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.}

26. Chapter 26

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-Six:

Difficulties were to be expected, really. The Resistance had been prepared to walk into a battle that would not only determine all of their fates, but those of everyone they'd left behind in the Slums too.

Still, even with how painfully tense things had been well before this moment, the sudden appearance of Agent South Dakota on the battlefield increased that sense tenfold. Vanessa Kimball found that despite the hard-earned battle to get close to the facility's entrance, time seemed to slow to a crawl when the Above Grounder revealed herself.

They should have been expecting a swarm of enemy soldiers to come rolling down on top of them, taking advantage of the sudden standoff to retake the ground their comrades had lost in the fight to the death with Kimball, the three former Freelancers, and some other Resistance soldiers.

Many of whom, unfortunately, hadn't made it quite as far as they had. Those that remained were cautiously holding back to assess the situation thanks to a quick hand gesture from Kimball.

Perhaps it was safe to make that four former Freelancers, given how South had dispatched one of their enemy soldiers so ruthlessly moments before making her presence known. Who knew if some of the other bodies littering the ground had been felled by her too? The chaos of the fight beforehand made it hard to discern exactly who had taken out who.

Though it wouldn't shock the Resistance leader either if this whole scenario was all a ruse. A sacrifice here or there would be right up Felix's alley in particular to sow confusion. For all any of them knew, the Above Ground military and mercenaries had snipers trained on them as they spoke.

"We're clear." Surprisingly, it was Theta who spoke just then as if reading Kimball's thoughts, "There are enemies inside, but beyond some of the ones dealing with the other teams currently none are left outside the facility."

"That's a good thing." North's female twin sounded as if she was smirking within the confines of her helmet, "Wouldn't want to have any interruptions now, would we?"

Regardless of the very obvious tenseness this standoff was causing, and the no doubt pressing need for closure that North felt as well, the brutal fact remained that they did not have time for any type of twin showdown that would detract from their mission.

"North." Kimball stepped towards the violet with green trim-armored man, only to have the gun that his sister had been pointing at him suddenly swivel in her direction.

"There'll be plenty of time to go on your fucking suicide mission after this, lady." South sneered, "Don't push it now."

"Fucking drop it, South!" Tex's gun was pointed at the other woman as well, her finger squeezing on the trigger threateningly.

The other two Freelancers and Kimball did the same.

"It's four against one." York called out to his former teammate, "Do you really think that puts the odds in your favor?"

She snorted, "Please. If I was seriously considering odds why the fuck would I have even come here knowing the shit that was about to take place?"

The group paused, momentarily glancing amongst themselves. That did seem like a logical argument on the Above Grounder's part. If South had really wanted to take them out, sniping from afar or simply seeing how the current situation played out would have been the safer bet.

"So then trying to shoot North just now was what, exactly?" Tex questioned angrily instead.

A shrug, "Just my way of saying hello to my brother after so long." There was a definite smile in South's voice as she tilted her head slightly to the side to regard him and the always hovering close by Theta with amusement, "Figured he'd appreciate the humor."

The reminder of what had happened the last time they had encountered one another didn't seem to have any visible effect on North or, at least, none that they could discern due to his armor. In fact, he had remained silent throughout this entire encounter so far.

It did, however, have a very obvious effect on Theta as he whimpered and faded slightly at the memory, as well as on both York and Tex since they had nearly watched North die as a result of the last encounter between the Dakota twins.

"You bitch." Tex growled out. Given the grip on the redhead's weapon, it looked as if she was almost twisting the hilt of the gun, which was nearly indestructible under most circumstances.

Adding to that image was York's obvious clenching grip around his own gun's hilt. It didn't take more than a few seconds of observation for Kimball to be fairly certain that South was a second away from dying.

"Stop."

It was the sudden sound of North's quiet voice that prevented that from happening as all eyes quickly turned to him. The blond sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as though this conversation was definitely not one he had ever wanted to have.

"South." He began again, sounding pained, "Why did you come here? Are you working for Hargrove?"

"Please. Apparently I wasn't 'good enough' to get the oh-so-exclusive-invite to that party either." She scoffed once more, the bitterness in her body language practically seeping through her armor as she glared at her brother through her visor, "Doesn't that sound familiar?"

"Feeling left out?" York tried joking, though he shut up the second she turned to look at him.

"That's been the story since this whole shitfest began, hasn't it?" South's eyes went back to North, "My position kept getting usurped on the fucking ranking board. I was overlooked for an A.I., and then Wash fucked that up even more. Not to mention my own brother abandoned me to side with some thing."

The Above Grounder's directed glare at Tex just then was anything but subtle. The black-armored woman took a step forward. Kimball was surprised at the amount of control the redhead was displaying, but knew that it was probably more for North's sake than anything else.

"C.T. left, and then fucking Wash and Carolina turned their backs on me. Then goddamned Wyoming even left me in the dark too!" South was practically spitting when she finished her list of grievances.

"You know what's not even close to a remotely healthy way to deal with disappointment?" York replied back sarcastically, "Shooting people in the back and ripping implants from their necks. Some might call that just a tad extreme even."

"An anger management course does seem like it would have proven beneficial for any long term success of the project." Delta commented afterwards.

"Yeah. But, D, I don't think the people who really needed it would have gone." York fake-whispered, looking at the two female Freelancers in their midst in particular.

Perhaps fortunately for him, neither woman had their weapons trained on York just then.

South was too busy trying to keep eyes on all of them intermittently, and Tex was just focused solely on her.

"You should have told me what was going on, what you planned to do!" South was back to regarding North again, "You of all people shouldn't have left me behind!"

"Even if I had told you, would you have agreed to help?" North spoke up, his voice gentle but firm, "You were angry at the entire situation, South, and you wanted to prove yourself to the Director to get an A.I. next."

"That's beside the fucking point!" South yelled back angrily, "You didn't have my back!"

"So you decided to shoot him in his." Tex whistled, "Definitely extreme."

"Shut up, bitch!" South glared at her, "You're the one I want to pummel the most."

Tex scoffed, holding up her free hand in way of a challenge, "I'd love to see you try."

North intervened before the two of them actually did start trading blows, "So you're not here to fight us. Then why exactly are you here, South?"

South shrugged, her body language suddenly going from angry to frustrated, "Fuck if I know, all right?" she said, "Maybe I just wanted the opportunity to steal your goddamned A.I., or payback Carolina or Tex. Maybe I just wanted to see if you could even walk still and rub it in your face if you couldn't—!"

North surprised everyone by suddenly dropping his sniper rifle in the midst of his sister's tirade, then walking the distance between him and South before pulling her into a hug.

South went deadly still and silent, her gun at her side. North's former Freelancer teammates looking ready to run right in at the first sign of trouble.

"I'm sorry." North was muttering in an almost rambling fashion, more to himself and South than anyone else, "I should have seen the signs earlier. I should have talked to you."

"Still trying to act all high and mighty?" South scoffed but physically did nothing even as her arms twitched slightly at her sides like she had to fight the urge to either hug him back despite herself or shove him away completely, "You're a goddamned idiot, North."

"Probably." He pulled away following that, "But that makes two of us if you came all this way just to vent."

"I also came to steal your A.I., remember?" She smirked underneath her helmet, "Can't do that if you get yourself blown up and he's in your armor storage."

"So you'll be coming along too, then?" North asked as if this was just a typical conversation the two siblings might have and not one that was laced with a lot of unstated tension, negative emotions, and a whole lot of other things that weren't being addressed.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." There was a mocking tone to his sister's voice as she pointed her gun towards him again and added, "I've got your back, remember?"

"Thanks for the reminder." The former Freelancer turned and went to retrieve his weapon again while she watched in obvious amusement, "Let's get going then."

"Are you fucking serious?!" Tex and York both exclaimed at the exact same time, the disbelief they felt completely visible through their demeanors and tone.

Tex glared at South before continuing, "We can't trust her."

"Yeah, unfortunately, I'm on the same page as Tex here, North." York at least tried wording it a bit more delicately, "Having her around is asking for trouble."

"You're already walking into a shitload of it." South remarked, lowering her weapon a fraction, "From how it looks to me, one more fighter could improve your odds."

"Not when that particular fighter is a snake!" Tex hissed out angrily.

"It keeps you on your toes more." South taunted, apparently getting a rise out of the reactions she was creating amidst her former teammates, "Unless you really don't think you could deal with me, Tex?"

"Only in your fucking dreams." Tex glared again before pointedly turning her back to South in an open challenge for her to just try and do anything, "I'm only doing this as a favor to North."

York sighed and shook his head, but he apparently decided to follow Tex's lead on the decision too. He fell in step behind South, however, much to her amusement.

North had fallen back after retrieving his gun, so Kimball waited for the blond since she had wanted to signal to their remaining allies that it was safe to catch up to them anyways.

"Are you sure about this, North?" Kimball asked quietly as they followed a little ways behind the others. Knowing what she knew about the Dakota siblings' history, she couldn't help but feel anxious over the situation.

Before responding to her question, North sadly watched his sister walking ahead of him with the other Above Grounders for a moment.

"She was right earlier, Kimball." He said finally, shaking his head, "If South had come here to kill me, or any of us, she wouldn't have made her presence known." There was a pained note to his voice as he added, "She likes catching people familiar with her off-guard in combat situations."

"But—!" Theta sounded nervous above his shoulder.

North cut through Theta's doubt and smiled at him encouragingly, "It's all right, Theta. I'm not going to let her harm any of us."

But, Kimball knew the purple-armored soldier couldn't bring himself to harm his sister either. Not unless he absolutely had to. The Resistance leader knew it because, even if he had been hurt by it, a part of him at least understood the reasoning behind South's anger.

"What's important right now is the mission." North stated quietly, "I'll figure out how to deal with South afterwards."

Whatever the outcome, Kimball had a feeling it would be an emotional one for the former Freelancer. She did not envy him it, and could only hope he knew what he was doing in the end.

Right now, though, as they approached the base, he was right: they definitely had even more important matters to focus on. Kimball just hoped that the others had been productive within their roles of the plan while their group had been momentarily caught off-guard by a family reunion.

---

Lavernius Tucker knew that Kimball's plan was essentially to set up a main "distraction" force comprised of her, some of the Freelancers, and a few other Resistance troops. That distraction would, quite literally, "blow down" the front door while the Red and Blue Teams made their way inside the base using side-entrances.

Still, just because their color-coded teams waited a bit before running out into the fray did not equate to them having anything resembling an "easy" time of it.

Nope, of course not! There was no fucking way that was going to happen.

The Slums Resident assumed that it had to do with the fact that their teams had smaller amounts of people and all that shit.

Yeah, they didn't have to deal with the waves of enemies that had no doubt swarmed out to greet Kimball and the others, but it wasn't like the Above Grounders or their hired mercenaries were stupid. They had, naturally, held back sizable portions of their troops from the main assault.

Their enemies had been probably banking on there being some kind of diversionary tactic, even if said distraction was too big to ignore.

Several of the enemy fighters had come outside to do perimeter checks just as the signal had been given for the attack to commence in earnest. No doubt even more were still waiting somewhere inside for whoever managed to get in there.

Fuck it! Knowing that dick Felix?

Well, it wouldn't really shock Tucker any to find that he'd rigged the whole place to blow up and was just waiting for all of them to step inside so that he could gloat or some other bullshit beforehand.

The only reason that thought wasn't on the very top of Tucker's "We're Probably Really Screwed Here" scenario list was that the Resistance knew the relic was here, and it was likely in the type of condition that meant it couldn't be moved quickly or easily. At least not without a shitload of precautions.

He imagined Felix's employer would be more than just a little peeved if he got his shiny new, just-about-to-be-tested-for-the-giggles doomsday weapon blown up along with some more or less inconsequential Resistance fighters.

Which is why they still had the chance to blow it up themselves beforehand. Provided they didn't get killed or something first, of course.

The teal-armored soldier's energy sword was just coming out of the other side of a mercenary that had been about to shoot him at close range when a gun went off way to close to his helmet. Tucker pulled his sword out fully and spun around to face the new enemy combatant trying to kill him, only to stop short at Palomo standing there instead.

"Palomo?!" The Resistance fighter practically screeched in a totally masculine way, "What the actual fuck?!"

Before the younger man could respond, an Above Ground soldier in white crashed in an armored heap to the ground just a few meters away.

Tucker glanced at the body, surprised at how well-concealed they'd been behind a few free-standing crates. Evidently the Above Grounder had thought him skewering their more profit-minded comrade would have been a good surprise attack opportunity.

At that moment, the dark-skinned man supposed there probably was something to the critique he was sometimes given that he could be a little too focused in combat situations on just what was going on in front of him.

…Not that he'd ever let Wash or any of the other people who said it know that. Tucker was thankful none of them were around close enough to have seen that particular example, actually.

"Sorry, sir!" Palomo shouted, "I saw him but didn't have time to shout a warning."

"It's cool." And Tucker honestly meant it given how that had probably kept him from getting a serious injury or even worse, "I just wish your bullet hadn't gone that close to my head."

"Oh! Um, sorry again? I really thought you were going to turn right then instead of left like you did." Palomo sounded both sheepish and annoyingly cheerful as the younger soldier rubbed the back of his helmet awkwardly, "Guess it was a good thing I hadn't waited an extra second before I shot, huh?"

"I fucking hate you, Palomo." The moment with his well-intentioned but hopeless lieutenant officially over with at that revelation, Tucker sighed and relented enough at least to throw the poor kid a bone, "But thanks anyways."

"No problem, sir!"

Just like that, Palomo was off and racing to go join up with Andersmith and Caboose. The two Blue Team members had set up a spot close-by the entrance point their group was aiming for, using their location to take out any Above Ground soldiers and mercenaries that tried approaching in order to keep a path open for—

"Tucker!"

It was C.T.'s voice that called out to him just then, interrupting his thoughts. He saw her racing over with both Sheila and Doctor Grey in tow.

Sheila didn't seem as upset by the bullets whizzing around them as one might expect a person to be, although that might have been because of the extra protection of her metallic body. It certainly made the chances of her receiving a ton of damage even if she was hit exceedingly less likely than any of her simply armored, human counterparts.

Doctor Grey seemed a little less relaxed, since as a medical officer she wasn't as used to being shot at on a daily basis. But, she was doing pretty well, all things considered. Of course, having a nonplussed Freelancer around to help keep you safe was probably the best fucking insurance policy one could get in this type of situation.

"Ladies." Tucker tried to play it cool but sort of figured the head tilt and eyebrow waggle he was doing at the moment was lost in this situation on account of his helmet, "How's it hanging?"

"Well, we could be these guys, so I guess we can't complain too much!" Doctor Grey said cheerfully, kicking the body of the mercenary that Tucker had recently dispatched for added emphasis.

Yeah, not only was that a reminder to Tucker that Doctor Emily Grey might actually be too fucking scary to flirt with, but he had a feeling all of his charm and wit were completely lost in this situation.

"Any word from Red Team?" The teal-armored soldier asked Sheila instead, knowing that the reason she had been separated from Lopez was because the two humanoid robots could communicate with one another even if most outside military channels around and inside the base comm-links were jammed.

The female robot gave him a slight nod, "They have already gained entry into the facility."

He couldn't help but whistle slightly, "Damn! Sarge is really trying to show us up."

If they were already inside, then that most likely meant that Kimball's group was probably there by this point too.

Blue Team really couldn't afford to be holding up the works much longer. Not only would that not be good for the overall plan, but they also had a reputation to uphold!

C.T. seemed to be thinking along similar lines as well, but probably not so much the reputation part, as she caught his gaze and gave a slight nod of her head, "Sheila and Doctor Grey think they can bypass the security on the door now if we buy them enough time."

Which is what the others were trying to do by keeping the path clear.

"Right. Let's get them there then." Tucker nodded in reply and then turned his attention towards Caboose and the two lieutenants, "Keep the way cleared, we're coming through!"

"Yes, sir!" Andersmith actually still took the time to salute, and the Resistance fighter couldn't help but be reminded how much the older lieutenant was definitely crazy dedicated to protocol.

"Okay, Captain Tucker!" Palomo called back, and Tucker prayed the rookie didn't mistake left for right and vice versa again.

"This will be just like when we play tag, Freckles!" Caboose informed his gun excitedly.

"AFFIRMATIVE, CABOOSE!"

Tucker nodded again to the three behind him now that they had gotten their cover fire established, "Let's move!"

They were off. C.T. and Tucker stayed at the sides of the group to make short work of any enemy soldiers that popped up too close for the others to deal with while Sheila and Doctor Grey stayed close by them until the door was just a few steps in front.

At that point the two women, one a robot skilled in tech interfacing and the other a human genius, sped up and nearly collided into the door. Their attention automatically zeroed in on the locking mechanism for it.

"State of the art, as expected." Doctor Grey was saying under her breath as she ran her fingers over the panel, "But it shouldn't take more than a few minutes to crack."

"Indeed. Password clearance strength is surprisingly lacking in facilities such as this." Sheila replied.

Doctor Grey snorted, "I know! At one base I was stationed at, it was literally 'base.' No symbols or numbers or even capital letters." She scoffed, shaking her head, "Then they get mad at you for taking a peek at their files."

"Humans are odd creatures when it comes to logic." Sheila said, her tone sympathetic to Doctor Grey's plight.

"You're telling me." The dark-skinned woman let out a long-suffering sigh, "Yet, when you point that out for research requests, you get looked at like you're the crazy one."

Tucker was a little glad his focus on the conversation happening behind him just then was lost a moment later on account of four Above Ground soldiers managing to break through Caboose's and the others' cover fire due to being just slightly out of range from their angle of entry into the scene.

Okay, were they fucking popping up from the ground like daisies now or what? The dark-skinned man hadn't seen any doors or anything opening anywhere else along the sides of facility that would have allowed the enemies to just show up like they were.

He raced forward to take out one of them, C.T. deftly dispatching a second one while remaining close by the others to continue guarding their backs as they worked. She turned her gun to the third just as Tucker used his sword, the two grinning at one another through their helmets at the joint effort.

That just left the fourth asshole, who…

…was suddenly on the ground face-first in the snow.

Tucker blinked, surprised to see two familiar figures standing over the body.

"Miss me, bitches?" Kai joked, while Washington just sighed next to her at her juvenile remark.

He had almost forgotten that the two of them had swung around from yet another angle during the initial assault in order to get the drop on some mercenaries who would have probably been trouble later on down the road if they'd just ignored them completely. The steel and yellow-armored Freelancer had insisted that everyone else still carry through with the original plan just to make sure it stayed on track.

"We had a few stragglers that managed to get away from us once they realized what we were up to." Wash said in way of explanation for what had happened here, dipping his head slightly in apology, "Sorry for the added stress."

"Like this whole thing isn't already stressful enough? I'm pretty sure four mercenaries thrown into the mix doesn't even amount to jack shit." Tucker joked back, "Dude, you really need to lay off the self-blame game."

"Right."

Call Tucker crazy, but he could have sworn that Wash almost sounded relieved. Must have been a trick of the ears.

Or, in all likelihood, the Slums dweller just really wanted to think that since he'd been prepared for the stubborn agent to argue more about how everything under the sun was somehow his fault.

Kai shoved Wash playfully in the back just then, nearly throwing the blond so off-balance that he almost would have crashed into the teal-armored fighter in front of him if he hadn't managed to recollect himself at the last second "Tucker's right! For a cop you're really not all that bad."

Tucker paused at her comment to Wash just then, frowning. He could have sworn Kai had mentioned something about Tucker having a cop boyfriend before.

Had she been talking about Washington of all people?

"T—thanks, I guess?" Wash wasn't quite sure how to react to the girl's remark, and Tucker was just glad that he had spoken up at all because fuck if he needed to be dwelling on the odd heart-skip his chest just had, "But I keep telling you: I'm not a cop."

"If you say so." Kai shrugged, clearly not convinced, "You sure act like one though."

"How do I…?" The Above Grounder trailed off, gesturing helplessly to Tucker and C.T. while clearly not sure what he should do at this point.

Tucker was about to give the poor guy his usual advice of "best just to roll with it" when it came to the tan girl's antics, but the Freelancer turned completely serious a second later. It was as if his brain once again registered just what was going on around them after the momentary mind-break effect Kaikaina Grif often had on people.

"How are things here?" Wash asked, noticing Caboose and the others still behind their crate cover, as well as the bodies littering the ground everywhere.

"Getting better by the second." Tucker remarked, "You guys picked a great time to regroup with us."

As if on cue, the door behind them opened with an excited exclamation from Doctor Grey. As both she and Sheila nodded to one another for a job well done, the teal-armored fighter called the others over to join them. Tucker couldn't help but notice that Wash looked over the whole of Blue Team as they did so, the older man's body language on full alert and absolutely serious.

"It's way too quiet out here now, which means…" The Freelancer trailed off as he glanced around the suddenly completely still battlefield once more.

"That there are most likely even more people waiting for us inside somewhere." C.T. finished for her former Freelancer comrade.

Wash nodded his agreement at her prediction, "Right. So, let's be prepared for whatever we find."

"Trust me, you don't have to tell us twice." Tucker remarked as they stepped inside the deceptively still and silent corridor leading further into the military base.

Every single member of their team knew what was stake here, and they damn well knew that anyone who was lying in wait to try to stop them did too.

But, they sure as fuck weren't going to just give up or roll over on account of what may or may not happen here. They couldn't. Not with everything that was on the line.

Tucker also knew that anyone who tried messing with them given that was going to regret it really fast.

---

If there was one thing that could be viewed as a positive for being in actual combat situations, aside from the very blatantly obvious negative things such as potentially getting killed, Richard "Dick" Simmons supposed it was that events tended to happen fast.

Like mind-blowingly, fucking fast.

Which was probably a good thing considering that if he'd had more of a chance to dwell and process what it was they were actually doing, the odds were good he'd make a shitload of mistakes and mess things up. Also, he'd probably puke just for good measure.

The redhead was fairly certain he would be doing that last thing regardless the second that Red Team made it inside the base following their sneak attack.

As the door closed to the outside, conveniently shielding the bodies of the enemy soldiers they'd encountered on their way here and the red snow they were lying in now, Simmons took a moment to breathe deeply through his helmet. The cyborg didn't even try mentally correcting himself on the whole "not having lungs" thing anymore.

In a way, it was probably good that Grif hadn't come with them and was guarding the air transport with Junior and Doyle. Even though it was pointlessly stupid of the orange-armored man to be there at all, at least hopefully on the transport he wouldn't be pushing himself too hard if things went as planned.

Sarge definitely had them going full-on sprint and attack mode out there, so the Above Grounder could just imagine the chubbier man collapsing on the ground in an asthmatic fit right about now even without taking into account his injuries.

Truthfully, Simmons was pretty winded with just now having gotten inside. From the looks of things, everyone else save Sarge and the robotic Lopez seemed to be having a similar experience.

"All right, excellent work!" Sarge nodded to the assembled soldiers appreciatively once the older soldier had felt he had provided them all with ample time to recover, "I bet you we beat Blue Team inside in no time flat!"

Nearby, Volleyball was helping Jensen get to breathing calmly again. Simmons had been glancing at the two a little worriedly when he heard the younger girl mention that she had asthma, though thankfully Doc had apparently picked up on it too. His purple-armored friend went over to chat with the two girls and the Above Grounder was relieved to see that the maroon-trimmed lieutenant seemed to gradually be getting steadier on her feet.

Donut had perked up quite a bit from his spot next to Simmons, glancing over at Doc to make sure that he was okay as the medic took care of any lingering concerns with Jensen before trotting over to say something to Lopez. The robot seemed more or less content to at least listen to whatever Donut was cheerfully rambling to him. That, or he was just really good at tuning out the dirty-blond by this point. Simmons wasn't quite sure which one it was yet.

"It wasn't really a competition." The orange-trimmed lieutenant named Bitters remarked to Sarge as he regained his breath.

Out of the corner of his eye, it looked to Simmons as if Matthews was going to admonish the multicolored-haired lieutenant for that comment from where he stood next to him. Apparently, the yellow-trimmed lieutenant was not the type to like it when he suspected someone was smart-mouthing superiors.

The auburn-haired rookie instead simply touched Bitters shoulder though, causing Bitters to glance over at him and let out a resigned sigh before turning to Sarge and, before the older soldier could remark on his not-too-respectful comment, the lieutenant added in a quick "Sir."

Matthews looked at Bitters gratefully, and any real anger or annoyance Sarge may have felt at Bitters' earlier comment seemed to fade completely with the lieutenant's recent address.

Instead, the leader of Red Team sighed and shook his head in sympathy at the young man, "You have got to learn to live a little more, Dye Job." He admonished, "It is always a competition where the color blue is concerned!"

Sarge then turned to address Simmons before Bitters could respond, "You had a good long look at the layout of this place, right?" He asked the cyborg, back to being completely serious, "Which way do we go from here?"

"Oh! Um…" Simmons blinked, his brain needing a few minutes to process the sudden question thrown his way in light of what they had just gone through, "The stairwell to the lower levels should be to the right of here."

"It's too bad we can't just ride down in a lift even though it might be riskier." Donut quipped then, rejoining the rest of the group with Lopez, "Going down into a large hole is always exciting!"

"Oh, especially if there's a scenic view!" Doc chimed in, apparently not even registering the potential other meanings Donut's wording could bring to mind.

From behind the two men, Simmons could see the four lieutenants in their midst exchange questioning glances with one another. Obviously, the conversation's oddness was not as lost on them as it was on his pink bespectacled friend.

Nor did it seem to be entirely lost on Lopez either despite the robot not being able to respond back in a language any of them could understand. The brown-armored robot let out what seemed to be an electronic sigh as he turned his body towards Simmons and the younger members of the group.

"Es mejor para sintonizar hacia fuera si puedes. Confía en mí. Me siento bastante malo para usted que no se puede simplemente apagar su audiencia como puedo." {"It's best to tune it out if you can. Trust me. I feel rather bad for you that you can't just turn off your hearing like I can."}

Donut directed his attention to his robotic teammate just then and nodded his head enthusiastically, "Lopez is right, you guys! It's time for some action!"

Sarge stood a bit taller, looking over at his creation appreciatively, "I agree, Lopez. You're becoming such a go-getter, it makes me just as proud as the day when you first walked!"

Lopez looked towards the others again.

"Seriamente. Es la única cosa que me recibe a través de algunos días." {"Seriously. It is the only thing that gets me through some days."}

With whatever life lesson it seemed that the robot had been trying to instill into the younger recruits in particular over with following that remark, Red Team moved on through the base.

Sarge also requested that Lopez send to Sheila an electronic communication update to Blue Team about their status. Not only just to keep them informed of their progress and to get an update in turn, but also apparently for "rubbing-it-in-their-Blue-Team-faces" purposes.

The Red Team met with some resistance the lower they progressed through the facility, but it wasn't nearly as much as Simmons or the others had been anticipating.

It was usually a guard or unwary soldier here or there. At times it would be the occasional group of three or five mercenaries trying to stage a poorly planned ambush in a corridor or room they had tried gathering intel on.

Perhaps that was sign that the distraction plans had worked. Or, perhaps it was more likely a sign that something else was going on here that wouldn't have a good outcome for any of the Resistance soldiers.

"It means they're planning something else for their big stage attack." Sarge muttered out loud when Simmons commented on it, "Either we'll be encountering more firepower our way later on down the road, or one of our other groups will be dealing with even nastier surprises."

"That's not good!" Donut remarked back in a horrified whisper.

"Stay on your toes. If you don't go rushing out somewhere waving a gun around before we know what's going on, you'll be fine." The older man reassured them, "So will the others too, no matter what these lowlifes throw our way!"

"Isn't rushing out somewhere waving a gun around before we know what's going on your main battle plan usually?" Bitters asked incredulously.

Sarge scoffed, a chuckle in his throat, "Son, the main difference is that when I do it, it is dang cool!"

They did end up meeting with more enemy resistance eventually. It happened right about the time when they were reaching the facility level that Church, back when they all had first been going over the blueprints of the Sidewinder base, had been pretty certain would contain the research labs.

In the center of the main hallway their team found a fortified door, heavily guarded by at least ten Above Ground soldiers.

True to the Red Team leader's earlier statement, Sarge actually did look pretty cool charging in with his shotgun a second after they had stumbled upon the scene, an attack shout reverberating from within his helmet to anyone within listening distance.

Jensen, Simmons, and Lopez were at the control lock while the others dealt more with the soldiers, alternating at taking a crack at the digital lock between the three of them while occasionally turning around themselves to help provide cover fire.

With all three soldiers working together, the door was opened in a matter of seconds just as a well-thrown grenade and one final shotgun blast cleared out the corridor of the last hostiles.

Their group spilled inside a second later, the door shutting behind them to hopefully buy them at least a little time if more guards came on the scene and saw their downed comrades outside. As Simmons finished locking the door, he noticed an odd pulsing pressure in his skull that was radiating from his cybernetic eye.

The cyborg suppressed a groan and turned around, immediately bombarded with the aura of every piece of tech in the large space. All of them were on, their mechanical and electronic noises a soft buzz in his ears. The energy they radiated was quite a bit more than the Above Grounder was used to seeing in most everyday situations, even with the high amount of tech he usually encountered.

The closest thing he could think of for it was when he looked at Sheila, Lopez, Freckles, Church, or one of the Fragments. Or Tex too, now that he thought about it, though he was too scared of her to ever ask why.

Still, the digital presences they emitted were so strong it was always a much more noticeable thing with them. With most other electronic devices, like a datapad, the sight variation in his artificial eye was easily overlooked and compensated for.

But, he supposed his current reaction made sense. Simmons was always more aware of that whenever he was in a space with an abundance of technology that was left active. Since this was a research and weapons lab, that was pretty much a given. A few minutes acclimating and the maroon-armored soldier would be as good as new.

Still, it was easy enough for him to discern which piece here was the relic they were looking for.

The orb in question was glowing with barely contained energy in the middle of the large lab even through his human eye, and it was downright comparable to looking directly at the sun with how strong its aura was through his cybernetic one. Reactively, his green eye was tearing up and he could feel his artificial red-tinted one burning with the desire to do the same.

Simmons hated having to fight the urge to bring his fingers to his helmet since he knew any effort to rub at them would be moot. Instead, the redhead shook his head and averted his gaze until his sight adjusted to all the information it was being bombarded with.

"Well, it definitely looks like they got it activated." Doc spoke up just then at the sight of the relic, sounding understandably nervous at the prospect of what that meant.

"That just means it will make an even bigger explosion when we blow it up." Sarge seemed downright eager at the prospect.

"It's too bad Caboose isn't closer by. He and Freckles sure do love their fireworks!" Donut commented gleefully.

Jensen looked at the relic thoughtfully, "Something tells me they'll definitely be seeing these ones no matter how far away they are, Captain Donut."

"Yeah, something tells me we are going to want to run as fast as we fucking can once we set up the charges." Bitters muttered from behind her.

It was definitely not a statement anyone there could argue with, especially considering the amount of area said run would require.

The only other room dedicated solely to research that Simmons had seen that was as huge as the one Red Team was currently in was the underground compartment of that Freelancer hideout he and Doc had gone to with their Above Ground team, along with some of the higher security clearance labs at the Mother of Invention.

Basically, instead of just being one hell of a state-of-the-art laboratory and massively huge room? This area was also filled to the brim with devices that, beyond probably being capable of hurting or killing a whole bunch of people, Simmons couldn't even guess the uses of.

The only other thing of note about the space besides the fact that it contained the very artifact that they were there to destroy were the handful of dead bodies littering the ground that appeared to have been dispatched at least an hour or more ago.

Simmons noted that none of the corpses were dressed in armor. Rather they appeared to be in research garb, and all of them had apparent gunshot wounds on their persons.

"Whoa!" Donut whispered as everyone's attention turned that way as well, looking nervously at the bodies and the pools of blood congealing under them, "What do you think happened here?"

"I did."

From the back of the room, another plains-clothed, albeit sharply dressed, man stepped forward from his spot by a smaller door. Despite the man's lack of armor, there was a gun in his hand, the sight of which caused an automatic response from everyone present as they trained their weapons on him.

The man with graying hair glanced down at his weapon then, as if just now registering their reaction to it, "It's no longer loaded." He remarked with an odd drawl in his voice, throwing it to the ground with disinterest, "I never did have great aim."

Red Team didn't lower their weapons, but they hadn't fired after his confession to killing the other researchers and it seemed that the man took that as his cue to continue as he looked at them askance from beneath his glasses, "From the look of things, I take it you aren't working for Hargrove?"

"We're with the Resistance, actually." Sarge was looking over the unidentified man critically, "Mind telling us who you are?"

The unknown, although vaguely familiar, man opened his mouth to respond. But, an all-too familiar and bitter-sounding voice beat him to it as the lock Simmons had put on the door was overridden.

"He's a fucking asshole is who he is." Leonard Church stated emphatically from where he stood behind them with Agents Carolina and Wyoming, "Who just so happens to also be the goddamned Director of Project Freelancer."

Simmons and Doc in particular looked at the man in shock just then. As members of Above Ground military they'd seen him once or twice over the years from a distance, but this was the first time they'd ever been this close to him in person, let alone heard him speak.

It was no wonder that Simmons hadn't been quite able to place who he was before. However, the Director seemed completely unfazed by Church's declaration of his identity, or of anyone else's reaction to it.

Instead, the Above Grounder's full attention was placed entirely on the armored individuals in cyan and cobalt. Both of whom were just as completely focused on him as well. It seemed a world of communication passed between all of them, a world that no one else in the room could probably ever hope to understand fully.

"Hello, Carolina. Alpha." The Director tilted his head towards them slightly as if in a slight show of greeting, "I was expecting the two of you to show up sooner or later."

---

"Okay. So, if Red Team's job is to scour the lower levels of the base, we're taking the upper ones, right?" Palomo whispered from close by as they made their way through the far-too quiet corridors.

"That's correct." Washington responded from his spot close by Tucker's elbow as the teal-armored soldier, Wash, and C.T. had moved to the front of Blue Team in case there were any ambushes they would have to deal with immediately, "Even though, from what we could tell at any rate, the research and weapon labs are more likely to be located lower due to the building's layout."

"There's always the possibility that they decided to mix things up just because that was what everyone expected them to do. Because, you know, they're assholes and all." Tucker pointed out before Palomo could question the Freelancer further.

"Besides, having Resistance troops still wandering all of the levels and causing havoc regardless will cause the enemy to stay on their toes and make it harder for them to figure out what we're really doing." C.T. added in afterwards.

Distractions and delay tactics were definitely the main focus of the Resistance's current strategy. In a lot of ways, it was a several-point distraction plan.

"Not to mention, even if the schematics were correct and the weapon labs are located further down, all communication and file transfers still flow through a relay check point in the upper levels of the base." Sheila spoke up just then, as if feeling the need to provide a logical standpoint to their current status.

"I see, I see." Palomo nodded exuberantly at the robot's explanation before a slight quiver went into his voice, "Which means what, exactly? Because I don't think Kaikaina or Andersmith got that before."

Tucker could easily picture the blank look on the dark-haired kid's face when he said that obvious cover-up, and inwardly sighed.

"Speak for yourself, moron!" Kai was no doubt sticking her tongue out in her friend's direction.

"Ah, no need to worry about that, Palomo! I had an in-depth talk with Captain Caboose and C.T. about that earlier." Andersmith assured his younger comrade.

"Yes, because it is not the type of relay that you race." Caboose stated very seriously, nodding his head in a sage-like fashion.

"Exactly, sir!" Andersmith was no doubt beaming at his superior for his apt description.

"Um, never mind then." Palomo's shoulders shrugged dejectedly, apparently realizing that his attempt to save face on this matter probably just meant he'd end up remaining not as knowledgeable about what it was they were exactly doing.

Fortunately for the rookie, everyone had very clearly seen through the Slums dweller's ruse since he wasn't nearly as subtle with it as he thought.

"It means that if we make a copy of all of their transmitted files and communications before this whole place goes 'boom!' and the Chairman scrambles whatever intel is left on his end to cover his tracks, we'll still have enough information to expose what he was up to all over Above Ground!" Doctor Grey exclaimed cheerfully to Palomo, apparently having taken pity on the poor kid.

"Which should force the Council to take immediate action against Hargrove as well." C.T. added in.

It would also provide Doyle the information he would need to hopefully get the stuffy assholes who comprised the Council to push for a ceasefire on all hostilities with the Slums to boot. At least, that's what Kimball believed given what C.T. and the others had told the Resistance before about the Chairman possibly having set up the Insurrection in order to ensure that the fighting amongst the two factions would escalate.

Not to mention, Tucker doubted most of the Council, regardless of their thoughts on the Slums, would be too keen to support full-blown genocide like Hargrove was planning. Particularly since Hargrove was obviously planning on using what would happen to the Slums as a show of power to get them to comply with his governmental decisions on how to run things in Above Ground.

So, Blue Team's part of the plan wasn't nearly as potentially pointless as one might think at first based off of what they knew about the base's layout.

The explanation seemed to at least somewhat sink in with Palomo, who gave a quick "Gotcha!" as he nodded his head enthusiastically before quieting down once more.

They made their way through several hallways of immaculately clean, sterile environments filled with shiny new tech and a disturbing amount of weaponry. No surprise there, the dark-skinned man supposed, considering that this was a top-secret military base that was involved in a shitload of weapons research in general.

The group took stairs instead of lifts whenever necessary in order to avoid getting stuck like they had a bullseye on their backs. Of course, lifts sometimes had to be used out of necessity in certain situations. But, Tucker also knew in situations like this, when they weren't sure about potential ambushes, that at least a stairwell provided them the chance to get to another level quickly if needed without being confined in one spot like a bunch of sardines in a can.

Ambushes were definitely a possibility given how quiet things were at the moment. The odds were high that, at some point, they might round a corner only to find a shitload of mercenaries ready to open fire.

Currently everything was still eerily, creepily quiet no matter how far up they went in the base. Beyond the random armored figure here or there who just happened to step into their line of fire with what appeared to be extreme suicidal intent, one thing in particular was really obvious about the whole situation.

"This place is way too fucking quiet given what we just did." Tucker muttered under his breath, "I mean, yeah, we tried keeping the attack a surprise and all. But, unless their great strategy was 'everybody step outside and we'll lock all the doors', this has got to a trap."

"Most likely." Wash conceded, no doubt frowning underneath his helmet. Of course, Tucker suspected that was the Above Grounder's default facial expression a lot of the time anyways. So, there was nothing to worry about in that regard at least.

"They probably moved most of their soldiers to guard the relic." Andersmith surmised, adding in worriedly, "I hope that means Red Team will be okay."

"Lopez says that they haven't experienced much difficulty yet either." Sheila informed them, "Though that is troubling in a way as well."

"Which could mean that a large chunk of their troops are focusing their attention now on Kimball's group because they were the first wave of the assault." C.T. said, sighing at the possibility, "Although we currently aren't in the best position to know that since they don't have a V.I. with them to help bypass the base's jamming frequencies."

Yeah, in theory the A.I. Fragments could be used to send messages amongst the groups. The Resistance definitely had planned on them doing so should the need arise.

Still, given how intense the fighting to reach the main entrance by charging the front door had probably been for Kimball and the others well before either of the other two teams had been allowed to make their moves, Delta and Theta would probably have their hands full offering combat and defense support.

The two A.I. Fragments probably wouldn't be in a position yet to carry status updates of their group to everyone else in the Resistance at the moment. Which definitely sucked in more ways than one.

As if sensing the spiking anxiety levels quickly falling over the group, Wash sighed loudly to attract all of their attention before assuring them: "At any rate, we'll be meeting up with them soon once we're done here."

That commentary was enough at the moment to get everyone to push on. The group gave the blond a collective nod of agreement in the process, as Tucker cast an appreciative glance at the Freelancer for the impromptu pep talk. Wash held the look with the teal-armored soldier for a second before turning his head awkwardly away in what was probably shy embarrassment.

Yeah, Tucker thought. Wash was right. Everyone was going to be fine. They were going to stop the relic, get the information to halt that asshole Hargrove's plan, and blow up this base for good measure. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

On what was the thirty-fifth floor of the facility, Blue Team stopped in front of a non-descript metallic door. The only thing of note about it was a flashing electronic sign next to the lock pad that read "No unauthorized personnel beyond this point."

"This is it." C.T. was looking at the layout of the building on her armor system, touching some buttons on her lower arm as she did so to scroll through whatever was showing up on the display screen of her helmet.

Sheila and Doctor Grey both moved forward just then, approaching the lock pad at the exact same time. The door opened a few seconds later as the two worked in tandem. It revealed what, to Tucker's eyes, looked like a pretty average office space compared to all of the other rooms they had passed on their way here, what with all of their imposing terrain maps on full display and a shitload of artillery.

Computers and more computers. That was all this room had in it. Some of the monitors seemed to show images of areas around or inside the base. But, most of the other active screens just seemed to be flowing through a whole bunch of random numbers at an impossibly quick pace. Tucker was sure that the data meant something, but to him it might as well have been gibberish.

However, Doctor Grey let out an excited squeal at the sight, moving to one of the monitors that seemed to be currently vomiting out a shitload of information at a high rate on its screen. Sheila and C.T. joined suit, as Caboose and the three lieutenants stood watch at the open doorway. The dark-skinned man wondered if they were thinking along the same lines as he was about the room and the contents inside.

Given the reactions from the tech geniuses of their group and the screen they were currently gravitating towards, Tucker felt safe in assuming that that particular terminal was the one connected to the relay.

"How quickly can you do a data transfer?" C.T. questioned as Sheila pulled a wire out of her upper right arm and plugged it into the terminal that Doctor Grey had been gushing over.

"We're already starting it." Doctor Grey was tapping buttons on the control panel's smooth surface, humming excitedly as she worked, "Without one of the A.I. being here to help us it should take ten minutes, maybe?" She looked at Sheila who nodded her head to indicate that the dark-skinned woman's assessment was accurate, "It does look like there is a lot to transfer."

Ten minutes didn't seem too bad given that, but Tucker also knew that they were on something of a time crunch.

C.T. glanced at Wash with a frown no doubt on her face, "I don't know if we'll have that long." She stated, voicing what Tucker had been thinking.

Tucker piped up just then, feeling like they should at least try to look for some silver lining considering they'd actually gotten to the damn room without being killed, which was a pretty big plus in his book, "Eh, we'll just have to try and wing it."

Wash said nothing for a long while, having moved to stand behind C.T. and the other two females at the terminal along with Tucker. The blond seemed to be debating something as he watched the information flashing along the screen, before finally sighing and turning to face his childhood friend as she stood doing the same.

"Connie, about what's most likely in this data?"

Oh, right.

Tucker had forgotten that Wash, along with the other Above Grounders who had been working with Church and Carolina, actually knew a little bit more about all of this information on account of some intel-gathering mission they had gone on right around the time that the Resistance had made it up to the planet's surface.

Tucker didn't know all of the exact details on what had gone down with that mission, but he knew it had helped supply them with this base as the location of the relic and its general layout. Also that it had eventually gotten Theta back to North, and that it somehow revealed that Church was some kind of ghostly A.I. thing just like Theta and Delta were.

What the Slums dweller had been more interested in at the time was that the mission had given them the intel they'd needed to rescue his friend and his son, so he hadn't really been paying as much attention to anything else about it back then.

C.T. continued to glance over at Wash, "If you're worried I'll just be finding out about Hargrove's hand in what happened with Maine and Florida, don't worry." She smirked, "I'd already put that information together well before now, as had Tex and the others."

Tucker frowned, knowing there was probably more to that story than either of the two childhood friends felt comfortable saying out loud amongst people who weren't that much involved. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he did see Sheila glance questioningly at C.T.'s mention of whoever "Florida" was. However, the robot was too polite and too preoccupied with the data transfer herself to really interrupt the private discussion between the two Above Grounders over it.

Besides, the teal-armored soldier knew in general that Freelancer talk probably wasn't any of his business. Still, he couldn't help being curious anyways. Namely since C.T. was a friend and teammate, and the same could definitely be said for Wash now.

Fuck, if Tucker was being honest with himself, he kind of would just like to know more about Wash's past in general to sate his own curiosity, even if he wasn't quite sure why yet.

Actually, he found it interesting that Wash didn't seem at all surprised by C.T.'s statement.

Instead, the blond steeled himself to softly ask his childhood friend what appeared to be yet another uncomfortable question, "And what about him?"

From the way Wash asked, it was as if he hadn't been sure he wanted to bring it up at all. Judging by the sudden stiffness overcoming C.T.'s posture as she let loose a sharp intake of breath, that question was apparently a loaded and very fucking personal one.

Given what Tucker knew about C.T.'s past, he could take a guess as to who the "him" in the question was referring to.

The leader of the Insurrection.

He was someone C.T. had been very well acquainted with before everything had pretty much gone to hell, back before the Insurrectionist Leader had been killed trying to gain better conditions for the Slums. Tragically and upsettingly, that well-intentioned move by the Insurrection ended up ultimately making things about fifty times worse for everyone.

"Hargrove played the Insurrection in order to start up the conflict between the Slums and Above Ground again. Yes, I knew." The brunette's voice was oddly flat and steady as she took in a deep breath, turning away from Wash with body language that spoke volumes, "Let's just focus on making sure we get the proof of all of that now."

Everything about C.T.'s demeanor at the moment screamed hurt and sadness, still raw enough that Tucker could easily recognize it from his own when he thought about people he had cared about who he had lost. Suddenly he wanted to buy his teammate a damn drink to toast to memories and all that shit, because sometimes you just needed to do that with friends when reminded of that sort of loss.

"Right." Wash looked at his friend apologetically, and turned away himself.

Fuck it! If they all got back in one piece, Tucker was going to buy both Freelancers drinks in light of their renewed friendship given everything they had to overcome. One big old toast to everything and everyone that had been lost.

Then he was totally going to try to outdrink Wash again, because that last time hadn't been fair at all!

At least getting a copy of the information that had been sent and stored to this base on all of Hargrove's crimes would be a lot easier to use as evidence than what was in Church's head now, given apparent memory complications due to someone named Epsilon.

Tucker hadn't gotten the whole story on that either, as Church had decided telling people to back off whenever asked about it and giving them the finger for good measure was some kind of genius delaying tactic. Still, that would have been another option at least, provided if the asshole ever showed up again given how he and Carolina had disappeared earlier.

Waiting in uneasy silence following that awkward trip down uncomfortable Freelancer memory lane, Tucker's thoughts went back to Junior. Fuck, he really hoped that the air transport stayed hidden for as long as they were stuck here doing all of this.

His grip on his sword tightened somewhat. As an alien weapon, it served as a constant reminder of his son. Tucker had practically slept gripping the fucking thing the whole time that Junior had been held captive.

He breathed in and out deeply to try to steady himself and refocus his thoughts again on what they were doing here. Wash seemed to notice the change in his demeanor and, upon glancing at his sword hand, seemed to somehow even know exactly who was on Tucker's mind just then.

A gloved hand clasped his shoulder reassuringly, the gesture not nearly as awkward as it had been whenever Wash attempted it in the past, and Tucker wasn't sure when he had paid attention to that change or even when exactly it had started to occur, "He'll be fine, Tucker. We all will."

The Resistance fighter was surprised at how adamant Wash sounded. He blinked, grateful and taken aback all at the same time, "Yeah, but—"

"We're done!" Doctor Grey announced excitedly, clapping her hands together for added emphasis as Sheila pulled her wire out of the computer terminal.

A bullet flew past the two of them just then, embedding into the machine and sending sparks flying everywhere.

C.T. swore and turned towards where the attack had come from as everyone else did the same.

Wash actually stepped in front of Tucker, which was stupid and annoying in a way given the teal-armored fighter would need to be upfront in order to use his sword. You would think a badass super-soldier type would know that.

There was a shimmer in the air by the left wall of the room. Suddenly Locus came into view, his gun still aimed at the group crowded around the now smoking terminal as if in preparation for taking another shot.

"Good." The steel-and-green armored mercenary remarked in response to the doctor's earlier exclamation, "That makes things easier on my end."

---

The door to the back workroom closed with such finality behind them that Church pretty much felt it spoke volumes about the situation they were currently in and of itself. The A.I. remained silent, waiting to see how things would play out.

Church felt bad about not letting the others know what was going on exactly. Fuck, he couldn't even bring himself to really look at Simmons' and Doc's questioning glances as both he and Carolina followed the Director out of the main lab.

The Above Grounder knew that he probably owed both them and Sheila in particular a lot of answers given that he hadn't exactly told them before why he and Carolina had sent them away, or what they would were going to be doing during that time.

But, Church imagined even if they understood it to a degree, the idea of the two of them going on a revenge quest wouldn't have been something his team would be eager to allow. Basically because they were way-too-nice for their own good idiots sometimes.

Leaving them and Red Team with Wyoming was probably going to be really fucking awkward too given Wyoming's history with the Resistance. Surprisingly, apparently a bit more than anyone had actually known with Sarge due to the red-armored man's friendship with Captain Flowers. Seriously, shit like that reminded Church that this really was a fucking small world.

But, fuck it! This was something that was a private matter. Explanations could be given later. Maybe.

If he ever felt like it.

Besides, it wasn't like his team didn't have their own reason for being here and their own preparations to still get done.

It was a giant huge coincidence that the Director happened to be in the vicinity of the relic. Though they had been prepared to blow the shit out of the recently activated doomsday weapon if they came across it before the Resistance fighters had.

But, since they'd gotten there at roughly the same time, it looked like Red Team could handle that part while Carolina and Church had a long overdue meeting with a man that the Above Grounder wasn't entirely sure he even wanted to be in the same room with for longer than two seconds.

The only thing that made the situation remotely palpable was knowing that the Director wasn't going to be leaving this room at all following it, even if Church wasn't sure why that didn't exactly have him jumping for joy either.

He supposed Doc would tell him something about how that was because violence and revenge weren't the answers. But, quite frankly, there weren't any answers that would remotely be justifiable for what the asshole standing before them had done.

Violence and revenge were actually probably the least of the things he deserved. They would barely count as punishment at all.

Epsilon's memories were racing to the surface, and Church had to steady himself to make sure he didn't drown in the resurgence of all of the pain and anger they brought with them. There was so much long-suffering sadness and abandonment buried in those depths too.

In a way, he knew Carolina felt it as well. Their altered memories were only scratching the surface of it all. This wasn't going to be something for his teammates or the Resistance members to see.

The backroom had clearly been redesigned into a private workspace and possible live-in area for the Director during his time here. Church wondered how long he had been stuck here since the dissolution of Project Freelancer and the time when people started to notice he was missing, but then the A.I. reminded himself that he didn't really give a shit.

The place was messy and in disarray. While the man had always kept up the appearance of an imperious perfectionist while out in public, his personal life had been in shambles.

The Director's obsession with his work and research meant that if someone hadn't always been monitoring his environments and basic condition, he could lose himself in his tasks for days on end without realizing the mess he was leaving behind. The Director sometimes wouldn't even eat for days.

It had gotten worse since she had died. Since Allison was no longer there to force him to give a shit about his personal life.

A little girl with red hair watched him from the doorway, having tried unsuccessfully for the seventh time that day to get him to eat something. Or, to even say anything or look at her.

The only other thing Church could really say about the space they were currently in was that he really could have done without the video file looping incessantly on the large display in the background.

It was of a blond woman in fatigues preparing to depart for yet another mission that the Director didn't want her to go on. The video would always end the same, with the female talking about how she hated goodbyes.

From where she stood next to him, Church felt Carolina freeze in her tracks when she noticed the video that was playing. When she heard the all-too familiar voice, an odd tenseness in her body became apparent as she stared at the woman she had always tried racing towards but could never catch up with.

Allison.

The Director sat down at the chair in front of the screen, turning his back to them. His body language completely enthralled once again at the repeating images of the dead woman that showed up there. He seemed to have, at the very least, picked up on Carolina's reaction.

The Director asked her over his shoulder one question: "Would you like to watch this one with me, Carolina?"

Carolina stiffened, and Church knew she had witnessed scenes similar to this a million times over her lifetime. He knew how they had affected her too, something that the Director had never quite understood due to his fixation on his own grief.

At least this time, the older man took her silence as a refusal instead of just tuning her out.

The Director sighed, eyes never leaving the video, "I take it you two aren't here just to chat?"

Whatever slight thread of patience Church had was lost at that. Although, to be honest, it had been pretty much nonexistent already.

"You really think we'd track you down like this to shoot the shit?" The A.I. asked incredulously, "After everything you've fucking done?!"

Project Freelancer. Carolina and his altered memories of things that had never happened. Everyone turning against each other. Being split apart. Tex along for the ride. The Meta nearly killing everyone. Epsilon trying to kill himself in Washington's head.

Or, just the simple fact that Church was fucking forced to remember all of it.

The Director didn't even look back at them, didn't even react to the outburst, "I thought it necessary at the time."

"Bullshit!" Church exploded, taking a step forward as he felt a burning sensation in the back of his mind before remembering Sigma, then felt anger only to remember Omega a second later, "You fucking used us. You tore us apart! Of all the people to drag into that mess too you included Carolina, and Tex—"

"Director."

It was Carolina's voice speaking up just then that caused Church to pause in his rant, and he turned to look at her. Her body was stiff, but her tone was surprisingly even and a lot calmer than he would have expected given her reasoning for wanting to be here earlier.

The redhead had torn her attention away from the woman on the screen as her "cousin" had been yelling, her attention focused now on the man sitting before it who had never been able to do the same for her, "What are you doing here?"

The glasses-wearing man didn't look away from Allison, but he answered the Freelancer's question, "I was a 'guest' of Hargrove's for a time following what happened with Project Freelancer. I was forced to work on the alien artifact when it arrived some time earlier."

The older man did pause just then to cast a momentary glance at the door they had gone through earlier, "Those fighters out there. They plan on detonating it, don't they?"

Church scoffed at the statement of the obvious, "Better than that asswipe Hargrove using it to wipe out the Slums."

The Director gave a slight, surprising nod of agreement at the sentiment before turning around to watch the video again.

Church supposed he could understand that particular reaction at least. The Director was a monumental asshole, but the irony was that he hated Hargrove for similar reasoning to their own and being held captive by the man following the collapse of his own secret military project probably hadn't helped that sentiment any. The graying-haired man probably thought it was just as insane to let someone like Hargrove or his mercenaries have a hold of so much power as well.

"The blast is liable to damn well rip this entire mountain to pieces though." The Director remarked as casually as one might discuss the weather, "You'd never make it out of here in time."

Carolina looked thoughtful, "I take it that you have some way around that?"

As much as the idea of anything resembling an almost civil conversation with the Director churned at Church's digital and metallic insides, he managed with great effort to hold back on any sarcastic remarks at the moment. We are talking "this is clearly someone with the patience of a saint and he deserves a shitload of medals" type of effort here.

After all, the idea of Church and his friends getting killed on top of everything else didn't exactly sit well with the Above Grounder.

The Director nodded, eyes transfixed on the Allison on the screen still saying how she hated goodbyes, "I can control the blast's radius from here due to some programming I added in without any of Hargrove's men knowing. I can make sure it is contained in a localized area: this base and nowhere else."

The older man didn't turn around as he added with a careless shrug, "I would have to stay behind to enter in the final adjustments though."

Carolina didn't even bat an eye, looking from him to the image of Allison once more, "You were planning on doing so anyways."

The Director didn't even bother refuting her statement.

"Being here gave me time to dwell on things I had been avoiding." He stated at length, "There is a lot I have to make up for, Carolina. To the world at large for helping activate that monstrous thing. To her." The Above Grounder turned his green eyes then to look at her briefly, and the expression on his face was both sad and unreadable all at once while Church hated him for it all the same, "To you."

Without waiting for a reply, the Director shrugged before turning back to face the video feed, "This wouldn't even come close."

"No, it wouldn't." The redhead agreed, voice tight and controlled once more.

Then, just for a moment, her body language softened slightly and became hesitant. The Freelancer considered one of the weapons at her side before pulling the pistol out and setting it on the man's lap.

"Just in case someone who isn't too friendly tries coming in when we leave." She informed him, "I'd lock the door after us."

"Thank you, Carolina."

The Director hadn't stopped watching the video.

Carolina hesitated again, debating something, before leaning forward once more. Tentatively, unsurely even, Church noticed her resting a hand on the older man's shoulder and giving it a small squeeze.

The Director didn't react to the gesture, even though so much had been conveyed through it. Church wanted to shout all over again at him as Carolina pulled away, apparently not surprised at all. With that, she turned her back to leave.

"Carolina—!" Church tried protesting, some of his anger spilling out.

Coming here to face the Director, only to just be leaving things like this? It didn't feel right to him.

The redhead didn't turn around from where was standing near the door already, "Church." She took a deep breath, steadying her voice, "At least this way it will mean something."

As sucky as it was, he knew she was right.

The asshole who had messed with all of their lives was going to die still, even though it wasn't in a way Church would call satisfactory. Though, really, he doubted any way would have been for him. There was too much hurt and pain and regret for that to ever be the case.

At least with the Director choosing to go out this way, they could get everyone out of the base safely and still prevent the relic from being used.

"I can give you about twenty minutes once the charges and self-destruction sequences are set, but I believe they will be locking down the base beforehand."

Typical Director bullshit! That was definitely the type of thing someone probably should have mentioned before instead of wasting a shitload of time none of them really had. At this point though, Church didn't even have the energy to get as pissed off with the asshole as he should have.

Carolina nodded, "Understood, sir."

With that, she left the room without looking back. Church followed in her wake as the entire building started to quake all around them.

---

Following the tense standoff with Agent South Dakota, Kimball's group made its way cautiously closer to the base along with the orchid and green trim-armored Freelancer in tow.

It wasn't exactly a situation most in their group were happy about, and Kimball could understand the reasoning far too well from what she knew about the checkered pasts of her group. The aftermath of the trio's defection had left lasting scars. One of the most prevalent, of course, being the bullet that had been lodged in North's back by the very twin sister now with them.

Tex and York weren't entirely keen on having South in their midst given that, which was understandable concerning their history. Kimball knew that the two Above Grounders had very strong opinions when it came to people who abandoned or betrayed teammates.

The situation seemed especially hard for Tex, as she had been the one who carried North's body into the underground tunnels following South's betrayal. Both she and York had watched over their Freelancer friend as he recovered from the medical operations that had been necessary to keep him alive afterwards.

They had both helped in North's further recovery and rehabilitation, after the medical personnel in the Resistance said the blond would have extremely limited mobility given the wound. With both York and Tex helping in his therapy, North had thankfully been able to move with more mobility than had been originally expected. It was no wonder they were at unease with South's presence right now.

Currently, York simply cast a few wary looks in South's direction as they walked. The brown-haired man shook his head slightly when the woman cheekily shrugged back as if not caring about his reaction to her presence, acting more amused than really annoyed at the obvious unease he felt at her being there.

He would turn to make eye contact with North following those incidents though. North would simply shrug himself and shake his head, the motion an almost sad and resigned one that asked for patience on his friend's part.

York would grumble something under his breath then to Delta, who flickered and responded in an equally low voice. Apparently the two had their own opinions about the situation, but were trying to be respectful enough to North not to voice them out loud.

As for Tex? Well, Tex made her distaste for everything quite clear, and it was pretty apparent with her body language and the glares that she was sending South's way even with her helmet on that the only reason South was still standing at the moment was out of respect for North

Still, the redhead made no effort to hide the fact that she thought North's decision was a foolish one and not one that she agreed with either. The was made abundantly clear given the glare she would send her teammate's way that seemed to speak volumes about her opinion of the foolish risk she thought he was taking.

Kimball had a feeling that if South remotely moved in the wrong direction towards her brother, or really any of them, Tex would not hesitate to act on the perceived threat.

South's reaction to that seemed a bit more hostile as well compared to the almost jovial way she interacted with York's obvious distrust of her. She returned Tex's helmeted glare full-force whenever it was directed her way, and her body posture screamed "Just try me." whenever that occurred.

She seemed to thrive on challenges and conflict, as if that was a natural element of her personality. It was a stark contrast to North's usual calmness save in intense battle situations.

Yet, there was a definite oddness in the way South was reacting to her twin in particular now that they had spoken. Their initial meeting had been hostile, yes. Kimball definitely recognized it as being full of venom and anger. Some of it perhaps at least rightfully justified in South's view, quite a bit of it perhaps misplaced from a situation that none of the Freelancers had been completely prepared to be in.

But, it seemed that North's reaction to all of it, and his cautious forgiveness had caught South off-guard. The female twin was still trying to adjust to it.

She kept her distance from all of them when they moved forward, but South especially kept distant from her twin. While at times when she did look over at her brother and make eye contact with him it was always accompanied by disdain and contempt, it wasn't a challenge like it was with York and Tex.

No, if anything, there was a hesitancy and an awkwardness there. Maybe a part of South felt at least slightly guilty. Or she was just really put out of sorts by how her brother had reacted to seeing her again.

Kimball wasn't entirely sure that the Freelancer could be trusted, especially with North's comments to her following the twins' reunion. But, she supposed this was an example of an old bond that wasn't entirely ever fully capable of being severed completely.

Growing up and working together had probably left an impact neither Dakota sibling could ever fully erase, no matter how much they may have wanted to at times.

There was a flicker of purple nearby her head, and Kimball turned slightly to see that Theta had apparently decided to visit with her for a moment. York, Delta, and Tex were further ahead but always glancing everywhere just in case while the Resistance leader had been lagging slightly behind the others, with South and North directly in front of her in a way that formed a sort of triangle.

If she was being honest, her position in the back of the group was mainly because North's earlier words about South's tendency to catch people unaware had left her cautious about having her back exposed to his sibling. If nothing else, she thought from this vantage point that she could react quickly to any possible hostile move South might make towards her brother or one of the others.

C.T. had once said that it was smart to keep watch in the back if you find yourself in a group of Freelancers when discussing her former partners too, in light of what had happened between North and South.

"Are you worried about her as well?" The A.I. Fragment asked without preamble, glancing nervously at South as they walked.

Kimball considered the question. It made sense in a way that Theta wouldn't exactly have much beyond fear for South given that the woman had ripped him from North's neck awhile back, and her personality certainly did seem to be the type that would clash more with his shyer nature as well.

No doubt he was also just worried for his partner too.

"A little." She admitted finally, "Though I am worried for North too."

The blond certainly seemed understandably troubled by recent events, but North was trying to still act as if he was completely positive he had made the right choice for himself and for the others. Perhaps this was his way of dealing with the uncertainty, tension, and hurt that represented the twins' fractured relationship now.

The dark-skinned woman couldn't necessarily blame him for having the hope that maybe things could get better though, even if in this case she was having a hard time imagining just how such a damaged relationship could be repaired.

Still, hope was pretty much the only thing she ran on in some days, this one included.

"I am too." Theta looked between the twins nervously.

"What do you think of his decision, Theta?" Kimball asked, curious about the A.I.'s thoughts.

"I…I think North cares about his sister still, and that he was more sad than angry about what happened. That made me sad too." The Fragment paused, "He wants to give her a chance because of that."

Kimball nodded, though she remained silent since that hadn't really answered her question.

"Even though she scares me, I—I want to give her a chance too. For North." Theta continued, "Though I don't think I can forgive her just yet."

"That's fine. It takes a lot to forgive things like that." The Resistance leader stated quietly.

"M—maybe I will later though. If she gets nicer." The small purple figure didn't sound too sure that would happen, but he looked at the Slums dweller for reassurance that it was a good thing to at least keep the possibility open.

It was a very innocent and childlike quality. Even though Kimball herself wasn't the best when it came to matters of forgiveness all the time, she didn't have the heart to deny Theta that comfort.

"I think that would make North happy." She told him.

For some reason, saying that made her think of her arguments with Doyle. She couldn't help but frown within her helmet. The older Above Grounder had been a bit more open-minded in the last discussion they'd had, so she supposed it was only fair if she could try to keep that kind of possibility open with him too once this was all said and done.

"Thank you, Miss Kimball." Theta said in earnest, her words apparently enough to ease some of the worry on his mind if nothing else.

He gave a slight nod to her before he flickered away. The dark-skinned woman noticed Theta appearing again right next to North a couple seconds later, the Freelancer glancing back to offer her a slight nod in appreciation as well.

When she returned it, the Resistance leader was caught off guard by the fact that South had actually slowed down her steps a bit to have the two of them in closer hearing range of one another as the Freelancer regarded Kimball carefully.

"Something on your mind, Agent South Dakota?" The Slums dweller asked her, standing straighter.

She could make out some slight faltering in the other Freelancers' gaits, but they didn't step in or intervene just yet since South hadn't done anything that seemed to indicate a hostile intent towards the Resistance leader.

"Just noticed you telling the kid to at least try to give me a chance." The other woman remarked, "I was just surprised the leader of the Resistance would bother with that kind of shit."

"It was more for his and North's sake." Kimball told her, "If you are planning on sticking around."

"Who knows?" There was a definite smirk in South's voice just then, "I don't think my old teammates would appreciate that too much."

"If you did prove yourself trustworthy, you'd have a lot of people vouching for you." Kimball responded, "Your brother, for instance."

"He would be a dumbass idiot for doing so given what I did." South's reply was sharp and biting, "You know I'd do it again, right?"

Kimball knew. The anger was still there, coming off of her in waves.

"Yes." She glanced at South in that moment though, saw the hesitant look the Above Grounder shot at both North and Theta just then, "But you'd still feel conflicted over it."

"Because that's the shitty thing about trust and family." South remarked, "Doesn't change anything though. Doesn't change that I've been left in the dark no matter how many times I tried proving myself. Doesn't change that I want to break a whole lot of skulls over it."

"I wouldn't think it would." Kimball looked at the twin questioningly, "Any reason in particular you're sharing this information?"

South offered a shrug in response, "You're the only person here who probably doesn't want to try to kick my ass on a personal level, and I can at least respect you not mouthing off about stuff you don't know anything about to Theta or the other dipshits."

Kimball nodded, "Given how things are right now? If the skulls you want to break currently just happen to not be North or any of my friends, I'll leave it at that."

The dark-skinned woman didn't really have to add that the "currently" would change in an instant the second she did think South might go after her brother or someone else in the Resistance. Or that it was a temporary stave of the situation until they processed just what to do next.

Given the slight nod and odd look of respect it seemed South flashed her way, she figured that undertone of her wording had been very well-received.

Following that conversation, it took no time at all for Kimball, the Freelancers, and the handful of other Resistance fighters who had made it through the battle outside to enter the base proper. They were greeted by a large entry way opening into multiple corridors and stairwells that would lead all over the building.

As it turned out, however, Kimball had been right in her assessment that the supposed quietness of the facility once they had made it closer to the entrance and encountered South had been a ruse. The inside was far from deserted, with several soldiers and mercenaries pooling in from the various hallways and side-rooms the second the group had made their way to the center of the space.

There was a loud, slow clap coming from a right-side hallway that a dozen or so steel-armored mercenaries came from. She didn't even need to see the person making the obnoxious gesture to guess who it was.

"Hello, Vanessa." Felix greeted patronizingly from amidst his comrades, nodding at her before doing so to each of the others with her, "Random people I never bothered learning the names of. Freelancers. I gotta say, you guys are looking well for people who are about to die horribly."

He turned to South last, not even missing a beat at her presence there, "Ah, the angry chick! Good to know you're trying to patch things up with your goodie-two-shoes brother over there." He tilted his head slightly, "Or, are you are trying to shoot him again? Yeah, kind of hard to keep track of those troubling mood swings of yours when I don't really care enough to pay too much attention."

South glanced at North, her grip on her gun tightening, "When I figure that out I'll make sure you're the last to know, asshole."

"She's a peach. I can see why you'd be willing to forgive her." Felix remarked to North, "That really does call into question how good your sense of judgement is, buddy."

Before North could even get out any type of reply, Tex stepped forward. Apparently, the black-armored Freelancer had had enough of Felix's mocking attitude in light of her own thoughts on North's decision and the situation with South.

"Fuck off, Felix." She raised her gun and fired, aiming right for the middle of his visor.

The energy shield he activated deflected the bullet at the last moment, and the ammunition fell to the ground harmlessly by his foot.

He tsked loudly, shaking his head as if to scold a child, "Sorry, but that's not the way this is going to go down, Tex."

At that second, a loud noise that sounded like screeching metal burst through their ears, as the floor (no, more like the entire building) began shaking violently.

It took everything the Resistance group had to just stay on their feet, though fortunately it seemed to be just as much a struggle for the enemy troops as well so they weren't in danger of getting shot at just yet. Kimball turned her head slightly behind her, a growing sense of dread forming in her gut as she saw a sheet of what looked like solid metal blocking the entrance they had left often behind them.

Several of the hallways and doors that the mercenaries had stepped through were closing quickly as well, sealing them all inside.

Felix stood up quickly then, his body language as smug as his voice, "You see, in this stage of our plan? You guys are stuck in here, and we pick you off one-by-one before turning on our fancy new weapon. I like that plan a lot better than yours."

---

The air was heavy with a very tense, uncomfortable silence following the bullet hole that had lodged into the terminal screen just millimeters from Doctor Grey's head.

The dark-skinned woman had frozen in place just then, Sheila grabbing onto her arm as if to pull the human down to what minimal cover the floor might provide if Locus decided to fire another shot. The robot seemed to only be holding back for the off-chance that a sudden movement might provoke the mercenary into the very action she would be trying to prevent.

Caboose and Freckles were still trained on the open doorway, the V.I.'s incredible targeting capabilities and rapid-fire shooting hopefully enough to keep any other enemy soldiers that might be trying to head over to the room at bay while they had their standoff with Locus here.

Palomo, Andersmith, and Kaikaina had turned to focus their attention on said mercenary. With all three of the lieutenants targeting him, Locus was the focus of weapons from two different spots in the room given the gunsights also leveled at him from C.T. and Wash. Tucker's sword was at the ready as well.

Washington knew that Locus was an impressive shooter, but even he would have a hard time taking out all of them in this situation before sustaining some kind of injury. Which made why the mercenary had even chosen to reveal his presence to them all the more puzzling from a strategic stance.

The steel and green-armored fighter wasn't speaking, however, and they didn't exactly have the time or luxury for an intense stand-off given what they were up against.

"What did you mean by saying you had less to do now?" Wash finally asked, deciding to get things moving. If nothing else, a conversation would hopefully help most of the Resistance fighters get to better spots.

Locus glanced at the blond, his expression unreadable due to his helmet's darker visor and his body language in general tending to never give anything away, "I am free to just destroy the relay now without any concern that the information it was transmitting would be lost."

Out of the corner of Washington's eyes, he caught both C.T. and Tucker shooting him questioning glances. He understood why, really, as what Locus said didn't make any logical sense.

Given his work for Hargrove, it actually was in Locus' best interest to make sure the information that had been sent to this base about work on the relic and everything else was destroyed. Particularly if there was the slightest possibility it could get back to the rest of the Council in a reliable format before the Chairman's coup had been completed.

If Locus had been in here earlier, which seemed highly plausible given that the lieutenants and Caboose had been physically blocking the doorway ever since they had come here? Well, by that stance, the smartest risk prevention Locus could have done to ensure that the information wasn't copied or transferred was destroy everything and everyone in the room before that could even become an issue.

The fact that he hadn't, that he'd allowed them to create a full copy before destroying the machinery?

Suddenly, the lack of enemy troops on their way through the building that Washington had been more than just a little cautious about made an odd sort of sense. Of course, he wasn't quite sure yet how to wrap his head around it.

"You're the reason we haven't run into too many soldiers in here yet, aren't you?" The Above Grounder asked.

"What are you talking about, Wash? What did he have to do with that?" Tucker remarked from behind him, not yet getting what was going on. Next to the teal-armored soldier, C.T. seemed to understand what her childhood friend was getting at as he noticed her head turning to assess Locus and gauge the mercenary's reaction.

"Yeah!" Palomo spoke up just then, confused as well, "I sort of just assumed we got lucky."

C.T. was frowning underneath her helmet, "That type of luck usually doesn't exist in these situations, Palomo."

"No, it doesn't." Locus gave her a curt nod and she returned the gesture with a hostile glare through her visor.

Understandably, she wasn't exactly thrilled to be in his presence given what had happened between them in the past, even as she was apparently mulling this new information over.

"I'm not sure I'm really following, but this is definitely not the type of lucky I'd be looking forward to, right?" Kaikaina asked quietly.

Andersmith shook his head, "Doubtful."

"My type of lucky is hanging out with my friends. Also, playing with Freckles." Caboose supplied then, "Oh! Playing with Freckles and a basket of puppies! That would be the best luck ever!"

"AGREED!" His gun shot a bit of confetti into the air just then.

Locus apparently decided to ignore all of the conversation around them and focus again on Washington's earlier question. That was probably for the best, considering Washington was fairly certain his own brain was about to explode at the way the conversation had turned once the term "lucky" had been thrown into the mix.

Locus nodded at the steel and yellow-armored Freelancer, "I told Felix that I believed only one or two Resistance fighters made it to the upper levels. More than enough for me to handle on my own and still destroy the relay."

That definitely explained the lack of soldiers they had been encountering since entering the building but still, regardless, it also didn't make a ton of sense.

"Why?" The blond asked instead, the finger on the trigger of his gun tightening minimally.

Locus shrugged, seemingly uncaring about the standoff happening around him, "Does it really matter?" He asked instead, "Considering what's about to happen, I've given you a fighting chance. Provided you can meet up with your allies."

As the mercenary spoke, the room (no, more like the entire base) suddenly started to quake violently around them.

Doctor Grey fell on top of Sheila with a shriek. Caboose and Andersmith held onto the sides of the doorway to keep themselves upright. Kaikaina and Palomo both fell backwards, and probably would have fallen into the hallway had it not been for the two others outstretching their arms to block them from doing so. C.T. gripped one of the computer terminals close by with her free hand, her gun still trained on the impassively standing Locus.

Washington could hear Tucker swearing behind him as he did the same with a terminal close by. The Freelancer shot out his other arm without looking back, not making a comment at all when Tucker latched on to it to keep from falling right into his back.

The second the shaking lessened, Doctor Grey shot upright regardless of the threat of Locus still in the room, racing over to one of the displays that was now flashing an image of the outside of the base.

"Oh no, oh no!" She took in a deep breath to keep from sounding too panicked at the sight of a thick wall completely covering the structure, "The bulkheads have been sealed!"

"What the actual fuck?!" Tucker's grip on Washington's arm tightened to the point where, if they both hadn't been wearing armor, the Freelancer was fairly certain he would be leaving marks there.

Washington stared at Locus then. That had been the plan all along. Seal the Resistance inside and finish them off when they attempted to destroy the relic.

If Locus had given them "a fighting chance" as he said by not attacking them and diverting troop attention away from them, what did that mean for their allies elsewhere in the facility? Was that what the mercenary had meant by Blue Team needing to still get to them?

"I suggest you take it." Locus concluded, as if the events from a moment before hadn't just occurred and he was still finishing a conversation that had never been so violently interrupted.

"Fuck!" Tucker had let go of his arm and Washington wasn't sure why he almost felt disappointed, turning to the others, "We have to go!"

"Right." Andersmith nodded, "General Kimball and the others are in danger!"

"We are as well if we cannot find a way out of here." Sheila remarked, her normally polite and calm voice sounding a bit terse given the situation, "I will try to get a hold of Lopez."

"Thanks, Sheila." Tucker gave her an appreciative nod as both she and Doctor Grey raced towards the exit of the room with C.T. covering them.

Washington was about to turn as well when he paused to glare at Locus again, still not at all sure of the man's actions.

"Why?" He repeated.

Locus stared at the display he had shot through before, "Let's just say you weren't the only one who has been led astray, Agent Washington."

Then Tucker was back in the room after having ushered the rest of his team through the door and out into the corridor, just as a loud wailing siren that Washington recognized as a self-destruct warning blared to deafening life all around them, "Wash! Come on, we've got to hurry!"

Tucker was pulling on the Above Grounder's arm frantically, and Locus was gone in the sudden cacophony that had erupted. Washington swore, allowing Tucker to turn him towards the door as the two ran after the others.

---

The loud noise that suddenly filled the base and caused everything to shake violently had Bitters swearing up a storm.

Red Team had just finished setting up the explosives around the relic. It was enough to choke a horse, Sarge had declared afterwards, though what choking an old Earth animal had to do with blowing up a doomsday weapon was beyond the lieutenant's comprehension. Still, the self-destruct system would help ensure the rest from what they had been told earlier.

It was probably something of a goddamned miracle that the quaking hadn't caused some sort of chain reaction and set everything off early.

For a moment, Bitters almost forgot that they were on the planet's surface since there were no windows in this research area to the outside given how deep inside the center of the base it was. He thought for a moment that they were down in the mining tunnels around the Slums again. The shaking there was always a bad thing, as that usually meant a tunnel could be in danger of collapsing all around you.

In hindsight, since they were on the side of a goddamned mountain currently, violent shaking here probably wasn't any better here. Particularly if said shaking caused a shitload of snow and rocks to come crashing down over the place.

Bitters stumbled, gripping onto a railing nearby to steady himself.

The lieutenants had all huddled together in a group following setting up the explosives around the relic that didn't really appear to be the all-menacing threat everyone knew it to be based on just initial viewing. Still, it was clearly activated now since it was glowing and humming rather eerily.

Bitters had seen the read-out specs flicking across the screens around the lab though and, while he didn't really know scientific terminology or what they really meant, he had come to the conclusion that the energy readouts from the relic were huge considering the large numbers that were scrolling there at a constant pace.

Matthews had been standing next to him when they shaking started, and the young man's loss of footing was even worse since he wasn't close enough to the railing to grab onto it. He dove headfirst towards the ground, Bitters' outstretched arm grabbing tightly around his elbow and pulling him right up next to him. The grip being the only thing that kept the auburn-haired lieutenant from falling down completely.

The yellow-trimmed rookie shot him a grateful look, and Bitters only nodded. No way was he letting the stupid suck-up fall and knock himself out if he could avoid it. He even kept a firm, steadying grip on the other's elbow even after the shaking subsided.

"What was that?" Jensen shouted from nearby.

She and Volleyball had been close enough to the railing to grab a hold of it themselves when the shaking had started. The younger girl was still gripping on to it for dear life, even after her pink-trimmed friend experimentally and cautiously let go once things seemed to stabilize.

When the shaking had started, Sarge had been "catching up on old times" with the mercenary Wyoming nearby the door that the female Freelancer and that Church guy had gone through with the Director fellow. Evidently, while they hadn't been "close" to one another during his time in Above Ground and he made it pretty obvious he didn't trust the white-armored man as far as he could throw him, the two had shared an acquaintance in the past that apparently kept Sarge from following through with his throwing threat. At least for the moment.

Apparently neither Sarge nor Wyoming were entirely sure about what Carolina and Church wanted the Director guy for either. Bitters was fairly certain most of the people around didn't know the full story about him, and he doubted that they'd ever know the whole thing.

It wasn't like he really cared either way. So long as whatever was going on there didn't bite any of them in the ass any more than it already had, everything was okay with him.

"Everyone all right?" The Red Team leader called out just then, having used the wall to steady himself while Bitters looked around to survey the area.

"That can't be good." Wyoming muttered from next to Sarge.

"Oh, we're just fine, sir! This isn't even close to the worst tumble I've had!" Donut spoke up from where he had fallen into Doc's lap just a few seconds before.

Unfortunately, both of them had been out in the middle of the floor when the shaking occurred so they'd had no way to keep from losing their balance completely. Though, from the looks of their positions and everything, it did not seem as if the two really minded all that much since they hadn't been injured.

Simmons had been standing near some computer terminals on the other side of the lab with Lopez. Apparently, Church had insisted on it on account of the cyborg having more sensitive hearing. He hadn't wanted the maroon-armored soldier picking up on whatever private discussion he and Carolina were currently having with the Director guy.

The redhead groaned from where he was gripping onto the computer terminal with such force that his hands actually left imprints. Looking up at something that was on display there, he gasped.

"Oh, fuck me." Simmons muttered, "We're sealed in."

"Y, por supuesto, el temporizador de autodestrucción acaba de comenzar también. Porque nuestro tiempo siempre es una mierda." {"And of course the self-destruct timer just started too. Because our timing always sucks."}

The others raced over to crowd around Simmons and Lopez just then, staring in horror at the display screen that showcased what appeared to be the entire base covered with some kind of metallic shielding.

No wonder there hadn't been too much fighting on their way here. Even with the enemy forces thinking their biggest threat was Kimball's group given the way the initial attack phase had gone, they hadn't really been planning on launching any real "offensive" fighting until the Resistance was locked inside with nowhere to go.

No doubt they'd expected the scientists and researchers here to have just kept the lab sealed tight until afterwards so the relic would be untouched. It was only the Director's apparent turnabout that had put a halt to that side of the ambush.

Almost sadly ironic to think of now considering that meant they'd all be blown up in about twenty minutes or so, even if they weren't killed off by whatever soldiers had been lying in wait for this moment.

"So, the plan was always to seal us inside and finish us off that way?" Sarge asked out loud, having put things together himself given how things had just played out, "Diabolical."

"Por favor, no impresionar por las cosas que probablemente conducirán a nosotros morir." {"Please don't be impressed by things that will likely lead to us dying."}

"Lopez is right, we can't stand here impressed all day!" Donut exclaimed, his hand gripped tightly around Doc's, "Now's definitely the time for some action!"

Lopez nodded at the pink-armored man's comment.

"Por una vez, estoy de acuerdo con eso. Eso sí, no añadimos nada extraño y vamos a considerar esto un puto milagro." {"For once, I can agree with that. Just don't add in anything strange and we'll consider this a fucking miracle."}

"We are so fucked." Bitters muttered under his breath, barely noticing Matthews touching his shoulder tentatively as if to reassure him.

"So, what do we do now?" Doc asked nervously from his spot next to Donut, his eyes flickering back to the relic that was now set to blow up way too soon, "We're stuck inside here and that means…"

"Things aren't looking too good." Volleyball finished for the medic after he trailed off helplessly, her voice more grim-sounding than Bitters had ever remembered hearing the sports-enthusiastic girl sounding.

The door opened to the backroom that the three others had gone into before, but it was only the cyan-armored Carolina and cobalt-wearing Church who emerged. With quick, meaningful steps they both made their way over to the huddled group.

"You're right about that," Church informed the blonde before pressing a button on the computer terminal they were gathered around and bringing up what looked like a blueprint of a level they had passed by on their way to the lab before, "But the good news is that there's a nearby area used to house transports that has weaker wall protection from the outside than the rest of the base due to some structural integrity bullshit or something. A strong enough blast from outside the base there should be enough to punch a hole right through that will be large enough for us to get out."

Wyoming looked at him curiously, "I suppose the Director provided that little bit of information?"

Church shrugged, "The asshole owes all of us a hell of a lot more than that, but at least we can use it."

The former Freelancer nodded, glancing over at the door they had come through just then, "I take it he isn't going to be joining us on this escape mission?"

"No." This time it was Carolina's turn to speak up, her voice stony, "Someone has to remain behind to make sure the blast is contained."

"Ah." If the idea of a man he used to work for remaining behind to help ensure a successful explosion upset the British-accented mercenary, he did not show it in the slightest. Nor did he seem to comment on whether or not whatever he guessed had happened in the room was a surprising turn of events or not from what he had perhaps assumed it would be.

"Like I said, he fucking owes us." Church repeated, anger sharp in his tone.

"But we're all stuck in here and there are no explosives left outside the base!" Doc spoke up again, bringing the topic back to the more pressing concern they all had.

Lopez, Sarge, Simmons, and the four lieutenants shared a look just then. It was as if they were all collectively remembering something that was more vital now than it had felt like it would be at the time.

"That isn't necessarily true." Jensen stated quietly, causing the people gathered there who weren't privy on Sarge's last minute backup plan to turn in order to look at her questioningly.

"She's right. Thanks to the ingenious prepping of Red Team, there's still a bit of firepower out there." Sarge said, his voice proud, "The problem being we'll need to get a message out somehow."

"Yeah," Simmons had a frown in his voice as he looked at the shielding specs on screen once more, "Communication with the outside is going to be tough with the comm-links cut off inside the base."

"We've only been able to keep in touch with Blue Team because of Lopez and Sheila!" Donut quipped.

"Hablando de eso, me pondré en contacto con Sheila ahora. Para ver si ella y los demás están bien." {"Speaking of, I will contact Sheila now. To see if she and the others are okay."}

"Leave that to us." Carolina looked at Wyoming expectantly, her gun already in hand again, "Wyoming, is your armor's temporal distortion enhancement still functioning?"

The white-armored mercenary sighed, resignation sagging his shoulders somewhat, "Well, I should have figured this would happen."

---

Dexter Grif was pretty certain by this point that he hated waiting.

Sure, he'd never been a big fan of it before. Not unless said waiting involved the chance to nap or eat when he would otherwise be deprived, but that was usually for normal shit that didn't really have much impact on anything.

Waiting was definitely worse in these types of life-or-death situations, such as the one he currently found himself in. They were either just waiting for some attack on the air transport they were guarding, or on word that the mission had either succeeded or failed.

To put it in simple terms, it sucked.

Especially when said mission not only involved the fate of the crummy place he still affectionately called home, but also all of his friends and comrades who had volunteered for it too.

His sister, Tucker, his teammates, the lieutenants, Kimball, the Freelancers (although he halfway suspected that Tex could survive damn near anything at this point). …Simmons.

He groaned, the motion causing Junior to glance at him questioningly from where the small child had been sitting nearby on the opposite side of the open back of the transport.

"Blarg?" Tucker's son asked, tilting his head to the side questioningly before glancing nervously back outside into the snowy expanse of Sidewinder.

With the wind whirling around as it had been, they'd lost sound of the fighting minutes after the Resistance groups had split up and were gone from sight. But, there was no doubt that it was still raging on regardless.

Grif winced, knowing that the waiting was no doubt just as shitty for the half-alien as it was for him considering that Tucker was out there along with all of Junior's friends too.

The orange-armored soldier was the adult in this scenario, even if he kind of hated to admit it. He needed to act like it.

"Sorry, kiddo," The tan man mumbled, "Just thinking about stuff."

"Honk." From the knowing look filtering through Junior's eyes, it seemed as if he understood enough to know exactly what Grif had most likely been thinking of.

Really, it probably wasn't too hard to guess. Given how subdued Junior was behaving in general, he knew that the child was thinking about it too.

"Hey, I'm sure your dad's fine." He tried saying cheerily, "He's got not only C.T. but that crazy new Freelancer guy to watch his back. Not to mention Kai and Freckles."

Junior seemed to perk up slightly at the name-droppings, nodding his head enthusiastically to the reassurance: "Blarg!"

Well, even if Junior was still nervous, it was the type of comfort anyone in this situation would be wanting to take and hold onto right about now, particularly at his age. Grif couldn't help but smile slightly, shifting a bit in his standing position as he did so before immediately wincing within the confines of his helmet at the sharp pain that motion wracked his body with.

Fuck!

It looked as if the heavy-duty pain killers that Doctor Grey had given him before she'd joined up with Blue Team for their part of the mission were starting to wear off. Which sucked majorly because he could really almost forget when they were at their strongest just how messed up his body still was.

At that moment, Doyle came over to stand with the two of them, looking out over the snowy expanse as well. Four Seven Niner would occasionally peak her head in their direction and ask how things were, but she was wisely staying up front in the cockpit.

It made sense, really, considering the air transport was going to be vital for getting out of here should the need arise. Or for possibly getting to someone if, for whatever reason, they might need an emergency evacuation.

Grif tried not to think of anything too extreme that might qualify as such an emergency, though that didn't keep the thoughts from racing to his head of his sister or Simmons or someone else lying shot and bleeding in the snow.

"I am sure they are doing fine." Doyle spoke up to no one in particular, his voice hopeful and encouraging.

Junior and Grif glanced at one another. The poor guy probably was as much a ball of nerves as they were, waiting like this.

"However, it's too bad the shielding inside the base disrupts communication from outside military channels." The middle-aged man continued, "Would make wondering what is going on a lot less nerve-wracking."

The two looked at the Above Grounder, Grif raising an eyebrow.

"Was that supposed to be a comforting thought?" The Resistance fighter asked him, "Because if it was, you might want to rephrase it. Just a tad."

"Oh! Um, yes! My apologies." Even in full armor, Doyle looked sheepish as he fidgeted awkwardly between Grif and Junior, "I shouldn't have paused so long. What I was trying to say was that, even though waiting here is a trial, we really shouldn't have much to worry about. Sarge is an excellent soldier, your friends are all tested fighters by this point and, even if we had our disagreements in the past, Miss Kimball's strategy was sound. So, I am sure things are progressing as planned."

This whole situation was hard on the older man too, Grif knew. He had to give Doyle credit for even trying and not just giving up by curling into a ball somewhere given how unfortunately he'd been roped into all of this mess with them.

"Probably should have led with that, don't you think?"

A new, annoyingly familiar voice spoke up just then from right in front of the platform.

"Son of a bitch!" Grif swore, his gun aimed at the Freelancer already as Junior, obviously remembering the man too, bolted up into a ready-to-attack posture.

"Blarg!"

Because Wyoming's armor was white, he'd been able to sneak right up to the transport in the swirling snowstorm without them even noticing until he decided to speak. That didn't exactly boast well for their guard duty run.

"Hello, chaps, I'd say it was good to see you all again if, well, you know the situation." Wyoming seemed oddly nonplussed at their reactions, nodding his head slightly at both Junior and Doyle, "Good to see the little alien isn't any worse for wear after the last time I saw him, and you're the second of Butch's old friends I've met today. Quite the small world, I guess."

"You were friends with Flowers?" Doyle was so thrown off by the remark that he hadn't reacted as hostilely as Grif and Junior did to the newcomer in their midst.

Granted, he also didn't have the same bad past experiences of dealing with the Freelancer-turned-mercenary as they did, so that was to be expected.

"Something like that. Teammates too." Wyoming looked around cautiously, "I don't suppose there's any chance I could come in to do this chat? Armor helps, but it is still a bit nippy out in the open like this."

"Blarg!" The venom in Junior's voice was pretty apparent even if you didn't understand his language.

"Give us one damn reason why we shouldn't just try shooting you!" Grif added in.

Wyoming seemed more amused than anything else as he replied, "Beyond wasting bullets in the attempt?"

There were footsteps from further inside the transport, stopping just a few paces behind Doyle.

"Wyoming." Four Seven Niner said in way of greeting, momentarily offsetting the tenseness of the situation by her appearance, "Wouldn't think you'd have the guts to get anywhere close to one of my transports again after that last time."

"Hello, Niner. Always a pleasure." Wyoming's voice was nothing but pleasantries when speaking to the pilot, "There's really no need to get out the hose this time."

"I suppose not, considering that Florida isn't with you." She sounded almost sad for a second, though whatever tilt the conversation had gone in was more or less lost on everyone else save her and the white-armored man. Doyle did seem as if he was about to ask someone about what they were discussing, but held back out of unsureness over what was going on.

"The gun you're hiding behind your back is also completely unnecessary." Wyoming informed her.

Four Seven Niner didn't even seem surprised in the slightest that he'd caught on to that, pulling the weapon out for everyone to see and shrugging her shoulders in the process.

"I take it you won't be expecting an apology?" She asked instead.

He shrugged, "Perfectly acceptable response to this type of situation."

Wyoming then turned his attention back to the others, who still seemed to be viewing him with a whole lot of contempt and distrust, "Let's just skip all of this unpleasantness, all right? I understand we haven't been on the best of terms but, believe me, if I wanted to kill you right now, I wouldn't have bothered going to the trouble of making myself known beforehand."

"He's right." The pilot spoke up quietly, "Though it's the only thing I can say for certain about what he's doing here."

"Oh, that part is fairly straight forward." Wyoming jerked his head back in the direction where the base was situated, "There's been some complications, and your friends need a pretty big favor."

Without further explanation, Wyoming walked up the ramp, stopping only to glance at both Junior and Grif in amusement and expectation at their still wary stances.

Reluctantly, the two eased up their body postures when facing him, though what the Freelancer had said was enough to nearly cause a huge panic amongst the small group gathered there.

"What the fuck do you mean by 'complications'?!" Grif demanded, "What's going on?"

Fuck, if someone was hurt or worse! Grif tried not to think of Kai or Simmons. He couldn't even look over at Junior because he knew he would think of Tucker too.

A small, humanoid figure flickered to life next to Wyoming just then. However, all of them were used to how suddenly A.I. partners appeared at this point, so no one batted an eye given what they had just been told.

"Gary, if you could?" Wyoming asked.

"Of course." Gamma's oddly garbled voice stated.

There was an odd beeping sound, and suddenly a whole lot of static was streaming through the air.

"Are we good to go?"

Grif stiffened at the familiar sound of Sarge's voice filling the transport.

Four Seven Niner looked impressed, "Well, that's one way to bypass the communication shielding."

"Yes, using the Fragments as comm-links was a rather clever idea the Director never quite got around to testing." Wyoming muttered.

"Fuck you! I'm not a goddamned radio!"

That was Leonard Church's voice, which Grif was a little more surprised to hear considering the de-facto leader of Simmons' military unit in Above Ground hadn't come along with his team when he had made them go to the Resistance before.

But, glancing at Wyoming just then, the Slums dweller supposed saying there had been complications with whatever the fuck had happened inside the base was an understatement.

"Well, it is nice that we can rely on you in case of an emergency like this one!" Doc's voice filled the space now.

For some reason, Grif was getting a very clear mental image of a whole lot of people probably all clustered around Church like how they were with Gary now. Despite knowing that something big was happening, he couldn't help but inwardly snicker at the mental imagery that provided considering how so not a people person the Above Grounder was.

"Doc, if doing this didn't freeze my robot body, I swear I would hit you."

"What the fuck is happening?" Grif asked, really unsure of pretty much everything at this point.

"Oh, hey! Is that Grif?" Donut's voice chimed in then, and he could totally picture his cheery teammate waving, "Hi, Grif! Is Junior and everyone else okay?"

"Honk!" The boy in question shouted in response.

"That's the spirit, little buddy!"

He could hear Church groan, "Catching up and all is fun to do, but we seriously don't have fucking time for this."

"He's right." Sarge's voice spoke up, surprisingly somber, "To put it bluntly, things are looking mighty bleak."

Doyle took in a deep breath, "What happened?"

"Well, we found the relic and it's set to blow so that part of the plan actually went pretty dang well." Sarge recalled, "But, Felix and his cohorts have sealed the base to take us all out."

Grif realized what that meant a second later, "So, even if you guys do defeat them, you'll be stuck in the base then with a bomb about to blow up."

He was surprised at how calmly he managed to say that, as on the inside he was about two seconds away from screaming and either hitting something or running. Perhaps having this conversation in this way, with disembodied voices, was at least in part helping to keep that urge at bay for the moment. It was almost tricking his mind a bit into thinking that things weren't as bleak as he knew they damn well were in this case.

"That's the really crappy part, yeah." Sarge didn't even add an insult for his least favorite subordinate, which definitely hit home to Grif just how bad things must be.

Goddamn it! It wasn't fair! This whole fucking thing happened because that Hargrove asshole wanted to blow up their fucking home just because he could. So, in stopping him, everyone was going to die?

How was that even remotely right? The orange-armored soldier really was about to scream and panic.

"Grif?"

It was Simmons' voice coming over the radio that stopped him from doing so. Grif blinked, staring at Gamma since the A.I. was the only connection they had currently to what was going on in the base.

"Yeah, Simmons?" He was surprised at how steady his voice was.

"Um, well, things could definitely be better, but it's not all bad." He wasn't sure if Simmons was trying to reassure Grif or himself, and he couldn't help but smile at the effort considering how scared Simmons sounded just then.

Dumbass nerd.

"He's right. So don't start blubbering just yet, numb nuts." Sarge was speaking up again, "Because thanks to my brilliant contingent strategies, there's still a chance we can all get out of here in one piece!"

"No fue una estrategia contingente. Sólo quería una excusa para hacer estallar cosas. Fue una coincidencia que resultó ser útil en esta occasion." {"It wasn't a contingent strategy. You just wanted an excuse to blow stuff up. It was a coincidence it turned out to be useful this time."}

"Lopez, I know you want to encourage everyone, but we have to let Sarge explain the plan!" Donut remarked.

"Si él puede explicarlo y lo han sentido antes de que todos volamos, voy a ser impresionado." {"If he can explain it and have it make sense before we all blow up, I will be impressed."}

"Er, so what is this contingency exactly?" Doyle asked, apparently thinking it was time to move things along now that they knew they had a set timeframe.

"Before the fighting started, Sarge had us store a whole lot of explosives in a ground transport just in case of an emergency." Jensen's voice came on to explain, "I think I left the engine on, so you can tell which one it is!"

"This is why no one really likes you getting near vehicles." Bitters was muttering from further away.

"Actually, Jensen having done that now is a blessing in disguise since it means the transport will be easy to find." Volleyball was quick to come to her friend's defense.

"Not to mention they won't have to wait for it to warm up in this weather." Matthews stated as well.

Bitters sighed: "Fine."

"Moving things along, there's a weak spot in the shielding sealing us in at a lower level of the base, on its right side." He hadn't heard her in a while, but Grif recognized Agent Carolina's voice from when she had inadvertently helped save his ass awhile back in the Slums and from when he'd been recovering from his injuries at Simmons' house just a short while ago, "Wyoming can give you the exact coordinates."

Grif put two and two together just then, "So if we drive the transport through this weak spot—"

"The high amount of explosive materials in it should blast a hole right through!" Simmons finished his thought for him, both nervous and excited all at once.

"Then we all just push into that hole as best we can, even if it's a tight fit!" Donut followed through.

"We don't have much time before the explosion happens." Sarge remarked, "So we'll be heading there pronto."

"Understood." Doyle stated, "We'll get that transport ready."

"Much obliged."

Gamma flickered for a moment, and then Delta's voice came through the air.

"We heard the plan as well." The A.I. Fragment stated calmly, though it sounded like a very large firefight was going on around him, "It is the most logical one given current circumstances."

In the background, voices that sounded like North, York, Tex, and Kimball were shouting. But, it was vague and hard-to-pick-out what they were saying. He could almost hear that asshole Felix gloating about something though, and one really loud female voice he couldn't quite place above the rest.

Kimball pulled back from the fighting for a moment to say something close to the A.I., "We're going to try to keep our keep comm-links silent so that the soldiers don't realize what we're planning, but everyone should move to the weak point as soon as possible. Don't worry about us and just go!"

Another flicker of Gamma's form, and suddenly Theta was talking.

"I had Blue Team listening in too!" The childlike A.I. Fragment remarked cheerfully, "North asked me to help bring them up to speed."

"Fuck yeah!" Tucker's voice came through then too, "He's always an awesome help!"

Junior perked up at the sound of his father's voice, "Honk?"

"Hey, Junior!" Tucker's voice couldn't contain the grin he was no doubt flashing for his kid's sake, "We'll be back soon once we light this sucker up!"

"We have a bit more ground to cover to reach the exit point, but we'll be there soon as well." C.T. stated, "We'll also try and see if we can't provide assistance to Kimball's team along the way too."

Whether or not Kimball would argue that point was uncertain, given how their side of the conversation had gone silent no doubt due to the pressure to keep fighting with Hargrove's forces.

"Hey, bro!" Kai's voice sprang out, though she sounded slightly winded as if she was in the middle of running, "I only got part of that because I wasn't really paying attention, but we're kicking ass!"

Grif groaned, "Just get to the goddamned extraction point as soon as you can, Kai!"

"You can't tell me what to do, asshole!" His little sister was so sticking her tongue out at him, "But we'll be there, no worries."

There was a slight pause then, before she spoke up a little more awkwardly and low, "Just don't do anything really dumb like still be in the car when it explodes, okay?"

The tan man couldn't help but smile a bit at the worry in her voice, "I can make that deal, so long as you're not in the building when it blows up either."

"See you guys soon then." Tucker finished the conversation for their side as well, no doubt due to having to focus on staying on the move.

Which just left them back with Red Team.

"Well, best to not dilly-dally then." Sarge remarked with a sigh, "Let's get to that exit point. Hopefully we'll be able to shoot some no-good mercenaries along the way!"

Church let out a sigh, apparently relieved at not having to be a living radio anymore, "Fucking finally!"

There was the sound of movement from that line, but for some reason the comm-link was still active. It only took a few seconds to figure out why.

"H—hey, Grif?" It was Simmons again.

Grif could hear Church grumbling something in the background, but apparently he wasn't a jerk enough to simply sever the link on his teammate.

"Yeah, Simmons?"

It was weird communicating like this. Grif actually wanted to go and find the transport because they really didn't have a ton of time, but he didn't want to just leave Simmons hanging there either. It was an odd conflict of emotions he didn't exactly have the time or luxury to dwell on now.

There was a pause and an awkward shuffle from the cyborg's end, "Be careful, asswipe. Don't die."

He couldn't help but smile, "Same to you, kiss-ass. Try not to get shot before the rescue gets there."

Then the line closed out completely, leaving the group of six standing there awkwardly as the immense pressure of a very volatile and timed situation loomed over all of their heads.

"So, who will be driving?" Wyoming remarked just then as he glanced at Junior, "I doubt this little one here could even reach the controls, so he'll be staying."

"Blarg!" Junior glared at him angrily but apparently agreed with the Freelancer's sentiment, stewing over how unfair it was.

"Niner is best served staying here to pilot this ship." The mercenary deduced, "Which leaves…"

The Above Grounder trailed off as he turned to Doyle and Grif.

"Ah, so you're not volunteering then?" Four Seven Niner asked before he could finish his thought.

"I did my part by helping to set up this whole plan." Wyoming explained with a shake of his head, "Quite a bit of this has been at considerable loss of profits as it stands. If this whole thing fails, I can always just get a job for another Council member provided my association in this matter remains under the radar."

"Pragmatic as always." The female pilot didn't seem to have too much of an opinion on his reasoning either way.

Doyle looked nervous but stepped forward anyways, "I don't really know anything about driving transports in this weather or terrain, but—"

"I'll do it."

All of them turned to look at Grif then, the chubby man already heading back towards the open ramp.

"B—but your injuries!" Doyle tried protesting.

It was really bad timing just then when a sharp pain stabbed at Grif from his left side, but he gritted his teeth and tried not to make it too noticeable.

"If you die, we'll lose a really big chance at getting peace with the Council when this is all over with." The Resistance fighter reasoned instead, "So, you need to stay here and make sure none of these guys get into trouble."

"But—!"

Grif tried looking nonchalant as he interrupted whatever protest the older man was going to throw is way, "Besides, once I get into the transport, all I really have to do is sit and try not to bleed all over the place until I get to the wall. That shouldn't be too hard."

---

Okay, so maybe the reality was a little harder than what he had tried selling to Doyle and the others. Getting to said vehicle hadn't even been the most difficult part, though that was certainly tricky given the terrain he had to cover.

Grif offered a silent note of thanks for Jensen having left the damn thing on though, because seeing the slight puff of smoke from the machine and hearing the hum of the vehicle helped him figure out where it was in the icy conditions of Sidewinder. Plus, the bulky crates it contained pretty much everywhere save the driver's seat was another big giveaway.

No, getting into the car while moving a few pieces of volatile material out of the way for good measure, then heading shakily and unsteadily down the mountain towards where the base had proven to provide a shitload of difficulty.

The Resistance fighter had to give the crazy old man credit though with just how efficiently he had packed the transport to the brim with lethal explosives. There was surely enough in it to have Caboose exclaiming about fireworks for years to come. Yes, when Sarge wanted to blow shit up, he really wanted to blow shit up.

Grif was fairly certain there was no way in hell that type of storing or shipping of that number of explosives was remotely legal in either the Slums or Above Ground. Not that he was going to be complaining about his sergeant's obvious love for destruction at this point when it was, ironically enough, probably what was going to help save everyone for once.

The pain medication had also been steadily wearing off as time progressed ever since Wyoming had shown up. Flares and spikes of agony were shooting into Grif's body at an increasing rate any time he so much as moved a certain way, which hadn't helped the trek to the transport any.

Or that time when a sudden jolt on the less-than-smooth ground as he was driving caused him to bite down on his lips to keep from shouting. Also, eyes that kept tearing up were bitches to deal with when you were wearing a helmet too.

As far as Grif's joke to Doyle about not bleeding everywhere while he sat in the driver's seat was concerned?

Well, beyond maybe a few drops that leaked through his gloves onto the steering wheel or the joints at his arms that splashed a bit on the seat underneath him, the tan man didn't really think he was bleeding everywhere in the transport.

But, the Slums dweller was fairly certain given the wetness at certain points in his body that accompanied particularly sharp jolts of movement-induced pain, he probably wouldn't be wanting to clean either the inside of his armor or his under-suit after this was said and done.

Focusing too much on his shitty condition though, and how it was probably really stupid for him to be out in the first place given his injured state wasn't going to help matters any. Grif had to do this.

He owed his friends far too much to just sit back and do nothing while they were left to die, especially given what all of them had set out to do. If even more than just a little discomfort helped him pay them back slightly, it would be worth it.

The bodies littering the ground around the base upon approaching it were more than just a little disconcerting, and his alertness at the notion that he was now very close to where a lot of dangerous shit was going down helped his mind dull the agony it was still in a little bit.

Most of the fallen looked like Above Ground military types or their mercenary allies, though he recognized a few armors that belonged to Resistance fighters who had been with Kimball and the three Freelancers during their main diversionary tactic.

Grif tried not to dwell on them too much. There would be time to mourn and reminisce once everyone who was left was safely out to do so. They'd all deserved that chance though, and it sucked that far too few of them would be getting it.

The base itself, any portion of it that seemed remotely man-made, was covered with what looked like a thick wall of metal. He recognized the material as the type that a lot of the mining equipment in the Slums used. It was meant to last a good long while, so that upkeep wasn't always a constant need every few days.

They had definitely not been kidding about sealing everyone inside.

It almost made Grif wonder just how that asshole Felix would react when he learned that doing so also meant he was stuck in the same "about to get blown to bits" situation as the rest of them thanks to Red Team having gotten to the relic. But, imagining psychotic mercenaries throwing temper tantrum rage fits would have to wait.

Who knew how long everyone had left with the relic about to blow? For all Grif knew, the conversation from earlier and his slower-than-he'd-wanted-it-to-be trek to the vehicle, and subsequent drive here, had wasted way too much time already.

He had to hand it to Wyoming. Despite his the huge amount of distrust Grif had for the former Freelancer given all of the shit he had pulled in the Slums, the white-armored mercenary had been pretty specific when it came to giving him the location of the weak spot in the metal shield.

It was supposedly just slightly hidden on the lower right side of the base, near a rock outcropping that kept the spot somewhat shielded from view due to the Above Ground military's desire to keep their more secretive bases concealed from prying eyes.

His orange helmet's display screen focused in on a lower portion of the sealed wall there, right by the outcropping, and he knew he had found the spot.

Grif frowned, and undid the safety belt from around his body before his hands went up again to grip the wheel tightly, his body tense and shaking. This was not exactly one of the sanest things he'd ever done, that's for sure. But there were not too many other options right now.

Since the shielding meant he had no way of communicating with anyone stuck inside the base without an A.I. present, and Wyoming had been pretty adamant that his and Gamma's part in this whole venture was currently done with, Grif had no way of knowing if anyone was waiting for him there yet or not.

For all the tan man knew, it would just be a large group of enemy soldiers lying in wait instead. But, it wasn't like he really had the time to dwell too much on those possibilities. What was most important, after all, was blowing a fucking hole through the wall that very second.

Gritting his teeth, he gunned the transport forward with more force than he'd ever used when driving before. His brain wasn't even having enough time to really register how fucking crazy this was, he was going to hit and die and—!

Grif managed to jump at the last second, nearly careening his head into the outcropping in the process.

Pain exploded everywhere in his body as the heat and the force of the blast hit him head on. He rolled backwards due to the explosion, until his back hit the outcropping and stopped his momentum. Stars and white light shot through his eyes just then, and he tasted copper in his mouth.

But sure enough, beyond the burned out hunk of metal that remained of the car still filling the air with acrid smoke, the sight of the best fucking hole there ever was greeted him.

Donut could praise his phrasing all he wanted, and Grif wouldn't even fucking roll his eyes for once.

He wanted to close his eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling both aching all over and also way too tired. But, the even better sight of his teammates, his friends suddenly filling his vision made him rethink just going to sleep for once.

Red Team had made it to the spot. Grif knew that Kimball and her group, along with Blue Team, were coming later from what they had said. He thought of Tucker and the others, and of Kai, as he hoped it was sooner rather than later.

Sarge stopped short of the doorway on the opposite side of the space, leaning back out and firing at something before heading further inside. It looked like the group had been followed, and they were trying to make a stand at the spot now that it was their one secure safe route for everyone else who would come through later.

The lieutenants headed to the hole, taking cover behind some crates to shoot at any enemy troops that tried following. Lopez had taken position near Sarge, covering the older soldier. Donut and Doc had both looked past the wreckage when they entered the space, Donut pointing to where Grif lay and motioning to the purple medic.

It looked as if Doc was trying to get over to him despite the gunfire holding them back near the lieutenants, the pink-armored Red Team member covering for him and the newer recruits with a few well-placed grenade tosses. Grif was never sure he was brave enough to ask where the dirty blond actually kept those things.

As for Simmons, the redhead had drifted over from helping Sarge and Lopez to the lieutenants in order to check on them, offering protective fire when he could for both the rookies as well as Doc and Donut.

He turned at the group's gesturing, evidently seeing Grif there.

Simmons and Doc nodded to each other, and then they were moving closer to the opening while Donut remained behind to help support the lieutenants.

Despite the loud cacophony going on all around them that was pretty much drowning everything out, suddenly above all of that there was an impossibly loud, horrible explosive noise that came from just behind Red Team as more mercenaries flooded into the room.

The sound of even more gunfire filled the space. Simmons fell, propelled face first onto the ground as a bullet pierced the back of his maroon armor.

"Just don't die or something trying. Okay, asshole?"

"You too, fat-ass."

Grif was trying to get up then, crawling on the snow and over bits of metal and flaming wreckage. Even from where he was, he could clearly see that Simmons wasn't moving.

"Be careful, asswipe. Don't die."

"Same to you, kiss-ass. Try not to get shot before the rescue gets there."

Time seemed to be crawling to a horrific numbing halt, even when before it seemed to be going way too fucking fast.

Level One was on fire.

A knife was flashing across his skin so many times he'd lost count.

Kai was crying, Simmons was crying…

Simmons wasn't there.

The world was ending and Grif couldn't fucking breathe.

This is fucking bullshit!

He wasn't sure when he'd gotten enough oxygen in his lungs again, but Grif began to scream the only thought raging in his head. The copper taste in his mouth burned down his throat as he did so, and he wasn't totally sure that he hadn't been shot himself with the sharp pain in his chest.

"SIMMONS!"

---

Author's Notes: I am so, so, so sorry for the horrible cliffhanger ending of this chapter! 0_0;

Only one more chapter after this one and an epilogue before this very long saga is finished, so please refrain from killing me until after that if you can! Hopefully you can spare me long enough to close this story out even though I can't say more because SPOILERS!

I apologize for how long it took to get this chapter out in general too. There were parts of it that I struggled with when writing (but I hope it all reads okay still!), and I then decided I wanted to make this chapter a longer one to make up for how long it took to get out. This definitely ended up being my biggest chapter so far, so I hope that that at least makes up a little bit for the wait!

Since I was way too mean with the ending to this chapter, and I really do only have two more sections to go in order to conclude everything, I will do my best to try to get the next chapter and the epilogue out as quickly as I can so you all are not having to wait too long to see what will happen with everyone!

So expect a whole lot of stuff to go down, but I can't tell you what exactly because, again, SPOILERS!

Thank you for putting up with me and this story! You will have definitely not seen the last of me here once "AG" is over with though, since I have my longer new story to jump into afterwards and I will be posting oneshots and other stories too. Gah, I am sorry again about that cliffhanger though! I shall try to make it up to you all, I promise! :D