Reassemble - Part 1

Location: New Gorgon City, Helios III, Helios System
Daily Time: 1530 Hours
Date: June 9, 2557

"Take cover, take cover," shouted one of the marines. The squad ducked for cover as a machinegun began to fire. It made a chugging noise as it spun its barrels around towards the panicked men.

The men crouched behind a cement block just as it began to fire. It continued its burst, shooting at the grey rock in a continuous bang-bang-bang-bang-bang, keeping the squad pinned and immobilized.

"We're going to die, aren't we, sarge?" asked one of the marines, sheer panic in his tone. The squad leader, a bald man in his late forties, turned to the rest of the squad, gauging his team's mental condition.

The situation was bad. The squad of marines had been sent to stop the Insurrectionist assault on the city along with the forward advance team. They had assumed this would be a simple sweep, no different than the other riots they had dealt with in their time as military police. But they had been sent on a fool's errand and had vastly underestimated their foes. The opposition before them was well disciplined, well trained, and well-armed, even bringing military-grade equipment to the fore. They had fallen right into a trap in which there was no escape.

The sergeant looked around at the rest of the city. It was all a mess. The roads were choked with debris, the districts ruined and broken, and some of the buildings were on fire. Many of the city's inhabitants had managed to clear out of the expanding warzone. However, there were a number that hadn't. He could see bodies clearly not designated to either side scattered across: men, women, even children. It was sickening to know that, even though the Covenant had been beaten what felt like yesterday, there was still fighting consuming mankind, with conflict dragging everyone into the mix.

"We're probably going to die, men. I won't deny the inevitable. Johannes?"

A young marine looked up at the sergeant, his eyes worried and fearful. "Yes, sir?"

"Radio Command. Tell them we need backup on our position. Now!"

"That won't be necessary," a voice crackled from their comm beads. They turned and saw something they did not expect. Standing on top of a pile of debris off to the side of the street was a man in MJOLNIR Mark VI SPARTAN armor, cobalt blue. The man was holding a military-grade Sniper Rifle in his hands, his right gauntlet firmly on the trigger. He had a pair of frag grenades strapped to his side, a standard-issue combat knife, a chrome-skinned magnum, and a standard BR-85 magnetized to his back.

He looked out at the shooters from his position. There were ten Insurrectionists pinging on his visor, all armed with various rifles, mostly assault and battle rifles. One of them was manning the machinegun turret that was pinning the squad of marines down. The rest stood by, their weapons also trained on the cement wall the marines had decided to take cover behind. A handful of them added their weapons to the hail of bullets already descending on the men.

Easy enough, he smiled beneath his visor.

He looked down at the squad, who sat there gawking at him. "We'll take care of this. Tex?" he asked through his helmet radio.

A second voice replied, this one distinctly female in tone. "I see them." There was a pause. "You have a plan?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Lay down suppressing fire so I can pick of major threats then rush them?"

"Sounds good. I'm suppressing now."

Suddenly, a figure in black armor appeared right next to them, the effects of active camouflage dissipating. The woman held a battle rifle of her own in hand. Attached to her armor was a pair of SMGs, one magnetized to each thigh, a magnum, a string of frag grenades across her hip, and a large, Freelancer-issue Bowie knife that was sheathed on her right calf.

She aimed her rifle down towards the rebels and fired a series of three-round bursts, sending the Insurrectionists into cover, even forcing the MG to stop briefly. That was all the time the sniper needed.

Wasting no time, Church brought his long rifle up and looked down the sight, zooming in on the enemies before him. Drawing in a breath and then releasing it slowly, time seemed to slow as Church lined up his first shot. He centered his gun, marking four targets, one for each round in the magazine.

Then he fired. Shot one hit the machine gunner square in the head, sending his body flying backwards. Shot two landed, hitting the man right next to the machinegun. Shots three and four found their targets, going through three rebels lined up in a row. Screams of fear were heard as the men saw their comrades die in front of them.

Finishing with the magazine, Church didn't even bother to reload, instead opting to switched weapons, taking the battle rifle off his back and replacing it with his sniper rifle.

Tensing, the trooper jumped over the wall, guiding his body with his left arm on the wall. Tex followed, holding her rifle in a steady grip as she leapt over the wall. They landed on the other side, digging their heels into the broken cement.

In a burst of speed the two soldiers charged across the killing field, running full force at the bewildered defenders. The marines gazed in awe as the pair ran straight at the enemy, moving across 20 meters of open ground. Black and blue. Strong and swift. Courageous and fearless. Pure, unstoppable power. Those words were used to describe them, and even then, they didn't do them justice.

The armored troopers smashed into the defenders, breaking down the wall the rebels were hiding behind, their saving grace thoroughly crushed by the new threat bearing down on them. The Insurrectionists had barely gotten their bearings back before the two new soldiers were among them, practically forcing them to abandon whatever ranged advantage they still had. In a rush the attackers brought the fight to them.

Church smashed his rifle into the first enemy, cracking his helmet and skull altogether with the force of the blow. Tex, on the other hand, magnetized her rifle to her back and unsheathed her knife. Gripping it in her right hand, the Freelancer struck at the closest enemy trooper. The weapon moved right through the opponent's chest, punching through the breastplate, into the torso, and emerging out his back, killing him instantly. A spray of blood accompanied his demise. She pulled the knife out of the corpse, sending the body tumbling to the ground. Twisting, Tex brought her CQC weapon around and slashed another rebel, this time across the throat. The oversized knife cut through his larynx effortlessly. Reflexively, the trooper brought his hands to his throat. The effort was wasted as he collapsed from blood loss and shock.

At the same time Church spun on his heels, throwing a left hook that connected with the Insurrectionist that was previously behind him. The rebel fell dead to the floor, his skull imploded by the force of a titanium gauntlet.

He saw the last Insurrectionist beginning to bring his weapon, a shotgun, up to Tex's back. In one fluid motion Church brought his rifle up in a tactical grip and fired a single three-round burst at the last enemy. The shots went right into the man's head, messing his face up and blowing his brains out the back of his head. The last enemy dropped dead unceremoniously onto the broken ground.

He lowered his weapon and a relative silence fell across the field as Church surveyed the carnage. There was still fighting going on across the city, perhaps across the entire planet, but it had stopped here. All the Innies were dead; sprawled out across the ground in various forms of disunity. The whole place was destroyed, a war-torn battlefield at its finest. Rubble and debris littered every square in of what was presumably a highway they were standing on.

He looked over at Tex. She had just finished the last rebel with her knife, drawing it from the bag of meat that was one of their enemies. Turning to dead man behind her, she glanced down at the rebel Church shot, shotgun still clutched in his hand, then back up at him.

"You got him?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"Yeah," Church replied.

Tex nodded and lightly tapped the corpse. "Good shot placement, excellent awareness." She looked up at him. "Thanks for that, Church."

The cobalt soldier grinned under his helmet, an obvious swell of pride taking him for a second. "No problem, Tex. No problem at all."

Out of nowhere, a roar of engines reverberated across the roadway as a pair of Hornets flew above their heads, strafing the rest of the street. Soon other ships flew over, moving over the city. There were Hornets, Pelicans, even a few Longswords were doing their flyby over the city, dropping their payloads somewhere into the besieged city before clearing the area.

Church furrowed his eyebrows at the aforementioned fightercraft. It said a lot about the enemy concentration if there was clearance to issue bombardment. If things were really that bad, the enemies would be estimated in at least the hundreds, perhaps thousands. It would take days, maybe weeks, to clear out the city if that was the case. From what Church could tell based on preliminary findings, similar engagements were happening all across Helios III, some large, but many more small scaled. Its seemed the rebels had been gathering strength on the planet, just as UNSC CENTCOM had predicted. What no one had predicted was how big that strength actually was. Now, full-scale war was in effect, drawing upon thousands of UNSC personnel into the conflict, Army, Marines, the whole nine yards, to snuff out those responsible for the chaos being unleashed. And that included him and Tex.

Church heard the sound of a rumbling engine and turned toward the sound. It was coming from where the marines were. Instead of marines, however, an armored column of Scorpion tanks rolled across the ground, crushing pavement beneath their mighty treads and pushing rubble and debris out of the way. Behind them, a squadron of Warthog LAVs drove across the road, kicking up dirt as they went. Those were flanked by both mongooses and gungooses, all loaded for fast attack and support.

One of the Warthogs stopped, a transport variant, and the man in the passenger seat stood up, calling out to the pair. "Sirs," he yelled over the passing armored columns, "Commander Farnsworth wants you back at H.Q. right now."

"Any particular reason why?" Church asked, having to raise his voice to be heard over the sudden commotion.

"Didn't say, sir. They just said they got a call and they need you to come right now. They said the call is very important."

Church stopped and looked at Tex. She simply shrugged and Church turned back to the Warthog.

"All right, we're coming."

The troopers embarked into the transport, each taking adjacent seats on one side of the vehicle. Tex took the seat closer to the driver and Church helped himself into the one further away. The black Freelancer glanced at her partner.

"So, what do you think the Commander has for us this time?"

Church stared back at Tex, a grim look in his eye. "I don't know. But coming from him, I'd say it's not good."

"Is it ever?" she brought on.

The sniper snorted under his helmet. "I guess not."

The warthog drove off, moving away from the urban districts, out towards the command center at the edge of the city.


Location: Helios III Planetary Defense Command Center, Havana District, Helios III
Daily Time: 1600 Hours

Date: June 9, 2557

The command center was busy, much busier than it normally would be. Ever since the Insurrectionist assault began Command had had its hands full. Communications had been bombarded with distress calls and alert patterns, people were rushing back and forth between tasks, and orders were being sent out sporadically. It was practically a mess.

Church and Tex calmly walked through the sea of people, passing through the chaos almost as if they were ghosts. A handful of soldiers stood and saluted, but most were too busy with their mounting tasks, preferring not to let the work pile up. They continued moving on, away from the rest of the crowd.

The pair passed by desks, data tables, charts, maps, a variety of military work stations and command posts. It took them a while to get through, but they eventually came up to a private room, sectioned off from the rest of the base. Above the door, the words 'Cmdr. Farnsworth' was written in bold letters.

The cobalt trooper opened the door and stepped inside, Tex following closely behind. Inside was a single man surrounded by charts, maps, and screens. He had nothing but combat attire, a camouflage shirt, pants, and boots. A service pistol was attached to his hip. But for the moment he was facing only one screen, the main screen. He was talking to someone, but his body was obscuring the object on said screen, so Church couldn't tell who it was.

"Sir, with respect, are you sure you can't find someone else? Frankly speaking, I'm knee deep in a pile of shit right now and I need every man I can get to sort this mess out," the man, Commander Farnsworth, said, unaware or completely ignoring the newly-arrived occupants.

"Yes, Commander. I understand you have your hands full right now, but I need these guys for a special mission, no exception," the voice came through the screen clearly. Church thought he heard it before, but he couldn't quite make out who it was. It was on the tip of his tongue, he was sure of it, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch.

Farsworth sighed in defeat and turned to the face them. "Ah, Agent Texas. Agent Church."

The duo snapped to attention, both raising their hands to salute. "Sir," they acknowledged in unison.

"At ease," the Commander nodded, allowing them to stand at parade rest. "Well, I guess I'll take my leave now." Stepping away, Farnsworth moved past the pair and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The soldiers glanced at each other, a suspicious look on both of their faces, then back to the screen. Neither could see their partner's faces, but they could both tell they felt the same thing: tension and caution. They stepped forward, an innumerable number of questions flowing through their heads.

Church and Tex stopped as they recognized the man on the screen. He wore a grey and gold set of armor which completely covered his body.

They definitely recognized the person on the screen. No wonder he sounded so familiar. He was the one that had helped them at first, but eventually ended up working with the Meta, hunting them down all the way to the buried ruins of the Mother of Invention, aptly renamed Avalanche by official UNSC personnel. He was the one that almost killed the both of them, just to get out of jail.

"Agent Washington," Tex replied, her tone remaining as neutral as possible.

"Agent Texas," the man acknowledged. He looked at Church. "Epsilon."

"Still Church, asshole. Always has, always will be," the ex-Blue teammate corrected, not even bothering trying to hide the malice in his voice. He paused for a second. "What do you want, Agent Washington, so much that you have to divert us from our job on the frontline?" he asked, harshly emphasizing Agent Washington.

Ignoring the venom in his voice, Wash continued. "I have a mission for the both of you. I need you to-"

Tex interrupted. "I don't know if you've noticed, Wash, but we're in the middle of a warzone right now. We don't have time for any distractions or other missions. And we're still under the command of Delta Force."

"I talked to his CO several hours ago, and they have redirected you under my command." He paused before continuing, choosing his next words carefully. "This is bigger than whatever you're both doing right now."

This time it was Church who interrupted. "Tex is right, Wash. We have our hands full right now. We're needed here. Can't you get someone else?"

"No, Church, I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because the Director has escaped."

Church abruptly stopped and the room fell silent. The Director? Escaped? Church thought to himself. Was he the whole reason the hell they had recently gone through had started in the first place, as a sign of his return to the picture? Was he the one who had instigated the attacks all across the planet, maybe beyond, causing the deaths of thousands of innocent people?

Tex broke the silence and asked, "What? How? I thought he was locked up for good, given top-of-the-line security, the whole nine yards."

"He was," Wash responded, "but the Insurrectionists got him. They broke into the prison he was kept in and released him. They must have spent years formulating a plan to get him out. Now he is nowhere to be found and war is spreading all over the Colonies." He paused for a second, letting the news sink in. "I need you two to help me stop him."

Church spoke up. "Us? Stop him? The two of us can't possibly take down the Director, not alone."

"That's why I'm giving you some help."

Church was left speechless again, looked at Tex, who simply shrugged, then back to Wash.

Wash continued. "Remember Blood Gulch? The Reds? The Blues? Those years of hell you went through?"

Church stopped again, remembering everything that happened those four years ago. How could he forget? It had been so long, yet it felt like just yesterday that he, or rather the Alpha, had gone through the shitshow that led them all where they were now. Those were the days. He had worked with, and fought against, a bunch of worthless idiots, and somehow come up on top time and time again. He remembered them all. Caboose. Tucker. Sarge. Grif. Simmons. Donut. Lopez. All of them. But even though they were all idiots, he had grown really fond of them, closer to friends than anything else he had known in the memories of his creator. He had become so used to them that he had become lost his first day away from them. He was lucky he had been handed over to a bunch of specialists and that Tex had stuck with him, even after all this time.

Church looked into the screen, back at the Freelancer's gold visor that hid his face. "Yes. I remember all of it." He cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

Wash took a deep breath. "Because we're getting them all back together."

Church made a concerned look on his face before asking, "Those idiots? Why are you bringing that band of misfits back together? I mean, Tex and I were lucky to get stuck in with a bunch of special forces and given, you know, exemplary training. But the rest weren't, right?"

Wash shook his hand. "Not even close. After you all were disbanded, it was decided that you were given to actual military units for actual training. Looking over your psyche profiles, given by the Counsellor of Project Freelancer, the UNSC was able to distribute them among those most capable of training them." He looked into Church's eyes. "Look, you all have had the most experience with the Director and Project Freelancer. You're all I have left, the only people associated with Project Freelancer left. Everyone else has either joined the Director, is part of another cordon of the UNSC, or has dropped off the radar completely. You are the only ones who can put a stop to him. No one else has as much experience with him. No one else was there to bring him in, to take him down"

Tex broke into the conversation again. "Why would we use them? Last we saw of them, they were less useful than a bag of rocks. They can't have gotten better from the training they received, could they?"

Wash looked at Tex. "You have absolutely no idea what has happened to them in the last four years, have you?"

"No, but I imagine they haven't changed that much, even with adequate military training."

"Actually, quite the opposite. I also chose them because of their current status now. They have excelled farther than I would've ever thought possible."

Church and Tex stared at each other before looking back at the screen. "What was that about their current status?" asked Church.

Wash stopped, trying to find the right words. "Well, let's start with your Blue teammates. Tucker. After the breakup of the Reds and Blues, he decided to go with his baby Junior to the alien planet, Sanghelios. There, he continued to train in the art of sword fighting among the aliens. He also been acting as an emissary for the humans and Sangheili. Given the fact that they're still stuck in civil war, it should be inevitable that he has combat experience too. Caboose, well, he's been kind of lost in the last four years. He's been shipped out to varying regiments all around the galaxy. He's been transferred multiple times, picking up on bits and pieces of military training. But, from what I read, he's still learned much, improved some too."

Church remembered Caboose, how much of an idiot he really was. He was surprised Caboose had even lasted that long considering he could barely take care of himself. He usually messed up a lot of plans and even managed to kill him once. Well, the Alpha him, not 'him' him. That he could even improve to begin with was a sign of how effective the training he had received was. He didn't doubt that he was still an idiot, though.

Wash continued. "And the Reds. Sarge had gone back with the ODSTs to continue fighting on. Lopez followed him. Grif and Simmons got stuck together, just like you and Tex. But instead of going off on their own, they got stuck in frontline military combat. They have been harshly trained and somehow survived it all. Grif has now become a front-line combat mechanic and Simmons has become a tactical officer, constantly creating and revising plans and strategies."

The Blue went back and thought of those three. He remembered Sarge, the headstrong, bloodthirsty leader of the Red team. He remembered Grif, the orange-colored lazy-ass who cared only for himself. And Simmons, the smart, if not necessarily brave, soldier who always followed orders, and a kiss-ass to boot. There wasn't much to say about Lopez, especially considering that he only spoke Spanish, which no one could understand.

"And Donut. We don't know much about how he got to where he is now. He somehow managed to join the special task group known as Pink Team and has been given training suitable for the team. Trust me, the guys on Pink Team are just like him."

He thought of that guy, how harmless he was, how 'girly' he was. How the hell he managed to get to Spec Ops in the first place baffled him, that pink guy that actually managed to kill Tex once (again, the Alpha Tex). But the fact that there were more guys like him, effective guys like him, unsettled him even more. But if Wash was right, and the past several hours had only strengthened his claim, then even he would be of use in the weeks to come.

Church looked back up at the Freelancer, the reality of the situation hitting him like a sledgehammer, the severity of the situation now more apparent than ever. If such men were required for a task such as this, then shit really had hit the fan. It had only been four years since the end of the Human-Covenant war, and both sides were still recovering from the monumental casualties sustained throughout. The Director could bring everything that was still standing to its knees. He knew the Director just as well as he knew himself, and in the end, that was a picture he knew would be the end of many. He couldn't let that happen. "You're certain this is a good idea?"

Wash nodded.

Church sighed, not believing he was about to say. "Alright, we're in."


A/N: Pink Team is a reference to another beloved Halo Machinima. Can you guess which one?