Red vs Blue: Finish It

by Sicarius117

Four years after the Meta fell into the ocean and Project Freelancer fell, Director Church has escaped from prison. With the help of the Insurrection, he plans on giving the rebels a means to win their war. Fearing this, the UNSC has decided to reassemble the Reds and Blues of Blood Gulch and finish what they've started. Season 8 AU.

23. War Games

Happy Holidays, everyone! I know I haven't updated this fic in ages, but just know that I have not abandoned it. Life just got very, very busy for me, that's all. I'm transitioning between positions, going to become an NCOIC without an officer to help, which is a daunting task to say the least. Not exactly the position I saw myself in ever since I moved bases back when the last chapter was updated. But I will take it the way I have everything else in life: with my head held high and with all the strength and confidence I can muster.

I do want to thank you all for continuing to read through my stuff, especially considering the state of the entertainment industry, Roosterteeth, and world are right now. I hope you are all excited to get through this banger of a chapter, a record 22.5k words in length, to be precise. I hope you all enjoy it as well. Feel free to leave comments and critiques as well! I always strive for the best quality content for you all, even if it is only fanfiction.

---

War Games

Location: UNSC All or Nothing, En Route to Zeta-Phi II

Time: 1443 Hours

Date: July 12, 2557

Carolina had never been one to refuse a challenge. Life had thrown challenges and haymakers her entire life, but she always came through, became stronger, because of them. Some people she had met had been put off by her go-getter attitude, calling her a hot-head, masculine, unladylike. Her temper usually didn't help dissuade those descriptors. But she had never really cared about them. And, with her life in the military, they only helped elevate her status as being the best.

So it really came to the surprise of no one that, when Illinois announced an open invitation for everyone to train together, to conduct Spartan War Games and see who was the best on a team and individual level, that she was among the first to find their way to the simulation room, armor adorned and ready for whatever challenge he and everyone else on the ship could throw at her.

It didn't take long for others to make their way into the chamber, from old Freelancer personnel and the Reds and Blues to the newer Special Operations soldier and even the Elites. Immediately she began eyeing the potential competition, trying to make predictions with what little information she could get.

The Reds and Blues she had already seen in combat. While they likely couldn't stand up to her a straight fight, they were surprisingly formidable. Grif and Simmons were kinda pushovers in some cases, but she had read their profiles. She knew they had experience fighting the Covenant, preferring vehicular combat and explosive weapons intermixed with their tactics. Grif was lazy more often than not, but that could be leveraged with ingenuity given the right circumstances. Simmons was arguably the smartest of the group, but suffered from a lack of self-esteem and paralysis in combat at times. However, he was capable of making decent plans and strategies when put on the spot. He just ended up getting pushed over due to the company he kept.

Sarge had been the most bloodthirsty of all the former simulation troopers. He was by far the most assertive of the Reds, taking charge of whatever situation he found himself in like an ingrained reflex. Apparently he was also an ODST, which meant that he was far more dangerous than one assumed, neurotic and downright insane logical tendencies aside. Sure, she was certain he was a bit past his prime, his record and actions on Praetor showed that he still had quite a bit of fight left in him.

Donut was a surprise from the onset. He was at once both incredibly jovial and deceptively capable in battle. Though she had barely interacted with the pink trooper, from what Tucker had told her of him, he had an amazing throwing arm, capable of sticking Tex from across an entire canyon with a plasma grenade. He had also been a part of Pink Team, a Special Operations force that, if rumors were true, were just as unhinged as the Reds and Blues at their worst, but had completed some rather insane missions. She knew she would need to keep an eye on him if she hoped to not fall into any of his traps.

She had very little opinion of Lopez. He was primarily a mechanic and assistance droid, plain and simple, although he was capable of fighting just as much as anyone else. The strange part about him was the fact that the Reds had acquired him in the first place. By all rights, they shouldn't have had any way of gaining access to a surprisingly advanced piece of military hardware to begin with. Yet they did and he had proven to be a useful, if begrudging, member of the team for years.

Her eyes glanced over to the Blues, Tex standing among them, chatting with Church and Caboose. She knew that, out of everyone on the ship, she would prove to be the biggest challenge. Though they had only ever fought once, she remembered just how evenly matched they were, trading blow for blow with the same speed and intensity. Hell, they hadn't even had a chance to see who actually came on top, the Mother of Invention crashing before either was able to deliver the killing blow.

Carolina frowned under her helmet. She remembered at one point, just before the crash, where Tex made her an offer. You can't win, Carolina, she had said, but you can come with me. She made it sound like Carolina had no chance of beating her, never mind the fact that she knew she could. She just needed to push herself to her limit, to try harder. Now she could. And now she could prove to everyone, both Tex and her friends, that she was the best.

She had to.

The cyan Freelancer looked over at Church and Caboose. She didn't know how well the former A.I. would fare in combat, having only heard that he had survived an encounter with an Insurrectionist squad. Granted, he had been saved by Illinois, but he had held his own until the large male Freelancer had arrived. Plus he had been trained by Tex, so there was a chance he could pose a threat, especially in tandem with the black Freelancer.

Caboose ended up being a massive surprise, able to withstand the full force of Maine's blows. It was well known that he had been by far the physically-strongest of the Freelancers, capable of overpowering even her if both used only raw muscle to fight. Still, she was much faster and more nimble than him, using her strengths to get the better of him the few times they had sparred in the past. The fact that Caboose had been able to meet him with a similar level of strength told her that she would need to be extremely careful in close quarters around him lest he beat her to a pulp. Luckily, he didn't seem all that bright, so maybe she could leverage that.

As for the other UNSC forces and Elites, she could only make sweeping generalizations about their skill level. She assumed the UNSC soldiers, or Omega Company, as they preferred to be called, would stick very closely together as a team, utilizing bounding and overlapping fields of fire to cover their blind spots as they advanced. Their teamwork would be the hardest thing to overcome. Operative Olsen would be key in eliminating, although given the nature of Special Operations forces, it wouldn't be hard for them to adapt to battlefield losses.

What was more troubling was the presence of the Elites. While she could at least make assumptions about how the humans fought, this proved to be monumentally more difficult when it came to the aliens. All she knew was that each of them was far bigger and stronger than the vast majority of humans, Spartans being just about the only exception and possibly a few Freelancers. Even though they had all been prepared to fight the Covenant, they never got the chance before the Project collapsed. She had next to no idea if they worked together efficiently, if they had roles in a team like most humans or were more like Swiss Army knives in terms of flexibility.

No matter what challenge they threw at her, she would be ready for it. There was a reason she had been chosen as team leader for Project Freelancer, why she had been number one for the longest time. And she would prove it aga-

"Hey, Carolina."

She nearly jumped out of her skin as the voice emanated right next to her. Her heart raced and she took a step away, pivoting to face whoever had caught her unaware.

Tucker waved awkwardly with his left hand, his right in a brace instead of a cast. Doc had declared just after they had left Falaknuma that the bone was set, the power of modern medicine and technology noticeably accelerating the healing process. It would still be a few weeks before he could fully use his arm without the risk of fracturing it, but it was still better than the two to three months that it normally took.

Carolina felt the tension in her body immediately dissipate. "Tucker?" she asked quizzically. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting ready to show off my moves, baby," the Blue said cheekily. She could tell he was grinning under his helmet. She also noticed that he called her 'baby' again. She almost wanted to punch him for that. Almost.

However, right now, she wasn't worried about that. "I don't think that's a good idea," Carolina told him, her eyes drifting down to his still-damaged arm. Much as she was eager to beat everyone in a competition, she also didn't want to permanently damage any of them either. They still had a mission to accomplish and, whether she liked it or not, they were her teammates now.

Tucker noticed how she was staring down at his arm, the felt-and-metal brace covering it like a body glove, the metal aligning with bones. "Eh, I'll be fine," he said dismissively. "Doesn't even hurt anymore."

"That doesn't mean your arm is healed enough," she continued. "I've had enough broken bones to know that."

"You? Broken bones? Don't make me laugh."

"I'm serious," she deadpanned, the tone in her voice suddenly hardening.

"I'm sorry," he said, the tone in his own voice indicating that he clearly wasn't, "I thought that you were Number One on the Project's leaderboard, that you 'never got hit' in the simulations by paint rounds."

"Yeah, and I had to work to get there," Carolina shot back. "What? Did you think I was one of those brain-dead perfect mary-sues from those old feminist movies in the twenty-first century?"

"I mean, kinda," Tucker shrugged. "I've never really seen you fail at anything. And you've got the same aggressive attitude as the women in those movies, being perfect, uncaring, the leader and thinking you're always right."

The Freelancer was taken aback by that description of her. Was that really what he thought of her? For that matter, is that what everyone on the ship thought of her? She didn't think she came off as being perfect, or an egregious example of a 'girl-boss'. It's not like it was her fault that a shattered household and broken family forced her to grow up much faster than everyone else, that she became assertive and pushed herself to be better than everyone else. It's not like her chosen career path brought out those characteristics in her, made her feel like she had been accomplishing something beyond herself.

"Well, I'm not," she said. "If I was, I never would have lost all of my friends, my family, and I never would have gotten my A.I.s ripped out of my head by Maine."

Tucker's eyes widened. This was news to him. Was this part of the reason she had stood in shock at his appearance in Praetor? Was it some sort of PTSD? Or perhaps just a reminder of his betrayal to her?

"And you never would have gotten hurt," she said, her voice getting quiet.

Carolina look down at his arm, then up at him skeptically. Or was it worry? Tucker stared back at her, unable to get a read on her current mood. Still, it was weird that she had shifted her attention on to him. For a few minutes, before he came over to her, she had been scanning the occupants of the room, observing and analyzing. Now she seemed to be focused solely on him, at when she had noticed his arm. And did he just see her shift slightly on her feet, perhaps in discomfort? Or was he imagining it?

Mentally, Tucker shook his head. Get it together, dude, he told himself. She's not worried about you. Just want to make sure you heal before the next battle, that's all. Just wants to make sure you're not a liability.

The thought didn't sound convincing, even to himself.

The silence between them was broken when Illinois called the room to attention. "Alright everyone," he spoke loudly, much louder than anyone had heard him speak before. All conversation ceased as everyone gave him their undivided attention.

"Before we begin, I'd like to thank you all for coming. For those of you who aren't familiar with me, my name is Agent Illinois, formerly of Project Freelancer. I am an experienced sniper, analyst, and soldier, among many other things. Now, I'm sure more than a few of you are curious enough to wonder why you didn't see me when you embarked on the ship yesterday. Those reasons are classified. As for another thing you all may be wondering, yes, I am a Spartan. No, I will not elaborate further. That is strictly on a Need-to-Know basis. Just know that I am here to assist you all on this mission."

He gestured to the rows of machines behind him. "What you see before you is the Armed Forces Combat Simulation System Mark Two, or AFCSS-2 for short. It is the newest system created for UNSC forces to train, specifically the Spartans. Utilizing the neural augmentations in your armor, the system can directly link to your suits and project simulated combat arenas into your helmets."

"So, it's VR," Simmons deadpanned. Everyone turned to him.

"I'm sorry, what?" Illinois questioned.

"VR," Simmons repeated. He continued to get stares. "Virtual reality. You know, where you stick some goggles over your head and wave around sticks to simulate your hands?"

"Sounds like more nerd shit," Grif said beside him.

"Yeah, not exactly riveting information," Church agreed.

"Oh come on guys," the maroon soldier said in exasperation, "I can't have been the only one who played virtual reality games in their childhood!"

"Yeah, hate to break it to you man, but you're like the only guy I know who would use anything like that," Tucker added.

Simmons felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Was he really alone again? Then again, he supposed he should have known better than to expect a fellow nerd among his company. Everyone was a soldier, and that career field tended to attract similar types of people.

Off to the side, Olsen was actually giving him a sympathetic look. Truth be told, she knew exactly what the Red had been talking about. She had played with a set when she was a kid, using it to play tactical shooters and 3D puzzle games.

But she couldn't tell him that. One of the parameters of her mission was to avoid attracting unwanted attention. That included giving away personal information and getting close to what was supposed to be just hosts for her unit. It was part of the nature of the job, especially for this one. It was a close-knit life, but it paid very well. She wasn't about to squander her paycheck for a bit of socialization.

Still, it was hard to avoid human emotions, sympathy and the desire to socialize with others being among them. Sure, she was a soldier, but that didn't make her a machine.

"Actually," Illinois finally said, diverting the awkward silence away from Simmons, "you're not far off the mark. Only difference is, since this uses your suits, it's more like a full-body harness. It is capable of simulating the feeling of holding a weapon in your hand, of throwing a punch, tossing a grenade, or getting hit in return by a bullet."

That last part stuck out to Grif. "What do you mean by that last bit?" he asked warily.

Illinois smirked under his helmet. "You'll see." He turned to the pods. "If all of you could find a spot and strap in, I'll explain more when everyone is plugged into the sim."

The large group did as instructed, each person stepping into one of the large cylindrical contraptions. The doors slid closed behind them with a hiss, soft blue lights emanating from around them. Still, it was very dark and mildly claustrophobic. Grif in particular needed to remind himself that there were no bats on the ship, even though he remembered that they liked to hide in dark, cramped environments, just like mice and rats.

Though none of them could see it, a handful of wires reached around and plugged themselves into the backs of their armor, linking their suits to the simulation. Their visors lit up and each found themselves standing in a plain white room, Agent Illinois waiting for them, arms crossed expectantly.

"Good, you all made it," he said. "I see the system was able to fully configure your armor, except you." He gestured to Caboose, who, unlike everyone else, had a yellow exclamation point over his head.

Everyone looked over at the Blue, noticing that he was the only one with a symbol above his head to begin with. "Hello," he said innocently.

"Your armor system isn't up to date with everyone else," Illinois pointed out, "so the system isn't fully registering you into the system. Why are you still stuck on Mark V armor?"

"Oh, because five is better than six!" Caboose told him matter-of-factly.

"What?" Now Illinois was confused. "How is Mark V better than Mark VI?"

"Oh, here we go," Church muttered under his breath. He knew exactly where this conversation was going considering he had had the same one so many years ago.

"Well, it's always better to be closer to first, since first is always the best," Caboose explained. "And since five is closer to one than six, it is better."

"That's not how armor systems work," Illinois told him.

"Since when?" Caboose asked back. "Everyone tells me that number one is the best, five is better than six. I know how numbers work, Mister Agent Illinois."

Illinois stared at the Blue dumbfoundedly. He didn't think anyone could this simple-minded. What he did know, however, was that, even though he could choose to take the time to explain why that logic was wrong, he had a hunch the large simulation trooper wouldn't be able to grasp the concept anyway. He was intuitive enough to generally guess the limit of a person's ability to learn and adapt.

Besides, trying to explain extremely obvious logic would take away from the reason he had gathered everyone together: see who was the best.

"Anyway," he said, brushing off the last conversation as best as he could, "this is the 'waiting room' for lack of a better. From here, we can set up the parameters for whatever simulations would be required." A blue holographic screen showed up in front of everyone's visor, showing off lists of options, many of which they could not easily discern the meaning of. However, the ones they could make out were rather obvious. These included:

Map

Mode

Options

Start Match

"For simplicity's sake, this system allows you to customize the simulation to however you want it. It is capable of running cooperative and competitive modes, so you can either fight against programmed enemies ranging from humans to the various species in the Covenant, or others within the simulation. The program is not entirely able to accurately program how each species reacts, but it is relatively close."

"You mentioned that there were competitive modes," Carolina stated.

"Indeed there are," Illinois nodded. "They range from basic Deathmatch and Capture the Flag to Assault and single-life Elimination. These setting can be tweaked, allowing for increases or decreases in things like gravity, health, and movement speed, custom loadouts and even starts, and many other things."

The male Freelancer turned to their alien guests. "Is this making sense to all of you, by the way?"

Zain nodded. "I believe so," he said.

"So," the salmon-and-yellow Spec Ops Elite, Retam, finally spoke, "what sort of trials are we expecting to face here? Ones that could not be handled by a simple sparring ring?"

"Many," Illinois told the young Sangheili. "Most of them involve ranged combat and dynamic environments no sparring ring can truly replicate. Compared to a sparring ring, you can go full force against your opponent."

"Okay, but how does this prevent people from doing reckless suicidal charges?" Simmons asked. "Or other tactics that would not work in actual combat for that matter? Without some sort of punishment, this isn't any better than a really fancy video game."

"And you'd be right, Simmons," the male Freelancer agreed, "if there wasn't a small caveat to discourage such actions." Illinois pressed a holographic button that appeared in front of his chest.

Before anyone had a chance to ask what he did, the environment around them changed. In the blink of an eye, the white room around them disappeared, replaced with a wide-open warehouse floor. The metal floor and walls looked rusted and used, coats of dirt and rust dotting every surface in sight. The light fixtures looked like they had seen better days, many of them held up by rusted chains. To the side were a series of boxy crates, a wide variety of weapons leaning against them.

The teams took a look around, seeing just how lifelike the entire area was. Some put their hands on the metal crates, feeling pressure through their gauntlets, as if the surface was actually there. Others decided to be a bit more bold and grabbed weapons, inspecting them and otherwise fiddling with the lethal pieces of equipment.

"I would like a volunteer," Illinois called out to them.

They all turned to him. "For what purpose?" Shahlee asked, her warble reverberating through her helmet speaker, distorting her already alien speech further.

"Demonstration," he answered vaguely.

There was a brief pause as the group wondered what he planned to do.

"Ugh, I guess I'll do it then," Church finally volunteered, disdain lacing his voice.

"Excellent," Illinois nodded. "Just stand over there, away from the others." He pointed to an unoccupied portion of the room.

Church did as instructed, getting a safe distance away from everyone else before turning to face them. "Okay," he said, still not knowing what the Freelancer was getting at, "now what?"

"This." Without warning, a shot rang out. In the relative silence of the warehouse, it may as well have been an exploding artillery shell for how loud it was.

"Sunofabitch!" several of the Reds and Blues exclaimed.

Everyone's eyes snapped to Church. The Blue silently collapsed, blood coming out of multiple parts of his body. He said nothing, going deathly still as he fell to the ground.

Next to him, Agent Illinois held a shotgun in his hands, the barrel pointed at where Church had been standing. He racked the pump, a used shell popping out of the top, only to be replaced by another one.

Tex's eyes widened in alarm as she saw the mangled corpse of her boyfriend. She shook her head in disbelief. When the hell did he pull out a shotgun? In fact, where the hell did he pull the shotgun out from? And why did he shoot Church?

"What did you DO?" she exclaimed. She felt her heart race, just like when she and Church had separated over Praetor, when she had been terrified that he could've died.

The male Freelancer looked nonchalantly as she fumed, seemingly unphased by her ever-growing hatred. How could he just sit there and act so calm about killing him, her only real point of emotional stability in her life? How could he be calm at killing the love of her life?

Silently, Illinois raised one of his hands, holding up three fingers. Her brow scrunched in confusion, her anger faltering slightly. What was he doing?

He dropped one of his digits down as a second went by. Was he waiting for something?

The second digit fell as another second went by. Now she was just irritated. Was he preparing for some sort of joke?

The last finger dropped. Without warning, a figure simply popped into existence next to her, a figure in cobalt armor.

"That," Church groaned, one of his hands going to his chest, "was a dick move, Illinois."

"He's alive!" Caboose boomed aloud, barreling into the Blue and grabbing him in a bearhug as if he had been missing for years. Church struggled against him, clearly not content with his teammate's crushing strength.

Tex reached a hand out to him before pausing, simultaneously bemused by the large Blue's actions and her boyfriend's subsequent reaction. She was also still kinda pissed at Illinois.

She glared at the green-and-blue Freelancer. "What the hell was that, Illinois?" she asked.

"A demonstration," he told her. He looked her up and down, seeing that she was still furious at him. "Oh, come on now, Tex. Did you really think I was actually going to kill Church, just like that?"

"No, but that was erratic behavior, even for you," Tex admitted.

"True," he shrugged, "but it caught you and everyone else off-guard." It's still odd that you thought he actually died given that this is a simulation, he thought to himself. He hadn't expected the black Freelancer to react the way she did. Given that she enjoyed tormenting her boyfriend from time to time, he thought she would have found it funny. She had found stuff like that funny before. What changed?

He turned to address the Blue that had just respawned. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore, like someone punched me," Church answered honestly. He kneaded his gut, feeling the spots where the shotgun had connected with his body.

"What did you feel when I hit you?" Illinois questioned.

"A sharp sting, I guess." The former A.I. continued to rub his chest.

"And therein lies your answer, Simmons," Illinois told the Red, facing the rest of the assembled humans and aliens. "To avoid throwing away your lives recklessly, the system shocks you. Not enough to be lethal, but enough to punish you for consistently bad behavior. And it also shocks you where you were hit in the simulation."

"But that means we can kill our enemies several times over, right?" Sarge asked next, going over to the weapon pile to pick up a shotgun of his own.

"I mean, yes," he said warily, not sure what the old Red was getting at. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Sarge answered dismissively. Before anyone could react, he aimed his shotgun at Grif, firing off a shot. The metal pellets landed square in his chest, just like Church. Grif yelped as he keeled over.

Three seconds went by before the orange sim trooper respawned next to them. "Ya know, I should've expected that the second you mentioned that, Illinois," he said dully. Clearly years of interacting with the senior Red had led him to anticipate such an action.

"For safety reasons," Illinois continued, "the voltage levels have been reduced for Grif and Tucker. We don't want to hamper their recoveries any further."

"Damn it Grif," Sarge grumbled. "Why'd you have to get wounded in our last battle? Now I can't even give you the proper punishment that you so deserve!"

"Hey, I didn't ask to get stomped on by the Meta back there," Grif retorted.

"Oh, of course not," the older Red said sarcastically. "It's definitely not like you to find any excuse to avoid getting off your keester, even if it means getting self-inflicted injuries."

"I might be lazy, but I'm not insane enough to hurt myself just to avoid work!" the orange simulation trooper protested.

"Aaanyway," Washington interrupted, stifling the bickering Reds before their conversation could spiral out of control. "What's the plan now, Illinois?"

"Now," Illinois answered, "we decide what competition you all want to do first. We can do one versus one, two versus two, free-for-all, team versus team-"

"Team versus team!" Sarge answered immediately.

"Okay," he nodded. "And who will be our first contestants-"

"Red Team versus Blue Team!" Sarge interrupted again.

"What?" Grif and Simmons exclaimed.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" Tucker said eagerly.

"Wait wait wait wait wait," Church spoke over them. "You want to fight us, just like that?"

"Well, duh," Donut answered. "Not like we've ever really had a fight against each other. Like to the death or anything like that."

"That is, unless you Blues are too scared," Sarge added. There was a hint of a smirk in his voice. "Then we can officially declare that we are the best team in Blood Gulch."

"In your dreams, Red," Church sneered. "We'll show you who the best really is."

"And," Tex said, stepping forward, "with me here, this'll be over in no time."

"Hey, you can't join!" Grif protested. "You're a Freelancer, not a Blue."

"Actually," she corrected, a grin plastered on her lips, "I'm both. We agreed a few weeks ago that I would be coleader of Blue team along with Church. And I won't leave them out to dry."

A puzzled look crossed Grif and Simmons's faces, seemingly taken aback at her more supportive attitude.

Thankfully for them, they were hardly the only two to notice. "What's going on with you, Tex?" Sarge asked warily.

"Oh, nothing," the black Freelancer said nonchalantly, "just trying to be a good team player, that's all."

"But you've never been a team player," Simmons retorted.

"Yeah," Grif added. "You've always the lone wolf, the 'shoot first, ask questions later' sort of gal."

"Well, that's changing," she told them. "My solo days only worked when I was in Project Freelancer, and only because we ran smaller missions. We've stepped into a bigger war, one that requires teamwork and a lot of manpower. I know that now. And I know my lone wolf mannerisms won't do us any good in the long run. So, I'm going to do what I've never really done before: be a team player. Could do me some good, seeing how I fit in here beyond being the big, strong, mean Freelancer you've all known me as."

She looked around the room, focusing especially on the Reds and Blues. "So, you gotta problem with that?"

For a second, no one answered, even among her own team. She didn't know whether everyone was shocked or thought she was some sort of imposter, that she wasn't the real Tex. But, just like when she told herself that she would change her relationship with Church, she would do the same thing for the Reds and Blues. It felt good doing things on her own, but large scale warfare tended to dictate that everyone won or lost as a team. She had gotten a taste of teamwork on Praetor, leading the Reds and Blues when no one else would, but even then she did had gone off on her own to try and take down the relay tower.

"No," Sarge answered first.

"Nuh-uh," Simmons said next.

"Sounds good to me," Donut shrugged.

"Claro," Lopez droned.

"Ugh, fine," Grif finally answered in exasperation.

With that out of the way, Illinois asked, "So, what game type do you all want to run? We have Capture the Flag, Deathmatch, Oddball, Assault, and Elimination."

"Deathmatch!" Sarge shouted immediately.

"Capture the Flag," Church said next.

"Oddball," Donut chimed in.

"Elimination," Tex voted.

"Assault," Simmons suggested.

"Actually, I changed my mind, I don't want to play at all," Grif commented.

The teams continued back and forth, no one able to convince each other to switch sides. Tucker didn't seem to care so long as he could beat the Reds, Lopez's vote was completely ignored due to his language barrier, and Caboose didn't seem to know the difference between each mode, changing it to something different every time he was asked.

"Enough," Illinois called out, calming everyone down. "Since you can't come to a decision yourselves, I have decided to make it for you. For this round, you will be playing Team Deathmatch, Custom Loadouts available. You will be on the map known as the Pit. First to fifty kills wins."

A series of jeers and boos were heard from the sim troopers, Sarge and Tex being the only ones excited about the prospect of killing each other multiple times.

With the ruleset out of the way, every participant had a screen brought up to them, allowing them to customize their starting weapons. Due to the rules of the game, only one member of each team was allowed to use a heavy weapon or 'power' weapon, as it was referred to in the options menu. This proved to be a non-issue, with the Reds giving Simmons a Rocket Launcher with his Battle Rifle and Church adding a Sniper Rifle to his arsenal for Blue Team.

Once all was said and done, Illinois initiated a countdown, queuing up the teams to deploy to their respective starting zones on the map. The Pit was symmetrical in layout, so it wouldn't be hard to guess where their opponents were. Everyone else was given an invisible camera in which they could freely spectate the contestants.

The match began and the teams huddled around each other, discussing how they would plan to take down their enemies. Predictably, the Reds started by bickering, arguing for and against bum rushing into their opponents' spawn, catching the dirty Blues by surprise. Donut offered to swing wide, wanting to get in the Blues' rear. Lopez, for his part, was perfectly content to provide fire support with a turret located at a tower on their side of the map.

Meanwhile, ironically, the Blues sprang into action. Tex went wide, planning on rushing the Reds through the use of her active camouflage, with Church supporting her advance with his sniper rifle from the tower on their side of the map. Tucker made to control two of the closer hallways, lying in ambush with his sword at the ready. Caboose's role was flexible, ready to come to Tucker or Church's aid if either of them started to get overwhelmed.

The first casualty fell to the Blue. While the Reds had been busy trying to formulate a plan, a frag grenade flew around the corner of their spawn, bouncing against a wall before landing among Sarge, Grif, and Simmons. Donut and Lopez had vacated the area seconds earlier, intent on executing their part of the plan.

An explosion popped all three of their shields, causing them to jolt as they realized they were already under attack. They had no time to react as Tex rounded the corner, popping all three of them with bursts from her Battle Rifle.

Their deaths were short-lived as they respawned closer to the remaining Reds, at the base of the tower the other two had vacated to. Tex was not far behind, appearing once more from beyond the corner. However, the other Reds were more prepared for her arrival. Donut was the first to react, lobbing a plasma grenade in her direction with a flick of his wrist. Simultaneously, Lopez swung a turret around on its hinge, a hail of bullets being unleashed upon her position.

Tex ducked away, just barely avoiding the bright-blue plasma grenade from sticking her in the face. She rolled to the side as the bullet trail followed her, just barely keeping ahead of them. She disappeared around the corner once more.

A shot rang out from across the map. Before anyone could react, Lopez slumped forward, a hole in his head. Donut snapped his head as he saw his friend fall, recognizing the telltale sign of Church's Sniper Rifle. He hadn't expected the shot to go clean through the android's shield as if it wasn't even there.

Donut jumped off the tower, getting out of the cobalt soldier's line of sight before he could suffer the same fate. The cheery Red landed before pulling out yet another sticky explosive. He angled his arm as he aimed, estimating the location of the Blue sniper from behind cover. With another wicked toss, he threw the blue ball across the map, the handheld explosive sailing far faster than most would've assumed. It was easy to forget that Donut had a talent no one else in the canyon possessed, one that was actually useful in combat. He had been an expert pitcher in his youth and that skill transferred extremely well to his skill as a grenade-thrower.

The grenade zoomed over the map, flying at such an angle that made it impossible for most to accurately predict the action until it was too late. It landed squarely on Church's visor, obscuring his vision in blue light.

"Oh, son of a bitch," he said in resignation before exploding in a flash of blue-white light. First blood for the Red team went to Donut, leaving the score 4-1.

Knowing they were going to get slaughtered if they stayed boxed in, Sarge pointed to his orange and maroon subordinates. "Grif, Simmons, go handle Tex," he ordered.

"Handle!?" Grif exclaimed. "She's gonna murder us the second we get around the corner!"

"She's going to murder you two dunderheads anyway if you don't get a move on," the older Red noted dryly. "We need to get her out of our spawn so we can maneuver around the map more."

"And how would you suggest we do that, sir?" Simmons asked, struggling to stifle the panic from leaking into his voice.

"You're a smart man, Simmons," Sarge told him. "Figure it out." The Red stood up and began to leave.

"Where are you going?" Grif asked, still not content with the order given to him.

"To put pressure on the Blues," the Red said, gripping his weapon with determination. "Gotta get to fifty kills somehow." He looked over his soldiers at his subordinates. "Just do what you can and try not to get killed too much. We gotta show those dirty Blues not to mess with the Red Army."

With that, he was gone, disappearing up the ramp and around one of the corners, into green hall.

"So," Grif asked, turning to his partner, "got any ideas?"

Simmons looked around, spotting Lopez, who had just respawned. At the same time, he looked between Grif and Donut, who both looked at him expectantly. Was he really the best leader they had right now? He had always wanted to be as good as Sarge, if not better, but he never really took the time to see what he would do when he got there. Now leadership had been thrust upon him and he found himself quivering in panic.

What would Sarge do? he asked himself. Charge in after her? Stuff the barrel of his gun in her face? Or would he try something clever, like find an explosive barrel?

Neither of those options sounded appealing. He wasn't suicidal enough to try to take Tex on in close combat, but he also didn't have sufficient tools to trap her.

Or did he?

Simmons's eyes darted to the Bruteshot on Grif's back, then the turret in the tower above them. It wasn't much, but he had a plan now.

"Lopez," he called out to the android.

"¿Si?" he responded in kind.

"Grab the turret up top and bring it to the center platform," Simmons told him.

"¿Por qué? Lopez droned. "Agente Texas es lo suficientemente rápida para esquivar mis balas."

"Just do it, Lopez," the maroon trooper said. "Trust me."

The robot sighed, but nodded nonetheless, moving up the back of the tower to grab the heavy weapon.

"Donut," Simmons continued, turning to the pink soldier. "Keep Lopez covered. Try also to see if you can help Sarge out with your grenades. Maybe try to stick Caboose or Tucker, or at least get them out of their positions."

"What are we going to do?" Grif asked.

Simmons swapped the Battle Rifle in his hands for the Rocket Launcher on his back. He checked to make sure the rocket magazine was in place. "Flush her out."

The Reds dispersed, with Lopez hauling the turret to the central platform. Donut did the best he could, lobbing grenades and firing off a few rounds from his own rifle, just enough to either throw off Church's aim or force him to keep his head down. Shots flew past him, the pattering of Assault Rifles rounds accompanying the occasional thump of a Sniper Rifle. Meanwhile, the remaining two Reds went around a different way, going to a ramp that went to the back of their base.

As a precaution, Simmons threw a frag grenade, which bounced around the corner. It detonated soon after. Moving out from behind a wall, the Red could see a faint shimmer in the air, one that he knew without a doubt belonged to Tex.

Grif fired his Brute Shot as he saw her too. The first round flew past, smashing and then exploding into the wall behind her. The second one hit her feet, forcing her to move lest he continue to land hits against her. He fired four more shots, each of them forcing her away from them, out into the open. Normally she probably would've tried to close in on them, but the grenade launcher was disrupting her movement. That and the fact that she saw Simmons's Rocket Launcher didn't help.

She rounded the corner leading to the platform on the Red side of the map, noticing at the last second that Lopez was stationed across the gap separating the platforms, turret in hand. The android let rip with his weapon, bullets spraying across the platform. Tex sprinted across the platform, racing just barely faster than Lopez's aim could manage.

However, in her haste, she forgot to account for the last Red, one who arguably had the deadliest weapon of them all. Simmons rounded the corner, bringing his twin-barreled launcher up to his eye. He seated the butt to his shoulder, aiming down at the shimmer. His Heads-Up Display couldn't identify the distilled air as a threat, but he knew better. He saw Tex's form move across the platform, aiming to avoid both Reds and disappear behind cover once more.

Simmons wasn't about to let that happen.

He brought the barrel ahead of her, intent on shooting where she was going to be instead of where she was. The shimmer jumped in the air, crossing the gap between the Red and central platform, and Simmons took his chance. He pressed the trigger on the weapon and a rocket shot out of one of the tubes. It crossed the gap faster than her, faster than any of them could possibly move.

The area around Tex exploded as it landed, blowing her up and killing her. Her body fell to the floor unceremoniously.

The Reds stood in shock as they stared down at Tex, her body unmoving. "Did…" Grif was the first to ask, "… did we just kill her?"

"I guess so," Simmons answered, still in disbelief himself. He stared down at his handiwork, then back at his weapon. The whole situation felt surreal. The invincible girl, Agent Texas, the best Freelancer in the Project, was dead before their eyes. He had seen her do incredible things, impossible things, before. He had seen go through an entire horde of Wyomings, beat down the Reds in previous battles like they were nothing. He remembered how had easily she beaten them all several years ago in that one warehouse with just her fists, that time when she somehow dodged a heat-seeking rocket despite being locked on to her.

And now she was little more than a mangled heap on the floor. Granted, the floor of a simulation, but that didn't make everything feel any less real.

An explosion, along with a gunshot, sounded off in the distance, bringing everyone out of their stupor. There were still three other Blues out there and, much as he thought he could handle them all, Sarge couldn't possibly take them all on, not the way he was currently doing it.

That fact was further emphasized when the Red leader popped next to Simmons, groaning from the electric shock across his chest. "Well, that didn't go as well as I planned," he grumbled.

"Knew you weren't gonna go anywhere with that," Grif commented.

"What happened, sir?" Simmons asked.

"Got caught by Tucker's sword and a few follow-up shots by Caboose. Thought I could take them, but they're more coordinated than I thought."

"So what do we do now?" Donut asked.

"Well," Sarge told them, "they have a pretty good defensive setup. Church is covering all of the open angles with his Sniper Rifle while Tucker is handling the smaller halls. Caboose is providing support from a middle distance. Compared to that, we don't have much."

"But we do have numbers," Simmons noted.

"Only by one more guy," Grif pointed out.

"Judging by how big this map is," the maroon soldier observed, "one more guy might be all we need to tip the scale in our favor. We just need to isolate the Blues and focus fire on them."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Sarge nodded. "You've gotten pretty good at this, Simmons."

"I'm just observing and analyzing the situation as we go, sir," Simmons waved dismissively.

"But it just might be the difference between victory and defeat," the Red leader told him. "This intel is exactly what we need to get a leg up on those dirty Blues."

Sarge turned back to face where the enemy team was undoubtedly located. He smirked under his helmet. They may not have the individual skills that each member of Blue team had, but they had a much better track record of working as a team. No deaths, no disappearances, no friendly-fire incidents, hell, they even had a flag score, the only one in Blood Gulch history.

"If it's a fight they want," he pumped his shotgun, "then it's a fight they'll get."

---

True to Sarge's word, the fight was much more even than it had any right to be. Tex continued to rampage through their lines at every opportunity, but they were always there to stop her. Church ended up killing them a few times as well, yet he was still much easier to kill than Tex. Didn't help that his aim typically evaporated when the Reds subjected him to any sort of return fire.

However, those were the only two that seemed to be going on the offense for Blue team. Tucker continued to hold closer angles, taking potshots with his DMR but otherwise making their pushing difficult with his energy sword. He rarely seemed to push into their territory, but each time he was met with fire that saw him die quite a few times. Simmons assumed he was trying to capitalize on Tex's aggression by flanking through the narrower hallways while they were distracted.

Caboose ended up being a wildcard throughout the fight. Sometimes he chose to hang back, allowing Church to retreat while he provided covering fire. Other times he would be with Tucker, either engaging the Reds in a crossfire or pushing with him to the Reds' side of the map. However, there were a scant few times when he would venture out on his own, following just after Tex was either killed or forced to retreat. No one dared to try closing in to melee against him, all of them completely aware that Caboose could manhandle every single one of them with ease.

However, he was not immune to bullets. If Tucker and Church were easy to take down when isolated, then Caboose was just a free kill by comparison. At least those two had a sense of self-preservation, one that Caboose lacked at times. More often than not he'd charge right in their lines, lacking any strategy or subtlety. And he was surprisingly easy to pick off with their rifles at a distance.

Still, the Blues were not lacking in killing power in their own right. Every time the Reds slipped up, even for a second, one of the Blues would capitalize on their mistakes. Whether it was Church sniping Simmons just as he was about to kill Tex with his Rocket Launcher, Tucker sneaking up on Donut and Lopez while Sarge, Grif, and Simmons were preoccupied, or Caboose had somehow closed the distance with all of them and started blasting them apart with his Assault Rifle, it became clear that each member of Blue Team was formidable under the right circumstances.

This didn't mean that the Blues were able to consistently pull away with the lead, however. In fact, even though the match wasn't quite over yet, everyone in the lobby had at least one highlight-worthy moment, something that they would look back upon fondly. For Simmons, it was killing Tex with his Rocket Launcher three more times after the opening firefight, being the only Red to successfully do so the entire match. For Grif, it was stymying Tucker and Caboose's pushes, even going so far as to kill them both with an exploding fusion coil while simultaneously popping Tex's shield. Sarge got his moment of glory when he was able to draw Tucker and Caboose into the effective range of his shotgun, killing them both before shooting Church from across the map, killing him with five perfect shots. This incident actually managed to piss Tex off considerably, whereas she immediately downed all five members of Red team within twenty seconds, exterminating them. And that wasn't even her most impressive feat of the game.

The Blues got their moments to shine as well. Church got a rather impressive four kills in quick succession, clearing the Reds from the middle area while simultaneously relieving pressure from Tex. Tucker soundly beat both Sarge and Donut in hand-to-hand combat once, something that was only possible when Tex had disarmed them earlier. And Caboose, in a moment of clarity, was able to kill Sarge, Grif, Simmons, and Donut at one point, his Assault Rifle stripping them of their shields before allowing him to finish them off with the butt of his gun.

Predictably, none of them could hold a candle to Tex's feats. Being the most offense-oriented member of the team, she continued to push into Red base, using her active camouflage to close the distance or get the first shots off in a firefight. With her aggressiveness, she was able to clear the Reds multiple times. The most impressive highlight from her was when she threw a fusion coil at Donut, intercepting his plasma grenade that had been for Church, and exploding in the pink man's face. Before the other Reds could properly react, she grabbed one of the dexterous Red's own alien explosives and tossed it up at Lopez, sticking him and subjecting him to the fate Donut had been administering to Church the entire match.

Of course, Simmons had wasted no time in prepping his launcher for her, swinging it up to face her. What he didn't expect, though, was her throwing her Battle Rifle straight back at him, obstructing his vision just as he fired, and blocking the rocket just as it came out of the tube. The propelled explosive blew up in Simmons's face, killing him and Sarge.

Grif would have no time to truly register what had just happened before, like their fight in the warehouse so many years ago, she kicked him in the balls before slamming him to the ground and unloading an entire magazine of SMG rounds into his face.

Truly, she had been a force to be reckoned with, one the Blues were thankful for, and one that had Church grinning ear-to-ear. He was proud of how tough and skilled his girlfriend was in combat. She was just so hot when she showed off her strength like that. It got his heart beating with excitement every time.

But the game was not over, not yet.

The score was now 47-48, with Red team having taken a miraculous lead due in no small part to Donut's throwing arm and Grif and Simmons tag-teaming Tucker multiple times in a row. Sarge had done what he could, but he was limited by the range of his primary weapon. Lopez had been content to remain in his support role with the turret.

Church ducked behind cover at the top of Blue team's tower, a series of shots from Grif and Simmons keeping his head down. He had just taken out Lopez from his perch in Red team's tower and barely dodged Donut's plasma grenades.

The cobalt sniper quickly peeked his head over the barricade, trying to account for all of Red team. The only one missing was Sarge. That wasn't good. If Sarge was missing, he could easily flank around them, nabbing the two final kills while everyone else was distract. That or he could close the distance on Church and just shoot him in the face with his shotgun.

The fire ceased as a blur of distorted air closed in on the Reds. At this point in the match everyone could tell that it was Tex, using her camo to close in to a distance where Grif and Simmons couldn't return fire comfortably. Her concealment device deactivated as she lashed out with a fist, connecting with Simmons's jaw. The maroon soldier fell away as Grif brought up his Brute Shot.

Church lifted an eyebrow in confusion. She was far too close to shoot him without risking hitting himself with his own explosives. What was he planning on doing?

Grif gripped the back of the heavy weapon, swiping the blade on the bottom in an upward arc. Tex sidestepped the swing, the blade passing mere inches over her breastplate. Her fist jabbed out at Grif's face, sending him stumbling back. Not letting up on her assault, she punched Grif several more times in quick succession. The orange soldier had no chance to properly repel the flurry of blows before she swept his legs out from under him. To add insult to injury, she slammed her fist down on his chest, smashing him to the floor.

Church's grin continued to widen as Blue team took the lead once again, the score shifting to 49-48 in their favor. They were so close to winning, it was exhilarating. All he had to do was help Tex finish off Donut, and their victory was assured. They would prove once and for all that they were the best team in Blood Gulch, not the Reds.

His excitement would be extremely short-lived.

A plasma grenade bounced just short of Tex's feet, causing her to look up at Donut but otherwise didn't move. Both she and Church knew that, even though they were deadly, plasma grenades had a much shorter blast radius than conventional frags. She wouldn't even have to so much as move to avoid it even scratching her shields.

However, that didn't stop the pink soldier from throwing a second one. Normally his throws were fast enough that most people would have to put in effort to avoid such deadly balls of burning plasma, but they could clearly see him do it. Most of his kills had relied on surprise or throwing at obscure angles, ones where it was hard to predict his moves. Those that didn't were either fastballs or thrown from so far away that, by the time anyone noticed he had thrown them, it was too late to react. If he was throwing it at Church, he was far enough away that he could dodge it. If he was throwing it at Tex, she could merely sidestep it. She had much faster reflexes than almost everyone on the ship, the Reds and Blues included.

He threw the handheld explosive device, the arc clearly signaling that it was intended for Tex. She took a step to the right, moving just enough for it to miss her, but not so much that she would need to redirect her energy towards killing him and securing the final point.

This is too easy, she thought, smirking under her helmet.

She had only just finished her thought when the first grenade explode. That, she had counted on.

However, what she hadn't counted on was the second grenade detonating at nearly the same time as the first, engulfing the area she was occupying in blinding blue light. Tex shouted in surprise and pain as her shields and armor failed to protect her from the lethal plasma.

Church squinted his eyes as he tried to shield them from the glaring light. It dissipated a second later, just enough for him to see his girlfriend sail across the platform before her back smashed into the wall. She fell to the ground unceremoniously.

Church's heart pounded as he saw her fall. She couldn't possibly have died from that, could she? Nothing less than a direct hit from a rocket could kill her. She was supposed to be invincible. Only Simmons was capable of killing her and he had just been taken care of not even ten seconds ago.

But the scoreboard didn't lie. It was now 49-49. That only meant one thing: sudden death. Whoever got the next kill won.

The Blue gripped his sniper rifle in his hands, nostrils flaring in anger that Donut had somehow killed her again. It was just like the canyon all over again. He remembered being so pissed the first time around, knowing that someone had killed his ex-girlfriend, who he very much still hadn't gotten over, before he knew that she was capable of leaving her body just like him, as a ghost. Okay, technically an A.I., but nobody knew that at the time.

This felt very much the same for some reason, even though this was a simulation.

He brought the sniper rifle over the barricade, sighting down the scope, aiming directly for Donut's head. He let out a breath, steadying his aim. He would see his team win. He would see her avenged.

A whoosh of distorted air sounded behind him just before he pulled the trigger, dropping him out of his stupor for a brief second. He turned his head just in time to see Sarge propelling through the air, using the large fan near that base of the tower that had acted as a gravity lift to get him up to. He could see the Red gripping his shotgun tightly, with intent.

"Haha!" the Red announced. "Here comes the vengeance of the Red Army, dirty Blue." Unfortunately for him, his excitement got the better of and he preemptively pulled the trigger. The shot wasn't enough to kill him, or even break his shields for that matter, but it was enough to throw off his aim. Church's shot went wide, bouncing harmlessly off the wall behind Donut.

Before he had a chance to line up his aim again, the Red dropped on him. Church rolled to the side as he barely avoided the Red's body from crushing him. Sarge's legs tensed as he landed, absorbing the impact. He turned to bring his close-range weapon up to the Blue's face, intent on killing him and securing victory.

Unfortunately for him, he hadn't racked a new shell into the shotgun's chamber. And in the time it took him to do that, Church lunged back at him, knocking the gun out of his hand with his own weapon. The shotgun flew off the tower, well out of reach of the Red.

Sarge kicked out at Church's groin, forcing him down to his knees. He grabbed the long rifle, attempting to pin the Blue to the ground with it. Church knew that if that happened he wouldn't be able to move, leaving him at the Red's mercy. He may be much better at hand-to-hand than he used to be, but Sarge had experience on his side. He'd kill him in no time.

So, instead, he seized the initiative and twisted his body, throwing them both off the tower. They tumbled to the floor below, the sniper rifle falling out of both of their grasps. Church was the first to get to his feet, having learned how to recover from falls due to Tex's training. As Sarge rose up he made a lunge at him, striking out to punch the Red in his face.

Unfortunately, the Red leader was prepared for it, catching the cobalt trooper's arm by the elbow. With a twist, he threw him over his shoulder. Church landed harshly on his back, grunting in pain.

Sarge let go of his wrist, drawing a knife from his hip. He held it in a backwards grip, staring down at his enemy.

"You lose, Blue," he said grimly. Without further preamble, he thrusted down, aiming to stab Church through the throat. Church rolled quickly to the side, the tip of the blade missing him by mere inches. He swiftly rose to his feet and went for the Red once again. He stretched out with both hands, one closed in a fist that flew directly at his head. The other reached out for the hand holding the knife.

The fist going to his face failed to land, Sarge stepping back just out of reach. However, it did cause the Red to become momentarily distracted, allowing Church's open hand to grasp the wrist of the hand holding the knife. His fist snapped to support the grappling hand, pushing up at Sarge and attempting to twist the blade back at him.

Sarge took a half-step, driving his heel into the ground as he attempted to halt Church's progress. It seemed to work, as the blade got stuck halfway between them. Both team leaders grunted in exertion as they pushed against one another. For a few seconds neither could gain the upper hand. Neither wanted to lose. Both were hungry for victory, to settle the score once and for all.

But it was then that Sarge chose to dig deep. He had by far the most combat experience among the former simulation troopers. Better yet, he was an ODST. Sure, Church had been trained by the best Freelancer in the Project, but he could guarantee he hadn't gone through the grit and sweat Sarge had. He hadn't lost people the way Sarge had. He hadn't killed people and aliens the way Sarge had. Realizing this, he pushed forth with all of his might, a seemingly second wind reinvigorating him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he pushed back against the Blue, twisting his weapon and aiming to stab Church through the visor.

Church realized what was happening as he saw it. The Red was reaching far into the bowels of his psyche, the rush of experience and grit giving him the energy he needed to overcome even the Blue's own determination.

He had to think fast. If he was going to beat Sarge and claim victory for Blue Team, he would have to outsmart his opponent. He weighed his options. He couldn't keep on meeting Sarge's strength, as it was apparent the Red would not relent. He couldn't disengage and try going for his weapon, for he was sure Sarge would catch up with him all over again. He couldn't go with a punch or kick as that would divert too much energy away from keeping the knife at bay.

That left only one option. It was incredibly risky, but he couldn't think of any other way out.

"Caboose!" he called out over his radio.

"Hello," the dimwitted Blue answered cheerily, oblivious to the life-or-death fight he was partaking in.

"Give me one of your grenades. I need your help," he enunciated, hoping the Blue would understand what he meant.

"Okay!" Caboose answered. A second later, Church saw a frag grenade fly through the air.

Perfect, Church smirked. With a bit of luck, the grenade would land behind Sarge and detonate, killing him or at least distracting him enough to reverse the knife and kill him. It was so close he could feel it.

Donut, having climbed up to the central ramp, was able to barely make out that Sarge and Church were fighting. Seeing that he was pretty deep in Blue territory, he knew he had to help his team leader somehow. They were down to the wire. Whoever won this next fight would determine the fate of the entire match.

The pink raised his rifle, only to just realize that his view was obstructed, a bridge connected to the tower. Thinking quickly, he pulled out the last of his plasma grenades and activated it. He reeled his arm back, angling it at an angle where it would land close to the Blue than his glorious team leader. Blowing air out, he threw it, hoping Sarge would see it before it landed, allowing him to angle Church so that the Blue would absorb most of the damage.

Both grenades landed at the same time on either side of the Red and Blue leaders. Both stopped struggling as they stared down at the explosives surrounding them. Their eyes widened at the realization of their situation: they were trapped.

Neither of them could come up with a solution to escape their demise before the explosives detonated, engulfing both former simulation troopers in light and fiery, explosive death.

The arena fell silent as the light and smoke dissipated. Everyone not currently waiting to respawn held their breaths.

"Tie," Shiela announced. "Game over."

Grif and Simmons balked as they heard the news, staring at each other in disbelief. She did not just say what they thought she said. It had to be a mistake. It just had to be.

Everyone brought up the scoreboard, their hearts sinking to their stomachs. It said the same thing.

50-50. Tied game.

The tension was abruptly dissipated when, in the blink of an eye, everyone was brought back to the waiting room. The teams looked back and forth at each other in disbelief.

"What. The. Fuck," Tucker was the first to speak.

"Tied game?" Grif asked.

"Looks that way," Tex shrugged, although her answer seemed less exasperated than everyone else.

"There must be some sort of mistake," Church grumbled.

"Yeah, I had you dead to rights," Sarge told him smartly.

"Oh, bullshit," Church snapped back. "I was clearly about to kill you."

"Not without Caboose's help, you weren't," Simmons pointed out.

"Well, it's a good thing I threw that grenade when I did then," Donut added.

"You got lucky," Tucker muttered.

"Impressive work nonetheless," another voice joined in. Everyone turned to see Illinois, arms crossed, nodding in approval. "I don't believe I've ever seen a tie in the simulation before."

"Dude, it's gotta be a fluke," Tucker said in exasperation.

"No fluke," Illinois shook his head. "The grenades detonated at the same time, killing Sarge and Church within the same frame." A screen appeared above everyone's head, showing an instant replay of the final kills. Indeed, it appeared the male Freelancer had spoken the truth, the replay showing that the explosives had gone off at the exact same time.

Still, some of the Reds and Blues refused to believe it. "We need to run it again," Church deadpanned.

"Fuck that," Grif shot back. "I'll take a tie if it means not getting pummeled by Tex a gazillion times again."

"What?" the female Freelancer gasped in mock surprise. "You want me to gently stroke your chest like that girlfriend that turned out to be a guy?"

"Hey," the orange soldier called out in offense, "how do you know about that?"

"Tucker told me," she said plainly.

"Tucker!" Grif called out, clearly hurt that the Blue had spilled his secret to Tex.

"Oh come on, man," Tucker said defensively, "we've been fight each other for so many years now. We're all basically friends here at this point."

"Yeah," Tex shrugged. "Besides, it's hardly the most embarrassing thing I've heard from you guys. Me telling all of Church's friends back on Earth that I used to kick his ass in every sport is far worse. They'd never let him live it down."

"That's not the same!" Grif protested. "At least you still fell in love with him, so it ends up being part of your precious love story."

"And yours will be a funny story for your next girlfriend. Or boyfriend. I don't judge."

Grif continued to fume silently. Sure, his story may have been funny to them, but it was downright embarrassing for him. It proved that he couldn't identify the difference between a man or woman. That, or it meant that he was possibly gay, or bi at the very least. It showed that he wasn't good at identifying people. And he didn't like that for some reason.

"So," Illinois said loudly, "looks like it's settled then. Both Red and Blue team are equal."

The Reds and Blues glared at each other silently, everyone except Caboose, Grif, and Tex fuming that they weren't the winners of the game.

Church noted that Tex was very nonchalant about the outcome of the fight. "Tex, are you okay?" he asked.

Her head turned and she locked eyes with him. "Yeah," she told him, "why?"

"You seem oddly calm despite the fact we didn't win," he observed.

"Meh," she shrugged, "it is what it is."

"But I thought you wanted to prove you were the best."

"As an individual," she clarified.

Church cocked his head in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

Tex sighed. "Look," she said, "with how things are going to be in this war, us having to work together with other units, I'm not all too concerned with if Blue team won or not. If anything, the tie proves that we and the Reds are competent, reliable, at the very least. When I'm out in the field I want to be able to trust you to cover me, that you guys have my back."

"I'm reliable," Church pointed out. "You know that."

"Yeah," Tex nodded in agreement, "you are reliable when you're with me. I didn't know if the same could be said with everyone else. Now I do."

Church honestly didn't know what to feel when it came to the outcome of the match. On the one hand, she was right. This proved that the Reds would be valuable when they inevitably all had to work together. But on the other hand, he still wanted Blue team to win. They had to prove that they were the best, that the years of sitting in Blood Gulch doing nothing didn't mean anything. Maybe it was a pride thing for him.

"Now that we know both Red and Blue teams are equal," Illinois called out, "does anyone else want to do team competitions before we start on one-versus-ones?"

The groups all stared at each other. For a minute no one said anything, hoping that someone would be the first to break the silence.

"We'll go," Zain finally spoke.

Everyone, even the other Elites, stared back at the gold-and-silver zealot.

"Are you sure about this, Zain?" Sesa asked, his helmet distorting his voice slightly.

The young Sangheili nodded. "I am. If we are going to be fighting against other humans, we have to know how they fight in turn. Better to learn here than figure it out when we get to an actual battlefield."

The other Elites nodded in agreement. Clearly they saw no issue with his logic.

"And who will you be facing?" Illinois asked.

Zain raised a clawed finger, pointing to the last party that hadn't already participated: Omega Company. "Them," he answered.

Olsen stepped forward, staring up at the Elite. "You think you can take us on, big boy?" she asked, a grin on her lips.

The zealot shrugged. "Perhaps. That is what we're here to find out, is it not?"

"I guess so," the grey-armored soldier chuckled. "Just be prepared, split-lip. We're not going to go easy on you."

"I would expect nothing less from some of the best," Zain nodded, seemingly unaware of just how eager she, and her team to an extent, she was to beat him. That suited her just fine. Even though the whole thing was only a simulation, she would get a chance to show just how much better they were than the Elites. She could even pretend she was killing the split-jaws too, even if only for a moment. At least it could alleviate some of the tension she had felt on the space station, one brought up from memories of the Human-Covenant War.

Seeing that both parties were eager to show their skills off to one another, Illinois nodded. "Very well," he said. "You will engage each other the same way the Reds and Blues did: Team Deathmatch."

"Prepare yourselves."

---

The next several minutes were filled with the cacophony of battle, bullets and plasma rounds flying through the air along with the sailing of grenades, the whirring of machine guns, and the thumps of explosive weapons injecting themselves into the song of fury every now and then.

The map that had been chosen for their match was known as 'Boardwalk', one that was bigger than the one the Reds and Blues had fought on, but not so big that it would take forever for both teams to find each other. It was outside, located on a massive crosswalk in what had once been Alexandria, the capital of Reach, before it's subsequent glassing by the Covenant in the final months of the war.

Unlike the first match, the teams were larger. All of the Unity Blades were participating, with Junior choosing to join them due to his familiarity them, making their team size seven in total. To counteract the fact that the team was all Elites, Omega Company was allowed to field eleven players. It seemed like it would not be enough given the disproportionate strength and speed of the larger aliens, but Olsen insisted that they would be more than sufficient.

Each side fought with brutality and tenacity, each side doing everything in their power to change the outcome of the match. And both sides showed their strengths and weaknesses in equal ways.

The Unity Blades, for all of their lack of combat experience against humans, did remarkably well, utilizing their greater strength and speed to whip across the map, zooming through chokepoints and evading gunfire faster than most humans could ever hope to match. Their heightened senses, on top of the equipment in their armor, also helped tremendously, their predatory sensing allowing them to spot irregularities in the battlefield greatly.

Each Elite was a powerhouse, though it became apparent that some had greater strengths than others. Zain, Shahlee, and Junior proved to be the best among their peers. Zain had been remarkably skilled in direct combat, able to tank shots without fear of reprisal, opening up advantages for the others with his more headstrong approach. He also proved to be incredibly adept at scavenging and using other weapons. When his plasma repeater, his primary firearm, eventually ran out of energy, he did not hesitate to pick up the nearest weapon, anything from the familiar plasma pistol and needle rifle to the foreign human assault rifles and DMRs. If all else failed, he could still lash out with his sword.

However, this did not mean that the young Sangheili was reckless. He was well aware that he could be easily overwhelmed, as he had found out once when he got caught in a four-prong assault against Olsen and three of her teammates. His shields melted nearly instantly under their sustained fire. After that first encounter, he made sure to minimize his exposure, checking to make sure his teammates were near him before pushing, anticipating a sniper or shotgun at every corner.

Shahlee, in comparison, was more nimble and careful than her male counterpart, using her previous experience to predict the behavior of the humans with relative accuracy. When one or two of them were suppressing her or one of her teammates, she would quickly assess that the UNSC soldiers were buying time for their comrades to get into position to flank. And she would counteract them, either directing one of the younger warriors to watch their flank or move to engage their assailers herself.

Junior, for being a bit out of place among the team, did as well as her. Some, especially Tucker, argued that he was better. His experience with the Reds and Blues meant that he had a slightly better understanding of humans than most of his brothers-in-arms. His carbine meant he could fire off accurate shots at a distance while his sword made up his close-combat potential. He seemed to be the most balanced of the three, being more aggressive than Shahlee but less so than Zain.

His experience when combating humans was still limited compared to the female Elite, however, as he failed to calculate for some of the ingenuity and adaptability of his opponents. A few times he would step out of place, believing himself safe from reprisal, and get melted by concentrated gunfire as a result or otherwise take an unsuspecting shot from a lurking sniper, the antimateriel round going through armor and shield alike.

Every member of the alien spec ops team got a moment to shine, or was at least find a combat preference. Retam and Sesa ended up tag-teaming many of their battles, Retam often taking the lead and Sesa providing support. The salmon-and-yellow ranger would also call out enemy snipers and rocket launchers as they revealed themselves, giving his brother just enough warning to seek cover. As a result, Omega Company got smart enough to switch fire on to him, killing him a fair number of times and leaving his brother without his more acute senses.

What really surprised Olsen, and the rest of Omega Company for that matter, was how easily Sesa could pinpoint their locations, even with the support of active camouflage. Being part of a special unit, Omega Company had access to some of the best equipment available to the UNSC, cutting edge weapons and armor, even a rudimentary level of active camouflage wielded by the Covenant's Spec Ops branch. Just about the only thing their armor couldn't do was provide energy shielding or enhanced strength and speed, not the way MJOLNIR armor could with the Spartans.

Zal and Xytan ended up performing the worst of the bunch, being the youngest of the team and, therefore, having the least combat experience in total. They also ended up falling into the crossfire of the humans the most as well.

Still, they were able to find some sort of combat preference at the very least. Xytan chose to follow Zain's example, rushing between Omega Company's formations and generally disrupting their ability to coordinate. He pulled a sword or energy cutlass out at every opportunity, slicing through their armor or unleashing hails of fire from his plasma rifle.

Zal took on a more interesting role compared to his friends, one that was desperately needed. Instead of charging into enemy lines like his brother, the dark-green Elite played a support role, more akin to a marksman or sniper. He utilized a needle rifle and beam rifle, taking precision shots and popping in and out of cover. More often than not he'd be the one to respond to Sesa's callouts, counter-firing the human snipers that threatened his squadmates.

However, even with all of the large aliens' physical advantages and skillsets, it was becoming apparent that Olsen and Omega Company had a lot of experience when fighting Sangheili. Each soldier was a veteran of the war, though these days it was easier to find a human soldier that wasn't a veteran.

What made them more impressive than most was their backgrounds. The vast majority of them were former ODSTs, and the few that weren't had proven that were more than capable of hanging out with the best of the best. Each soldier fell back on doctrine and squad tactics when the Elites pressed forward. The humans created kill-zones, overlapping fields of fire, and kept on consistently communicating with each other.

Still, the battle was hardly easy for either side. The humans had experience and coordination, thus allowing them to maintain a strong lead through the entire match. The overall condition for victory for Olsen and her team was to reach fifty kills. The Elites needed to reach one hundred in comparison.

The Unity Blades were never truly able to gain a lead over their opponents, the experience and teamwork of the humans proving superior. Each Elite was capable of taking on three or four opponents at a time, but their lack of experience made such events a rarity.

As such, it came to the surprise of no one when the match ended in a victory for Omega Company. The score was 50-68, with the majority of kills on the Elite side going to Shahlee, Zain, and Junior.

Both teams popped back into the waiting room once the match was over. Olsen stood proud, grinning at the performance of her team. "Told you it wasn't going to matter," she called out.

Carolina and Tex looked at the team of dark-grey soldiers, nodding in approval. "That was quite impressive," Carolina said first.

"Not quite as good as us," Tex commented, "but pretty good overall."

Olsen raised an eyebrow under her helmet. "You think you can do better?"

The black-armored Freelancer shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe. We haven't exactly had experience fighting Elites, so I don't know."

Olsen looked over at the Elites, her head angled confidently, with a signature look of superiority. "That's why you don't mess with the best," she told them. "You'll die like the rest."

To their credit, they didn't seem fazed by the soldier's upfront attitude. "And it seemed like you were the best after all," Zain agreed with her, either not noticing or not caring that she was trying to talk down to them.

Jane's lip twitched slightly. Here she was, with her team, having soundly beaten the aliens that were supposed to be their 'allies', yet they acted like their loss was no big deal. Didn't these creatures have a code of honor or something like it? Shouldn't a defeat have stained their reputation?

Before she could ponder why the Elites weren't reacting to their defeat the way she thought they would, someone else interrupted her thoughts.

"Now that that's out of the way," Illinois once again announced, "I think it's time that we got started on one-versus-one-"

"Uh, Illinois," Simmons interrupted him.

The green-and-blue Freelancer looked at the nerdy Red. "Yes, Simmons?"

"Not everyone has gone," he pointed out.

Illinois cocked his head in confusion. "The Reds and Blues have gone, as have the Unity Blades and Omega Company. Who is left?"

Simmons pointed a gauntleted digit at him. "The Freelancers," he answered. "Or, more specifically, you."

The room fell silent as everyone realized that he was right. Even though he had been the one to set up this whole event, he had yet to participate in it himself. Same went with Carolina and Wash. The only difference was that everyone had witnessed the other Freelancers fight, rather admirably at that. In comparison, very few had actually seen Illinois in action. Sure, he had participated in Praetor, but he had either stuck to being a dedicated sniper or there was typically too much action going on for any one of them to focus on him.

The fact that he was a Spartan only made everyone more eager to see him clearly in combat. Few of the assembled humans and Elites had seen or experienced combat in the presence of one, alongside one, against one, or anything in between.

The reputation of Spartans was unmatched by any other in the post-war era. Just about everyone, from the UNSC and Insurrection to the various fractured factions of the Covenant, knew about their deeds. They were aware that a single one, no matter which variant they were, could take on whole companies of soldiers by themselves.

The feats of John-117, the legendary Master Chief, solidified their reputation as warriors not to be trifled with. His deeds had saved everyone, destroying a world-ending doomsday device known as a Halo and shattering the Covenant's unified resolve. It was his deeds that had saved not only humanity, but the galaxy at large.

Illinois snorted as he realized what Simmons was saying. "You don't want this," he told the nerdy simulation trooper.

"Bullshit we don't," Olsen said right back. She was clearly eager to see the work of a Spartan in action.

"Dude," Tucker exclaimed, "none of us have seen how a Spartan fights."

"Almost none of us," Church corrected. Tex nodded in agreement with him.

The male Freelancer stared at the assembled Reds and Blues. "Were none of you there when I was fighting on Praetor?"

"I mean, we were," Sarge said, "but none of us have had a clear view of how you fight. You're always obscured by buildings and debris, or fighting while we're otherwise occupied."

"Besides," Donut remarked, "you said the purpose of this whole thing was to find out who was the best, both alone and as a group. So why would you not get involved? Why would you not want to get in on this frisky guy-on-guy action?"

"Because it wouldn't be a fight," Illinois stated. "It would be a slaughter. And I'm not here to sweep away the competition. I'm here to see how well you all fight together."

"Well we haven't seen how well you fight with us," Zain told him.

"Or against us," one of the soldiers from Omega Company added.

"Look, Illinois," Washington said, stepping up next to him, "we're not here to dispute whether you're a good fighter or not. We're mostly here to see how good you are."

"That is unless you're not as good as you say you are," Carolina smirked. He stared down at her, noticing that she was sizing him up. He knew that the cyan Freelancer always did have an ego when it came to competition, having never lost to anyone in the Project. Even her fight against Tex could be disputed as a draw seeing as there was no clear winner in their fight.

Still, he had been given specific instructions to not participate in the actions and testing of the Project back in the day, instead reporting back to his superiors of their progress and being seen as the reminder that they were under the directive of the Office of Naval Intelligence. The only real fighting he'd had against the Freelancers was in training Tex herself, before she had been revealed to everyone else.

He'd never been much of the competitive type, always preferring to stick to getting a mission done as efficiently as possible, with as few casualties as possible. He hated wasting resources, the lives of his teammates and allies being among them. He wasn't afraid to use them, per say, but he'd avoid wasting them needlessly.

However, he also tended to not bat an eye at people who chose to throw away their lives for trivial or petty matters. People who let their emotions override their self-preservation were of no use to him, being more a hindrance or even danger to those under his charge.

"Come on, Illinois," Tex stepped up to him, talking to him softly, more calmly, than the rest of the group. "Just this once. For old time's sake."

He looked back at her, noticing the sympathetic, perhaps nostalgic, look she was giving him. His eyes softened around her. He always did have a soft spot for her, even if he didn't want to admit it. She reminded him so much of his old partner, his best friend, his soul mate. They were both rather headstrong, passionate, perhaps needlessly aggressive and abrasive, but confident about themselves. They were both rather hotheaded, unafraid to forge ahead even when the situation called for a more delicate approach.

He knew that she wasn't his deceased lover, even if they were far more similar than they had any right to be, but it didn't stop him from thinking back on older times, when things were simple, when it was just him and her, just like when it was just him and Tex in the early days of Project Freelancer.

Besides, Tex was his student as much as his friend. How could he refuse such a request from her?

He sighed in resignation. "Fine," he said, "but Carolina and Wash are with me."

Tex blinked in surprise. "You don't want me on the team?"

"I do," he answered, "but you already made it clear that you're part of Blue team. I won't ask you to chose between your other friends and me."

Illinois raised his head as he scanned the assembled soldiers, human and Sangheili alike. Who was he going to fight against? Everyone else had gone, had beaten each other senseless. Each side knew what to expect from everyone else.

But they didn't know him, not yet.

"I need every team to choose two of their best fighters," he announced.

The Reds and Blues looked at each other skeptically. "What for?" Sarge asked.

"If I'm going to show you what the best looks like," the male Freelancer rumbled, "then I need to fight the best."

Shrugging, the teams talked among themselves, debating on who would represent each of them.

After a minute or two, the teams broke apart. "Church and I will go," Tex proclaimed first. Tucker and Caboose saw no argument with them. They had performed the best on their team, even going so far as to work best together. Tucker might have been great as a swordsman and Caboose would've been deadly up close, but the cobalt and black soldiers worked best as a team.

"So will me and Simmons," Donut said next. The maroon soldier had originally wanted Grif to be with him, but there was no denying that Donut had the largest tally of kills thanks in no small part to his throwing arm, even if Sarge told them otherwise. And Simmons had been the only one to kill Tex multiple times in their match.

"Junior and I will participate," Shahlee announced. This had been a toss-up between the Unity Blades. Of the seven of them, they all agreed that the choice had been between her, Zain, and Junior. Each of them had proven remarkably adept in the fight against Omega Company, scoring the majority of kills for their team. The only thing that had tipped the decision towards the current chosen Sangheili was their experience with humans. Shahlee was a veteran of the Covenant and Swords of Sanghelios, having partaken in multiple battles against the UNSC. And Junior was raised by humans. They hadn't necessarily been the brightest, but they were there for him. His cooperation with his father could not be understated.

"And so will Miller and I," Olsen told them. Just like the Elites, it had initially been hard to choose who would represent them. They all knew they had won because they had worked as a team, with no one really caring about who got the most points for their team. Kills didn't matter when it came to overall victory. Each teammate was important on some level and they had all proved it. What sealed their fate was often Olsen and Miller's ability to make callouts in the heat of the moment and formulate plans on the fly, a handy skill when an initial plan went FUBAR.

The pairs stepped forward, revealing what their team was comprised of. In the back of her mind, Olsen wasn't happy that she was working alongside the Elites her team had soundly beaten. But she didn't let it show. Had to keep up the impression that it wouldn't affect her work, even if she had made snide remarks about them before.

"Everyone ready?" Illinois asked.

"Oh yeah," Olsen remarked, itching to see what was so good about this Spartan.

"Damn right," Tex agreed, pounding her fists together and cracking her neck. "Let's see what you've got, old man."

Under his helmet, the larger male Freelancer smirked. "Oh, you have no idea," he answered lowly.

---

The map was known as Solitary, one that was distinctly alien in make, different from that of Covenant and UNSC designs. It was located high above the clouds of an unknown world. If one looked outside, they could see that is was a small section of a much larger facility, with rotating sections that hummed with dormant power. It was also cold enough for ice and snow to build up on some corners of the map, even partially obscuring the view outside with a layer of frost on the windows.

The map itself was unique compared to the previous battlespaces they had seen and fought on. Where the previous maps had two, arguably three levels of verticality, this one had four. Each floor had several ramps, catwalks, and gravity lifts that allowed one to easily traverse the map. Each floor also had open spaces and snaking corridors, allowing for a combination of long and close-range fighting.

Just like with the Reds and Blues, each team was only allowed to spawn with one heavy weapon. However, as a courtesy to the numerically-superior team, they were allowed to equip a second member with a heavy weapon. Seizing the opportunity, the mix eight-man team gave Church and Simmons the sniper rifle and rocket launcher, respectively. Everyone else was satisfied with their own starting weapons, the humans having their rifles and SMGs while the Elites took up their plasma guns and energy swords.

For the Freelancers, the singular heavy weapon went to Illinois, taking up his signature sniper rifle and shotgun combo. Carolina and Wash took battle rifles, with the grey-and-gold soldier grabbing himself a pistol as a back-up. The cyan Freelancer took a pair of plasma rifles instead.

The Freelancers' goal was to reach fifty kills while the combined team needed to reach only a measly tex. Carolina assured that they wouldn't be able to break five. Illinois said nothing, but knew better than to assume victory would be so easy. Tex would be on their team, after all, plus the two Elites would add a lot of muscle.

The battle began with both teams spawning on opposite sides of the bottom floor, able to see each other as soon as they stepped out of their spawning area, only a large pillar and two crates obstructing them.

A shot from a sniper rifle rang out as the teams rushed from their initial spawns. Immediately, Simmons went down, faceplanting before he could even so much as react to the shot going artificially through his skull. Church and Tex looked across the way to see Illinois, rifle raised as he ran across the open area, seeking a ramp that would lead him up to the next floor. He was easily moving faster than them, but the length of his stride made it look like he was barely doing more than jogging.

They returned fire immediately, their shots bouncing against his shields or barely missing. Church fired off a round, but didn't compensate for the Spartan's higher base speed, missing his shot. Illinois disappeared around the corner before anyone could stop him.

However, the same could not be said for Carolina and Washington, who were still out in the open. Both Freelancers opened fire at the opposing team, causing the remaining five enemies to return it in kind. The goal was not to kill any of them yet, though, merely to get damage on them and throw off their aim while they moved a less exposed position.

The two Freelancers followed Illinois up, trying to keep up with him. Tex sprinted across the gap, chasing them. Shahlee followed behind. Church, Donut, Junior, and Miller split off in a different direction. Olsen stayed behind, trying to gauge the layout of the map as well as the position of her teammates. She was also waiting for Simmons to respawn. Better for them to stick as close together as possible. Though she had confidence that Tex and the Elites could handle the Freelancers on their own, everyone else could not. And with the way Agent Illinois was able to get a shot off as quickly as he did, she wasn't taking chances running alone.

Simmons appeared next to her a second later, his rifle in his hand while the rocket launcher remained on his back. "Alright guys," she called out over their comms channel, "talk to me. Where did they go?"

Meanwhile, Tex ran up the hall she had seen the Freelancers disappear behind, hearing the female Elite keeping pace with her. She activated her camouflage unit, bending the light around her slender black frame. Shahlee did the same.

As they rounded the corner, a burst from a Battle Rifle immediately went off, barely missing them. Washington crouched at the top of the stairs, sighting down their approach. They returned fire, bullets and plasma whizzing past him. One or two shots managed to scathe his shields and he ducked down reflexively. The pair of females rushed up the stairs, not letting him get a second to breathe.

Wash backpedaled as the imposing women charged him, their active camouflage making it hard for him to consistently hit them. He saw doom before them, knowing he was going to be the first casualty for the Freelancers. Illinois was already well past them, having continued further up the map. He had no idea where Carolina had gone.

Tex and Shahlee deactivated their cloaking devices as the got to within arm's reach, the black Freelancer rearing her fist back to strike.

A flash of cyan came out from his peripheral vision, smashing into Tex and interrupting her attack. Carolina and Tex tumbled down the ramp, grappling with each other. They both cursed loudly at each other, the women vying for supremacy.

His relief was short-lived as Shahlee continued past them, drawing an energy sword and aiming to pierce his heart with it. Wash rolled out of the way, the humming blade swishing past him. He instinctively drew his combat knife, aiming to catch the Elite off-guard.

Unfortunately, she was faster than she looked, easily sidestepping his swipe. She sliced down, going for a bisect across his shoulder. Thinking fast, he went for a tackle, getting under her guard and interrupting her swing. They went tumbling out of the room, landing on a catwalk that crossed to the other side of the map.

Grappling with her sword arm, he pushed his weight down on the reptilian alien's right side. Wash drew his knife back with his other hand, trying to stab down to her neck and kill her before the Elite could react. He was aware that her strength was greater than his, so he couldn't win in by simply overpowering her.

The Freelancer's efforts were interrupted as a series of green shots impacted his shields and bringing them down to a sliver. He looked up just in time to see Junior peering around the doorway, Covenant carbine raised. Church, Donut, and Miller were right behind them, raising their weapons towards him. Wash knew he had a very slim chance of outrunning his opponents' aim, sighing as he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was going to be the first casualty for the Freelancer trio.

Another sniper rifle round rang out, piercing through Junior's shield and helmet, going through his skull. The young Elite fell, just as Simmons did. Though Wash couldn't see it, Illinois had transitioned to the third floor, firing down on the fireteam that had showed up to support their Sangheili comrade.

Church and Donut shifted their focus up at the green-and-blue Freelancer, firing up at him just like before. However, just like before, his faster movement speed made it hard for them to consistently land shots.

Agent Washington saw the opportunity for what it was, jumping off of the still-living Elite beneath him, and landing on another catwalk close by. Miller let loose with his assault rifle, several of his shots landing against his shield and breaking it. He continued to run anyway, getting out of sight of his opponents as quickly as possible.

"Got one running just above you, Olsen," he radioed his team leader.

She saw exactly what he had called out, Wash running to a catwalk just over her and Simmons. The former UNSC soldier raised her battle rifle, trying to get a bead on him. Her shots went over his head, hitting the wall next to him.

Simmons came up beside her, hefting his rocket launcher in his hands. He aimed ahead of his target before firing. The rocket shot out of the tube, impacting against Washington's defenseless form. The rocket flew too fast for the Freelancer to dodge and he was subsequently killed, his body tumbling lifelessly off of the edge.

"Nice shot," she commended her Red compatriot.

"Not the hardest thing in the world," Simmons said. She gave him a look as if to say 'dude, just take the compliment' and he looked away, his cheeks turning red. He immediately stuttered out, "B-but thanks anyway."

Their awkward moment was short-lived as they heard scuffling down on their level. The ran forward, looking to see what the commotion was about.

Tex and Carolina continued to grapple, both of them preventing the other from getting to their weapons. Somehow, their rifles had been tossed to the side, several feet away.

The black Freelancer, pinned down by her cyan counterpart, brought her legs to her chest, double-kicking her opponent off of her. Carolina flew off, slamming into the wall behind her. She stumbled to her feet, trying to regain her composure.

Her relief was short-lived as Tex went on the offensive, jumping into the air for a superman punch. Carolina rolled to the side, Tex's fist connecting to the wall behind her instead. Using her momentum, the cyan Freelancer roundhouse-kicked at her head. Tex saw the move out of the corner of her eye, ducking down at the last minute and twisting to face the her.

The female Freelancers stared each other down, their focuses solely on each other.

A sniper round landed against Carolina's chest, popping her energy shield. She stepped back in surprise as a third party decided to interrupt their fight.

Tex smirked as she recognized her boyfriend's shooting. Leave it to him to drop whatever he was doing to help her instead.

Seeing that she was clearly outmatched, Carolina decided on a change in strategy. With a thought, she activated her speed unit, feeling energy course through her body. Without the assistance of an AI, it wouldn't be the best idea to use it in direct combat, requiring too much concentration and timing to use effectively. However, it made for an excellent pursuit option. Or, in this case, an escape tool.

Carolina pivoted on her heels and, before Tex or Church could react, she was gone, sprinting back up the ramp she had tumbled down.

Tex cursed as her quarry escaped, chasing her as quickly as her legs could carry her. But Carolina's speed boost gave her an edge over the black-armored Freelancer.

As she neared the top of the ramp, Shahlee came into view, sword drawn, staring down at her, feet spread apart in a defensive stance. Her silver Spec Ops armor gleamed in the chill air, like a specter of death.

Carolina knew she had no time to course-correct as she ran. She couldn't turn around, as that would mean facing Tex again. She couldn't stop, or else risk getting sliced through by the glowing plasma sword like a hot knife through butter.

So instead she went for the third option. She sprinted forward, closing the distance between them. Shahlee lunged out with her sword. In that moment, Carolina went down into a crouch, sliding down between her legs and letting her momentum carry her under the tower alien's body. The Elite overestimated her stab and it swung through empty air.

Clearing the distance, Carolina sprung back to her feet, continuing to run full sprint past the now-bewildered Spec Ops leader, disappearing around the corner. Tex zoomed past her as well, fully intent on pursuing her target.

Church watched as Carolina flew past Tex and Shahlee, trying to level his scope at her head. Before he had a chance to catch the escaping Freelancer, a blur of green-and-blue appeared out of the corner of his eye. He looked up just in time to see Illinois jumping down on top of them, shotgun in hand. His weapon barked and, before Church could even react, he had keeled over lifelessly.

Miller and Donut weren't prepared for the male Freelancer's sudden assault, getting far too close for comfort. He went for the grey soldier first, noticing that he was trying to unload his assault rifle into the tower warrior. Illinois knocked the weapon out of the way, dropping his shotgun for a combat knife. With his free hand, he gripped Miller harshly by the shoulder, preventing him from backpedaling.

Illinois stabbed up into Miller's gut, knocking the wind out of him. He keeled forward just enough for the Spartan to withdraw his melee weapon before lodging it up through the bottom of his jaw.

Donut was not idle as the large Freelancer murdered his two teammates. Seeing that he was far too close for his rifle to be effective, he switched it out for his two pistols.

The pink sim trooper had just finished readying his weapons when Illinois directed his attention towards the flamboyant Red. Donut let off a series of shots, intent on drowning the Spartan in lead.

Seeing what his last opponent was doing, Illinois gripped Miller's now-lifeless body and twisted it around. Two of Donut's shots connected with his shield. The remainder of them, however, did not, instead being absorbed by the corpse that was being thrown his way. Donut crouched low as he did his best to dodge the large makeshift projectile. It sailed over him harmlessly.

Illinois was upon him as soon as the body was cleared. He was only able to fire off another shot before the Freelancer smacked his pistols away, raising his knife to gouge the pink trooper's neck. Reflexively, Donut palmed Illinois in the shoulder, where there was no armor. It impacted against joint, making the Freelancer's arm briefly seize up.

It wasn't enough to outright stop the Spartan, but it did give him an extra second to breathe. He used it punch Illinois in the gut before swiftly kicking out at his knee.

Illinois remained unperturbed by the trooper's nerve attack, as much as it had slightly slowed him down. The punch had some force to it, but wasn't even close to the hardest punch he had taken in his long life. He angled his leg so that Donut's kick would hit his reinforced kneepad, doing very little to actually stop him. He braced with his leg for the impact, predicting where the kick would land.

His prediction proved to be correct, with Donut's foot connecting against his titanium kneepad and stopping in it's tracks. Donut's leg quickly snapped away as he tried to gain distance against his opponent.

Illinois wouldn't let him, lunging forward with blinding speed. He brought down his knife to the Red's throat. Donut tried to block the attack, but there was too much power in it to prevent his fate. The knife jammed between his collar and neck, killing him by all accounts of the simulation.

Donut slumped down and Illinois withdrew his knife, holstering it once more. He swiftly retrieved his shotgun before chambering another shell, quickly topping off his ammunition.

As he began to retreat further up the map, he briefly looked at the scoreboard. 5-1 in favor of the Freelancers. Not a bad start, but it could've been better.

He needed to keep an eye out on Wash. As capable as he knew David was, he was also aware that he had the least amount of accolades under his belt. He could hold his own against most the enemy in one-on-one except maybe Tex or the Elites, but he would struggle against two or more opponents ganging up on him. Give that they were outnumbered eight to three, that was probably going to happen a lot. Carolina wouldn't always be there for him, so he needed to help out the team as well.

Illinois looked down at his motion tracker to see a series of dots moving up to him again. His opponents had respawned and would no doubt be formulating a strategy to stop him, or at least keep him contained.

They could try, but they would find out exactly why Spartans had the reputation they did.

---

The next several minutes were followed by sporadic shootouts and scuffles, with the larger team doing their best to isolate the Freelancers from one another. They had succeeded in taking out Washington seven more times after the opening minute of the match. It would likely have been a dozen if it weren't for the efforts of Carolina and Illinois, with the former working with her teammate to drawing out several of the combatants.

Their biggest hurdles ended up being Tex, Church and the Elites, although the Reds and Omega troopers were pulling their weight as well. Olsen ran with Simmons, doing her best to relay information between the groups and coming up with plans to surround the Freelancers. She directed Simmons to Carolina and Wash's locations a few times, with the rocket trooper nicking the former and outright killing the latter once or twice. Donut and Miller added some tactical flexibility with an assortment of plasma grenades and some well-placed frags, increasing their area denial and popping shields for an advantage before they entered the fight.

But none of them were able to successfully pin down and eliminate Illinois. With his high speed and insane accuracy, he seemed to always catch them on the backfoot, able to somehow predict their every move. Whenever they tried closing in on him, he would either outpace them or blitz them in return, using his shotgun, his sniper rifle, knife, even his own body, to throw them off. He was far faster than a person of his size should be.

And this was all before he started adding his Thruster Pack ability into the mix. The boosting device had been a lifesaver for him, able to dodge sword swings and rockets alike. Whenever Shahlee or Junior came up to him, he always seemed to time his thrust against their swings, making them miss and leave them wide open for his counterattack, which typically ended up being a shotgun to the face.

Just about the only one who had been able to compete with him on their own was Tex. She ended up engaging with Carolina and Wash more often him, but the few times they met, it ended up being a close call for both of them. Neither were able to kill each other, usually because one of Tex's teammates was right behind her or shoot at him from a safe distance. However, she couldn't press her advantage either, with Wash choosing that moment to spray her with a few bursts from his own rifle. It was never enough to kill her, but it did cause her to find cover.

Even though everyone's focus seemed to be on Illinois, Carolina wasn't lacking in the killing department either, though she didn't seem quite as proficient as him. More than once she had interrupted pushes into Wash's territory, barreling into human and Elite alike with little trouble. They did their best to put up a fight, but she was ready for them more often than not. Out of all of them, Tex was the only one who could go toe to toe with her on their own. Unfortunately for her, Church or another of her teammates would interrupt their fight. Neither had killed the other, meaning it was up in the air as to who was the better Freelancer between the both of them.

This did not mean that the other couldn't be a threat to her, however. Shahlee and Junior were able to take on her head-on, even despite her strength augmentations. Junior was slightly slower, but Shahlee had a sort of cunning that must've come from prior experience with fighting humans. She would always try to keep herself at a safe distance, using her greater reach to her advantage. Carolina had to fight extra hard to kill them considering she'd never fought Elites before today.

Church and Donut, for all of their lack of augmentations and Freelancer training, didn't go down without a fight either. It was clear that the former AI had learned a few things from Tex, weaving deflections and dodges into some of his fights against her. He even tried catching a few of her kicks, pinning her in place so she'd be at his mercy. Of course, she had too much experience with others trying to catch her mid-swing, hitting him with her other foot, feinting, or otherwise socking him on the face when he tried. He did manage to land a few hits on her in return, which took her by surprise.

Donut opted for a different approach. He was deceptively limber, and he surprised her with a few kicks and blocks of his own, countering from time to time with some quick jabs with his fingers, causing some of her nerves to flare up. He even managed to sweep her legs once.

Olsen, Miller, and Simmons were less noteworthy when it came to their fighting techniques. Olsen and Miller tried going for grapples, aiming to immobilize their opponents. Simmons did the same, but it became apparent that he wasn't used to fighting in close quarters against someone with vastly more experience than him. He caved rather easily to Carolina's assaults.

However, even with all of her ferocity and skill, she couldn't outrun them all forever. They eventually got smart enough to start coordinating fire on her, breaking her shields more than once and even nicking her armor.

The real surprise ended up being with the one time she actually did get killed. As she finished up with Simmons and Church, she got blindsided by Olsen, who successfully pinned her to the ground with a jump attack. The women tumbled to the ground, with the grey soldier glaring down at her, Recon helmet to Rogue helmet. She kneed Carolina in the chest, trying to press her pistol against the Freelancer's head while she was distracted. Carolina fought back against the weapon, gripping it tightly.

That's when it happened. A sudden sharp pang flared up in her side. She looked down to see Olsen's knife sinking into her with her other hand. Carolina felt the simulation shock her and it was enough of a reprieve for Olsen to jerk the barrel of her pistol to Carolina's head. She pulled the trigger, fully expecting the cyan Freelancer to somehow knock it away at the last second.

But it wasn't fast enough. The bullet shot out of the gun, going right through the helmet and killing her instantly.

The Omega Company leader stood up as she surveyed her handiwork. The score was now 45 to 9. One more kill was all it would take for the ad hoc team of eight to emerge victorious against the Freelancers.

---

When Carolina respawned next to Wash she was less than pleased.

Actually, scratch that, she was pissed now. That was the first time in ages she had died in the simulation. She hadn't failed to stay alive like that since training to become a Freelancer. It had been literal years since she had actually needed to respawn.

It was all down to the wire now. Carolina, Illinois, and Washington needed only four more kills to achieve victory over the best the ship could provide. They could see the finish line, could see victory that victory was so close they could taste it.

They need to be careful too though. One slip-up would mean victory for the team of eight. They couldn't lose now.

Illinois called out to them, telling them he was going to flank on the second floor, see if he could catch Simmons and several others out of their spawn. He would need cover, though. The Elites were still active and Tex was nowhere to be found. If they messed up, it was all over. Now it was down to the wire.

Washington stood perched at the top floor, scoping out the place with his BR85. Even though he wasn't a crack sniper like Illinois, nor a brawler like Carolina, he was still useful, being surprisingly consistent with his shots. He wasn't bad in hand-to-hand either. He wasn't a martial artist like Carolina or a hyperlethal machine like Illinois, but he was good, better than all except Shahlee and Tex.

Without preamble, Carolina ran past him, dropping to the floor below. She was going to do what she could, trying to snag a few kills and gain victory for them too.

He could tell he was pissed at the other team now, having died for the first time since, well, ever. He'd never seen her fall in the sim before.

He also knew she was hypercompetitive now, too. He had taken a brief look at the scoreboard to see who was scoring the most. He was behind with a measly nine. Carolina was next, having sixteen to her name. Illinois was at the top, leading with twenty. He probably would've had way more, but with the amount of attention he was getting from everyone else, he had been too busy staying alive and evading when his shields were down.

Wash knew she was paying attention to the score new, rushing headfirst to nab the last five kills to herself. This may have been a team game, but she had always been ahead even then.

A faint pair of footfalls could be heard among the cacophony of gunfire. Instinctively, Wash dove to the side, rolling away and facing his attacker. The telltale sign of active camo dissipated to reveal the towering form of Shahlee once again, energy sword drawn.

Without hesitation, the female Elite charged, intent on claiming the final kill for her team. Wash was, without a doubt, the most vulnerable, having died eight times in the match overall. It wasn't looking great for him.

What she didn't know however, was that most of those kills had been from gunfire or collaborative team efforts. Only one person had killed him in hand-to-hand combat. Nobody seemed to remember that he was pretty good in melee, with knives.

He knocked the sword out of the way, the blade barely missing him. She slashed several more times but, like a cat, he dodged each and every strike.

Growling in frustration, Shahlee kicked out at him, hitting him square in the chest. He tumbled away, coughing as he sat up.

"Hurry up, guys," he muttered under his breath. "Not sure how long I can hold her for."

---

Carolina landed on the third floor, snaking off into a corridor as she went hunting for targets of opportunity. Hopefully she'd be able to catch the others unaware. Maybe she could kill Simmons or Donut. Perhaps she could get Olsen in retaliation. Or Junior since he was the biggest challenge. Hell, maybe she could catch Church off-guard, eliminating him and pissing Tex off.

The last option seemed especially devious, one that got her excited. That bitch had way too much going for her. First all of the Reds and Blues were supporting her, even Wash to a degree. Then Illinois just had to come back, someone who would also stand by her side through thick and thin.

She rounded a corner and, just like on Praetor, smacked right into Tex. Her active camo dissipated as she recovered from the collision.

Speak of the devil, Carolina thought. Know she knew who her target was. There were only two people who hadn't died once in the battle, only two who had caused so much havoc and hadn't suffered any defeats. One was on her side, the one she had secretly been competing for kills with.

The other was staring right back at her.

She couldn't let this stand. Carolina had to prove she was better than this former AI, this shadow, the one who shared the memories, mannerisms, and name of her mother, like a ghost that was mocking her with her very existence. Why did she get to be treated special while Carolina suffered, for years? Why did her father look at this woman like she was somehow mom who come back from the dead? Why did he not take care of her when she needed him, but gave special treatment to this mockery of the last time she had felt normal?

The two female Freelancers charged, fists balled and ready to strike. Like on the Mother of Invention so many years ago, Tex opened up with a punch to her gut. Carolina did the same with a kick. They impacted each other at the same time, causing both women to cry out in pain and anger.

Just like before, Carolina proved to be slightly faster, going for another kick to the black Freelancer's head. Tex ducked down seamlessly before retaliating with an uppercut. Carolina hopped back, the swing barely missing her chin. She countered with another flurry of kicks, all of which were blocked with precision and timing.

Seeing as how her opponent was going to try to beat her with speed and range, Tex instead decided to bite the bullet and close distance. Carolina's kick impacted her side, but she pushed through the pain, instead hitting her hard in the kidney with a punch. Carolina clenched her teeth as she felt the hit, bringing her leg back down and backing up, bringing her arms up as she blocked Tex's retaliatory blows.

The brawl continued for several seconds, with the women trading and blocking each other's blows. Seeing as how neither soldier was making progress, Tex opted for a change in tactic. Taking a step back, she backed briefly out of Carolina's range. Before the cyan Freelancer had a chance to recover from her missed swing, Tex tackled her, sending them both tumbling down a ramp…

… and over the edge.

With a crash of cyan and black, the women landed hard on the first floor. Both women cried out in pain from the height of the fall. Had they prepared for it and been on their feet, the drop would have meant little to them. However, they had both landed on their sides in a pile of armor and limbs.

Doing her best to recover, Tex kicked away at her opponent, shoving them apart. She kicked herself up, ready to continue the fight.

Carolina grunted as she lifted herself up, the adrenaline of the duel allowing her to recover quickly. She knew she was going to pay for this later, but she'd worry about it later. She had a fight to win, one that had been coming for far too long.

Blinking, she took a moment to assess her surroundings. None of her friends or teammates were in view, meaning they couldn't help her end this pointlessly-long struggle, one that resorted to fists. More pressingly, she didn't have a weapon on her. Her SMGs had been knocked off of her, as had Carolina's plasma rifles, earlier in the battle. They were somewhere in the maze of corridors and catwalks above them now.

A glint of light bounced against Tex's eye. She briefly diverted her attention to see what it was.

A battle rifle laid flat against the floor, untouched and about halfway between them. It was one of the guns they had lost in the opening minute of the match.

Tex made a dash for the weapon first, aiming to end this fight once a for all. Unfortunately for her, Carolina chose that moment to activate her speed boost, closing the distance faster.

The cyan Freelancer grabbed the weapon first, but had little time to use it before Tex was on her again, grappling for the weapon. The pair slammed against the wall as their momentum carried them. In the brief moment it took them to recover, Carolina used the time to aim the weapon at her enemy's face. Tex grabbed the barrel, shoving it away. A burst of rounds went off, bouncing against the wall behind her harmlessly. Tex kneed her in the gut, trying to wrestle the weapon out of her hands.

In that moment, Carolina felt fury, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She wasn't going to lose this time.

She pushed with all her might against Tex's indominable strength, the barrel slowly inching it's way to her face. She was going to beat this bitch once and for all. After years of pain and suffering, she was going to finally have what she wanted, just this once.

The barrel got closer, and closer, and closer.

She could taste victory now. Even if she couldn't claim more kills than Illinois, she'd at least kill Tex. That was enough for her.

She deserved this win.

"Tie game," Sheila's voice boomed across the arena.

The Freelancers stopped as they heard the announcement. Neither moved as they heard the shocking news.

"Game over," Sheila continued.

The room fell silent as everyone looked at the scoreboard. The numbers didn't lie. 50 to 10. Both teams had reached their score limit. At the same time.

Carolina's eyes widened in shock as she looked down at her opponent, still struggling with the weapon. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening. Not again.

Tex smirked as her opponent realized what was happening. "Better luck next time, Carolina," she said, using the same tone she'd had when they had been on the highway far too long ago.

Before Carolina could say anything, they popped out of existence.

A second later, everyone was back in the waiting room once more.

"Wow," Simmons said as the teams took a moment to calm down.

"What. The. Fuck," Tucker said next, in utter disbelief that there was another tie.

"Well, hot-diggity damn," Sarge went next, barely containing his excitement, "now that was a wicked game."

"I'll say," Church added. "Illinois was kicking our asses."

"But you did manage to tie at the very least," Zain pointed out in approval.

"That's not much to celebrate, though," Retam grumbled, not content that two of the three matches had resulted in ties. The only one that hadn't been a tie was one they had lost.

"Considering how outmatched you were," Illinois told them breathlessly, stepping up, "you all did remarkably well."

"Dude, they didn't kill you once!" Tucker exclaimed.

"Yeah, but we didn't win either," the large male Freelancer pointed out.

"How though?" Donut said, confused as to how they had been able to get their last point.

Two screens popped above everyone's heads. They all looked at it. On one, they could see Agent Illinois wailing on everyone, doming people left and right. On the other, Wash and Shahlee were struggling against each other, the man barely dodging the Sangheili's sword.

The camera on Illinois's screen turned as he saw Junior baring down on him, too close for him to pull his shotgun out in time. A struggle ensued as they grappled each other. Utilizing his strength, the young Elite pulled out his sword, aiming to bisect the man who had been decimating his team.

He missed his sword swing. Illinois reached out to his hand, grasping it by the wrist, before violently twisting and thrusting the sword back on its user.

Everyone diverted their attention to the other screen. Agent Washington had successfully kicked Shahlee down to a knee, bringing her down to level. With a knife in one hand, was lunged. However, like Illinois, the female Elite caught the hand in midair. Holding him in place, she pushed against his strength, bringing her sword up and impaling Wash through the chest.

"Damn," Wash finally said, sharing everyone's sentiment. He was unfortunately aware that he had little chance against an Elite in physical strength, let alone one who had experience fighting humans.

"Oh, good try anyway, Agent Washingtub," Caboose attempted to cheer him up.

David sighed in resignation. "Thanks, man," he replied, taking the compliment with humility.

"You should have lost," someone muttered, barely above a whisper.

Everyone turned to the source. Agent Carolina stood stock still, hands balled into fists.

"Hm," Tex smirked, "is someone mad that they didn't get to kill me again?"

Carolina remained silent, her shoulders shaking.

"Should've fought smarter, Carolina," the black Freelancer continued.

"You don't deserve to be here," Carolina answered, her voice still low.

"And yet I am," Tex stepped up to him. "And you failed to beat me again."

"Uh, Tex?" Church tried to warn her. But his girlfriend paid him no mind.

Without warning, Carolina disappeared from the room, blinking out of existence. The others looked around in confusion. What was going on?, they all wondered.

A warning label went off above Tex, the sound of tearing metal cutting across everyone's speakers. Suddenly, a sharp pang hit her in the face and she recoiled in pain.

Church turned to her. "Tex, what's wrong?"

She didn't have time to speak before she felt something grab her. It tugged her forward and she fizzled out of the waiting room.

The sound of punching and shouting could be heard across everyone's speakers and they knew something bad was going down. Everyone quickly scrambled to exit the server, needing to see what was wrong.

Tucker was the first to step out of his pod. He shoved the door open, looking from side to side to see Tex's pod. He was in the second row while Tex was in the first.

Hearing the sound of punching and screaming, both of pain and anger, he dashed between two pods.

The swordsman peeked around the corner to see Carolina trying to grasp Tex by the throat, a sparking, damaged pod next to them. Somehow Carolina had wrenched the door open and pulled Tex out into the open.

She was currently trying to beat his friend to a pulp, with Tex only blocking every other hit. Tex retaliated with her own punches, but she might as well have been fighting an elephant with how little they were stopping Carolina.

He had to stop this madness. There wasn't a real reason they had to be fighting like this. This was a competition, not a matter of life or death.

As he approached the fighting women, he could hear Carolina roaring at the top of her lungs, "Fuck you, bitch! Fuck you, shadow! FUCK YOU!"

"Carolina, wait!" Tucker called out to her, begging her to come to her senses. But it was becoming apparent just how strong Carolina's hatred towards the other female Freelancer was. Years upon years of bottled up fury were finally being let loose, that or sexual frustration. Either way, he knew he had to stop this brawl that was spinning out of control. He might consider Carolina a friend, but he wouldn't let Tex, his best friend's girlfriend and a personal friend of his, die for this. Carolina was hot, but this was proof enough that she was crazy too, a shark woman like Tex.

He reached out a hand to Carolina, trying to shove himself between the two supersoldier women.

Instinctively, she lashed out at the movement to the side, her fist connecting against something hard. It went sailing back and she heard a snap and a cry of pain, but she was beyond caring at this point. Tex was going to pay for this!

"Tucker!" Tex cried out in alarm, now ignoring the blows Carolina was delivering. Why wasn't she caring about this? Shouldn't Agent Texas, the mighty number one soldier of Project Freelancer be fighting back, be trying to fight for her life, to maintain her status as the best?

Tex's hand snapped out at Carolina's grappling hand, the one that was threatening to choke her. With an iron grip, she pried it away, her strength coming out in full force. Carolina continued to punch her, but now the blows seemed to do little more than irritate her. Before she could even so much as blink, Tex's other hand lashed out in a fist, connecting squarely in Carolina's visor. She reeled back in pain as perhaps the hardest punch she had ever experienced finally got her away.

Before she could go in for another attack, Tex dashed away, her back facing to the cyan Freelancer.

Carolina rounded on her opponent, but stopped as she saw what Tex was going to. Tucker groaned in pain as he clutched his arm, the one that had broken several weeks ago.

"Tucker, are you alright?" Tex asked, worry lacing her voice.

The Blue failed to respond, simply whimpering as felt pain shoot up across his rebroken arm. That's who she had hit, the one person who had tried becoming friends with her on this damned ship, who had shown his son proudly to her, who had tried to make her feel welcome, who had made her heart feel unexpectedly warm.

What had she done?

"Tucker?" Carolina called out hoarsely, all fury in her now gone. Her throat now felt too dry, too raw from her screams of rage.

She took a tentative step towards them. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, the other pods opening as they came to see what the commotion was. But she didn't care about them right. She only cared about him.

"Get out," Tex whispered. She continued to face away from the other woman, still trying to help Tucker.

"I'm sorry," Carolina tried apologizing. "I didn't mean-"

"Get out," Tex repeated, her voice raising into a growl.

"Please," she continued, "I didn't mean to. I was just-"

"Get out, NOW!" Tex twisted to face her, anger and wrath coming out all at once.

Carolina stumbled back. She hadn't seen her mother yell often, but this felt strangely familiar to the few times she'd felt Allison's anger and disappointment at home.

She looked around, seeing the others emerging from their pods. The Reds and Blues ran up to them, placing themselves around Tex and Tucker defensively. In that moment, she didn't see a bunch of idiots. She saw family.

And she wasn't welcome.

Letting out a breath, Carolina turned sharply on her heels, walking silently out of the chamber. She felt her eyes water slightly as her frustration threatened to give way to sorrow. But she wouldn't let them see them, see her like this.

In her haste, she didn't hear a voice call out to her, one who wasn't angry with her. It was one that wanted her to know it was okay.

Even in pain, Tucker tried reaching out to Carolina with his other hand, begging her to not go.

But it was too late. She was gone.

---

And now the drama unfolds! I can tell you all I had a lot of fun writing this one, even if there was a lot of action. Some of you may be wondering why I am making Illinois as overpowered as he is. If you know anything about Spartans and the way they do things in both the Halo games and books, you would know that they are extremely broken to fight against for non-superpowered humans and aliens. They have to because of the way they were trained and what they fight against pretty much daily. Plus I also based a lot of his actions on pro players. If you've ever seen a Halo eSports Pro player montage like from Ninja, Formal, or Str8 Sick, you'd know how insane things can get when they are in the zone.

Make no mistake, though, the goal of Illinois is not to have him literally carry the plot and the action. This is just my way of bridging Red vs Blue to the wider Halo universe. Everyone will still get their chance to shine in the coming chapters. Not all strengths lie in battle prowess.

Headcanon Fighting Styles for the Top Three Freelancers (for those who are curious):

Illinois: Krav Maga, Wing Chun, Muay Thai - a mix of close-distance grappling/traps, getting under a person's guard, using elbows and knees, quick, efficient movements.

Carolina: Ju Jitsu, Taekwondo - dynamic, fluid movement, lots of kicks, using distance and speed to fly around her opponents.

Tex: Sambo, wrestling, Wing Chun - powerful punches, grappling, lifting and shifting weight, getting under an opponent's guard.

---

Music/themes for the top three Freelancers:

Tex: Bulletproof - 12 Stones

Carolina: Demons - Sleigh Bells

Illinois: At Doom's Gate - Mick Gordon