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.}

22. Chapter 22

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 Twenty-Two:

"Just for the record, this all totally sucks." The young Resistance private named Palomo complained loudly behind Washington.

The Above Grounder couldn't help but mirror the eye-rolls that Lieutenants Andersmith and Jensen were no doubt giving in response to that remark, at least judging by how their helmets slightly tilted in Palomo's direction the moment the words were out of his mouth.

It was all the more annoying to the blonde considering that it was probably the fifth such comment he had heard in little under an hour.

"In what way?" Donut asked conversationally, and it was easy enough to imagine a large grin plastered on the Resistance fighter's face underneath his helmet, "I think this is nice and cozy!"

Hankering down in what was essentially a cramped storage shed outside of a military installation wasn't what Washington would describe as anything remotely "nice and cozy," especially not with six people inside a space that smelled like it usually held nothing but fertilizer. Definitely wouldn't have been his first choice for a stakeout location himself, but beggars really could not be choosers.

The location was ideal due to being close enough to where the base was, but outside of its security systems. Sneaking in would definitely be easier from here. Not to mention, it was never used in the later hours of the day, so there would be no unsuspecting groundskeepers from the nearby shopping district winding up with concussions, or worse, from happening upon them.

The gardening supplies were taking quite a bit of space of the shed, which meant the group had to utilize some pretty creative maneuvering to fit everyone inside and out of view of the small windows located near the ceiling of the building.

Jensen and Donut both hunkered down on top of crates that hadn't been too highly stacked up as the two were of slightly smaller stature than the others in the group. Luckily for them, they didn't have to contend with jostling over what little room there was left on the floor.

Poor Caboose in particular looked incredibly hunched over and squished. Washington felt sympathy towards the young man, given how he was personally cramping up from the lack of movement and awkward positioning as well.

Rather surprisingly though, the blue-armored fighter hadn't even complained once, which the older soldier was impressed by.

"I meant about that message Captain Tucker sent out earlier." Palomo stated in response to Donut's remark, "I wanted to send a shout-out to Bitters!"

"Telling him to 'Suck it!' because he didn't get to be on a rescue mission doesn't count as a shout-out, Palomo." Andersmith replied, the easily pictured frown forming on his face was rather evident in the older lieutenant's voice.

"Ah, see, that would have only been a part of it!" Palomo mumbled in his defense, "I mean, maybe if he knew we were going to try to rescue Captain Grif he would feel better. Him and Matthews!"

"Kai too." Jensen added quietly from her perch.

Palomo nodded at the girl's comment, "Yeah!"

Washington frowned as he listened to the heavy discussion suddenly taking place, not sure what to make of their conversation.

"That message was meant to inform your group's leader of the phenomenal risk all of you are choosing to take." He reminded them, "I doubt it will be shared with anyone else in the event that this turns into a worst case scenario."

The Freelancer imagined it was better to not get hopes up, or cause even more worry and fractures within the Resistance, as a direct result of the actions of a group of volunteers.

The Above Grounder had argued with Tucker a lot on account of this plan regarding many different issues, but Washington at least understood where the younger man had been coming from in regards to the private message he had sent to Resistance leader Vanessa Kimball beforehand.

"Besides," Andersmith stated in the thoughtful aftermath of Washington's comment, "I still don't think that would count as a shout-out."

"Oh, yeah, he's right about that!" Donut nodded his head in agreement with the blue-trimmed lieutenant, "A shout-out is just you mentioning someone, isn't it?"

"I thought it was when you shouted outside." Caboose spoke up, sounding very confused over the topic.

They were seriously not going to get into a debate about what a 'shout-out' was during a stakeout, were they? Sighing, Washington counted to three quietly in his mind.

"Let's focus on the mission, all right?" The blonde finally managed to get out with some patience, as he noticed that Palomo had just taken in a sharp intake of breath as if to add his own two cents on the subject, "Or we could just be quiet for a little while."

"Oh! You mean like the Quiet Game?" Donut asked.

"Is that an actual thing?" Jensen sounded curious as she glanced back-and-forth between Donut and the Freelancer.

I really hope so.

"Yes, exactly. The Quiet Game would be perfect right about now." Washington answered Donut.

"Oh, I am the best at the Quiet Game!" Caboose declared, "I always win."

"That's great, Caboose." Washington nodded his head at the young man, hoping maybe this would temporarily help matters at least.

"I am also the best at the Shouting Game!" The younger man was cheerfully talking now, evidently believing that the Quiet Game had not officially started yet, "Though Tucker doesn't like it when you play that one too much." Caboose's voice took on a conspiratorial whisper, "He is a sore loser."

Oh, for the love of—! No wonder Delta was currently making himself scarce in Washington's armor storage compartment. The Above Grounder could definitely understand now why Carolina had insisted on going with her "cousin" and his team instead.

Truth be told, he wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of leading a group of more inexperienced fighters. Still, considering Florida's team's track record, the difference between the groups was perhaps negligible in a lot of ways. Most of the volunteers had little in the way of actual combat experience, regardless of how the groups were split.

Given some of the dialogue floating around him currently, Washington imagined working with this particular group would have been a huge trial for Carolina's nearly nonexistent patience.

Not that he could blame them for wanting to fill the time with banter. Despite their eagerness before when it came to volunteering and the preparation for the mission, they all knew how much of a risk they were taking.

In a way, the odd and often mind-boggling chatter was helping to even distract Washington a bit from the troubling amount of worry he was feeling. He was anxious not only about this group's particular role in things, but for the other two teams as well.

Theta and Tucker would be going into action very soon. If something were to happen to the stubborn moron and all of this ended up being for nothing—

"Agent Washington?" Caboose spoke up just then, and Washington felt momentarily grateful for the distraction from the descending spiral of fear he'd already gone down far too many times to count.

"Yes, Caboose?" The blonde sighed, noticing that Caboose was holding up his hand as if he was asking his teacher a question.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Oh, shoot! Now that he's said it, I do too!" Palomo suddenly chimed in afterwards, frantic-sounding, "I can't stop thinking about it!"

…Well, that grateful feeling didn't last terribly long.

---

Tucker took in a deep breath, inwardly bracing himself and trying desperately to calm the very large bundle of nerves that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in the pit of his stomach.

If the teal-armored soldier was completely honest with himself, he was failing miserably at it.

Because, yeah, he could talk a big game and he knew this plan had been better than the stupidly suicidal one that that asshole Washington and the angry redhead had come up with.

If he lived through this, Tucker would have to tell York he had been right about the redheaded Freelancer as well. She was just as fucking scary as Tex!

The brunette also could have mentioned that Carolina was not at all fond of flirting either, which became painfully obvious given how quickly his shoulder had nearly been ripped out of its socket when he tried it on her right after bringing up his plan. Seriously though, "Hey, baby, is it smokin' hot in here or is it just you?" was classic! Who couldn't appreciate that? It didn't help that that fucker Church just laughed his ass off when it happened and Washington did a whole "I warned you" bit.

Tucker's shoulder still kind of hurt, like a reminder of how mind-boggling crazy his plan was. Since he was being completely honest with himself right now, the dull throbbing pain was also a reminder that he wasn't nearly as confident on the whole "odds are good they won't kill me because I have a bitching alien sword" thing as he had managed to play up earlier.

But, because his acting was that good, he totally sold it anyways.

In the end though, the Resistance fighter had to believe that this was the best chance they would have to save the fat-ass and Junior. Not to mention also stopping Hargrove later on too. Having more people meant there were better chances of success all around, no matter how freakishly strong Freelancers might be.

If potentially dying meant getting his son out of this mess in particular, he'd do it. Tucker wasn't about to let a friend get killed off either if he could avoid it. Kai shouldn't have to cry any more than she already had.

So, here he was, getting ready to jump out of a crate that somehow Carolina had "procured." It had originally been meant to contain a shipment of weapons for the weird-as-all-fuck-named-for-a-base Mother of Invention.

The less Tucker knew about the bloodstains he had seen Carolina absentmindedly wiping away from the crate with her hand before she stated with no room for argument that he was to get in and shut up, the better.

It had been hours since then. Judging by all of the jostling he had gone through, and how that had stopped a while ago, Tucker was fairly certain he had been delivered to the base by now.

Above Ground military was either so smugly complacent with the idea that no one would mess with them that they never bothered checking shipments immediately, or their security was just lazy as fuck.

Either way, it had worked out pretty well for him. Though he had kept his sword on hand all the same because, fuck it, who knew when that would change? The Slums dweller almost wished some asshole would open the lid and blow his cover a little early by this point.

The crate was pretty big, and there had easily been enough room made for him by taking some shit out. The grenades the crate had once held would definitely not go to waste with Donut, and Tucker was more than just a little relieved that the explosives hadn't been in there with him during the rather shaky transport ride for rather obvious reasons.

Still, he had been in a not-so-comfortable crouching position for a while. His legs, back, and neck were cramping up pretty badly now. First thing he was going to do when he got out was stretch.

"It won't be much longer, Mr. Tucker." The young-sounding voice of the A.I. Fragment called Theta spoke up just then.

Suddenly, there was a shimmer right in front of him, and the miniature purple figure came into view.

Even though the whole A.I. thing had been more or less explained to him, seeing Theta appear still took Tucker by surprise. To be honest, he hadn't paid as much attention to all of the A.I. explanation as he should have anyways given how wordy it had been.

The "kid" had made himself scarce ever since they had stepped into the hideaway. But, given how they were supposed to keep quiet, Tucker could understand why that was. Honestly, they had only really just been introduced to each other around twenty minutes before the mission on account of Theta recharging or something.

Church had been grimacing even more than usual when it came to explaining what happened to Theta earlier, and everyone else on his team had gone quiet. So, Tucker guessed there was a whole lot more to that than the A.I. Fragment just needing a "kiddie nap."

Also, the A.I. seemed really shy. Tucker was honestly kind of surprised he had chosen to initiate a conversation now at all.

"Thanks." The Resistance fighter narrowed his eyes as if that would somehow magically help him see through a metal crate, which it did not, "Are we even at the right place?"

Theta nodded slightly, "Yes, we are inside the Mother of Invention's storage facility."

Good. So far, that was one thing he didn't have to worry about or alter plans for.

"Anyone around?"

"Not in the storage area." The purple figure flickered out of sight for a moment, as if he was checking on something, "There are guards stationed outside though."

Well, at least Tucker really would be able to stretch before taking some assholes out. He just needed to make sure he didn't get taken out before the alarm was triggered.

Theta was with him to help monitor his back and, hopefully, guide him along the escape route when it was time to leave.

Tucker was relieved to have some kind of assistance considering it improved his odds a bit in unfamiliar territory, however he noted something odd about the A.I.'s mannerisms: "You don't seem too happy to be here."

Tucker felt slightly guilty at the realization. Maybe they had forced Theta to tag along, and he hadn't even realized it before now because he had been too preoccupied. In which case, the Slums dweller was going to feel like a pretty big asshole when it was all said and done.

"Um, n—no! It's not that, Mr. Tucker!" Theta frantically waved his tiny hands in front of him, apparently embarrassed by the observation.

"You don't have to call me 'Mister' all the time." Tucker added in, trying to go for a joke to lessen Theta's sudden anxiety spike, "I'm not that old yet."

"R—right. Sorry. It's just…I haven't been back here in a while." The purple-armored Fragment's shoulders slumped, and he seemed to further shrink in on himself the more he continued his explanation, "Not since North was…"

Oh, shit. Tucker had almost forgotten that North had mentioned a "Theta" before, often with an odd sort-of sad smile on his face when he had did something nice for Junior.

He should have put two-and-two together earlier. After all, he had known that Delta had been York's partner right away.

Judging by how upset recalling the last time he had been at the Mother of Invention was for Theta, Tucker had a sneaking suspicion even with the Fragment trailing off that he had most likely been referring to when North had been shot.

"He's doing fine now." He told him reassuringly, giving the A.I. Fragment the same smile he gave to Junior when trying to cheer him up even though he knew Theta couldn't see it because of his helmet. Well, maybe he could. Who knew how the fuck A.I.s saw things?

The purple figure nodded his head quickly, "I know."

Right. That figured. Washington and the others would have no doubt mentioned North was alive already if Theta had asked.

"He talks about you all the time, you know." Tucker stated quietly, noticing the uneasy silence that had filled the crate and wondering if Theta wasn't worrying about something along those lines.

A.I. or not, he did appear very childlike and innocent.

If someone were talking to Junior about him, well, that would be what he would want them to say even if Tucker wasn't able to be there to do so himself.

"Really?" Theta seemed to perk up slightly.

Tucker nodded, the top of his helmet hitting the roof of the crate with the motion, "North misses you a ton." He told him, "Always talks about how you would get along great with Junior."

"He's your son, right?" Theta seemed to be coming out of his shell a bit more now due to all of the talk about North, "One of the people we're trying to rescue?"

"Yeah. That's right." He couldn't help but grin, "Once we're done here, a little reunion is in store, huh?"

Theta nodded eagerly, and Tucker made a mental note that he was going to try his fucking hardest to ensure that he hadn't just bullshitted the kid.

Losing Theta again would definitely not be cool to North either.

"Tucker?"

From the sound of his voice, it seemed as if Theta was struggling to not add "Mister" just then. The Resistance fighter smiled slightly. North had been right about him being a good kid.

"Yeah?" Tucker was hoping that the A.I. Fragment's question was about what the timer in his armor display had just told him.

"It's time."

Yep. There it was.

"Fuck yeah!" He couldn't resist exclaiming as all of his pent-up excitement and fear had been about to make him jump out of the crate, and that would really have not been a good thing to do until the lid was open at least.

Theta disappeared into the crate itself, and there was a distinctive click a moment later indicating that the lock had been disengaged. The disappearing was seriously another aspect about Artificial Intelligences that would take some getting used to.

Tucker warily opened the lid despite the assurances from earlier that no one was inside the storage area. You could never be completely certain some guys wouldn't just decide to come back from a coffee break the second they had finished their heart-to-heart conversations to check things out once more, after all.

Thankfully, though, Theta's earlier assessment was still accurate. The large warehouse-like space was filled with crates nearly identical to the one they had snuck in, but devoid of people.

He could stretch to his heart's content then. Fucking yes!

As he did just that to his aching body's immense relief, Tucker looked around at the stacked boxes around them, grateful that apparently new shipments were placed in the center of aisles individually most likely for later inspection of their contents.

It would have fucking sucked if they had been stuck inside the crate because some asshole had decided to stack shit on top of it. He shuddered slightly, having not really thought of that all too plausible reality until he was looking at how high up a lot of the shipping crates were piled.

Theta reappeared next to him, and Tucker nodded his head gratefully in his direction, "You ready?"

The A.I. tilted his head slightly in the affirmative, though he paused a second later, "Um, about your armor's storage unit, Mr. Tucker—"

"Remember, no 'Mister'!" He reminded him, not really paying that much attention to Theta's remark as he stretched his arms. About two more seconds of that, and he could get this whole thing underway, "What about it? You have enough room, right?"

Tucker honestly wasn't sure how much space tiny digital people took up, now that he thought about it. He imagined it was a shitload more than just a regular computer program.

"O—oh, no! It was fine!" Theta was quick to reassure him, "I was just curious…about all of the video files you have on it."

That gave Tucker pause.

"…Video files?"

Oh, shit. If those were what he thought they were…

"North kept some skateboarding and firework ones for me on his." Theta went on innocently, completely unaware of how suddenly rigid Tucker had become, "Do you…save files for Junior too?"

Well, only for when it was time to have a serious discussion about the birds and the bees.

Which, hopefully, wouldn't be for a damn long while because watching Grif try to have that awkward discussion with Kai when she was little had been more than enough mental scarring for him.

Now Tucker was just kicking himself that he had forgotten about those until just now, as he was pretty sure he'd been intending to delete them at some point.

"You didn't…" He winced and stopped talking for a second, dreading the answer to the question he was about to ask since that discussion with Junior was going to be painful enough and he really didn't want to have one with Theta just before he very possibly got himself killed, "Watch them or anything, did you?"

Theta shook his head emphatically, "It isn't polite to not ask first."

The dark skinned man let out a sigh of relief. He was definitely going to have to make a better mental note to get rid of those later.

"Hey, um, can you do me a favor and not tell North about those?" Tucker swallowed nervously, "They're personal."

The childlike Fragment nodded, and Tucker was really grateful he was innocent enough to not question things further, "I won't look either. I promise!"

That was a major relief. Tucker had a feeling that, friendly and polite as the former Freelancer was, North would have probably murdered him had this whole matter played out differently.

Given what he was about to do for his own son, he could understand the sentiment.

"Thanks, kid," he said, his sword suddenly flaring to life in his hand as he made his way to the double-doors that seemed to serve as the exit, "Now let's stir up some crazy-ass shit!"

They only had a few seconds before things really hit the fan once they got outside, he knew. Tucker was going to make sure they fucking counted, which was exactly what he ended up doing. The Resistance fighter pretty much hit the ground running the second both he and Theta exited the storage area.

A lot of what followed initially was more or less a blur in his brain, given the frantic pacing he had to keep up the second he had incapacitated the warehouse guards and a very loud alarm starting blasting out over the grounds.

A hell of a lot of swish-swish, stab-stab that was broken up by intermittent rounds of duck-and-cover. Then there was more swishing and stabbing.

If Caboose had been there, he could just imagine his teammate making the whole thing into some kind of hide-and-seek game variation.

Tucker was oversimplifying a lot in his mind, he knew. There was a shitload more that was going on in all of the intervals of killing and trying to not get killed. He was, to a degree at least, trying to still follow a sort-of plan even if he was adlibbing a lot of shit with every second to avoid getting shot or cornered.

The teal-armored soldier was always keeping an ear out for the chatter that Theta was throwing his way about where to turn, or when someone was heading their way that he hadn't spotted yet. But, it was all easier to process and it prevented his brain from delving into "Oh fuck, you were a major dumbass for doing this in the first place!" thoughts if he wasn't dwelling a ton on things.

When your strategy could essentially be summed up as causing a huge ass distraction by storming an enemy base practically all on your own? Yeah, it was probably a good idea to not think on just how fucking crazy it was when you were setting it into motion.

Truth be told, causing a huge explosion at the storage area he had been dropped off in before racing away from there after the alarms sounded had done wonders to draw even more attention to himself.

He had to thank Grif's husband and Jensen for those bombs, as they were definitely less likely to explode if jostled than the grenades they'd removed from the crate earlier had been.

Following that? Well, as Carolina had said, the trick would be to remain more or less hidden-but-seen at the same time. Pop out, and do some damage quickly. Let the Above Grounders know someone was there, but try to keep them guessing on just how many people they were dealing with.

It was a solid tactic. One that Kimball had even often implemented with good results quite a few times when there was heavier fighting underground in order to divert attention to the tunnels and not the Slums.

Though, admittedly, it was a bit trickier to do when you knew a fucking place had surveillance out the wazoo.

Which was definitely why having Theta around was fucking awesome. The childlike Fragment already had extensive knowledge of the Mother of Invention's layout. He was capable of guiding Tucker to the weak spots in its security grids, while they caused a lot of general havoc on their way to the main goal.

The Resistance fighter didn't have time to ponder things more, as they had just lost track of a persistent crowd of pissed off mercenaries and Above Ground soldiers through a small, way-too-easy-to-get-pinned inside corridor on one of the lower levels of the base itself.

It was not exactly Tucker's favorite idea to head to an area where escape would prove extremely difficult if he happened to get cornered. But, it would definitely be worth the risk if everything worked out.

Thankfully, Theta's assessment that the area they exited out into would be of very low priority during an attack proved accurate.

No one in their right mind contemplating potential "hit and run" strategies would probably think a floor of a military base designed for training would be a main target for an attacker. Especially with all of the rather tempting and fancy state-of-the-art equipment and technology that would be housed in other areas of a facility as large and notorious as the Mother of Invention.

All the better for the two of them, really, considering that was one very massive flaw buried within that "obvious" logic.

It seemed they had opened a door into a monitoring area. There was a clear wall, no doubt comprised of something very near in-destructible, overlooking a large plain room with metal walls down below. The room was empty for the most part, save for a few tables off to the side here and there.

"So, it's all holographic then?" Tucker gazed down with narrowed eyes, trying to picture what type of training even occurred here.

There were regular soldiers stationed at the Mother of Invention, like Church and his group, but also crazy-ass scary super soldiers like the Freelancers as well. He imagined training methods for both types of soldiers varied greatly.

Whatever technology they had at their disposal in the mining tunnels for training purposes had been more or less cobbled together by Sarge from bits and pieces he had acquired over the years, and what they scrounged from black market deals or from enemy combatants.

Truthfully, a lot of it was fucking impressive where Sarge's involvement in particular was concerned. The Holo-Grifs and that whole area in general had been a pretty big surprise, and everyone was still scratching their heads around how the crazy old guy had managed to inexplicably create a goddamned moat.

But, this whole floor was on a completely different level. Even with everything powered down as it was now.

Tucker could literally feel with this whole space that a hell of a lot of money had been thrown at it. Just being here felt odd, somehow, given that.

"More or less." Theta told him in response to his earlier question, "Sometimes they'll bring in real props and weapons for simulations though."

The tiny figure's attention was already on what they had come here for: the equally expensive-looking, and all sorts of shiny, computer terminals that were used to initiate training programs in the massive room below while monitoring the results.

"You're positive you can use these terminals to deactivate the surveillance systems everywhere?" Tucker asked the Fragment, still unsure as to how that would even work despite already having it explained to him earlier.

Theta gave a quick nod, "These terminals are linked to the main computers for the base, so that higher ranked people like the Director could monitor training still even if they couldn't come down here to physically observe sessions."

"To help give progress reports and shit, in other words." Tucker summarized.

Well, that made some sense to him at least. This whole base was a major investment of military and government resources, given not just the regular military proceedings that went on here but the top-secret experimental stuff too. Higher ups in the food chain no doubt would want to make sure all that effort wasn't going to waste.

"So do I…what?" Tucker asked the floating figure nearby, "Press some buttons, or set a bomb or something?"

The Slums dweller wasn't incredibly knowledgeable about how computers worked. So long as his porn downloaded okay and he could check his messages, he was pretty good. But, something told him there would be a lot more to disabling the surveillance stuff inside the base.

"Leave it to me, Mr. Tucker!"

The kid seemed so eager to help, which was amazing considering he had done more than enough already and then some. Tucker didn't even have it in him to try correcting the overly polite address Theta had again used.

Not that he would have had much of a chance to do so, given how Theta disappeared into the row of terminals about two seconds later. Which left Tucker with nothing to do but wait on edge for the A.I. to finish up with whatever techno-magic he was doing in there.

The teal-armored soldier frowned, noticing that the heavy-looking metal double-doors in the training area below had slid open just as he had begun wondering whether or not the transparent wall would be equally transparent to someone happening to look into the monitoring space.

The Resistance fighter swore.

Tucker had only barely registered the all-too fucking familiar sight of steel and orange before dropping to the floor, praying that he had been quick enough to dive under the cover of the computers positioned underneath the window so that he hadn't been spotted himself. His breath caught in his throat.

Of all the fucking things he really hadn't wanted to happen today, running into that particular asshole had definitely been one of the top contenders.

What the hell was he doing here? If Tucker had been near as good a distraction as he had hoped, he'd have expected to run into Felix during an earlier excursion if he had been on-base. Hopefully, losing him just as quickly in the ensuing confusion.

Had he been fooling himself and they had known exactly what he was doing all along? Was it only a matter of time before Felix or his jackass partner Locus came up here, laughing at his stupidity with a group of equally dickish mercenaries all with guns blazing?

The door to the training room monitoring station opened just then.

Amidst the sudden panicked thought of "Holy shit, how the fuck did I not think to fucking lock that?" while tensing with his glowing sword in hand, Tucker braced himself for a confrontation that would probably end really badly.

Instead of a firing squad, however, the teal-armored soldier was extremely surprised to be greeted by a middle-aged man with greying blonde hair wearing a gold-trimmed white armor sans helmet.

"Ah," The Above Grounder's eyes went large as he looked at the Slums dweller crouching on the floor with more than just mild alarm, "I'm afraid I may have taken a wrong turn somewhere."

No shit.

The Resistance fighter was able to process a few observation points fairly quickly following that. The guy had what he assumed was a British accent, wasn't armed, and clearly had not been looking for Tucker judging by his reaction.

He was also standing right in plain view of the transparent wall, which would be decidedly very bad if a certain asshole looked up and wondered what (or who) the fuck blondie was staring at.

"Get the fuck down!"

Before Tucker could process things further, he instinctively reacted and grabbed hold of one of the startled man's arms with his free hand. Thus, pulling him down onto the floor and out of sight.

Killing armed soldiers was one thing, but a person without a weapon and who had on no helmet so that Tucker could very much see the obvious deer-in-the-headlights look on their face?

Yeah, for personal reasons, he'd rather avoid stabbing them right off the bat if he could manage it.

"What in the—!"

"Dude, just stay fucking quiet!" Tucker hissed out in a probably way too pleading tone, contemplating what options he had now.

If he knocked the guy out, he could probably buy himself some time. After all, given the fact that he was wearing armor, the guy was obviously an Above Grounder with some government and military connections even if he didn't seem the type to be in a direct combat position.

As the older man was spluttering unintelligibly over the stranger in teal armor's actions with Tucker convincing himself that Felix would show up any second now, Theta apparently chose that exact moment to materialize again. All things considered, the Resistance fighter wasn't sure if the kid had great or really crappy timing.

"We should be good, at least for awhile." The purple figure proclaimed immediately.

Tucker nodded, while the man next to him was gaping openly at the small humanoid figure, "Nice work, Theta."

"You're welcome!" He paused then, his bashful cheerfulness at the praise dissipating as he took into account the sight of the other person in the room for the first time, "Um…who is that?"

"An A.I.? You have an A.I.?" The man looked incredulously at Tucker, though there was an analytical look beginning to take light in his eyes with the realization, "Who are you?"

"Er…" Tucker blinked, debating whether or not it would be worth saying anything to the guy at this point or if it would just be better to knock him out. The latter option would probably certainly save him a shitload of time in the long run.

The slow clap that suddenly came from behind them though, intentionally drawn out to further mocking lengths, made that whole debate pretty moot.

"He's a Resistance fighter, sir." Felix cut in, finally stopping with the dick clapping as he did so, his attention falling onto Tucker with what seemed to be a combination of exasperation and amusement, "And not a very good one at that."

"You fucking—" Tucker was about to continue with every single nasty expletive he had been using to describe Felix in his head over the past couple of months, but the traitorous mercenary cut him off. Probably for the best, considering that was a pretty damn long list of expletives to go through.

"I do have to hand it to you though, Tucker." He remarked, stepping inside the room as he did so, "Attacking the surveillance systems through here was rather clever. Other people probably wouldn't have figured out what you were up to."

"But you did because you're so fucking great at everything, right?" Tucker rolled his eyes underneath his helmet.

Felix shrugged in way of cocky affirmation, the gun in his hands in a rather lax position currently while his body language indicated an obviously immediate threat of that changing, "Well, you already know that and I'm really not one to brag."

Yeah, right. Even with this really horrible development, Tucker had to bite down the urge to call bullshit.

"You somehow got a hold of an A.I. as well." The mercenary glanced over to Theta's floating holographic figure then with pointed interest before turning back to face Tucker again, "That is impressive, and it very much makes me wonder just who you've been talking to up here."

There was an obvious smirk in Felix's voice when he spoke next, "We have a lot to catch up on, Tucker." He remarked, taking another pointed step into the room apparently amused at the flinching from the Resistance fighter, "You could speed things up by telling me exactly who the insider agents who are obviously helping you guys are, and where the rest of your friends are hiding."

"Yeah? How about you just go and fuck yourself instead?" Tucker shouted back, giving him the finger in the process.

Felix actually seemed near ecstatic at this point, "Oh, come on now! It will be just like old times." He definitely was relishing pushing all of the buttons he knew would upset Tucker the most, "You can help fill in some of the gaps from your fat friend. Maybe we'll even let you see him and your son again before finally finishing you off? It'll be one big happy reunion."

"You fucking ass—!"

Tucker was running at the no doubt grinning mercenary before he could really think about how phenomenally stupid that was. Just a little closer and he could stab out with his sword and— the bullet that suddenly lodged into the floor nearby his feet made him pause.

"Yeah, did I forget to mention that Locus caught on to your little plan too?" Felix asked in a nearly sing-song voice as he moved to the side slightly so that the still silent mercenary could properly enter the room, "Sorry about that."

So now it was two of them blocking their escape. Fucking perfect.

As he finished with his mock apology, Felix slammed his hand onto the control panel on the wall behind him without taking his eyes off of Tucker and the others, closing the door completely. Even if there had been any chance of exiting that way with those two hired killers standing at the ready, that definitely nixed it completely.

"We have what? Ten minutes before the security overrides kick in and surveillance comes back online?" Felix asked Locus conversationally, "That's more than enough time to drag Tucker out of here and dispose of Mr. Council Secretary here."

"Wha-?" the man behind Tucker was pretty much beside himself, not that Tucker could blame him given how things had turned out.

"Sorry, Doyle," Felix cut him off with another mock apologetic tone, "But you picked an incredibly unfortunate time to decide to start poking into things on your own. Well, only for you, really. It is actually pretty good timing for us."

"Get near the window." Theta was at Tucker's side again, the sudden movement causing the mercenaries' attention to turn to him.

Tucker wasn't sure why the A.I. told him to do that. But, considering they didn't exactly have a shitload of options currently and he had nothing to lose, he began to back up towards the row of terminals and the transparent wall behind them. He physically had to force the still shell-shocked Doyle guy along with him as he did so.

Felix seemed rather amused by what he apparently perceived as a last desperate act, "Oh, come on, Tucker. There's no way you can—"

"Push the blue button to your left." Theta was whispering urgently close by Tucker's helmet.

"Felix!" Locus' warning was a second too late as he apparently caught wind of Tucker quickly reaching over the panel before his partner did.

The moment that Tucker hit the button Theta had specified, the window unsealed with a phenomenally loud whooshing noise as it fell outwards down into the training area below.

Suddenly Felix stopped being a smug bastard for once which, had Tucker not had to move quickly, he would have really savored. The mercenary swore as Tucker jumped over the terminals, dragging Doyle along with him.

The fall wasn't exactly stellar or anything to brag about but fuck, it was loads better than the alternative. They were running just as gunfire erupted from the now open deck above.

Thank fuck for emergency exits!

"That was bitching awesome, Theta!" Tucker called out.

The Fragment seemed pleasantly surprised at the praise, but focused back on task quickly given that they weren't exactly out of direct danger yet despite fucking great miracles, "I'll get us to a safe spot."

He managed to give a slight nod of appreciation despite trying to focus more on just running and getting the fuck out of there, "Thanks."

Regarding their new travel buddy, Tucker still didn't have much of an idea as to who Doyle was. According to Felix, he was a secretary, and it seemed safe to assume that the Above Grounder was probably not an uber-close friend of the asshole mercenaries trying to kill him. So, at the moment, he was cool with Tucker until the chance for a proper conversation occurred.

As he followed Theta's directions with the panicking Doyle in tow, Tucker doubted that there were going to be any "safe spots" so long as they were still on the grounds of the Mother of Invention. But, any area away from those two mercenaries was bound to be a good starting point.

---

As far as plans went, Church was pretty sure following behind Carolina while she went on a murder spree was actually a surprisingly sane one. All things considered, at any rate.

Well, maybe even if the "murder spree" part wasn't entirely accurate.

It was more like, as they were trying to sneak through the facility as inconspicuously as possible, the cyan-armored Freelancer would just so happen to be the one leading the charge. So, any unfortunate assholes who ended up still getting in their way would have to deal with her first and foremost.

…Which, honestly, would most likely wind up in their deaths.

So, fuck it! It was a pretty accurate assessment, the more he thought about it.

Of course, there were aspects of the plan that Church wasn't so keen on aside from the obvious it was stupid as all fuck and would probably leave him bodiless again. For starters, he was fairly certain the assholes on his team would end up using his robotic body as a human shield if they got desperate simply because he had come back as a ghost before.

Which would be decidedly not all that great for him at any rate.

But, of course, Carolina had insisted that he needed to stay close to the front of the group when they started to move out. As if the odds of him getting shot or even just inadvertently blocking a bullet with one of his limbs weren't fucking high enough already, she wanted to throw closer proximity into the equation!

Never mind the logic Carolina had tried reasoning with as she reminded him in her not-so-subtle-way that, as an A.I., it might prove more useful for the mission if he could go into the faculty's computer systems. The Freelancer insisted that by being in the front of the group and thus physically closer to any terminals they came across, Church could hopefully ensure that he'd get back to his immobile body afterwards.

His cousin's logic be damned! He was fairly certain by this point that she was just a sadist.

Though, on the bright side? If his robot body was destroyed while Church wasn't in it at the time, he wouldn't feel anything akin to the discomfort he had had before. Probably.

Truthfully, he didn't know that for sure. Ideally, he'd like to not be put in a position to find out one way or the other if he could avoid it.

Of course, all of this was just hypothetical bullshit until they actually started to move around in enemy territory.

"Any second now. Seriously." Church whispered, more just for the sake of complaining than really because he was banking on a response from any of his equally tense teammates.

He did get a glare from Carolina, though her helmet's visor concealed it. Which was probably a good thing considering her unobscured glares were known to be strong enough to melt a person's insides.

"What part of 'waiting silently' did you not understand, Church?" She whispered back a second after his involuntary, and totally masculine-sounding, "Eep!" at her regard.

"It's kind of hard to wait silently when you have shrubbery up your ass." The A.I. countered back.

The one benefit he could see Washington's team having for Suicidal Rescue Plan That That Asshole Tucker Came Up With was that they actually had a building to hide in while waiting.

After the last horrible mission his team had been on, Leonard Church was fucking sick and tired of hiding in tree lines just off the outskirts of security perimeters.

Seriously. Who was the landscaping genius who kept thinking that obscuring vision using goddamned trees near secret military installations was a fucking smart move? Well, truth be told, it was working out in their team's favor. But, Church had a feeling that was one asshole who was going to get fired later on down the road.

When hiding out in the trees though, one couldn't make too many movements. They had to be more or less still and quiet. Honestly? If he couldn't go twenty minutes without complaining, Church wasn't sure life was really worth living.

"I'm surprised you would feel any different with the current situation then, all things considered."

The Above Grounder wasn't sure if he should feel annoyed that Carolina had just pulled a "you've usually got a stick up there anyways" joke on him, or oddly proud because he had walked in on that one. He would have so said it to someone else if the roles had been reversed.

But, before he could even decide on how he wanted to react, Doc interjected his own thoughts into the mix by asking innocently: "Do you even have an ass since you're a robot?"

Church's mind nearly short-circuited, and he spluttered unintelligibly for a few seconds before coming up with a response, "Wh—what the fuck, Doc? Of course I have one!"

The medic put up his hands in a gesture that was meant to be placating, "I just wasn't sure." Doc explained politely, "Anatomically speaking, it's a tricky question concerning robots and humans."

"I am fairly positive that no one in the goddamned universe has ever thought about that until now." Church muttered, shaking his head.

Given his body language it seemed as if the purple-armored Above Grounder was still contemplating the question, much to his teammate's growing exasperation.

Church turned to Sheila, who was standing close by and actually doing a pretty good job staying quiet per Carolina's instructions, "You've been a robot longer than I've even known I had a robot body, Sheila." He stated to his friend quickly, "Any thoughts on robot asses?"

Sheila tilted her head slightly to the side as if actually pondering the question, but Doc interrupted whatever she was going to say with a disapproving clucking noise, "Church, it is not very polite to ask a lady something like that."

The cobalt-armored A.I. was fairly certain that he was never going to understand Doc's thought processes, "So, it wasn't rude to ask me about whether or not I have an ass?"

"If I hear any more talk about an ass, it will no longer be an issue."

Apparently, Carolina had reached the threshold of her thinning patience with Doc and Church's topic of conversation. Honestly, Church was shocked the Freelancer had even lasted that long.

The two stopped talking immediately then. Sheila seemed to let her shoulders fall slightly in relief at the interruption, obviously glad that she had avoided getting dragged into their pointless debate herself.

In the sudden quiet that followed, Church stole a glance at their other teammate currently standing silently by in maroon armor.

Normally, conversations like that would have gotten Simmons rather flustered and all sorts of embarrassed. Most likely on account of past jokes that a certain magnificently handsome-and-now-known-as-an-A.I. teammate had made about how the cyborg probably had an archaic fax machine in his ass now. Seriously, the redhead couldn't take jokes at his own expense even when they were fucking brilliant.

But, currently, Simmons wasn't even paying any attention to most of the world around him at all.

He was just standing there in their concealed-from-view hiding spot, laser-focused on the side entrance across the way that they would be gunning for when Carolina gave them the signal. The Above Grounder's body was beyond tense.

They were all on edge, really, given what they were getting ready to do. So, he supposed he couldn't blame Simmons for that, especially on account of what was no doubt happening in the base.

Church frowned, not really wanting to say anything because, even though he couldn't actually throw up, "warm and fuzzy" talks still made him horribly nauseous. Still, he couldn't help thinking that maybe he should say something sort of encouraging all the same to his teammate, but the A.I. was absolutely dreading the thought of having to do so.

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, just as Church was about to get a "suck it up and grow a pair, nerd" pep talk going, Carolina suddenly spun towards them after having turned her head to the side following her last threat.

"He's engaged." The redhead stated quietly, and it was pretty obvious from the context that she was referring to Tucker.

Sure enough, Church could hear agitated chatter coming from the grounds close by as announcements were apparently coming in of an attack elsewhere. There was a lot of movement too. Some of the dicks in steel and green in particular seemed to be in a hurry to jump into transports and leave the base.

So, Tucker had been right about the alien tech shit being a personal pet project of Hargrove's then.

The mercenaries were being called in from all over to deal with him, probably in order to prevent the regular Above Ground troops from outright killing the loony asshole insane enough to attack the Mother of Invention with an energy sword.

Even if by some fucking miracle the Resistance fighter didn't get quickly caught or killed, they would be dealing with considerably less mercenaries here for a limited time frame. Loath as he was to admit it because of what that probably meant for the teal-armored asshole, Church knew there was no way Tucker could keep the distraction going for too long.

Carolina only waited a brief second before she was heading through the open terrain towards the alcove side entrance she had designated as their point of entry. She had definitely done her work to ensure that they had the best possible route in order to avoid too much attention, though it was still goddamned risky.

The others followed hurriedly behind her, though it seemed like the distance to the beckoning door became longer as they ran in Church's mind. His thoughts kept running constant scenarios of snipers taking them out the whole time.

He wasn't even really aware of when they had made it to the entrance, just that he was surprised Simmons had beaten both him and Sheila to the lock and was already halfway through the process of hacking it open.

A whooshing sound soon followed, and Carolina had already opened fire on a mercenary guard that had turned towards them in the hallway beyond. The Freelancer was clearly not wasting any time herself.

The mercenary crumpled onto the floor. Then Carolina was moving again, not even bothering to look back at the others on the assumption that they would do their best to keep up.

The next part of the plan was fairly simple, after all. They already knew the layout of the facility more or less, so they were heading to the first security station they could find. Hopefully, everything else that followed would be a whole lot easier.

Given how quickly Carolina dispatched two soldiers around the next curve of the corridor with a gunshot for one, and a kick into the wall followed by a punch with a very painful sounding crack from the neck to the other, it seemed that Church's earlier assessments about the "follow the redheaded Freelancer" part of the plan were pretty accurate.

The A.I. just hoped the potential worries he had had about it would be considerably less so.

---

Truthfully, Washington wasn't exactly sure what to make of his "team" for this mission. He wasn't exactly knowledgeable about the fighting capabilities of any of the Resistance fighters, which put him at a considerable tactical disadvantage.

Caboose and Donut were the two that he happened to be more familiar with out of the group, but he had never seen them actively taking part in an actual combat situation in order to gauge their combat skills. The two were younger than Tucker and Simmons, and they didn't seem to take things as seriously as they should. So, Washington wasn't exactly expecting incredible things from them.

The one time he had encountered Caboose during a fight? Well, it wasn't that Washington remembered the Resistance fighter being all that imposing, save for the giant mechanical assault droid he had apparently claimed as a pet. Especially since Caboose had failed to even consider the Freelancer agent a threat despite how that would have been quite obvious to most others at the time.

His not being exactly sure what to expect was even more the case with the two youngest fighters in the group, Lieutenant Jensen and Private Palomo. At least Lieutenant Andersmith looked more the part of a capable soldier, though his constant praise of every odd turn of phrase or train of thought that either Caboose or Donut uttered was quickly putting that observation into question.

Admittedly, the whole last-minute bathroom dilemma with the group had not helped instill any confidence in Washington. He was just now getting over the eye-twitch he'd developed as a direct result of that incident, and was currently wondering just what the fuck he was going to do as a strategy.

At the time, he hadn't even been considering the rest of the group's capabilities. Instead, the blonde had been going over his own concerns about how dangerous this mission was for what was probably getting into triple digit territory by now.

In what was probably really bad timing for such thoughts, it started to really sink in how Washington had never actually led a team before.

Worst leader thought ever. Of all time.

Naturally, that was when a light suddenly blinked to life on his helmet's display screen.

At that exact same instance, Delta came into sharp focus in front of his visor as well, "That is the signal that Tucker has started his part of the plan."

Right. The Freelancer knew that. He'd been dreading seeing that signal all this time for reasons he really couldn't afford to currently analyze.

Washington swallowed nervously, annoyed at how dry his throat was and hoping that the teal-armored idiot wasn't currently in the process of getting himself killed.

Comically, both Palomo and Donut were trying to inconspicuously peak through the shed's small window overhead in order to view the sudden activity happening at the nearby base. The sounds of heavy armored feet rushing across the grounds and transports moving filled the air.

"I think Captain Tucker's plan might be working!" Palomo stage-whispered, and fortunately there was enough outside commotion going on that it didn't matter anymore if the group remained completely silent, "A lot of those assholes in green are leaving!"

That was at least something to their advantage. Especially considering that Tucker's entire plan had basically been predicated on the mercenaries responding in a similar fashion to how emergency personnel might if one pulled a building's fire alarm.

The longer it took for the mercenaries and Above Ground soldiers to resolve the issue, the less people their group would have to deal with guarding the place and shooting at them. Obviously it was still more than just a minor concern, but running into less enemies was something to be grateful for all the same.

Provided that the moron who had insisted on this plan didn't get captured, or worse.

Not wanting to dwell on that particular train of thought any more than was necessary, Washington stood up. He still had a job to do, first and foremost.

"All right. We're moving out now." The blonde spoke in as clear a voice as he could to the people gathered around him, "Understood?"

There were sharp nods all around in confirmation.

Regardless of how they would be out on the actual field, the little group did at least currently have the appearance of capable soldiers. Caboose and Andersmith in particular actually looked downright imposing due to their large statures. Though that illusion would no doubt only last for as long as they stayed quiet, particularly in Caboose's case.

"We head straight for the side-entrance that you marked out close to here." Donut stated, to further illustrate that they knew what they were supposed to be doing.

So far, so good.

Washington nodded, "Delta and I will take the lead, in case there are soldiers immediately inside. Be sure to stay close."

"No stopping to smell the flowers." Caboose intoned in a serious voice.

Washington sighed as that completely killed the more serious air that had fallen over them, "Right, Caboose." He told him, "That is generally a very bad idea during a potential gunfight."

"We will have to do that later, Freckles." Caboose said apologetically to the gun in his hands.

"ACKNOWLEDGED, CABOOSE."

Washington blinked in disbelief at the familiar, booming voice that had suddenly filled the space, "Was that Freckles?"

The last time he had seen the monstrous assault droid, it had been just a smoking heap of metal in a pit following Junior's kidnapping, "How did…?"

"Oh, Sarge ended up figuring out a way to put him inside that gun Captain Caboose is holding!" Jensen explained rather cheerily, though her response truthfully opened up just as many questions as it did answers.

Donut nodded, "It was a really pleasant surprise."

"Not to mention bitching awesome!" Palomo chimed in, the grin that was on his face apparent from his tone of voice alone.

"Of course he did." Washington supposed that, by this point, nothing should surprise him.

A talking gun shouldn't be too hard to fathom considering everything the Above Grounder had seen since Project Freelancer.

"It makes going for walks together a whole lot easier now." Caboose stated happily.

"That's…great, Caboose." If it made the blue-armored young man and the other Resistance fighters happy, Washington figured there were worse things in the world than having a former trigger-happy mech's Virtual Intelligence augmented into an assault rifle.

In an odd way, actually, it could be potentially a very good thing for this mission. While Caboose's combat skills were unknown and very likely left a lot to be desired, Washington remembered far too well how capable Freckles could be.

It was a new piece of information that would, unfortunately, have to be tested out in actual practice. The same as how this whole team-leading exercise would be for the Freelancer. They had dawdled enough already.

Tucker couldn't hold out infinitely, the blonde reminded himself. They had to make this whole crazy plan work somehow.

They were darting from their hiding spot not a second later, gunning for the side entrance they had scoped out earlier as the best way for them to get inside with minimal detection.

In several ways, the plans for both his and Carolina's teams were pretty much identical up until a point as they would hack in through the side entrance.

Surprisingly, Jensen actually beat Delta to it. Though that was probably for the best, as Washington knew the Fragment was trying to monitor the general area while they only partially had cover just in case enemy combatants snuck up on them.

The door flew open with a rushed "We're clear!" from the maroon-trimmed lieutenant. Washington was already moving inside, only slightly aware of the others following close behind after him.

"Agent Washington, the security room on this level is in the left corridor up head." The miniature green-armored figure floating over his shoulder informed him, "Three doors down."

He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, "Thanks, Delta."

Also similar to the strategy that Carolina and her group were using, theirs banked on gaining access to the security systems of the base and disabling them. In the process, they would be able to hopefully ascertain where exactly Junior was being held in the facility too, which would hopefully make getting to him and out less arduous and painful.

There was movement to the side from the opposite hallway to the one they were currently heading towards, and Washington fired at the steel and green figure before they had even drawn out their weapon.

Washington had to stop for a split-second in order to do so. Which had apparently been more than enough time for Donut, not having enough time to process the sudden slow-down of the older man in front, to crash right into him.

The dirty blonde had been moving with such speed that he actually somehow managed to knock both of them off balance and down onto the floor.

"Ow!"

"Oh, sorry, Agent Washington! " The lightish-red armor wearer let out a nervous laugh, "Didn't mean to take you down like that! Usually guys I crash into stay up longer!"

Okay, odd choice of words there.

Washington was on his way to getting back up, offering out his hand to Donut in the process, when he heard an "Oh, shit!" followed by the sudden form of the aqua-trimmed Palomo running full-speed towards them and desperately trying to halt himself before—

"Seriously?"

Washington was back on the floor again, the air being crushed out of his lungs by two heavily armored soldiers trying to disentangle themselves from one another on top of him.

His gun had landed a few yards away, right next to the feet of the Above Ground soldier who was stepping out of a nearby room to see what was causing the noise in the hallway.

Oh, fuck me.

Palomo and Donut were still in the middle of the process of getting up and away, and Washington watched with an almost detached horror as the enemy soldier drew his own weapon in what felt like slow-motion and—

In a split second, a light hit the Above Grounder's white-armored chest and a loud bang followed. Blood spurted from the sudden wound that appeared as the soldier collapsed.

"What the—?"

Washington hadn't even gotten the exclamation out, his surprise cutting the remark off early at the sight of Caboose standing there with Freckles still pointed at the ready.

"Good job, Freckles!" The younger blonde exclaimed over the shock of the onlookers still on the ground.

"THANK YOU, CABOOSE!"

"Excellent timing, Captain Caboose!" Andersmith all but shouted joyously as both he and Jensen came into view moments later.

Caboose turned to chastise the other three as Jensen and Andersmith helped to pick them up from the floor, trying to sound authoritative as he did so but not quite getting the tone right, "You guys! That was a really bad time to be playing tag!"

"You're telling me!" Donut replied in earnest, fastidiously wiping imaginary dirt from his armor despite the pristine cleanliness of the floor, "That was not at all how I like to picture tackling guys to the ground."

Okay, Washington really wasn't going to be asking for clarification on that remark any time soon.

"Yeah, that wasn't really a great moment." From how he sounded, Palomo was most likely sporting a very large frown on his face, "Though I guess it would have sucked even worse if all of us had done that."

"You mean like that relay Sarge had us run for training?" Jensen asked him curiously.

Palomo shuddered at the memory that apparently dredged up, "Yeah." His voice took on a horrified note, "I was on the bottom of the pile then. When Bitters and Andersmith fell on me I thought I was going to die."

"That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't slipped in the first place." Andersmith countered, evidently a bit annoyed that his name had been mentioned as one of the reasons for Palomo's near-suffocation in this relay event they were talking about.

"There was a rock and it stubbed my toe!" The private whined, "That really hurts!"

The older lieutenant shook his head and sighed, "It was a debris-filled tunnel, Palomo. There were rocks everywhere."

"The point was that we were supposed to avoid all of them and practice footwork." Jensen reminded him.

"Yeah, but—"

As the three continued debating what had apparently caused an even more colorful slide than this one had been, Washington retrieved his weapon from where it had fallen while letting out a very tired sigh as he did so.

Terrific. Arguably his first real leadership experience and he had nearly gotten himself and two other people killed.

He was off to a great fucking start.

"Agent Washington?" Caboose was looking at him with such obvious concern that it barely registered in the Freelancer's mind that Caboose had a pretty good record currently going for getting his name right more often than not.

The Freelancer forced a smile in response, even if he knew the younger fighter couldn't see it because of his helmet, "That was pretty good work, Caboose." Washington told him, giving a slight nod of gratitude to both Caboose and the gun he was protectively clinging to, "From both you and Freckles."

Caboose seemed happy at the praise, though he admitted a second afterwards, "I may have closed my eyes when I fired."

Washington sighed, "It probably isn't the best idea to tell people that right after you save them."

Donut was watching the exchange, and when he saw Washington's shoulders slump again, he stepped right in, "Aw, don't feel too bad, Agent Washington! We've all had our share of tumbles, after all! Not just the recruits."

The older soldier raised an eyebrow, not quite sure it was the pep talk that Donut thought it was but understanding what the pink-armored soldier was trying to get at all the same. Due to his own clumsiness in general, Washington had more than his share of accidents too even before this.

"I'm sure you'll get lucky again before you know it!"

The Freelancer sighed. With that comment, the awkward-as-all-get-out encouraging moment going on right now had to be nipped in the bud. Not just for the mission's sake, but for his brain's as well.

"Hey, look!" Jensen had peeked over the soldier's corpse lying in the hall to get a better look at the room he had been walking out of as, due to how his body had fallen, it was currently blocking the sensor that was meant to detect that it was safe for a door to close again, "Isn't that the security room?"

"That is correct, Lieutenant Jensen." Delta had materialized again at Washington's shoulder, having apparently gone to investigate the space himself during the confusion earlier.

Well, at least there was something akin to good news about that particular embarrassing pitfall.

Andersmith and Palomo began dragging the body back inside the room, while Jensen raced forward to inspect some of the terminals as they did so.

Washington moved forward to join her, noticing that Delta was hovering closer and closer to the computer panels as well, "How long do you think you'll need, Delta?"

The A.I. Fragment was practically a millimeter from one of the terminals now, "Approximately two minutes to shut down the surveillance systems and communication lines to this facility. Another four to locate the human-alien hybrid."

"If you could narrow it all down to five or less it would be better." Washington muttered, not really expecting a response given how focused Delta seemed to be on the machines currently.

Surprisingly though, Delta gave him a slight nod, "I will see what I can do."

Then the A.I. Fragment was gone inside the terminal, which began flickering obscene amounts of data at an alarming rate across its surface.

Washington sighed, his grip on his weapon tightening as he turned to face the door. His embarrassment over what had happened was fading completely from his mind now that things were getting back on track.

Right now, making every second count was all that mattered.

Now that the body was off to the side, Andersmith and Palomo came back to the center of the room, standing slightly behind the Freelancer and the two more experienced Resistance fighters. Jensen was looking at one of the terminals near the one that Delta had used to enter into the computer network, trying to gain a better understanding of what it was they were displaying while she had the opportunity.

Washington kept his foot over the sensor line, deciding it better for the door to remain open at the moment just to avoid any nasty surprises. If necessary, he could easily force it shut and have it locked, but getting stuck in a confined space would be a last resort measure for very obvious reasons.

Donut was fidgeting nervously next to him, while Caboose seemed to be trying to carefully pay attention to the hallway too. Though the younger blonde's glancing around the space seemed to indicate he was perhaps growing a bit bored all the same.

The seconds ticked by. Washington was expecting any minute now for the mercenary he had taken out earlier to be discovered, or for there to be the thunderous sound of several armored feet heading their way with yelled orders over a press of gunfire.

"Their surveillance systems have been disabled." Delta's voice informed them from behind, nearly causing Washington to almost jump.

Considering the very literal slip-up from before, the Freelancer really was going to kick himself for being so focused on what might lay outside the room that he hadn't been paying attention to anything that had been going on behind him. He managed to cover his shock pretty well, only giving a slight bounce to his step as he turned around to face the apparently infinitely patient A.I. Fragment.

Still, that was actually a lot faster than he had expected. Or perhaps time was just moving a lot quicker in general due to how intense this mission could potentially get.

"How long will that give us?" Washington asked.

Delta seemed to consider the question for quite some time before he landed on what he felt was a satisfactory conclusion, "Approximately twelve minutes or so before they start to come back online."

From close by, Palomo let out a whistle, "That really isn't long at all."

"No, but it's better than nothing."

Even if the Above Ground soldiers and mercenaries caught on to what had happened before time ran out, they would at least be running more or less blind for a little while. Any type of diversion was something their group had to make the most of while it lasted.

Jensen was still standing close by the terminals that Delta had emerged from, scanning a line of data scrolling across one in particular, "Hey, I think I've found where the little guy is!"

The other two newer recruits were suddenly right next to the girl, and Washington had to resist the urge to roll his gray eyes when he noticed Caboose and Donut heading off to do the same. So much for focus.

Granted, it wasn't as if he couldn't guard this position on his own for the few seconds it took them to confirm Jensen's comment, but it was troubling that it seemed like this group of fighters had the attention spans of gnats.

"Really? Where?" Donut sounded incredibly hopeful, peering over the teen's shoulder at what she was pointing at onscreen.

"There's a notice about someone they're calling 'Specimen A' on Level…52?" She paused, her helmet tilting slightly in alarm and bewilderment, "That can't be right!"

Washington shook his head, "It is. Most buildings here in Above Ground have several floors to them."

"Dude, I would be so afraid of falling." Palomo's voice was tiny, as if in awe at the notion and scared of it all at the same time.

The Freelancer sighed, "There's usually walls and floors to prevent that from happening."

"I wouldn't have thought this facility was that large when were outside it." Andersmith was no doubt frowning underneath his helmet, his tone taking on a contemplative note a moment later, "Are there some underground levels too?"

"A few. The basement floors never go as low as what a mining tunnel level would though."

It was conversations like this that reminded Washington just how much of a culture shock the group before him was probably experiencing being on the surface for the first time. All things considered, they were honestly dealing with it better than he would have thought.

"That is going to be a whole lot of climbing though." Caboose spoke up, his voice quiet.

"Lifts will make that part considerably easier." Washington assured him.

"But they are seriously calling Junior 'Specimen A'?" Donut's question was an angry one, his free hand clenched into a fist at his side, "That is so…!"

"It's short for alien, I suppose." Andersmith spoke up when Donut trailed off in frustration, his own distaste at the probably rather accurate assessment quite obvious as he fixed Washington with a level stare beneath his visor, "Given this, I assume that thinking they have treated him as an actual child would be too much to hope for?"

Andersmith sounded hurt when he asked the question, already knowing the answer well enough without Washington confirming it. The other Resistance fighters had downcast and upset body languages as well. They all had interactions with Tucker's son, after all. It had been one of the main reasons everyone had so readily volunteered to take part in the rescue attempt.

Seeing the fears that Junior had been going through some no doubt awful experiences since he had been taken by the mercenaries pretty much confirmed in a line of text probably didn't help to lift their spirits much.

Washington sighed inwardly, knowing he currently really couldn't do much to make the situation better for them.

Instead, he motioned to the still open door, "Let's just make sure we actually get him away from here now. All right?"

Caboose perked up at his words, "Agent Washington is right!" He exclaimed loudly, "We have to save Tucker's dog-baby!"

"Um…what?" Washington shot a confused look to Donut, but the pink-armored soldier simply gave a small shrug of his shoulders in way of apology that he couldn't explain just yet as Caboose was apparently on a bit of a roll.

"Because if we don't save him, it will be sad!" The blue-armored soldier continued, "And if things are sad than they can't be happy—and if things aren't happy than no one will have ice cream with lots of sprinkles!"

Andersmith was actually clapping following that odd train of thought, "That is an excellent motivational speech on states of mind, Captain Caboose!"

"I really want some fucking ice cream now." Palomo remarked, and Jensen promptly smacked him on the elbow slightly.

"I seriously think my brain just broke." Washington really wasn't sure how to even begin processing that speech.

It seemed as if Donut was smiling at him though underneath his helmet at how quickly the mood had seemed to lift, "Sometimes it really is best to just go with the flow. It makes a good deal of sense from Caboose's perspective."

Shaking his head once more, but secretly a bit relieved that the downcast moment had passed all the same, Washington sighed once more.

This whole conversation had cost them more time than he would have liked, but at least they now had a good idea of where to head next.

Next thing to do was secure a lift to get there. Which shouldn't be too hard, given that the layout for this base was somewhat familiar to him. It had been awhile, but the Freelancer was fairly certain he had actually been here at some earlier point in his military career.

Or perhaps it was even a remnant of a memory lingering in his head after Epsilon. He couldn't be too certain either way, but a bit of familiarity regardless would be helpful at this point.

The Above Grounder turned a right after exiting the security station for their current level, incapacitating the two guards rounding said corner before they could even react. Don't fucking trip or stop short this time, please!

There they were: two elevator lifts, ready and waiting.

"We'll take one and disable the other to buy more time." Washington nodded towards the lift that was to the right, "Delta, do you think you and Jensen could…?"

"On it, sir!" She gave an enthusiastic salute before bounding over to that particular lift's control panel.

"Of course, Agent Washington." Delta echoed her statement in his own polite way, joining the tan girl a second later.

The maroon-trimmed lieutenant and the A.I. conversed quietly for a few seconds before he disappeared into the panel and she began pressing some of the lighting displays on the touch screen surface in a sequence that Washington would have to be observing a lot more closely to figure out.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to break it or something?" Palomo asked from behind, "Whenever I spill my soda on a computer it breaks real quick!"

"Fire works too." Caboose added in, "Though I don't know how they catch fire so fast! Probably something Tucker does. Stupid Tucker!"

Washington felt as if he was reaching a new record when it came to how often he was sighing by this point, "Yeah, if it's all the same to you guys, neither of you will be touching anything remotely mechanical for the rest of this mission."

"Aw, no fair!" The Freelancer was fairly certain the dark-skinned private was pouting.

"What about Freckles?" Caboose was staring down at his assault rifle, seemingly fearful that Washington was going to attempt taking it away.

As if the Freelancer had that much of a death wish: "You can still carry Freckles, Caboose."

"Oh, oh! Can I still touch mechanical stuff?" Donut was actually waving his hand in the air just then like a student wanting to get called on by a teacher.

There was a dull headache beginning to form in the back of the Freelancer's head now, "Sure. Within reason, I guess."

Hopefully that didn't mean that Donut would want to push every single floor button on the lift. Though it had probably been a good thing that Washington had already told Caboose not to touch anything technology-based, given that he could easily picture the blue-armored Resistance fighter attempting such a thing now that he thought about it.

Donut looked as though he was about say something else when there were footsteps coming from one of the hallways behind them. From the thunderous sound filling the space, it was definitely more than just two or so people heading their way.

Andersmith, having positioned himself by the corridors leading to the lifts in order to keep an eye on things, was heading back towards them with a shout of "Incoming!" just as Jensen and Delta rejoined the group while the only still active lift was open and waiting.

"Move!" Washington held back to make sure the others stepped inside first, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the pink-armored soldier was standing slightly both in the open doorway of the elevator lift and out of it. His hand was gripping something that looked oddly like…

Donut caught the Freelancer's eye and tilted his visor questioningly, "Toss away?"

Washington really hoped Donut was referring to the grenade he was holding and not something else, but he really didn't have time to dwell on it.

"Toss away!" The older soldier shouted before he could think on how that possibly sounded, moving inside the lift.

The steel and green-armored figures were just coming into view when Donut threw the grenade with the surprising accuracy of a professional sportsman directly into their midst.

Washington slammed his hand against the control panel just as the mercenaries' shocked curses and exclamations cut off, the lift shaking as the space they had been standing in moments before reverberated with the force of the blast.

He shot an impressed look over at the Resistance fighter before entering in Level 52 to the lift, "Nice throw."

"Thanks!" Donut was most likely beaming, "I always have been great at tossing."

Yeah, Washington was just going to leave that alone for the sake of his own already quite strenuous grip on his remaining sanity.

The elevator ride was surprisingly quiet given this crew. Well, Palomo had tried humming a little at first, but the two lieutenants on either side of him smacking his arms caused him to stop. The blonde supposed that the quiet was to be expected.

They didn't, after all, know what they would be dealing with when they reached their destination. For all they knew, he could be leading them right into an ambush. It was tense. Even Caboose seemed nervous, clutching Freckles just a bit more tightly when the elevator doors opened.

They were greeted by what appeared to be an empty corridor. Washington frowned, stepping out into the space beyond the lift cautiously.

All Above Ground bases were built with decidedly utilitarian designs, both for functionality and to help prevent a ton of ambush situations as implausible as they were up until just recently. Paranoia had always run deep in the building schematics for Above Ground, which was both a good and a bad thing.

Good from the stance that it provided fairly good visibility for their endeavors, but bad in that the opposite was also very true.

So, if no one was in this stretch of corridor, they could be hiding in one of the rooms that lined it or at another bend.

"Tucker's distraction really has been helpful, huh?" Donut asked, practically skipping over to him.

Washington frowned, "It certainly appears that way."

He just hoped that Tucker's efforts to divert attention away from these side projects hadn't ended with him getting killed.

The Freelancer wasn't quite sure why considering that they had only met a few times and often not on the best of terms for most of those instances, but the thought of the Resistance fighter dying was one he was not comfortable with.

Besides, he would seriously be fucking pissed with Tucker if he died before reuniting with his son after all of this.

"Still, it would be best to exercise caution." Delta advised, practically taking Washington's planned next words out of his mouth, "There are other people on this level."

Washington thought about that for a moment, the hold on his weapon tightening a fraction, "Junior, or…?"

The Fragment tilted his head apologetically, "I cannot say for certain."

Not every soldier or mercenary stationed here would be called away, and researchers would invariably be stuck on lockdown once they realized people had been tampering with the computer systems. Any room they potentially went past could have a hostile inside.

"Stay alert." Washington went out in front of the group again with Delta hovering over his shoulder.

Having the A.I. around in close proximity like this was more than just a little disconcerting to him, though it wasn't the same thing as a direct implantation. Besides, the blonde figured it was more than just a little upsetting for the Fragment as well after having had York for a partner and then choosing to hop along with Carolina for who-knows-how-long to be stuck with Washington now.

The floor they were on was clearly designed with research in mind, being very reminiscent of the floors of the Mother of Invention that were dedicated to technology development and the medical wings. Any open doorway they passed, which was exceedingly odd now that he was thinking about it, showed rooms with rows upon rows of sterile equipment and state-of-the-art machinery.

One even had a bed that looked as though blood had been splattered on it not too long ago. He tried not dwelling too much on who it belonged to or how it had gotten there.

"Did you cause any power outages when you disabled surveillance and communications, Delta?" Washington asked quietly.

The Fragment was looking at the open and, in some cases, only partially open doors and the dim emergency lights in some of the rooms. His body language indicated that Delta was slightly troubled by what he saw, even for a more logic-based Artificial Intelligence.

"No." Delta said cautiously at length, "I hadn't even known the importance of this specific floor until Lieutenant Jensen discovered it."

After all, it had taken considerable focus on the Fragment's part to disable the security programs.

"What does that mean, exactly?" Donut and the others had been listening to their discussion as well.

Washington couldn't help but swear slightly under his breath, "It means that something else happened at this base in the interval of when we shut off the security and now. Something that is affecting the power flow on this floor."

"So, something other than us blowing shit up?" Palomo asked.

The Freelancer gave a curt nod. It could be something surprisingly minor for all he knew, and in that case it could be rather beneficial for them.

But, if it was something like the mercenaries or other soldiers staging some sort of coup? Well, getting caught up in that kind of bullshit on top of everything else would be decidedly bad.

The main medical bay door was sealed shut when they arrived, though Washington wasn't really too surprised. Considering what they were hiding there, it was no wonder that if anything happened to the power flow the door would seal to prevent anyone from potentially getting in or out.

"This shouldn't take too long to open if we double-team it again." Jensen assured the Freelancer, heading to the panel as Delta disappeared into it.

Honestly, having an A.I. act from the inside of a terminal while having someone do the same manually had proven quite helpful on this mission.

The Above Grounder nodded his head in acknowledgement towards the girl before turning to the others, "I'll go first, in case there are soldiers inside." Washington informed them, "Provide cover from here and keep focused on the corridor as well. Fall back as a last resort."

Keeping the corridor free of enemies would definitely be best when it came to an easier escape later on once they had Junior.

Washington barely heard the joint "Roger that!" from Andersmith and Donut, quickly followed by a rather confused "But there is no one named Roger here!" from Caboose, before he was walking through the now open door.

The Freelancer had stepped into a large space filled with every kind of medical device one could probably imagine. The main medical bay had an antiseptic smell that nearly burned his nostrils, even with his sealed helmet on.

Being there immediately brought to mind thoughts of waking up screaming after the Epsilon incident, and for a long moment he completely froze.

"Agent Washington?" Delta asked, sounding, if not outright concerned, at least somewhat understanding of the Freelancer's sudden hesitation.

"I'm…fine, Delta." He took in a deep breath, shuddered violently, and then started to move again.

For as large a space as this was, the research portion of the faculty did seem, for all intents and purposes, to be deserted.

Washington assumed that a lot of that was by design. Project Freelancer hadn't had an exceedingly large list of direct employees due to its classified status, and even the later cybernetic enhancement program hadn't had too many for similar reasoning.

He vaguely remembered Doctor Grey talking about that with Simmons quite a while back, subsequently feeling a little guilty that he hadn't asked about her after having gotten her unintentionally exiled to the Slums and the Resistance.

Given what Junior was, and that the Chairman's interest in alien biology and technology had a lot to do with the device he was planning on using to essentially commit large-scale murder, it probably would make sense for the staff here to be limited to a few trusted personnel only.

But, even still, there should be at least some—

The blonde was cut off in his musings by a low-to-the-ground form covered in teal and blue trim moving towards him at a surprisingly high speed.

"Blarg!"

Washington blinked, only having seen the child once before from far away while Junior had been unconscious. The alien boy was a miniature form of the hostile aliens they had encountered from time to time on this planet, save for the teal armor covering his body.

Armor exactly like Tucker's.

"Junior?"

The little alien stopped abruptly, tilting his head to the side curiously to stare at the stranger in steel and yellow calling out his name.

Which, unfortunately, was more than enough time for the guard Junior had apparently been running from to catch up to him. There was even a rather pronounced tiny imprint of one of Junior's feet embedded in the side of the mercenary's armor.

"Got you, you fucking—!" The mercenary paused at the sight of Washington standing there with his gun raised, and quickly moved to aim his own at the Freelancer instead of threatening the child with it.

Washington fired first, the shot going straight through the guard's visor. There was burst of blood from the back of his helmet, and he promptly crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Just as the Freelancer heard the all-too familiar sound of a gun cocking behind his own head.

"Oh, fuck me." Washington groaned, and he decided that if the person turned out to be Wyoming again he was going to just throw himself out of the nearest window and save the Freelancer-turned-mercenary the trouble.

"Eat lead, dirtbag!"

Admittedly, he had not expected a gunshot to come from off to his side, downing the researcher who had apparently decided to try to use Washington's distraction by Junior and his pursuer to his own advantage.

The Above Grounder had especially not expected a gunshot accompanied by a voice with an oddly familiar twang to boot.

"Y—you?" The blonde spluttered out as the Resistance fighter simply called Sarge stepped forward, kicking the downed researcher's body for good measure.

"Naturally." Sarge harrumphed, as if the surprise over the turn of events coursing over the Freelancer was completely unnecessary, "Who else would have that much flair for kicking ass and good timing?"

"But, you weren't…I mean—!" Washington was still trying to wrap his brain around the man's sudden appearance.

After all, as far as he knew the rest of the Resistance who had come topside were in hiding. If Sarge was here, then…

"The rest of the area is now clean."

Suddenly C.T. was there as well, emerging from a shadowy corridor nearby while checking her weapon over as if she had recently fired it.

Upon seeing her, Junior suddenly let out a loud whooping cry and was bounding over to the person that he recognized as one of his father's teammates. The alien hybrid was wrapping his arms around C.T.'s legs, nearly knocking the brown-armored figure over with the force of his hug in the process.

"It's good to see you too, Junior." The smile crossing over the brunette's features was apparent even with her helmet concealing her face, as she rather awkwardly repositioned herself to pat the child on the shoulder and pull him back slightly as if to check him over, "I'm glad you're okay."

"Honk, honk, blarg!" Junior was talking in a rather excited pitch back at her.

Washington shook his head, "What in the…?"

Connecticut looked up momentarily at him, tilting her head to the side a bit in way of greeting to her former teammate, "Nice to see you again too, Washington."

Sarge sighed, "No need to pop a blood vessel there, son." He told Washington as if this entire situation was perfectly normal, "We heard about your rescue plan, and the Freelancers listed this base as one of the most likely targets for it. So, we figured we would come and try to even the odds since this is Red and Blue Team business after all."

The way the older man stated that last point almost sounded as if he was daring the younger solider to argue with him.

"Tucker was only going to send that message to Kimball." Washington focused on instead, knowing that the Resistance fighter had not wanted her to say anything about it to anyone else.

"A word of advice to both you and Tucker the next time you want to keep a message private? Never compose a text communication if Caboose happens to be in the room." C.T. remarked, and it sounded as if she was trying to stifle a chuckle along with her suggestion.

"Él llegará al 'Enviar Toda' botón cada vez." {"He will hit the 'Send All' button every time."}

Washington couldn't help but blink in surprise at the new voice. Apparently, the robot Lopez had been standing behind Sarge the entire time and he just now noticed.

Did they bring the whole fucking Resistance with them?

"Caboose completely ruined my surprise birthday party for Grif that way too!" The old man was nodding emphatically in agreement with C.T.'s apparently sage advice, although disappointment laced his voice when he added, "What's the danged point of having party games through a minefield if the dirtbag knew it was there beforehand?"

Oddly homicidal birthday party surprises aside, Washington was still trying to figure out just what had happened here.

"So, you saw the communication and figured out that this place had a high enough potential to be one of our targets?" He started, "And you figured you would just stop by here then to check things out?" Washington's voice was getting a bit high due to his growing sense of incredulousness, "Without telling us first?"

"Well we would have looked mighty stupid if it turned out we were wrong." Sarge explained matter-of-factly.

"That's—that's beside the point!" Washington groaned, feeling like he wanted to slap his hand against his face desperately but knowing smacking it against his helmet wouldn't be nearly as satisfying, "How did you even manage to get to this level before us anyways?"

"The more important question to ask is how you didn't notice the crashed air transport." The older Resistance fighter reasoned instead.

At Sarge's comment, Washington frowned and turned his head slightly to peer further up ahead. Sure enough, there was a smoking transport that was actually crashed through the far wall of the medical bay area. The Freelancer felt his jaw fall open at the sight, and honestly would have very literally tried kicking himself if that wouldn't look stupider than he felt right now.

Fuck! How the hell did I not see that earlier at all?

It certainly explained the power fluctuations on this level too, now that he thought about it.

"Nice observational skills, numb nuts." Sarge remarked from behind as Washington simply continued to gape.

One of the side doors to the transport slid open just then and a tan helmet with pink trim poked through the doorway of the vehicle, "I think there should be enough power left for us to get out of here, Sarge!" A young woman's voice spoke up as the helmet bobbed up and down slightly.

"How…?" Washington was starting to feel like a broken record at this point.

"That was thanks to Tex." C.T. remarked, Junior clutching onto her hands and jumping up and down with excited babble as she diverted her attention from him only temporarily to show some pity on her childhood friend, "Once we decided to go help you guys, she persuaded an airfield to let go of one of their crafts."

The younger woman still hanging out of the transport nodded her head in agreement, "She was still at it when we left. It was a really good distraction!"

So, it wasn't just Tucker's distraction at the Mother of Invention that was no doubt the reason for this facility's rather empty hallways.

Apparently, there was also one ex-Freelancer who could somehow lift a tank over her head and hurl it with surprising ease that was helping to cause a bit of panic everywhere in Above Ground. He could only imagine the massive amounts of damage control that was being needed as a result of her efforts.

Which was probably a pretty good thing, as the girl had mentioned, despite how utterly insane the last couple of minutes had been. If Washington hadn't even seen the fucking air transport because he had been so focused on finding Junior, dealing with even more enemy combatants would have probably not been ideal.

Another armored figure in yellow emerged from the transport just then, with the pink-trimmed Resistance fighter following close behind.

This new Resistance member broke into a run after spotting Junior still chattering up at the former Freelancer he was currently glued to. By the newcomer's excited laugh, Washington recognized that she was another girl.

Junior turned to stare at her, pulling away from C.T. momentarily at the sight of the yellow armor with what could only be described as a rather joyous cry ringing out of his mouth as the fighter bent down to pull him into a tight hug.

"Hey, little guy!" The girl was laughing loudly, "So, you're the one who was stuck here, huh?"

"Blarg!" Junior nodded his head in confirmation, apparently just as ecstatic to see this newcomer as she had been to see him. Obviously, the two probably knew each other rather well if this meeting was any indication.

The girl in yellow armor looked up questioningly at Washington after a moment, "What about my asshole brother?"

He blinked, at first not quite understanding what she was asking before the words sunk in and he remembered some of Tucker's past remarks about growing up in the Slums. Given the situation, she was most likely referring to Grif.

Which would make her Kaikaina, his little sister, if he was remembering that correctly.

The Freelancer knew that Tucker was close to her as well due to having a shared childhood, which made sense as to why she reacted the way she did upon seeing that his son was here. He supposed it only made sense that Kaikaina would have tagged along on this crazy mission of Sarge's as well, given that.

Apparently all of Tucker's friends were infuriatingly stubborn and not as familiar with common sense.

"He's not here, unfortunately." Washington told her, his tone apologetic, "Another team is at the base where he was last recorded being at."

Kaikaina lowered her head as if needing to take some time to process the news, absentmindedly patting the top of Junior's head as she did so. Perhaps she had been hoping her brother would be here too, so knowing that wasn't the case was undoubtedly disappointing.

Finally Kaikaina sighed, "Well, that figures. You cops always have to make things extra difficult."

Washington blinked, taken aback as the girl was definitely looking at him when she spoke, "Wait, what? Who said I was a cop?"

"You smell like one." The young Resistance fighter stated matter-of-factly.

"That…that doesn't make any sense! At all."

C.T. apparently thought it might be best to break into the conversation, if only to prevent Washington from passing out due to exasperation, "Any word from them?"

He shook his head, grateful for the focus back on serious matters, "No, not since we split up."

"It's good to know Junior's okay though." Kaikaina nodded her head and was clutching onto Junior's hand tightly as the pink-trimmed fighter next to her bent over to say something to the alien child as well. Evidently all of the Resistance fighters were rather fond of Junior given the displays he was seeing here, "Everyone was worried sick about him, but if Junior could handle these assholes for as long as he did than my fatass brother should be okay too."

From the slight tremor in her voice and how the other girl had reached over to clasp a hand on Kaikaina's shoulder in a comforting gesture a second later that had the two sharing a look, Washington was fairly certain Grif's sister was saying that to try to beat down the worry that had probably been gnawing at her for quite some time. But, he supposed at least it was an indication of how strong Kaikaina was trying to be that she could do so at all.

Truthfully, that there were people here who had shown up, even if how they did so still made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever, who actually knew Junior personally was something of a surprise blessing.

The others in his group had followed his order to stay behind, and he still considered that the wisest course of action at the time due to all of the unknown variables that had been at play. But, thinking back on it now, he should have probably had at least one of them come along with him just because it would have meant having someone there that Junior would have recognized and trusted.

The blonde had certainly not been nearly as focused as he should have been far too often on this rescue mission, for whatever unknown reason he had for that. It was only a damn miracle that things hadn't turned out worse as a result.

"The others are waiting outside." Washington muttered finally, letting his shoulders slump as the thought of how every mistake he had made during this mission could have been disastrous began to flood his mind once more, "If the transport is still operational that will make getting out of here less complicated."

Sarge nodded, apparently in agreement with the Freelancer. He turned to the two younger fighters in their midst, Junior now swinging excitedly in-between them as he held onto their upraised hands.

Washington heard the two of them assuring the child that he'd see his dad soon, and he sincerely hoped that wouldn't turn out to be just wishful thinking on their part as Sarge ordered, "Get Tucker's little alien love-baby on board."

The older soldier ignored the "You suck, old man!" remark he got from Kaikaina over interrupting Junior just getting to have fun for a second, turning instead to face the brown-armored robot standing behind him disinterestedly next.

"Lopez, go find the others and tell them to get in here pronto so we can skedaddle!"

"¿Usted va a enviar a la única persona que no pueden entender que decirles a venir aquí? Eso es en realidad la cosa más sensata que has hecho durante todo el día." {"You're sending the one person they can't understand to tell them to come here? That is actually the sanest thing you've done all day."}

The robot wandered off, hopefully to do what Sarge had asked although it was rather hard to tell what he would do sometimes.

That left Sarge mumbling to himself about possible repairs the transport might need when they got back, while C.T. carefully regarded Washington. Her childhood friend was watching absentmindedly as Kaikaina and the other girl walked Junior over to the transport, his thoughts elsewhere.

"I would have thought Tucker would be on your team if he knew this was where Junior was being held. But, if he was here, there's no way he would have stayed behind while you went on ahead to rescue his son without him." She surmised, apparently already filling in the gaps as to what Tucker's absence must have meant.

The Freelancer sighed at her comment, jarring him out of his own thoughts. Considering just how much crazy he had been exposed to today already, he figured he might as well just add to the mix himself now and dive right in.

"If it's at all possible, could you drop me off somewhere first before getting everyone to safety?" Washington finally asked both C.T. and Sarge, who were staring at him curiously, "There's something incredibly stupid I need to do still."

---

Bullets flew past them as Tucker bounded through the open area to take cover behind a conveniently placed crate, Doyle hot on his heels.

The Resistance fighter let out a shaky breath, not sure if he should be glad to be out of the death trap that they had been in until about three minutes ago. In other words, they were finally out of the maze of corridors and rooms that made up the base proper for the Mother of Invention.

Okay, in all honesty, he hadn't expected to nearly get cornered by those dicks Felix and Locus after he had thought they had lost them following the training room incident. The mercenaries nearly caught the group again after he had taken a left without thinking about it a second before Theta had told him it would have been better to go right. But, slipping past them and locking the door to the room had been fucking awesome, especially since the escape route that Carolina had devised for Tucker earlier meant he had to go outside where a whole shitload of enemy fire was waiting.

Not that Tucker hadn't expected that he would need to vacate the base itself at some point during this whole stage. However, while the possibility of getting cornered in confined spaces wasn't good, there were more places to hide and take cover inside a building than out on a pretty flat terrain that was very much apparently well-maintained and free of clutter more often than not.

Seriously, there were too many places where one was just a very bright target in flashy armor, and only a few places where there was any kind of object or vehicle to duck behind. It seemed as if the soldiers taking shots at them now were trying to keep a barrier between them and most of the larger parking fields and outlying buildings just to ensure they didn't have a lot of options for hiding.

But, he knew it had probably been fucking time to go awhile back, especially given how escalated things had become once he threw in an unarmed person into the mix. A person Tucker was now trying to keep alive, along with dealing with a pair of homicidal jackass mercenaries trailing him who really didn't like someone making them and their whole stupid horde run around looking foolish and inept

Especially when there was no doubt that this would be getting back to their employer at some point, if it hadn't already.

The "surprise" advantage had probably run its course the second they had miraculously bolted from the training area after disabling the surveillance systems. Even if the soldiers here were still running more or less blind after them, they probably had a bit of a score to settle now and were just really pissed off some Resistance fighter had gotten past all of them so far.

Tucker was honestly not quite sure how they had managed to avoid getting killed up until now taking all those factors into consideration, but odds were pretty damn high they weren't going to be maintaining that fortunate streak for much longer. So, when Theta had mentioned there being a side exit from the ground floor of the base that wasn't as heavily surrounded as some of the other ones were, the Slums dweller figured it was a sign that he'd best go for it now if they were ever going to have a chance to get out.

From there, it was just a painfully long run with metaphorical targets plastered on their backs to a landing field that Carolina had advised him to "run towards without looking back" the second he could do so. He wasn't quite sure why heading to part of the grounds that weren't really off to the outskirts of the base's territory would be a good idea in the middle of a fire fight, and Carolina had been tight-lipped as to what to expect when he got there.

Apparently the redhead was a little paranoid that Tucker might reveal something vital if he got captured under torture, so she refused to explain more about whatever "extraction plan" she had arranged for him.

Still, considering that there seemed to be a whole shitload of enemies now lined up along said perimeters, he could kind of figure out why maybe just trying to bolt for them wouldn't be the smartest move in this case.

Hopefully, whatever the Freelancer had set up would do the trick. Even more than that, hopefully his whole part of the plan had bought the other two groups enough time.

It had to.

Nearby, the middle-aged man who had been forced to come along with Tucker or get found in a ditch later, given Felix's comments, was leaning heavily against the crate very much out of breath.

Which figured since they'd been pretty much on the move since they had escaped earlier. Doyle didn't seem to be a soldier actively involved in combat, so the older man probably wasn't as fit when it came to that kind of strenuous activity to begin with.

Tucker sighed, feeling a bit guilty, "Sorry for getting you caught up in this shit, dude."

To his credit, Doyle actually managed to stop hyperventilating for a moment to fix the younger man with a glare, "If you're truly apologetic, you could start by explaining a few things."

A sniper's bullet embedded in the ground just a meter or so away, causing the two men to press closer to the minimal cover the crate provided. Their backs were practically glued to it now.

Tucker winced, "Not really the best time."

Doyle frowned, but the harsh expression had completely faded as the Above Grounder stared at a bullet hole that had been far too close for comfort, "No, I suppose not." He muttered quietly, more understanding than Tucker would have thought.

A spray of gunfire erupted from the opposite side of the crate, several bullets impacting on the metal contraption and causing it to reverberate violently.

Thankfully, the storage containers Above Ground used were damn near indestructible. Tucker imagined it would take several hours of consistent gunfire for rounds to actually begin piercing through the crate and making it to the other side. Not that he really wanted to test that theory out.

Several more bullets flew past it, hitting into the wall several meters away and ricocheting off disconcertingly but, fortunately, not towards their direct location.

While it more or less looked up close like a normal building, Tucker had heard how the Mother of Invention was actually built from the remnants of one of the original colony spaceships that had been stranded here. No wonder it didn't seem like a dent had been made to it despite all the heavy fire.

Tucker shrugged, deciding to throw the Above Grounder a bone, "Well, to make a long story extremely short, the guys shooting at us are huge assholes."

"Yes, I had figured that much out already." Doyle rolled his eyes at the very condensed explanation before looking at Tucker with a more analytical regard, "You're with the Resistance?"

Tucker couldn't help but groan, not expecting an Above Grounder to exactly be thrilled at that notion, but honestly really not having the patience to fucking deal with it at the moment. Especially after he'd just saved said person's life.

"Please tell me you're not going to turn into a fucking dick about that right now!"

Doyle held up a hand in an oddly diplomatic gesture, as if trying to soothe over a brewing conflict before it escalated, "I'm more curious than anything else." He explained, giving a slight upturning of his head to focus Tucker's attention on the noises of the soldiers behind them, "Considering everything that has happened, I'm not in any position to judge."

Ah, so he was just a nervous talker then. Or maybe he just wanted some answers before he was killed. The last thought made the anxiety building up in Tucker's brain even harder to quell.

If the Resistance fighter was going to die here, he at least wanted to know it hadn't been for nothing. He could relate to Doyle perhaps having similar thoughts.

"Tucker, there is additional cover in the direction of the landing field." Theta was back in plain view, his holographic form motioning to a grouping of about four crates. They were the only other ones in sight in any direction that didn't seem to be crawling with troops of steel and green mercenaries.

Sure enough, just a bit farther behind them was the flight deck that Carolina had all but literally beat into his head the importance of before. He was fairly certain that the cyan-armored Freelancer had been about two seconds away from actually attempting that when her patience for his joking had run thin. Some people really did not have much in the way of humor.

"I see it, but getting there is going to be the issue!"

Sure, it actually looked like they could reach the spot without having to cover too much distance from here. Still, Tucker knew from personal experience that even shorter runs felt like goddamned marathons when there was a very high possibility of you getting mowed down the second you left yourself remotely exposed.

He had to bite down on joking about his own choice of wording there. Even with the possibility of death looming overhead, old habits were hard to ignore.

Tucker was out of explosives by this point. His sword, while still looking pretty damn cool, was useless if he couldn't actually get close enough to anything to make contact. He was a decent shot with a gun, but there were also way too many targets to make focusing a ton on that effective.

They needed to not have every gun pointed at them the second they made a run for it, even if that didn't last for much longer than a millisecond.

Theta seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

The Fragment flickered, stating, "Give me a sec."

Then he winked out of visual existence again before Tucker could even respond.

Suddenly, there were surprised shouts and exclamations from a group of soldiers that had been in the process of closing in on the two fugitives. The Slums dweller could picture what had happened pretty easily enough, even without peeking over the crate to confirm it.

Theta had materialized directly into the midst of the mercenaries, effectively using himself as a temporary distraction since none of them had probably expected a miniature armored figure popping in just to say hello.

Tucker couldn't help but smile slightly in gratitude in the boy's direction before motioning for Doyle to get moving while they had the best fucking chance they probably would ever have of being able to do so.

The humans were both dashing for the grouping of crates on the opposite side of the area, Tucker trying to focus on the task at hand and not on the possibility of the enemy soldiers suddenly turning around and reacting to their movement.

He saw Doyle dive behind the crates' shelter, and at that exact moment a sharp pain suddenly erupted from the calf muscle of his right leg. He crumpled, noticing the blood spray that was suddenly coating the very recently cut grass around him.

Tucker only had enough time to turn around just then to see that fucking Locus douche with his gun still aimed at the fallen Resistance fighter before catching a faint shimmer close-by. Suddenly, an all-too familiar knife was swinging down in an arc towards him.

He barely was able to block it with his sword, the pressure from the wound on his leg causing his knee to buckle as he tried to keep from losing his balance completely.

"We're supposed to be taking him in alive, Felix." Locus said in his deep, uncaring tone, "Remember?"

The other mercenary had completely disengaged the cloaking tech he had used to get as close to Tucker as he had for the surprise attack.

Yeah, something told Tucker that these two did not appreciate their forced alone time together from earlier.

"I know. I know!" Felix's obviously angry stare was still completely focused on his target, "But, after the stunts he's pulled? That gunshot wound is definitely not going to be the only hole he's leaving here with."

"Fuck off, asshole!"

Tucker managed to somehow get into a sort of half-crouching defensive posture even with the sharp, shooting pain traveling all over from his leg now. His sword was out protectively in front of him, and he frowned. He couldn't do more than block in this position, but maybe that could be enough.

"I am really going to enjoy beating you senseless, Tucker. Plus getting a few stabs in, of course." Felix remarked as his hand tightened slightly around the hilt of his beloved combat knife. Despite his body language's obvious anger, there was a twisted sort of mirth in his voice, "I should get it on film for your kid to watch later."

Injured or not, Tucker saw red at the mention of Junior (huh, he could almost understand Sarge a little better now oddly enough!), "You—!"

Before he could even finish the insult on the tip of his tongue and, more than likely, stupidly lunge forward to at least try and get a hit in on the smug bastard, a succession of bullet holes formed in the ground between them.

Their impact and closer proximity to the mercenary caused Felix to jump back a bit, "Where the fuck did those come from?"

Tucker blinked, turning to see if maybe Doyle had picked up a gun at some point while he was preoccupied, only to see instead the last couple of things he ever would have expected to see.

A transport very similar to some of the ones he had seen Above Ground military use in excursions into the tunnels to move heavier equipment and large amounts of personnel had pretty much plowed into the crates, causing them to have scattered in all directions. Their spilled contents were all over the ground and landing field.

Doyle was scrambling through the transport's open side-door as Tucker stood there gaping at the extremely welcome and, all things considered, pretty fortunate sight.

Moving past the graying blonde secretary, weapon still raised and alternatively pointing at both Felix and Locus to keep them from acting, was the stubborn and paranoid giant pain-in-the-ass Agent Washington himself.

"Wash, what the—?"

Tucker didn't even have time to fully scream out his shocked question at the Freelancer's sudden appearance. The teal-armored soldier had been attempting to fully stand up properly despite the pain building up in his gunshot wound, but Washington was already there.

The Above Grounder grabbed his arm forcefully with his free hand, hauling Tucker's still protesting body behind his own and over to the relative safety of the armored transport.

Doyle and Caboose (what the fuck was he doing here too?) were at the door, pulling Tucker inside. Well, it was most likely more Caboose given how freakishly strong the younger Blue Team member was. Theta was flickering into existence close by Tucker's shoulder again.

He barely registered the gunfire Washington was laying down to cover their escape as the Freelancer turned and leapt back inside behind him, pushing Tucker in the rest of the way so that the door could seal shut properly.

"Sorry about the jostling before." A woman's voice called out from the front of the vehicle, "I told those morons to move that shipment hours ago."

The female was continuing to mutter rather loudly under her breath about how whoever she was berating apparently couldn't listen worth shit, though Washington simply shook his head, "Not a big concern right now." He told her, "Just move!"

"And here I thought I should just keep us in idle until they got the heavy duty firepower up and running, just to be polite." The silver-armored driver quipped back sarcastically.

Then they were double-timing straight through a bunch of the assholes who had been starting to surround the vehicle, and Tucker still wasn't sure what was going on beyond that his leg was hurting and at the moment he was pretty sure he wasn't dead yet.

"What just fucking happened?" Were the first words that came out of the Resistance fighter's mouth the second he felt like he could actually breathe enough to use his voice.

"Um, the extraction plan?" The woman driving haphazardly through the grounds at speeds that certainly would qualify as well past reckless stated matter-of-factly, tilting her helmeted head slightly so that she could apparently get a better look at the passengers behind her, "You're welcome, by the way."

He looked demandingly over at Washington for further elaboration.

The Freelancer sighed, "Four Seven Niner here is an old friend of Carolina's. She used to be a pilot for Project Freelancer." He explained, motioning to the woman to indicate that she was who he had been referring to, "She's the one Carolina arranged to get you out."

"I'm used to crashy pick-ups." Four Seven Niner stated over her shoulder, attention understandably focused more on the getaway than their conversation.

Caboose tilted his head slightly at her odd word choice, "I thought it was bumpy." He muttered to himself.

"Not with all of the things I'm crashing into today." Still, her hearing was pretty damn sharp!

Now it sort of made a bit more sense to Tucker as to why Carolina had been so reluctant to fully explain just what his escape would entail.

If he had been caught beforehand, there would have been the possibility that he could have ended up revealing that she had gotten a former co-worker involved in this whole operation too. Which could have ended rather badly for Four Seven Niner as well. If he didn't know exactly who she was or what the escape plan entailed, well there was a good chance she could have just played innocent and not gotten caught and killed herself.

Both Delta (ah, so he had come along too then since he had been stuck with Washington earlier) and Theta had drifted over to the front with Four Seven Niner. Apparently they were helping to calculate the best possible route to take, though from the slightly agitated tone Four Seven Niner's voice took in response to something Delta had suggested, it sounded as if their advice could devolve into a minor argument instead.

Doyle had slumped to the ground of the vehicle, not even bothering to make it to a seat, looking very nearly comatose by this point. Not that Tucker could necessarily blame him for being exhausted and in shock about recent events.

As much as Tucker wanted to ask a shitload more questions in general about, fuck it, everything, seeing Washington and Caboose again had him focusing on just one thing in particular, a sharp stab of panic hitting his chest, "Junior?"

Shit, if they were here because things had gone wrong…

Washington grabbed his shoulder, pressing a tight squeeze over the armor there despite how minimally Tucker would feel it as if he was trying to calm him down, "He's fine, Tucker. Safe." The blonde assured him, and he could almost swear a slight smile had crept into his voice as he added, "He's a strong one."

"Damn straight." Tucker felt himself equal parts relaxing at that fucking beyond amazing news and feeling proud all at once, "He's my kid."

"I could tell."

Which was great. Usually, when someone said stuff like that about Junior, it was meant to be some kind of stupid joke on account of how the child obviously took more after the other side of his family appearance-wise.

From the way he said those words, Washington seemed completely serious and even oddly fond in a way.

Before Tucker could ask him what he really meant by that or ponder what his inflection meant, the Freelancer continued on, "Actually, there were some surprises that happened during the mission." He admitted, before his gaze flickered over to Doyle curiously, "Though I take it the same thing happened here?"

"You could fucking say that." Tucker was only halfway joking and he was curious as all get-out about what 'surprises' Washington was referring to himself, but his comment ended on his wincing horribly within the confines of his helmet.

The pain in the Slums dweller's leg was becoming sharper now that all of the adrenaline he'd been running on since the beginning of this mission was starting to dissipate.

"Oh, Tucker is getting blood all over the floor." Caboose observed, "That is not hydration."

Tucker couldn't help but fall into old habits around his blue-armored teammate, "Hygienic?"

"That too." The younger man started heading over to the front of the transport where Four Seven Niner and the Fragments were still talking, "I will see if they have any band-aids and lollipops."

"Thanks, Caboose." He smiled slightly despite the discomfort he was in, as he now had no doubt that Doctor Grey was spoiling his teammate whenever he stopped by for checkups with her.

Tucker hadn't even noticed that Washington had begun pushing him into a seat during his conversation with Caboose until the older man was fumbling at the clasps on his armor surrounding his right leg, "Uh, what are you doing?"

"There's a medical kit back here for emergencies." Washington explained, looking up at the confused Tucker for only a second to do so, "But, I figured giving Caboose something to do would be helpful."

Well, it certainly would keep the younger blonde from attempting to poke at the wound or something in a vain attempt to "help."

Tucker nodded appreciatively before glancing over to his teammate with a slight frown, "Why is he here anyways?"

The escape plan had certainly been risky, that's for sure. He had a feeling that Washington would have refused to allow any of the Resistance fighters to come along as a result since it was totally okay for the Freelancer to be a stubborn jerk and get himself killed, but anyone else doing so was a no-go.

Seeing the childlike Caboose out of all of the others being here was a little bit of a shock.

Washington apparently felt the same way as there was a definite frown in his voice once more when he responded, "Honestly? I'm not sure." He admitted reluctantly, "I had left the group to catch up to Four Seven Niner before she had gone to help you, and suddenly there he was." The Freelancer agent shook his head, obviously perplexed, "He is surprisingly stealthy."

"You're telling me!" Tucker couldn't help but joke in agreement, "Wait until you try to take a leak in the middle of the night with him around."

Caboose had quite literally scared the piss out of him once by shouting out a sudden cheerful "Hi, Tucker!" on his way to a midnight snack. The blonde never quite understood why Tucker would yell at him for asking if he wanted a glass of milk too at the time. It was pretty funny when it happened to other people, or when he looked back on it now.

Tucker paused on that more light-hearted recollection though, looking down with a sudden frown at the steel and yellow-armored soldier who was intently checking over the bleeding hole in his lower leg to make sure that the bullet had gone clean through.

Come to think of it, why the fuck was Washington here too? Not that the Resistance fighter wasn't grateful for the save, but the Above Grounder had done more than enough already by keeping his promise to rescue Junior from those assholes.

He wasn't quite certain if it was something Tucker should ask or not. For some reason, that had the dark-skinned man feeling oddly hesitant and almost shy, which was definitely not like him. So, the Resistance fighter instead equated the sudden sharp intake of breath he took when looking at the blonde as being a sign of the anxiety he still had about the plan and all of its components rather than anything else.

One of which he hadn't focused on yet, and Tucker latched onto it now both out of concern and to cover up whatever weird feeling he'd gotten pondering the odd actions of the who-can-really-guess-his-reasonings-because-he-doesn't-fucking-ever-say-why-he-does-anything-anyways Freelancer before him.

"What about Grif?" He asked, hoping for good news on his chubby and lazy asshole friend as well.

Washington paused, reluctantly shaking his head, "No word yet." He told him, but as he saw Tucker's shoulders slumping he quickly added, "But, given that Carolina is with that group, I wouldn't worry."

The Above Grounder was probably right, given Tucker's initial impression of the redhead.

There wasn't much he could do about the situation currently, at any rate.

Tucker sighed, his leg still hurting. Honestly, walking away with just that injury was pretty damn impressive when he thought about it. Suddenly, the Resistance fighter was feeling more exhausted than anything else.

There were a whole lot of things his brain probably needed to process still, as well as a whole lot of discussions to be had all around. But, having gotten out alive and knowing that Junior was okay would have to do for right now.

Tucker didn't even have the energy to make a teasing remark about how Washington was still touching his leg. He was just grateful that the Freelancer seemed to know what he was doing from a first aid stance. That the blonde was there in the first place, no matter how inexplicable.

For right now, that was more than enough for Tucker too.

---

Room 57-B on Floor 32.

According to the faculty's file records, that was the room where Grif should be. There was no fucking way the cyborg was going to forget it.

That one location became a mantra running on constant repeat in Simmons' mind as his team made their way through the base following their disruption of the security systems. It had actually been a combo effort on not just his and Sheila's parts, but Church's as well. Although, the A.I. complained loudly about having to do so at the time because it still felt "fucking weird."

Truthfully, a whole lot of what happened on the mission following the obtaining of that vital bit of information was a blur to him.

The maroon-armored soldier was on edge and scared shitless. Way more than usual even. But he was oddly focused on that one location detail all the same.

Everything else in his mind, everything else that was going on around him? It was all pretty much inconsequential comparatively. Everything else just sort of blurred together to Simmons.

Tucker's distraction at the Mother of Invention, along with all sorts of other activities happening elsewhere at critical outposts around Above Ground, had done the trick of significantly thinning the number of enemy combatants their team encountered.

Apparently there had even been a separate attack at a landing field nearby. Who knew the timing would be that awesomely coincidental?

If a soldier or mercenary happened to pop up, Carolina usually dealt with them with the brutal efficiency of a tank. If it was a larger group, sometimes he or Sheila would assist.

Church would try to help, but apparently becoming a ghost A.I. hadn't actually miraculously improved his aim any. He was about as effective as Doc was in combat, and the medic wasn't even actually firing on people due to still being a pacifist.

The team was always back on the move often before the last body had even hit the ground. Briefly the redhead recollected that they had gotten onto a lift at some point, but nothing else eventful had happened after that.

The corridors all looked identical after a certain point due to the utilitarian designs of these military installations. So, before Simmons was even aware of when it actually occurred, they were standing before the very room number he had been repeating in his head.

A locking mechanism sealed the room shut.

He knew what he was doing, and this time he wasn't going to let his own insecurities get the best of him.

When Simmons had been a teenager before entering military training, he hadn't even thought about screwing up the hacking through the sealed entrances to the tunnels below. Back then, he hadn't really thought of anything: he had just wanted to be anywhere but in his stifling home, so that he could feel like he was able to breathe for once.

The cyborg was at the locking mechanism before Sheila or Church could even step up to it.

After entering in a long string of codes that probably only took seconds, but seemed to linger on after he pushed them in at a crawling, mocking pace the door opened rather unimpressively.

Carolina went in first, firing at the one lone mercenary who had been standing inside. He didn't even have the chance to turn around to face them, something pointed and jagged flashing in the air momentarily before hitting the floor near his body.

"Holy fucking shit."

Church's surprisingly hushed commentary reverberated through the space before Simmons was able to properly look inside himself. It was quickly followed by a shocked gasp from Doc, and an alarmed look cast the cyborg's way by Sheila.

He hardly even registered any of it.

The first thing Simmons really took notice of beyond the crumpled mercenary body on the floor and what was undoubtedly the bloody knife he had seen falling before at its side, was that there was a lot of red on the floor. The color spread around in large, grotesque splotches everywhere.

Too much. Way too damn much.

There was also quite a bit of that same crimson liquid trickling off of the feet of the heavier set figure still hanging by swollen wrists from the ceiling.

Simmons wanted to puke.

There was bile rising up his throat. He could hear Church, despite being inside a robot body now, actually make a noise that sounded very close to retching.

Instead of giving into his own urge to do the same, Simmons pushed himself into the space on shaky legs and towards the tanned figure. His cybernetic eye took in every minute physical detail: all of the marks and cuts of which it was nearly impossible to tell where one ended and another began, the red all over…

But, he also noted the shallow breathing too.

Focus on that above all else.

"I'll cut him down." Carolina's voice was terse, but slightly softer than usual as she cast an unreadable look at the maroon-armored soldier close by before she turned her attention to the group as a whole a moment later, "You four get ready."

"R—right." Doc nodded his head and walked shakily over to Grif as well. Anything remotely akin to a proper medical exam would have to wait until later given their time frame.

Simmons remained silent as they lowered Grif as gently as they could to the ground. He was really trying not to think at all on how the Resistance fighter felt way too hot and way too cold to the touch all at once, or how he hadn't even reacted to them getting him down.

Grif had always been a heavy sleeper, but that was way too much even for him!

"It's going to be a pain in the ass getting him out of here." He heard Church muttering from what sounded very far away even though they were all still gathered in the way too small and suffocating room, "I'm no doctor, but even I know he's not in a good condition to travel."

"We'll manage somehow." It was Carolina who responded, "Three of us do have robotic components, after all."

He could tell Church was frowning, "Yeah, but that leaves just you and Doc of all people to—"

Their voices trailed off. Truthfully, the cyborg could have probably still heard what they were saying if he was focusing more, but it was like he was currently there and not at the same time.

Simmons wasn't even aware of when he had almost touched his index finger to one of the disturbingly deep cuts on Grif's face. He stopped himself just a second before he did so, afraid of inadvertently causing any more pain to the other man.

This floor's unsanitary. He's going to get an infection laying on it like this!

The cyborg took a deep breath regardless of whether or not he technically needed to do so anymore, his thoughts becoming increasingly more anxious and nervous.

They just needed to go, to get him out of here as soon as possible. As it was, Simmons couldn't stand being in the space himself. Grif shouldn't have to be in it for another fucking second.

"I'm sorry I won't be of much help until we're out of here." Doc had crouched down next to his friend, still sitting on the floor near Grif regardless of the blood coating it. The medic's body language was remorseful, "I couldn't bring a lot of supplies and, well…" Doc paused, trying to come up with a delicate way to continue but ultimately deciding he couldn't, "I don't need the scanner to tell me it's bad, Simmons."

"I—I know." Simmons breathed again, terrified and relieved all at once and also still wanting to just puke, "But he's alive."

Even though he knew he shouldn't given the other's condition, Simmons shakily wrapped his arms lightly around Grif's body in a sort-of embrace.

Everything's going to be fine. You'll get better. You'll see Kai again. I'm going to fucking yell at you the second I know you're up for it, you fat fuck!

For a second, he could have sworn he felt Grif's muscles twitch close to where Simmons was leaning over him. The redhead glanced at the Resistance fighter's face then, seeing Grif's eyelids flicker slightly despite the thick caking of blood over them that would need to cleaned off before he even woke up.

Simmons had to resist the urge he had to sob and hug even tighter that very nearly overpowered him.

---

Author's Notes: The rescue plan has been carried out (or, as I like to call it, "Operation: Carolina Doesn't Mess Around")! :) I apologize for any weird pacing and my not-so-great action sequences throughout this chapter. I am not the best with writing those, so I am definitely kicking myself that there will be a bit more of them in later chapters! XD

But, on the plus side? Tucker got out okay, Junior is back, and so is Grif…though he'll definitely have to recover from what happened for a little while. I was a bit vague on the extent of his injuries in this chapter on purpose since I figured Simmons would probably be a little too upset to focus on a ton of details at the time, but yes…they are pretty bad (sorry, Grif! O_O).

Next chapter though, we'll see more of what's going on with quite a few characters. There is definitely going to be a bit more development when it comes to some of the romances as everyone is recuperating in the aftermath of this whole rescue endeavor: Grif and Simmons will get a proper reunion, Tucker and Washington will finally get a chance to talk, and we'll even see what has been going on with the Resistance fighters who were still stuck back in hiding for the last couple of chapters! Lots and lots of hearts-to-hearts all around. :D

Thank you so much for reading, as always! :)

{Also, totally excited for the start of Season 13! :D}