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-Three:
Vanessa Kimball let out a small, tired sigh as she made her way back to Donald Doyle's hospital room. She had just stepped out to get her continued briefing on the situation at hand. Chorus was about fifty percent operational now…but, bottom line? Things still sucked.
The genetically engineered woman also took some time to check up on Lieutenant Andersmith, as currently he and Doyle were the only ones still assigned to hospital beds. For someone recovering from a gunshot wound, Andersmith had been in surprisingly robust spirits. When Kimball had stepped into his room in the clinic, the dark-haired rookie and Cass had been discussing just how they were going to help those who had been taken captive by Charon.
That had been a couple hours ago. Time seemed to be moving both painfully slow and so fast it was hard to process. As for what Kimball found herself doing now? Well, now she felt compelled to once again visit a man who had been nothing but a source of chagrin and frustration for her since the very first day they met.
…It seemed her Chorus co-leader was going to continue frustrating her. Kimball's eyebrow twitched as she took in the sight before her once the door to Doyle's clinic room had opened. Doyle was sitting upright on his bed, wincing in pain at the motion but obviously still emphatically searching around the space for something.
"Where the bloody hell are they?" Doyle murmured to himself in his search, unaware of her presence.
Kimball realized a split second later what he was looking for. His shoes. Doctor Grey had thought that the co-leader of Chorus might not listen to her very specific instructions to stay put, so she had hidden his shoes. It was a tactic that Kimball had thought was overkill, but now? Now she saw that Doctor Grey had reasons to take extreme measures.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kimball couldn't help reprimand from her spot in the doorway, "You should still be resting."
Doyle harrumphed, evidently giving up on finding his shoes at the moment, "Resting will not help us restore Chorus or rescue our missing comrades, Miss Kimball."
Kimball said nothing in response. She knew how true Doyle's words were, and a part of her couldn't help but respect him a bit for sharing her inner sentiment.
The genetically engineered woman stepped into the room, and Doyle flinched as if he expected her to try physically restraining him. Instead, she opened a cabinet on the other side of the space, holding out his shoes to him.
As Doyle blinked at her in open-mouthed astonishment for giving him assistance, Kimball couldn't keep herself from muttering, "You better not do anything foolish enough to reopen your injury on me."
Doyle shook his head to dispel the last traces of bewilderment from his eyes, a slight, sort-of self-deprecating smile suffusing his features. "Believe me, Miss Kimball, that is the farthest thing from my mind," he assured her before frowning and getting to the matter at hand, "But I would like to hear your take on the status of the repairs, and your estimation on how long you think we'll need to set up the rescue mission."
"Of course." Kimball said as she nodded her head as a sign of respect towards the older man for wanting to get right back into the thick of things, "Hargrove and his lackeys will definitely regret ever having targeted Chorus once we're through with them."
"Quite right." Doyle stated emphatically in response.
For once, it looked as though there was finally something that both leaders could agree on.
Leonard Church kicked his feet into the air as he sat on the stairs to the warehouse, a gun by his side. Oddly enough of his own volition, he was trying to keep Freckles company since the Virtual Intelligence missed Caboose. Okay, so maybe Church was missing the blue-armored guy too. …Not that he'd ever fucking admit it to anyone.
It was after the first twenty minutes of awkward silence that they were joined by Santa, whose presence was a bit of a surprise to the cobalt-wearing cyborg. "Hey," Church called out to the Artificial Intelligence, "Weren't you with that Four Seven Niner pilot before?"
The two had been talking about something earlier, but Church hadn't really cared enough to pay their conversation much attention. He had a "not a people person" reputation to maintain, after all.
The holographic alien form flickered momentarily, "I did not wish to intrude on a private matter between her and Agent Carolina." Santa said, as if that explained everything.
Which, honestly? It did. Church nodded his head in understanding. Knowing his sister and how outspoken the silver-wearing pilot in the wheelchair was, he imagined that conversation would be a lively one. Finally he sighed, throwing his head back, "This whole situation sucks."
"…AGREED." Freckles added in not a second later.
"It's funny, but that's the same exact thing I keep telling myself too." Tucker's voice came from off to the side, "So what are you planning on doing about it?"
"Tucker." Church regarded the wounded man in mild surprise, "You probably shouldn't be up yet."
"Fuck that!" Tucker snorted, making a face, "Like I could just lie back in a hospital bed while my son, Washington, and the others are all in trouble!" Before Church could even think to open his mouth and say something, Tucker held up his hand, "Listen, I know that Tex and Carolina are going to go on a rescue mission. Because, they're them. I fucking want in."
"We all do, Tucker." Doc's voice chimed in from where the warehouse door just opened as he, Sarge, and Doctor Grey stood in the entrance, "I can't just sit around and wait. Not after Donut risked his life to save both of us."
Sarge harrumphed, nodding his graying head in solemn agreement, "A rescue mission is right up our alley!" He stated reassuringly, "Besides, I highly doubt most of the people here would want to back out of one even if given the chance."
"Definitely not!" Doctor Grey confirmed rather emphatically, a determined smile on her face. Church tried to ignore the maniacal gleam in her eyes, suddenly almost pitying their enemies.
Instead, Church sighed and shook his dark head of hair, "You're all fucking crazy. You know that?" He inquired before smirking himself, "But, then again, so am I since I've been thinking along the same fucking lines myself."
Agent Carolina and Four Seven Niner were seated in the cockpit of the black-haired woman's transport, Carolina helping with the repairs as the two talked. It was almost nice, how easily they settled back into routine. Even if the topic of their conversation currently understandably put both women on edge.
"So, the reason you didn't stay with us before when I had asked you to," Carolina stated, recalling their last conversation together at a bar long ago, "Was because of this mission of Tex's?"
Four Seven Niner frowned in recollection before nodding her head, "That's the gist of it, at any rate."
Carolina's green eyes flared in annoyance then as she clenched the tool in her hand tightly. She clenched her jaw shut, not trusting her mouth.
"…Careful. I'll need that in one piece." Four Seven Niner joked to try and ease some of the tension, "I'll also need the plane to not need any more repairs."
"I don't understand why everyone chooses Tex over me." Carolina finally muttered to herself in a voice that Four Seven Niner probably wasn't meant to overhear.
But, know what? Tough shit, she had. Four Seven Niner let out a sigh and placed her hand tightly on Carolina's shoulder, "You know that isn't true for either me or York." She stated.
The Freelancer said nothing, and the pilot felt compelled to further explain herself. "I knew that you were happy with your new…" she struggled to come up with the right word, "Family, and I didn't want to disturb that by getting you involved in something long-winded and dangerous."
There was silence following Four Seven Niner's explanation. The tan-skinned woman recognized that Carolina was carefully considering her words.
"Still," the redhead finally stated at length, "It would have been nice to have known the real reason." She turned to regard Four Seven Niner seriously, "Like it or not, I would have helped the two of you."
Four Seven Niner smirked and leaned back in her wheelchair, "I know you would have, because you're crazy stubborn like that." She smirked self-deprecatingly, "But like I'm one to talk since I'm just as bad."
Carolina rolled her eyes, "Obviously."
The two sat in companionable silence for a few minutes afterwards, both mulling over what had been said. They also mulled over what hadn't been said. The silence was always so heavy between them.
Four Seven Niner glanced over at Carolina, her hand lingering still on the other woman's shoulder, "So, are we good or what?" She couldn't help asking a bit tentatively.
Carolina thought on the question for a few tense moments before she nodded, "Yes, we are."
Both women looked at the other and smiled before turning their attention back to the repairs.
"I hope that everyone is doing well." Malcolm Hargrove stated in a voice that really said he could care less about the comfort of any of his "guests."
Dexter Grif couldn't help but mutter sarcastically, "Oh, we're just doing great!"
At that exact same time he heard his sister shout out, "What do you think, asshole?" while Palomo and Volleyball attempted to hold the medic-in-training back from charging the cell door, for which Grif shot them both a thankful look. The last thing he needed was for Kai to antagonize their captor. That was his fucking job as the older sibling. Not to mention as a self-proclaimed pain in the ass.
"This flight could use peanuts." Caboose remarked oh-so-helpfully a second later.
From the cell across from them, Donut added in, "A change of décor would be great too. Gray on gray is so tacky!"
The guards who were with Hargrove exchanged looks, and Grif couldn't help but smirk at their confusion and bewilderment. Leave it to the two youngest Red and Blue members to thoroughly confuse the enemy just by being themselves.
Washington had Junior pressed close to his side, "What is going on here, exactly?" He inquired, just as down-to-business as could be expected of the former Freelancer.
Felix, who had come into the space along with Hargrove and his hired goons, smirked with his arms crossed cockily over his chest, "I'd say it should be pretty damn obvious what's going on, especially for a smart guy like you."
Washington nodded, frowning, "I have a pretty good idea, yes. But I'd like to hear it directly from you, Chairman."
Hargrove raised an eyebrow, but he was apparently in the mood to deign them with a reply all the same, "My company, Charon, does business in unstable regions of the world. Places that haven't yet adjusted to this strange new concept of peace." He informed them, "We sell them everything from materials and weapons to…other resources."
Washington clutched Junior tightly as he glanced around at everyone in their respective cell, "Such as people."
Hargrove nodded, "You already assumed as much, I gather." The older man carried on despite the threatening growls coming from several of the people in the cells, "Stable areas such as Chorus are, naturally, bad for business." He noted, "So we cripple them and use them to turn a profit instead."
"By stealing resources from them." Simmons muttered under his breath, dawning realization evident in his tone.
Hargrove turned to where Simmons was then, smiling appreciatively, "You've always been a quick study, Richard." Before Simmons could respond, Hargrove turned to cast his eye on everyone in the cells, "Most of the people here will be sold in Rat's Nest in the days to come." He cast a disparaging glance over towards Grif in particular, "Though I doubt that some of you will make much money at all."
Grif gave Hargrove the finger in response, much to the old man's amusement.
"Now, while you are onboard, I expect you all to be well-behaved guests," Hargrove continued, "As the collars you've been outfitted with are rigged with explosives."
Grif glanced down then, realizing that he had been so caught up in worry before that he hadn't even put much thought into the metal collar strapped around his neck.
"You're bluffing." Bitters tried putting on a brave front to cover up his nerves. Maverick move.
Hargrove glanced around the cells, his eyes falling on the forms of Jensen and Matthews huddled close by one another in the cell that they shared with Donut. He pressed a button on the datapad he held, and suddenly a beeping noise filled the air as a light on Matthews' collar began flashing.
"N—no!" Jensen screamed, her hands flying to her brother's throat in a vain attempt to pry the collar off of him.
"Katie! Matthews!" Palomo shouted in fear, and now it was Kai who was holding Volleyball back from charging the door in a desperate attempt to reach her adopted siblings.
"Fucking stop it!" Bitters yelled frantically, clenching his fists at his sides as his brown eyes remained glued on the struggling Matthews.
"Please!" Donut pleaded, now trying futilely to also help Jensen in getting the collar off.
"You've made your fucking point!" Washington stated emphatically, shoving Junior behind him has if trying to shield the child from the scene playing out before them.
Hargrove once more pressed a button on his datapad. The beeping stopped as Matthews sank to the floor in shock while Jensen and Donut tried comforting him.
"I hope you know how serious I am now." Hargrove informed them all, eyes narrowed in cold authority. Silence met his comment, and he tilted his head slightly in Junior's direction, "Take the boy. Odds are good he could be a valuable research specimen."
Washington's grip on Junior tightened, "No…!" he began to protest as Felix entered the cell. Evidently, the energy door only worked to block those that Hargrove wanted it to. Damn collars.
Felix smirked at the Freelancer's reaction, "Come on, Washie. Or would you rather the kid be splattered all over the place instead?"
Junior squeezed Washington's hand as if to reassure the adult, and Washington reluctantly let go. "If anything happens to him…" he leveled at Felix with a tone devoid of any emotion.
"You'll do what?" Felix's smirk widened, "I'd love to see you try something, Wash. Your threats don't mean shit now."
Hargrove turned his attention over to the cell next to theirs, "Get out of the cell, Richard." He told Simmons, "You have a contract to fulfill."
"What?" Grif raced up to his cell door, anger flaring, "That's fucking bullshit!"
From inside his cell, Simmons swallowed nervously and took a step forward, though Lopez and Sheila were suddenly right at his side.
"Simmons, are you sure…?" Sheila asked him gently, a comforting hand on the redhead's elbow.
Hargrove harrumphed at the display of solidarity, clearly unimpressed by the robots' actions, "May I remind you, Richard, that I can blow up any of the people here if you take too long?"
His dispassionate gaze fell on Grif in particular when he spoke, and the cyborg tensed at the obvious threat.
"Simmons! You better not fucking listen to this asshole…!" Grif began before trailing off when he realized there was no point in finishing that thought.
The orange-armored soldier was already too late. With a growing sense of panic, Grif saw a reluctant Simmons leave his cell after nodding thankfully to both Sheila and Lopez. Simmons took the scared Junior's hand tightly in his own upon exiting, as both were made to follow Hargrove out of the holding cell area.
"Simmons," Grif muttered under his breath as he watched the cyborg and Junior leave, "You're a fucking idiot."
Author's Notes: Just a short chapter to get the ball rolling, but things are definitely going to be picking up on both the captive and rescue mission fronts of this story in the next couple of chapters! I'm also going to try my best to keep to a schedule when it comes to updating all of my ongoing fics so that none of them get too behind.
Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read this fic! :)