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 Eleven:
Lavernius Tucker's heart was racing as he and Washington made their way up the flight of stairs leading to their apartment complex. It was currently several hours since the power outage, so there was no fucking way he was waiting for the lift now.
Given how he'd had to stay around while Doyle and Kimball collected information on the attack, despite knowing next to nothing about what the Insurrection even was or why those assholes would want to target Chorus in the first place, the dark-skinned man was all the more eager to get back to his home while he had the chance.
He was at the door, lungs heaving and getting ready to slam the door open with a fist to the lock when…
"Tucker." Wash's infuriatingly calm voice broke through his frenzied mind a second before he could act, the Freelancer's hand gently pressing down on his shoulder.
Tucker moved at the contact as if he had been physically hit, his whole body turning in Wash's direction as annoyance flared up in light of the older man's interruption. He was right there, damn it!
"What?" Tucker practically hissed.
Wash didn't even blink in light of the desperate ire in the dark-skinned man's eyes. Instead, he looked at him patiently, his hand still resting on the other's shoulder, "You need to calm down."
"Calm down?" Tucker stared at the blond incredulously, "What the actual fuck, Wash? We were just attacked and—!"
He cut himself off, knowing that the genetically engineered man knew what he would say next. Junior was scared of the dark. Had been ever since he was a baby.
His son was scared of the dark and had been in the middle of a power outage, and Tucker hadn't been there to help him…
"I know," True to form, it seemed as if Wash was reading his mind, because the older man gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "But running through that door panicking yourself is not going to help Junior any."
Fuck it. The Freelancer was right. Tucker sighed, letting out a long exhale of breath in order to center himself.
It would be better for Junior if Tucker walked in with his usual confident swagger. It would reassure the boy that everything was fine. As much as the dreadlocked soldier wanted to race in and hug the living daylights out of his awesome kid, that would only make matters worse.
After much inner struggling, Tucker managed to have a semblance of a calm exterior. "Thanks, Wash." He finally managed to get out.
"You're welcome."
Seeing Tucker calmer seemed to ease some of the tension in Wash's own shoulders. The teal-wearing man figured that had to do with how Wash was most likely concerned for Junior too. After all, the freckled man had even excused himself from further endless discussions on what the presence of the Insurrection here in Chorus meant to come back with Tucker to check up on the boy.
After giving himself one more agonizing second of preparation to appear nonchalant and following a nod from Wash, Tucker turned to the lock and opened the door.
What he saw inside his living room had him stopped in his tracks. The whole space had been transformed into a blanket fort of epic proportions. His and Junior's comforters were hanging across the middle of the space with pillows and assorted blankets and towels creating even more towers and walls to hide behind.
While Tucker was taking in the blanket fort scenery, three heads popped through the space between the comforters at the entrance.
"Took you guys long enough to get back!" Kai remarked, sounding a bit annoyed and grateful all at the same time due to the intrusion on their fun.
"Oh! Um, hello, sirs." Volleyball, obviously the friend that Kai had mentioned before, looked a bit more sheepish in the presence of her superior officers.
Junior's face lit up at seeing his father and Wash standing open-mouthed in the doorway. The child grinned, racing from the cushy safety of the blanket fortress to wrap his arms tightly around Tucker.
"Hey, kiddo." Tucker's expression softened considerably at his son's embrace and he eagerly returned it, "What's going on here?"
"Oh, well, when the power outage happened the little guy got a bit worried," Kai and Volleyball exited the fort too as the younger Grif sibling continued her explanation, "So we decided making a kick-ass battle fort was just what we needed to do!"
Looking up at the young woman's face, Tucker saw a knowing look cross her features. Of course she would remember that the best way to combat Junior's fear of the dark was to offer him a distraction.
"Thanks, you guys." He let out sincerely.
"Eh, no problem." Kai shrugged indifferently, "It was fun. Volleyball and Junior here are kickass fort makers!"
"That's what I like to hear." He grinned down at his son who smiled back.
Now that Tucker was definitely back for the rest of the night, both father and son thanked the lieutenants for helping them that evening. The dark-skinned man promised to fill the two anxious girls in on things later, though he also advised them each to check on Jensen, Palomo, Grif, and Simmons when they could given what had happened.
He glanced at Junior who was tugging on both his and Wash's arm a second later, 'What's up, kiddo?" Tucker asked as the front door closed behind the two babysitters.
Here he had been worried that Junior would be panic-stricken during the night while his son had simply been proving just how much of a trooper he was. Tucker wouldn't be able to thank Kai and Volleyball enough for so valiantly diverting his attention like they had.
Junior led the two men to where the main portion of the fort was, looking first at Tucker and then at Wash before letting go of their hands to point at the assembled forces of his kitty plush army on the ground.
"Ah, well every great fortress needs an army," Tucker whistled appreciatively, flashing the former Freelancer a grin, "And I bet Wash is happy to see this one watching over you."
"Very." The smile lighting up Wash's gray eyes was so fond that Tucker's heart nearly skipped a beat. Maybe he should get that looked at one of these days.
Junior bent down, picking up one of the stuffed animals to give Wash and his father a closer view. Whatever unease the young boy had undoubtedly felt before was forgotten in the padded safety of his fortress and with the presence of the two soldiers before him.
The young boy curled up on the couch in-between Tucker and Wash, his "army" surrounding him in a comfy security blanket. It took them another hour to finally get Junior to fall asleep. Tucker stroked the top of his head protectively, glad that his son was doing so well.
"Thank you." He muttered quietly to Wash, who was still watching the father and son with a warm smile.
"It was no problem at all." Wash stated sincerely, "I'm just glad the two of you are doing okay."
Tucker sighed, frowning, "Yeah, but how long is that going to last with those assholes out there?"
Wash looked both serious and sad when he answered, "Honestly, Tucker? I can't answer that." He eventually remarked, standing up, "But we'll put a stop to them. I swear."
Tucker couldn't help but believe him when Wash spoke with such conviction. Even if it made him worried all the same.
"Off to Freelancer business, then?" he tried joking instead.
A nod was Wash's reply, "Off to Freelancer business."
"We'll have to talk more about all of this shit tomorrow then." Tucker told him, "No way you and Carolina are going to be having all the fun this time around."
No, not this time. Not when Junior had a great home for once here in Chorus. Not when all of their group finally had the chance to start over again. There was no way that Tucker was going to let some assholes ruin that.
If Wash wanted to protest the younger man's remark, he wisely chose not to after seeing the determined look on Tucker's face. Instead, he simply sighed tiredly and nodded again.
Tucker's grip on Junior's shoulder tightened protectively.
Mornings after big events tended to suck only when copious amounts of alcohol were consumed, though this particular one sucked hard despite not involving that particular factor. Actually, Leonard Church really wished he had some alcohol in his coffee right now.
Along with a whole handful of aspirin, both for the looming headache he still felt from earlier as well as the new one pressing ever so incessantly at his temples. Granted, the new headache was in the form of two voices talking practically in tandem with one another close by.
"We were so worried when we heard from Sarge that you were in the clinic, Church!" Donut exclaimed, looking very concerned for his friend.
"Was it like how it was with Freckles and the others?" Caboose's voice was a terrified whisper as he recalled what had happened the other night, "Were you playing-but-not-playing too?"
"It was some kind of huge migraine, right?" Donut asked, looking thoughtful, "I can't imagine how painful that was! Simmons collapsed too and it was like the others just switched off. Nothing's worse than getting all worked up only to shoot off prematurely!"
"Pain is the worst." Caboose nodded his head in barely understood agreement before looking at Church with puppy dog eyes, "But you're feeling better now, Church, right? Like Freckles?"
Just this once the hopeful looks on both young men's faces were enough to keep Church from snapping about personal boundaries. Barely.
The dark-haired man still wasn't sure if he could breathe correctly though, and his head was spinning again…
"Let's give Church more time before we bombard him with questions. Okay, guys?" It was Doc, surprisingly, who came to his rescue as the medic even put a hand on Donut's shoulder to steer the lightish red-wearing man away.
"But—!" Donut looked ready to protest although he obviously couldn't think of a good excuse to stay, casting a worried look over at his cybernetically enhanced friend.
Church was touched, really, even though he didn't yet have the patience to answer the dirty blond's concerned questions.
"He still needs his rest given what happened," Doc patiently advised his crush, "And more orange juice too!"
"Oh, right!" Donut lit up at the mention of Doc's favorite cure all, "We can go get him some while he rests more. Great thinking, Doc!" He turned to Church again and smiled supportively, totally missing the blush his praise had put on Doc's face in the process, "Feel better, Church!"
"Thanks, guys." He actually meant it this time too as the dark-haired man watched the two leave. Sure, the bombardment of questions was annoying as fuck, but they came from a good place.
Of course, now that Doc and Donut were gone, that just left him alone with Caboose. The younger man was currently still staring at Church like a little lost puppy. It was kind of freaking him out. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud. To anyone. Ever.
"You're okay though, right, Church?" The blond asked quietly, "You and Freckles?"
Church sighed, nodding his head slightly. Apparently that small amount of assurance was all it took for Caboose to envelop him in a bone-crushing hug.
"I'm so glad!" The younger man was crying, "I hate this playing-not-playing thing!"
"W—we all do, buddy." Church managed to wheeze out.
"Caboose."
It was Carolina who had spoken up then, the Freelancer standing quietly behind the two friends. On her face was the soft smile usually reserved for her interactions with Caboose.
"Freckles is awake in Sarge's lab now. He's asking for you." She informed the blue-wearing man.
Caboose let go of Church a second later, beaming, "Oh, boy! I am going to hug him too!"
The blond was off in a blur of motion then, leaving Church to catch his breath.
"Thanks." He told his sister the second he was able to do so.
"Don't mention it." Carolina replied, and Church was glad to see that she was looking better and less haggard than how she had looked last night when she had raced over to the clinic to see him.
The redhead cast him a regarding look of her own, "How are you feeling now?" she asked, the concern evident in her tone.
"Like shit." He answered honestly, before adding with a shudder, "The fucking thing lasted longer this time."
It was rather fortunate that he had been at the warehouse when it had happened. If he had still been out…
"It reminded me of some of the Freelancer experiments." The shudder he made was more noticeable this time, "That's what scares the shit out of me the most, Carolina."
Thinking of all of those times had him remembering his other siblings as well. Theta's innocent laughter, Delta's logical observations, even Gamma's stupid knock-knock jokes…
Alpha too.
Sure, the experiments had caused him a whole lot of pain, but so could even memories of people.
Carolina looked over at him shaking his head then. Something in her green eyes told him that his sister knew exactly what, and who, he was thinking of.
At length, she took in a deep breath of air, "I know." The Freelancer told him, touching his shoulder reassuringly, "I'm going to make sure things will be okay."
They both knew that it wasn't something she could say with a hundred percent certainty, but Church also knew that Carolina needed a sense of motivation to keep herself from losing control.
She wanted to protect Church from everything as best she could. It was her way of reassuring him that things were different now. That she would make sure things would be different this time.
Not having it in his heart to disagree with her, Church simply grinned, "I know."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sheila and Lopez going about their work. The two robots were also understandably on edge given the events of the previous night.
Fuck it, even the lieutenants were hanging around the warehouse to try to divert attention from what had happened. He would probably not be an asshole later by even going over to help them. If only to take his mind off of things too. Maybe he could try to convince Carolina to do the same.
After all, it was clearly obvious that Church wasn't the only one in desperate need of a distraction from shit right about now.
The following morning, Richard "Dick" Simmons woke up early as usual. The cyborg wasn't sure if he wanted to prescribe to Sarge and Doctor Grey's advice to take it easy, especially when all that did was have his mind think on all of the uncertainties still floating in the air about the situation at hand.
With that in mind, the redhead figured a morning jog as per his usual routine would be fine. He considered the activity leisurely enough, and he could always set his own pace or stop if it all became too much.
Besides, it would be the perfect opportunity to check over the monitoring devices' readings of Chorus' power levels, as well as test a theory he had noticed ever since he had woken up from the blackout last night. It seemed that his cybernetic limbs seemed to be operating at a more sluggish pace than normal. It was not enough yet to cause major concern, but the timing was somewhat problematic.
Either his running would help loosen things up, since Doctor Grey's advice to help with tightness and discomfort in his limbs following surgeries was the reason Simmons had even started jogging at all, or he would have more of an idea of what to tell his two cybernetic experts the next time he saw them.
Really, it was a perfect plan. Maybe the peace and quiet would help calm his nerves too.
The cyborg was already slightly jogging, careful not to jostle the equipment he would need to read the monitors on the devices, when a familiar figure in orange caught his eye by the road leading away from the apartment complex.
"Hey." Dexter Grif nodded in way of greeting as Simmons approached, the tan-skinned man looking both out-of-place in the early morning light and rather groggy.
"What are you doing up so early?" Simmons asked him incredulously, "I thought you said getting up before one on your days off was a criminal offense."
Yes, they'd actually had that argument back when they had first met. It was one of Grif's favorites.
The chubby man stifled a yawn and shrugged, "Usually? Yes, and I think you're insane for getting up as early as you do," he shot Simmons a look that was filled with something that the redhead couldn't quite identify, "But sometimes you can't beat the view."
"View?" Simmons blinked, looking around at the morning haze enshrouding everything, "The whole area is covered in fog!"
Grif sighed in response, the fat fuck probably deciding it was pointless to elaborate any further just to piss Simmons off. Instead, he raised a black eyebrow questioningly at the other man, "Is it even a good idea for you to be jogging after what happened?"
Simmons shrugged, "I can pace myself just fine, Grif." He informed the slightly older man, patting the tech at his side, "Besides, I was going to get the readouts on the energy-reading devices we'd set up before so I will have to stop along the way."
"I'll come along too then." Grif's response was a shocking one, especially since he didn't say anything about how much of a nerd or workaholic Simmons was for once given the redhead's admission of going to do work on top of voluntary exercise.
"Y—you don't have to." The lankier man quickly spluttered out, "Just stay and enjoy your, ah, views and—!"
"I'll enjoy more of them hanging out with you. Believe me." Grif was smirking at some unknown joke just then before he turned more serious, "Besides, someone has to make sure you don't push yourself too hard. Nerd."
Normally that would make Simmons more annoyed and flustered than anything else, but this time he felt oddly touched by the sentiment.
"Thanks, Grif." He told him sincerely as, instead of jogging, he walked at a brisk pace that Grif still had to struggle somewhat to keep up with.
"You're welcome," Grif glanced over at Simmons then, his look one of both curiosity and open concern, "So how are you feeling?" He asked quietly, his tone serious, "Really?"
Simmons paused for a moment at the question. His brain began going into his normal overanalyzing mode while thinking back to the confusion and terrifying moments of the night before, the current "off-ness" of his cybernetics, and the current unknowns about what was even going on in the first place.
"Honestly?" It was a bit painful to admit to, but he figured that he could do so with Grif if no one else, "I'm a little scared. Maybe more than that."
He glanced over at Grif cautiously, expecting some kind of joke or disparaging remark at his expense. The cyborg was shocked by the hand that was suddenly on his shoulder in a reassuring grip, the tremor visible through Grif's body as he did so, and the oddly serious and determined look he found on the other man's face.
"Things are going to be okay, Simmons." The genetically engineered man told him in a voice that left no room for argument.
A part of Simmons wanted to argue the point that they couldn't possibly know that for certain, but the redhead knew that Grif was saying so just to try to get both of them to not dwell on the alternative. Instead of starting a fight, Simmons found himself simply nodding mutely.
As they started to walk together again, the pale man found that he was now immensely grateful Grif was with him.
There were many things that Donald Doyle admired about Vanessa Kimball.
Her sense of justice for one. Then there was also her determination and unparalleled courage. He even appreciated how her leadership style complemented his own so flawlessly. That she was beautiful and vibrant was another matter altogether.
But none of that changed the fact that she was singlehandedly one of the most infuriating people he had ever met as well.
"If we hadn't been distracted last night, perhaps…" The genetically engineered soldier trailed off as she shook her head in frustration, dark eyes glaring at the bottle of alcohol still sitting on her desk.
Doyle stiffened, "Are you blaming me, Miss Kimball?"
"I'm blaming both of us." She turned her glare towards him then, "We let our guards down. Look at what happened."
"I'm curious to hear how you think things would have been any different if we were both still in our offices going over reports." The older man couldn't help but bite back slightly.
Kimball glared at him for another few moments, and he took a step back just in case she decided to take the bottle and beat him over the head with it. At length, the dark-skinned woman sighed, "It doesn't matter, I suppose." She finally sat down again, her eyes glued to the monitors displaying information from the latest attack.
Attack. That was definitely what last night's blackout was going to be considered now. Doyle had no idea who these Insurrectionist fellows were, but it was obvious they were targeting Chorus for some reason and that their method of assault was particularly terror inducing.
"If these readings that the Reds and Blues got for us are accurate," Kimball was reading his mind, "Then the power systems for Chorus have been compromised."
"As well as slowly but surely failing as we speak." He continued, a nervous feeling gaining hold over his stomach, "The power outages just help speed it along."
The female leader of Chorus nodded, "We have extra patrols now, but if we can't find a way to quickly fix the main problem…"
Her voice trailed off, the outcome left hanging ominously in the air. Chorus would be left defenseless without its power, a prime target for the Insurrection or for other regions and bandits. All that they had worked for could be destroyed in a matter of moments.
The weight of that knowledge pressed heavily in the room as both Doyle and Kimball remained silent in the wake of it.
Doyle was scrambling his brain for some sort of idea, or for something comforting to say to the younger woman who he knew loved Chorus as much as he did, when the door suddenly opened and the mercenary called Felix sauntered in without preamble.
"So," the man in steel-and-orange began, casting one look at the readouts as if he already knew what was on them, "I hear the power situation around Chorus isn't doing too great."
"You're not wrong." Kimball frowned, glancing over at him speculatively, "Have you and your men decided to leave then?"
It would have been understandable given the situation. After all, the mercenaries had yet to build lasting ties here.
Felix shook his head, "To be honest, there were some grumblings about that, but Locus and I shut them down pretty quickly." His dark-eyed expression became grave, "Actually, I'm here to let you know of someone who might be willing to lend a hand in repairing your power grid."
The two leaders looked at each other just then as Doyle raised a blond eyebrow in question, "Really?"
A black-haired nod, "Yeah, he's a former client with loads of money and resources and who also just so happens to love projects like this." Felix informed them, "Chorus has always been a bit of a curiosity for him. That's actually how we even first heard of this place."
They would certainly need an ally with money and resources to make all of the necessary repairs in a timely fashion. It almost seemed too good to be true, but they were desperate.
"You think this former client of yours will be willing to help us. Just like that?" Kimball asked, her tone hopeful yet disbelieving all at once.
Felix smiled an award-winning smile just then, "Trust me. Malcolm Hargrove will personally want to help you guys out."
Author's Notes: The plot thickens! Things are definitely going to be getting interesting in the story in future updates. I hope that this chapter was enjoyable for you! Thank you so much for taking the time to read it! :D