Eleven – Returning Your Call

"Men, it's been an honor to serve with you," Sarge declared. "Using, of course, the loosest definition of 'honor.' And, in Grif's case, 'men.'"

Simmons could barely hear him over the constant explosions. "Wow, how many times have we heard this speech?"

"You know, I'm not actually worried," said Grif. He was sitting down on his Brute Shot with his hands clasped casually behind his head. "I'm sure this is just building up for a surprise rescue."

"Grif, half the time we're the surprise rescue."

"Yeah, but the other half it's Tucker, Church, or Washington, so it's all good."

"But when is it going to be my knight in shining armor?" Donut wailed. "When?!"

Sarge, meanwhile, was going on with his usual last stand speech. He had already gotten to the part about how Grif would be the first to go—"as a distraction to the enemy's advance"—when the Reds noticed a green flash above their heads. They ducked, but it wasn't a grenade or a missile.

Instead, Agent California stood on top of one of the wrecked Warthogs. He grabbed the battle rifle that one of the enemy troops had thrown to him and pointed it at Sarge.

"Sorry about this, fellas," he said casually. "But once you set up an interference field, how I could possibly resist? You're looking at a guy who's got a monopoly on teleporters."

Grif shook his head. "Ugh. Why couldn't Donut have accidentally cut your throat while you were asleep?"

"Life's funny like that." Cal slid a fresh magazine into the rifle and took aim. "Adios, dirtbags."

His finger squeezed the trigger—

There was a very loud burst of gunfire. Simmons cried out when he thought Sarge had been hit, but then he saw that wasn't the case.

Cal looked down at his empty hands. Someone had shot the rifle out of his grip. "What the hell?"

"Sorry, buddy." Wash casually strolled over to the mercenaries, aiming his rifle right at Cal. "But like I said before, you're not killing anyone while I'm around."

"Thank God!" Donut cheered. "It's Blue Team!"

"Dagnabbit," Sarge muttered.

Cal snarled and moved to activate the teleporter module on his waist. Wash fired off two more rounds, blowing it apart in a violent green flash. The blue-armored Freelancer went tumbling to the ground.

"Stand your ground!" the mercenary leader—Marcus—shouted. He pointed to the soldier on top of Red Base, who was holding the field generator Simmons had built. "Lance! Bring it here! We're leaving!"

"Oh, I don't think so," Tucker called out. He leapt out from behind a tree, slashing at the mercs with his energy sword. "Swish! Swish! Stab! You're dead!"

Wash continued to take aim and shoot for the leader, while Simmons and Grif provided cover fire, driving the mercs away from Red Base.

Marcus, meanwhile, was able to parry Tucker's sword swipes with pair of combat knives. He drew back when he saw his soldier Lance come running out of Red Base with the generator in his hands.

"Great work, Lance, my boy!" The leader aimed a kick for Tucker's head, then retreated over to Lance's side. "Now let's go!"

Lance turned to him and spoke with a distinctly female voice. "Okay. You first."

"What—?"

The merc's armor rippled, transforming into a familiar green suit of armor. Carolina tossed the generator to Marcus, who caught it. However, he didn't have time to stop her from kicking him in the jaw and knocking him out cold.

"Nice job, boss," said Wash.

"Hey!" Caboose came running after the retreating mercenaries. "Where are you guys going? We never got to play! I brought you all presents!"

Simmons was surprised to see the Blue soldier tossing grenades at the mercenaries. They tripped and stumbled over their fallen comrades, with only one or two managing to escape. By the time the last one had gotten out of the canyon, Caboose stood obliviously on a mound of dead troops.

"Yay!" he cried. "Nine points! I win!"

Wash sighed. "All right, gang. We're done. Carolina, if you could keep Cal restrained, I'll radio Command."

"Ha ha!" Sarge fired off a celebratory shotgun round. "Another victory for Red Team!"

"Victory?" Grif looked at his mad commanding officer. "The Blues saved our asses again!"

"Yes, but it's a victory in that we live to fight another day! Ahh, I love my job!"

"Whatever. I still got dibs on post-battle snacks."

"And I get sloppy seconds!" Donut chimed in.