post now that weird schedule changes are over with.

Things are definitely getting more hectic, and lots of things are going to be happening really soon. So, I hope you'll stick with me!

Thank you so much for reading this far. I hope you enjoyed the chapter a little bit even with the really horrible ending. :)