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-Eight:
As if expecting their arrival, the transport's doors were already open. It made for an odd sight since the ship's cloak was still activated. It made sense though, given how Donald Doyle and Vanessa Kimball had notified everyone that they were coming back with Lopez and Sheila in tow.
The weird invisible ship with a clearly visible open door was further illustrated by Frank "Doc" DuFresne suddenly appearing through the cloaking field as he stopped excitedly in front of the two co-leaders. His brown eyes fixed on the cart that their black market acquaintance had supplied them with to transport their new "goods" out of Rat's Nest with, acquired with only minimal haggling, of course!
"That's…that's them all right!" Doc gaped at the huddled together metallic forms in the cart, "To think that we'd have such progress so soon!"
"Where are the others?" Kimball asked, trying to get attention back to the matter at hand since they were still on a time crunch. Pleasantries would have to wait.
"Tucker sent me back to help with the reactivation when we got your message." Doc said, frowning slightly because he no doubt wanted to be out there helping to look for Donut and the others.
Doyle, as if picking up on that thought, reached over and placed a reassuring hand on the purple medic's shoulder, "And we truly appreciate it, rest assured." He told Doc emphatically, "I'm sure that Private Donut will rest easy knowing his friends are in such capable hands."
Doc's posture straightened, his expression becoming more earnest. Kimball shot Doyle a grateful look. The dark-skinned woman was gaining newfound respect for the man's ability to diffuse tense situations.
"Sarge, Doctor Grey, and Church are already on board and ready to get started." Doc finally informed them, eyes almost curiously lighting up as he watched the unexpected shared glance between the two leaders of Chorus.
The three mechanical experts (well, "expert" was probably a stretch descriptor with Doc and Sarge) would be in charge of making sure that both Sheila and Lopez rebooted properly. The group would have been nervous to attempt doing so without their assistance, just in case something funny had been added into their programming by their former captors.
Kimball gave Doyle another look and the man nodded slightly in response as she pursed her lips to speak: "Best not to keep them waiting any longer then."
"There we go, that oughta do it." Sarge stated as he leaned away to admire his handiwork.
Doctor Grey peered over his shoulder and nodded her head approvingly, "I'd say so too." She added before clasping his shoulder, "It always impresses me how thorough you are, dear."
The older man actually blushed, "You can never be too careful with robotics. One false move and you could have an explosion right in your face!" Sarge replied as if it was the most romantic notion in the world.
…Probably for the best that Donut wasn't there currently for that little remark, even if it was obvious that everyone (especially Doc) was missing his rather eccentric enthusiasm for odd wording.
"We wouldn't want that, now would we?" Doctor Grey hummed, "Third degree burns and shrapnel wounds are very painful."
…She probably shouldn't say shit like that with a sing-song voice, but like fuck was Leonard Church going to tell her or Sarge that. Instead, he pulled away from the wall that he had been leaning against in a huff after Sarge and Grey had shooed him out. An act which was bullshit, really! He could fucking help and Sheila was a close friend. Lopez was okay company too since he made her happy and all.
"Fucking finally." Church sullenly muttered, though a part of him was just majorly relieved, "Let's get this started."
Santa hovered silently over his shoulder, Freckles hanging over the same one though still silent due to missing Caboose. The sooner they could find the idiot, the better. Church suspected that the advanced, ancient A.I. in particular must find all of this technology preparation rather "quaint" compared to what he had been created with. Kimball and Doyle were waiting off to the side, along with Doc and Four Seven Niner. No doubt they wanted to see if what they had managed to accomplish would yield any results.
Church almost expected a terse "Hold yer horses!" from Sarge, but the older man surprised him by simply nodding in agreement. Clearly, the red-armored man was eager to reunite with their comrades, especially the robotic creation that he was so very proud of. In a mad scientist kind of way, of course.
The two robots had been laid out face down on the ground of the transport so that Sarge and Grey could tinker around with the power relays behind the armor on the back of their necks. Now, the crazy genius power couple both leaned forward at the same time to active the exposed switches, quickly closing the metallic paneling at the same time as the armored figures began to stir.
The room seemed to still as the two robots booted up, anticipation and dread of the unknown building as they woke from their forced "slumber."
"La fuente de alimentación debe estar en un lugar mejor." {"The power supply needs to be in a better spot."}
Lopez muttered something as he and Sheila stood, gripping one another's hands and making sure that they were both all right before taking in their surroundings.
"It worked!" Doc said joyfully as Four Seven Niner clapped him on the side.
"Was there ever any doubt?" Sarge huffed indignantly.
"Hello, everyone." Sheila inclined her head politely to no doubt cut off a sarcastic remark from Lopez in the process, "It is good to see that you are all safe after the events of Chorus."
"Pero tenemos que movernos rápido si queremos salvar a los demás." {"But we have to move quickly if we want to save the others."}
Santa flickered at whatever urgent thing Lopez had said, "Do you know their exact whereabouts?"
For a moment, Lopez seemed in shock that someone had even heard and understood him beyond Sheila, but that was quickly replaced with a solemn shake of his head.
"The human livestock as they were called are going to be auctioned off at a special event later tonight." Sheila elaborated for him, "We were separated from them soon after we overheard that intel."
"Oh no," Doc's face fell, "Donut and the others!"
Kimball's determination even in the wake of such awful news was impressively iron-clad, "We'll find them, Doc." She assured him.
"Also," Sheila hesitated before admitting, "Something is very wrong with Simmons."
"Sí, él está actuando mucho más lavado de cerebro que de costumbre." {"Yes, he is acting far more brainwashed than usual."}
"Probably explains why the dumbass nerd had been so panicked when I talked to him earlier," Church frowned, "But we'll get him back too."
"Naturally." Sarge nodded his head in approval, "Red Team looks after its own, and any others that might be in their vicinity. With only mildly loud complaining."
Church rolled his eyes, "Thanks, Sarge."
"I'm not one for strategy, but it seems like this event might be the perfect opportunity to launch our next rescue mission." Doyle cut in, clearly thinking they needed a battle plan.
"I always did love crashing parties." Four Seven Niner mused, a smirk on her face.
Seeing that everyone seemed to be on the same page, Church activated his comm-channel, "I'll let the others know." He said while waiting for the telltale signs of a connection.
David Washington had been placed in an individual holding cell used to transport occupants to other areas more easily, no doubt in preparation for the "big sale" event that he had been hearing overhead snippets and mutterings about for a while now.
The mood in Rat's Nest as people perused the "wares" in the storage warehouse that they had been taken too once they were led off of Hargrove's ship seemed oddly jovial and downright pleasant. Washington felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it. He and the others were being looked over as if they were mere things, and he honestly couldn't tell if he should be glad or not that Junior was being spared this for the moment.
"Wash!"
An achingly familiar voice whispered his name from nearby. The sound startled Washington out of his troubled thoughts. He blinked as his mind tried to process that it was indeed Lavernius Tucker standing there, hooded to conceal himself from Hargrove's guards, but whole and alive and here nonetheless.
"You're okay?" Washington asked. Much as he wanted to do so, he knew better than to loudly call out the dark-skinned man's name just then, but he had to make sure all the same since last he had seen him, Tucker had been stabbed. The blond pressed his hand to the energy shielding of the cell regardless of the pain that caused.
Tucker did the same, wincing slightly, "Dude, I could ask the same to you!"
He raised an eyebrow, "I didn't get stabbed." Washington muttered to the younger man.
"No, but you did get caught by that sadistic asshole Felix. Who knows what shit him or Hargrove are capable of?" Tucker countered.
Washington felt oddly touched at the remark, "I'm fine." He assured Tucker before frowning slightly to deliver bad news, "But Hargrove has Junior locked away somewhere on his ship."
Washington had failed to protect the boy, and he wouldn't blame Tucker for resenting him for it.
"I fucking figured that might be the case when I saw he wasn't here." Tucker's expression darkened, and Washington would have done anything to lessen such pain on the other man's features.
"I…I made sure he was all right beforehand." The former Freelancer tried reassuring the no doubt worried father, "But I haven't been able to figure out if he'll be at the big event they have planned."
"You mean the fucking sale?" Tucker grimaced, his hands curling into fists, "Doesn't matter either way. We're getting you guys out of this."
"Tucker…" Washington began in a lower whisper.
"You just have to be patient and trust us, okay, Wash?" Tucker asked him urgently, "It fucking sucks that you have to hang out here still, but we have a fucking plan."
We? Washington glanced around, noticing several other hooded figures mingling amongst the cages since it was not an uncommon look amidst the denizens of Rat's Nest. He started at a glimmer of red hair and dark eyes that he briefly caught from one of the figures. Tex was here too?
He also saw how imploringly Tucker looked at him, the younger man's own desire to just break them all out then and there at war with trying to be as safe as possible. Washington brought his hand up to the shielding again right in front of Tucker's face, "I do." He told him reassuringly before adding, "We're all going to be okay."
He needed Tucker to believe it as much as he wanted to. Tucker nodded emphatically, reaching out to briefly touch the shielding by Washington's fingertips himself before reluctantly pulling away to make sure he didn't arouse any suspicions.
Washington watched as he joined who appeared to be Carolina and Andersmith over by Palomo's nearby cell, the three conversing quietly as so many potential buyers were doing while Tex walked around all of the cages in a bored, seemingly "window shopping" fashion.
"Man, some of these buyers sure are eager. Isn't that right, Wash?" Felix's mocking voice rang out as he sauntered over to the blond-haired soldier's cell.
Washington opted not to respond, forcing himself to no longer look in the direction that Tucker had gone in as he did so.
The lab area that Dexter Grif was brought to looked to be straight out of a standard hospital. He could easily picture Doctor Grey or Sarge being right at home there, though whether that thought made him feel at ease or more uneasy, he couldn't say.
The guards had left him, apparently thinking his current "barely able to stand" condition and the bomb still strapped to his neck would keep him on good behavior. The chubby man took a moment to look around. Maybe he could figure out a way to escape…
There was one portion of the lab that had a mirrored wall, the door to the room beyond locked. Curiosity had Grif move closer, and he was shocked to find what looked like a playroom beyond. Sitting in the center, showing something to a nurse was…
"Junior!"
The kid didn't seem to be harmed, thank fuck, even if he only seemed to be going through the motions of play. What was even more disconcerting was the crib on the opposite side of the room. His eyes narrowed at the sight of it. They even had a baby here?
"They're both being given the best of care, if that's what you're worried about."
Grif started at the sound of a voice coming from directly behind him. Simmons' voice, to be precise. He had been so shocked by the discovery that he hadn't heard him come in.
Simmons' warm breath tickled the back of his neck and sent new waves of heat rushing through him. He tried to ignore that though and reluctantly took a step away, reminding himself that something was wrong with the redhead thanks to Hargrove and he had to try to figure out how to fix it.
Simmons' gaze went to the playroom, "They won't be harmed." He stated, as though he were trying to reassure both himself and Grif of this, "Not so long as I'm in charge of this lab."
Grif couldn't help but scoff derisively at this modified Simmons' naivety since his Simmons was always a worrier and a skeptic, "What does that mean when they're older though, or when they get moved somewhere else?" He asked, trying to get Simmons to see he was wrong.
Simmons frowned, taking another step towards Grif, "My father is not a cruel man."
The orange-wearing man had to outright laugh as he took another step backwards, "You sure about that, Simmons?" Grif asked, "Because I'm pretty sure your dad is a giant jackass."
"That, that isn't—" Simmons' denial faltered as he glanced around their surroundings once more.
"What about his business then?" Grif felt emboldened for once to keep trying, "What he did to Chorus and to all of us?"
Simmons' face darkened uncharacteristically and it broke Grif's heart, "Sh—shut up!" He wailed, as if trying to stop the truth.
Grif had been so engrossed in trying to get through to Simmons that he didn't realize he had been backed into a different side-room until the back of his knees hit something. Suddenly, Simmons was there, pushing his shoulder. Grif in his weakened state fell back onto what his brain oh-so-helpfully finally registered was a bed.
As he tried pulling himself back up (damn unresponsive, heavy body)—he heard the sound of the door's lock being engaged.
"Wh—what the fuck are you doing?" Grif breathlessly demanded of Simmons as the redhead turn to impassively stare at him once more.
"I'm collecting data, just as I told my father I would." The cyborg stated, and then he was on the bed, straddling Grif and kissing him.
Grif moaned despite himself at the contact he had so desperately needed for so long, "This is some fucked up research." He muttered weakly in protest when Simmons finally pulled away enough for him to get a few shallow breaths in.
Simmons, despite the tinge of pink starting to form on his pale skin, regarded him seriously then, "There's a reason I picked you." He finally murmured, "Anyone could see how close you are to needing release."
Grif frowned as Simmons, after a moment of intense staring, shyly, hesitantly put his flesh and blood hand against Grif's tan cheek. The heavyset man hated how longingly he ended up leaning into the touch, but he did so all the same. He could almost imagine this was a normal circumstance. That Simmons was all right. But a nagging voice in the back of his mind kept screaming at him and…
"Not…not like this. Simmons…" Grif managed to get out in-between pants.
Simmons' fingers were stroking the side of his face now, and his whole body felt as if it would melt into the touch, "Not even to save your life?" The cyborg questioned. Grif closed his eyes and shuddered as Simmons continued talking, "My father would be more than willing to just let you die from lack of touch and have someone take notes on that."
Grif scoffed, "Because he's not a cruel man, right?"
Simmons' hand dropped and he tried carrying on as if what Grif had said hadn't caused him to falter, "But I…I prefer a more humane approach."
Grif was pretty much outright breathing heavily now from need and want. Simmons was regarding him in a clearly transfixed fashion, his own face becoming red right up to his synthetic plating. Grif shook his head to try to dispel the lust-filled fog clouding his brain, "Not…like this." He muttered as he used the last of his depleting strength reserves to shove Simmons away and get to the door.
But as he tried fumbling with the lock, Simmons was at his side again, touching his shoulder in a way that had Grif quivering, "Grif…that's your name right?" The redhead was talking gently to him, softly, and it broke Grif's heart all the more, "Just let me help."
The sincerity and pleading in his tone reminded Grif so much of Simmons from before all of this mind fuckery that he let the cyborg lead him over to the bed again.
Simmons started to touch him once more after Grif was lying down, and Grif felt his mind drifting elsewhere: his whole being leaning into those touches and then suddenly, as desire and urge welled up inside him close to bursting, a sudden bout of strength and energy had him grabbing onto Simmons as he pulled him down onto the bed too, crushing his lips against his own.
When they finally pulled apart once more, Simmons was staring at Grif's face both in awe and in a rather stricken way, "You're…crying." He noted, reaching out to tentatively wipe away a tear stain with his fingertips.
Grif stared at his face for a moment, his own heart breaking all the more at the sight, "So are you, Simmons."
Simmons lifted his own hand to his still human eye and wiped at the tears welling up there as well, a troubled look on his face, "Why…?"
Grif frowned, wondering if maybe this was his chance before instinct and outright desire took over again, "Simmons…"
But Simmons shook his head and started kissing him once more as if furtively trying to dispel troubling thoughts from his mind. Soon after, Grif lost all sense of thought, instinct and passion and need taking over as he pulled the lanky cyborg even closer towards him.
They were both spent in the other's arms for what felt like several hours later, Richard "Dick" Simmons being the first to wake.
He frowned at the sight that awaited him, a warm feeling clinging to his sweat-soaked skin at the sight of Grif sleeping apparently contentedly beside him. The tan-skinned man looked better already. Good. However, a painful sensation cut through him all at once.
…Why?
He ran a hand through Grif's dark hair, surprised at the familiarity of it all, how he felt happy just to watch the heavyset man sleep so peacefully after so much had passed between them. Then his eyes lingered on the bomb around the other man's neck and his thoughts drifted to how he felt heartbroken all in the same instant.
Schooling his expression into a calm one despite his troubling inner doubts and turbulent emotions, Simmons got dressed once more and then headed to the nearest communication terminal he could find. There was one thing he could do to help, even if it was a small thing comparatively to all the pain his father and Charon had caused Grif and the others.
"Terrence?" Simmons called out once he got a response from the person he had just hailed, his gaze lingering back on the room that Grif was still sleeping in, "I have an assignment for you."
Author's Notes: I'm so sorry that this chapter ended up being as short as it is, but I hope its content makes up for it! Tucker and Wash reunited briefly, Sheila and Lopez were rescued and reactivated, and both Grif and Simmons shared a very intense and emotional moment together that MAY have some definite repercussions in later chapters for both of them. In other words, lots happened in this smaller chapter!
I have also decided that, for my NaNoWriMo project this upcoming November since I'm still learning the ropes of my new job and everything, I will focus first and foremost on finishing When We Were Soldiers and its prequels since we really are so very close! :D After that, who knows what I'll do next? I be crazy! XD
Thank you to everyone who has stuck by me on this fic and my other stories! I hope I can give this work the ending it deserves and hopefully belt out a happy one for Grif, Simmons, and all our other heroes when all is said and done! You guys are the best, and I definitely want to keep sharing stories with all of you no matter how busy my schedule might get! :)