Greetings, fellow viewers. With the holidays approaching, I am finding myself with more free time than usual. Although I'm dedicating a good chunk of that time to gaming, I'm also going to spend time to type, edit, and reupload the missing chapters over the next few days to weeks. This means that you should be getting notifications more frequently for some time, at least until we reach chapter 12 or so. Once we get there, I'll do my best to get through some brand new chapters for the days to come.


Gang's All Here

Location: UNSC All or Nothing Training Room Floor, Paris-Class Frigate
Shipboard Time: 0900 Hours
Date: June 15, 2557

Church brought his left arm up as Tex threw a jab with her right hand. But just as she was about to connect she went for a side swipe with her other fist. It smashed into the side of the blue's helmet, causing him to jerk to the side.

Church stumbled back a few steps to get some distance from his opponent. He brought his arms up in a defensive posture and reevaluated his surroundings. He stood in the middle of the cleared center of a training room floor, weight benches, exercise equipment, and practice gear and weapons lied out all around the center. Beyond those were steel walls which surrounded the entire room, one of which had a several windows which led into a viewing balcony. One of the walls had a large set of sliding doors, big enough to allow a Scorpion Tank to pass through it without much trouble.

He rested his eyes on his opponent. Tex stood in a fighting pose similar to his a few feet away, hands balled into fists and raised in front of her chest. Like him, the woman wore her armor, but being as black as the void instead of cobalt like his. Her head, like his, was covered with her helmet, which was attached to a neck seal, complete with a shining gold visor.

"Church," she warned, "you need to remember what I taught you. Don't focus completely on any single strike. Move quickly and be ready to block any sort of attack that might be thrown at you. You still don't have the resilience to a lot of hits, so you can't be slow and predictable."

"I know," he grumbled. He advanced slowly towards her, keeping her guard up and waiting for an opening. They circled each other for what seemed like a dozen times, their visors fixed on each other.

Then he thought he saw it, a slight falter in the Tex's stance. As quickly as he could, Church shot his right hand out at the black Freelancer's face. She blocked it with her left forearm just as he started throwing out his left to hit her in the breastplate. She blocked that one with her other arm and Church continued to throw punches at her, even trying to get a few kicks to the torso. But she just kept on blocking them, even shooting out a few counterattacks herself. He managed to block most of them, the few that connected barely affecting him.

Then he saw an error in one of his attacks, a bit too late. His right arm moved a bit slower than he intended to, going for hook to the side of her head and, because of it, Tex would capitalize on the mistake. And she did just as he predicted, bringing up her left arm and grabbing his wrist with her gauntlet. With the other hand not in use, the Freelancer punched Church in the stomach. The Blue lurched forward a tiny bit, trying not to let the pain get to him.

But it did. And because of that it allowed enough time for Tex to sweep him with her right leg. Church felt his legs leave the ground in an instant and, before he knew it, he was on his back.

"Goddamn it!" he cursed. His head swam a slight bit but he shook it off and he lifted his head, only to find his girlfriend's boot on top of him. She was crouched down, leaning enough weight on him to prevent him from doing anything that involved his torso.

"I'm never gonna beat you, am I?" he gritted between his teeth, attempting to swallow his pride for what felt like the thousandth time.

Tex chuckled to herself. "You might, if you actually listen to my advice."

Church groaned under his helmet. "I almost had you this time. If you hadn't kept me busy for so long-"

"I told you," cut in the Freelancer, her tone immediately turning serious, "if you actually remembered what I taught you, I might not have won." She stood up and removed her foot, allowing Church to sit up. "But, maybe I still would've. Your stamina still needs improvement if you want to keep up with me." Church grumbled. It was nice being taught how to properly fight by Tex, but being able to try new techniques on her was completely different. Getting up to her level was getting progressively easier, but surpassing her was proving to be impossible. After all, she was a Freelancer. And not just any Freelancer. Agent Texas was the best of the best, the greatest of the great, a personal creation of the Director himself and a force to be reckoned with. She'd stayed as number one on the leaderboard back during Project Freelancer and no one else was able to topple her from it.

Tex held her right hand out to him and Church grabbed it. With a small grunt, she lifted him off the ground. He stumbled a little at first as he got back on his feet, but quickly regaining his balance. As soon as he did, though, he stood there a few seconds and stared at her through his visor, still holding her hand. He didn't know exactly why he was, but he was. He seemed transfixed by her very presence.

Tex noticed, however, and Church immediately let go of the black-armored Freelancer's hand and hastily backed up. He brought his hand behind his the back of his head and started rubbing it, even though it would do no good, especially considering that he still had his helmet on.

"Uh, Church," she asked, "are you okay?" He had gone back to staring at her again and she really did notice it this time. The Blue continued to stare at Tex as if he didn't hear her.

"Church?" she repeated. Still no response. "CHURCH!" she snapped in irritation.

The Blue jerked his head up at her, released from his stupor. "Huh, what?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone.

"Are you okay?" she repeated one more time.

He blinked behind his helmet before responding, "Oh. Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." He did feel a little bit of pain but, thanks to his armor, most of the power in melee attacks aimed at him were absorbed. Remarkably, that's why he was never in any serious pain even with punches and kicks being thrown at him that would normally shatter a man's bones. In fact, that's why practically all the Reds and Blues got away virtually free of injury in most close-combat-related brawls. It was actually quite amazing how strong their armor was at times.

Tex rolled her eyes, but even with her helmet on, Church could tell anyway. "What?" he asked.

The woman faced him. "You were doing that thing again."

Church lowered his eyebrows, confused. "What thing?"

Tex scoffed. "Oh don't be an idiot, Church."

"What? I seriously don't know what you're talking about."

"You were staring at me. Again," she snapped, her irritation flaring once more.

"What's wrong with that?"

"You know exactly what's wrong with that."

Tex brought her hands up to her helmet and, with a small hiss, the helmet popped loose from the seals around her neck. She lifted it off her head and revealed a smooth, healthily light-skinned, beautiful face matched with a set of green eyes, much like his own. Bringing the armor piece away from her, she let her wavy red hair fall to her shoulders in a similar fashion to a model taking off a motorcycle helmet.

Now Church remembered why he had been staring at her. Yes, she may have been the deadliest Freelancer in the whole galaxy, yes, she was the coldest bitch he had ever met his whole life, and yes, she could probably kill him now a thousand times over if she wanted to, but he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met and come to know in his entire life. And she knew it. He still had feelings for her and, even though she would never admit it, he knew she still had feelings for him as well.

"It makes you look stupid," she said, boring into his eyes with coldness, "and if you look stupid then I look stupid."

"Tex, I can't help but just look at you sometimes," rebutted Church. "You're just… amazing."

"Even when I'm beating the shit out of you."

"Yes," he answered. Thinking better of his answer, he added, "well, not me specifically. Actually, not even when you're just beating up people. You're just… I don't even know."

She continued to glare at him silently for several seconds. "Take off your helmet off," she commanded, seemingly out of nowhere.

Church blinked under his helmet. "What?"

"You heard me. Take off your helmet. I can't talk to you like this, Church. Not with your helmet on. I need to see your own face, not this blank expression that that bucket is providing."

Obeying her command, Church brought his hands up to his head and snapped his helmet seals. The blue slipped it off his head and held it against his side. His face was, in most respects, handsome, being relatively smooth and fair-skinned, along with a pair of green eyes similar in fashion to Tex's. Unlike the cold woman, however, his face gave off an expression that spoke with the weight of eons instead of fire and fury. His fairly short, black hair was, in a small sense, somewhat sloppy, though he had tried to comb it and make it at least somewhat presentable.

"There," he said, "is that better?"

"Much," replied Tex. It was strange to him that that she didn't want him to keep his helmet on, because from his entire time at Blood Gulch, they kept their helmets on at all times. But maybe that had more to do with the fact that he had unknowingly possessed Private Jimmy's body the entire time and she was a robot then. Neither of those exactly incentivized the need to take off their helmets.

Before she could say another word, however, a nearby speaker sounded. The two armored soldiers turned to the nearest one. A woman's voice called out to them, a voice that sounded robotic yet somewhat harmonic and finely tuned. "Agent Texas, Agent Church," requested the voice.

"Yes, Sheila?" asked Tex.

"The last of the Red and Blue teams have arrived," informed the A.I.

"Thank you, Sheila."

"My pleasure, Agent Texas." The speaker died down and Church and Tex looked at each other.

"Well, let's go," said the Freelancer, gesturing towards the door.

As they started walking Church had a thought. "I hope it was worth it bringing them all back. If Command had told me I'd need to work with them for some super-dangerous mission a few years ago, I'd have told them to go fuck themselves."

"Agreed," replied Tex, "If we're lucky, though, things will be just fine."


Location: UNSC All or Nothing Hangar Bay, Paris-Class Frigate
Shipboard Time: 0910 Hours
Date: June 15, 2557

Church and Tex strolled through the open door leading into the main hangar, helmets held against their sides, as another pelican came through the transparent energy screen which separated the ship from the cold void which was outside. Three other pelicans had their landing gears out and began to rest themselves against the steel-plate and grated floor, all lined up, their ramps pointing towards the inner wall of the hangar.

Wash stood off to one side, talking to Sarge about 'reprogramming Lopez' and fixing his vocal unit. Lopez just stood sentry next to them, staring silently at the resting troop carriers as they began to unload their cargo. All three of them had their helmets on. Marines and nearby allied soldiers were walking about, moving crates, and repairing machinery. Most of the crewmembers were either ex-Freelancer employees or those that had some sort of affiliation with the Project's past actions, hand-picked by Agent Washington and Chairman Hargrove. As such, their experience in matters related to Project Freelancer would be invaluable in the weeks to come.

But as the pair got closer to the transports, they were met with a most unexpected greeting. From right to left, the pelicans opened the back doors the same way a person opens his mouth. A pair of figures came walking out of the vehicle the farthest to the right, stumbling a slight bit. Church and Tex could make out both of them, one being an aqua-colored human, the other a tall, also lightish-blue, mandible-faced elite.

Tucker and Junior. It must be, Church thought to himself. He examined the two of them, trying to see how they've changed.

Now that he was here, Tucker had his helmet off, probably trying to get at least a little bit of fresh air. He looked exactly the same as when Church last saw him, with dark skin, brown eyes, and pearl-white teeth, which added a small sense of charm. He wasn't as black as Church had thought all those years ago. Hell, he wasn't really even that dark-skinned. Yes, he was African-American, but he didn't show any exceptionally dark-skinned traits. In fact, he seemed closer to mixed than true African.

From the pelican next to them, out came a man in pink MJOLNIR armor carrying a pair of duffel bags, one in each arm. His helmet was off as well. Church began to shake his head at the brightly colored soldier. Formally known as Donut, he dropped his bags and began to squeal like an excited little school girl. Church got a good look at him as well.

Unlike Tucker's relatively dark skin, Donut's face had pale white skin and features that showed attempts to look nice, neat, and 'fabulous', complete with a pair of sky-blue eyes and light-blonde hair. He had a very cheery complexion, and radiated the personality of someone who was care-free.

"Oh my god, Sarge!" he yelled excitedly and started rushing straight towards the Red. One of the nearby marines dashed out of the way as the pink soldier barreled right into the veteran. Sarge wobbled back, using surprising strength to try to not to fall over as Donut began to cling on him.

"Aarrgghh!" shouted Sarge in surprise. Washington began to laugh hysterically at the scene that had unfolded in front of him. "Donut, get the hell off of me. That's an order."

"Oh," said Donut, quickly jumping off and backing up two steps. "Sorry, sir," he apologized.

Sarge merely grumbled and brushed his hands against his chestplate, muttering about soldiers and the finer details of proper etiquette and procedure. He glared at the Freelancer and Wash's laughing died down, though he continued to chuckle to himself.
Out of the third troop transport came a lone figure, a man in standard-blue Mark VI SPARTAN armor, except for a Mark V helmet that was held against his hip. He had an olive-colored duffel bag hanging loosely in his left hand. Church and Tex could clearly make him out, his short brown hair, his chocolate-colored eyes, and a face that made him look like a kid, so innocent and wide-eyed. To just about everyone else he looked like anything but army material. But Church knew better. That man, if pushed properly, was capable of a great many things, from building robots and driving vehicles to wholesale destruction of entire teams of people.

Church widened his eyes as he recognized the man. "Oh no," he breathed. "Caboose."

The Blue soldier rested his eyes on Church and smiled gleefully, almost exactly like a child would. "Church!" he shouted happily.

In a flash, Caboose dropped his helmet and bag and charged full force towards the cobalt-colored man. Church noticed Tex step off to the side out of the corner of his eye, aware of what was about to happen.

With more force than a charging bull, Caboose barreled into his friend, scooping up and gripping him with a bear hug. Church let go of his helmet as the Blue began to squeeze the life out of him.

"Church," said Caboose, "did you miss me? Did you? Did you? Did you?"

Trying to regain his breath even as his chest was being crushed by the Blue's inhuman strength, Church wheezed out, "Yes, Caboose, I missed you. Now would you please let go of me?"

"Okay," the Blue answered bluntly. He brought his arms away and Church fell with a clatter onto his back. Caboose went back two steps.

Church groaned as he tried to regain his breath. Nearby, Wash and Sarge began laughing at him, going so far as to point fingers at him. Tex snorted in disgust at the two soldiers and looked down at her boyfriend. As an unexpected gesture of kindness, she crouched down and helped Church off the ground, even getting his helmet for him. The cobalt man grabbed his armor piece as the Freelancer gave it to him.

The Reds and Blues turned as a fourth dropship landed next to the pelican furthest to the left of the parked transports. It opened its rear hatch and, almost immediately, two soldiers stepped out of the ramp. One of the soldiers wore a maroon set of MJOLNIR armor and the other had the same armor type, but with an orange color instead. Both had their helmets off as well.

Simmons and Grif, thought Church. He looked at maroon-colored one. His face had the makings of a nerd, with fair skin, combed, brown hair, and a face that said 'I'm a geek' all over it. He had a pair of brown eyes to go with his face as well. He saw a handful of metallic scars across his face, a sign of the cyborg parts Sarge had installed on him while they were still in Blood Gulch.

He scanned the orange man's face. He had a fairly scraggy, sloppy-looking face, with messy, oak-colored hair, hazel eyes, and five o'clock shadow. His face completely reminded Church of a stereotypical slop or even a hobo.

Caboose noticed them too and just before he said anything the two arrivals jumped in surprise and pulled out their chrome-skinned magnums.

"Aagghh!" screamed Simmons in fright. His hand was trembling as he pointed the gun at Caboose, the nearest Blue team member. Grif had done the same, his hand shaking as well.

But before either of them could pull the trigger Sarge ran up to them from the side and knocked the pistols out of their hands. Simmons screamed again and Grif jumped back.

"Will you two idiots knock it off already?" he growled. Church couldn't believe it. Sarge, a bloodthirsty, cold-hearted Red sergeant, just saved their lives. Though their armor was excellent at dealing with blunt-force trauma, it was significantly worse at absorbing the damage from bullets. The two Reds stood there, baffled as can be. Sarge had also just inadvertently saved the Reds. In truth, they probably wouldn't have been able to kill them anyway, especially with Tex's advanced training, Sarge's cold efficiency, Wash's swift draw, and Church's own fighting skills, taught by the black-armored Freelancer herself.

"What the…? Sarge?" asked Grif.

"Oh my god. Sarge!" exclaimed Simmons.

"It's good to see you numbskulls too," said Sarge. He patted Simmons on the shoulder and growled at Grif. "So, you're still alive."

The orange soldier grinned. "You bet I am."

"'You bet I am' what?" he hissed.

It took half-a-second for the question to sink in and he sighed once he got it. "You bet I am, sir," he retorted.

"That's better." Silence fell between them, nothing but the marching of boots and the sound of active machinery humming idly in the background. Everyone stared at each other, some with confusion, some with curiosity, and other with excitement.

Unexpectedly, it was Sheila's voice that broke the silence. "Agent Church?" she asked.

Church stood where he was with a questioned look on his face. "Agent Church?" the A.I. repeated.

The Blue snapped out of his trance and looked at a nearby speaker. It had taken him quite some time to being called 'Agent,' especially since he hadn't used the terminology extensively. "Yeah, Sheila?" he asked.

"All systems and personnel are accounted for. We are preparing to jump to the coordinates you put in. I suggest you bring your team inside. The trip will take approximately three hours, five minutes, and twenty-two point six seconds and I'm sure you don't want to stay in the hangar for the duration."

"Thank you, Sheila," he replied happily.

"My pleasure." The speaker died and Church turned to the assembled group.

"Grab your stuff," he ordered. "Wash and I will show you around." He motioned the simulation troopers to the door and everyone scrambled to get their gear together, Donut getting his bags, Grif and Simmons snatching up their duffels and helmets, and Caboose scrambling for his helmet and large duffel bag.

In the background, the group heard Sheila giving out warnings and safety precautions, following standard protocols needed to proceed with jumping. "All units prepare for slipspace jump. All personnel please place gear in proper storage compartments…"

The team walked through the door Church and Tex came through to reveal an elevator large enough to fit two warthogs in it side-by-side. They boarded the large metal contraption, everyone except Wash, Church, Tex, Sarge, and Lopez carrying their supplies behind them along with their helmets. When they were in, Lopez hovered his hand over the buttons labeled systematically from 'Hangar Bay' to 'Deck 1' through 'Deck 16'. He pressed his hand onto the button labeled 'Deck 12: Midsection & Living Quarters.'

The Reds and Blues went up the lift in complete, utter silence. None of them wanted to be the one to ask the first question, the one question that was all running through their minds from the moment they came to the ship.

Eventually the elevator stopped moving and the door in front of them opened out into a large, relatively empty hallway. The group started striding forward, taking in the hallway's layout and design. It was a relatively standard corridor, with a firm set of steel support pillars, hardened metal-grey deck, and reinforced titanium walls that helped support the rest of the ship.

The group continued down the hall in silence before coming to a four-way intersection. There were arrows on nearby walls that pointed to other sections of the ship. A sign pointed to the left hallway read 'Crew Armory & Living Quarters'. The arrow that pointed direction ahead of them had the words 'Bridge, Communications, Mess Hall, Training Room & Sick Bay' printed in bold while the one pointing down the hall directly behind them read 'Hangar & Drive Room.' The sign pointing to the right had a similar sign to the one pointing to the left but had the words 'Freelancer Armory & Living Quarters' on it instead.

"This way," called Church, gesturing everyone to turn right.

"But Church, we're not Freelancers. That's for those mean people," pointed out Caboose.

"That's alright," supplied Wash. "There aren't any Freelancers here anyway."

"You mean besides you and Tex?" asked Simmons.

"Yeah, besides us."

The group turned right as instructed and walked down the hallway, passing by several closed doors and a few other branching corridors. Eventually the hall turned sharply left and the group did likewise.

"Hey, Church," asked Tucker, "why did Sheila call you 'Agent'? You're not a Freelancer."

Church slowed down to the point where he was walking right next to the aqua swordsman. "It's a thing I picked up when I started working with Tex. We don't really follow the procedures that the UNSC gives most soldiers. We're kinda independent, and a pretty big deal on top of that, just like Tex was before."

"What do you mean, 'kinda'?" Simmons inquired.

"Well, when I say kinda, I mean that we were kinda attached to Delta Force and they're used by the Army, Navy, and Marines depending on the situation."

"Wait, you were part of Delta Force?" Grif asked, his voice filled with equal parts exasperation and curiosity.

"Fuck yeah we were," Church continued proudly. "Tex was one of the very few Freelancers that willingly complied with UNSC authority when the Project went under. Almost everyone else was either dead, a mercenary, or had fallen off the grid entirely."

"Dude, that's crazy," the lazier Red commented.

"Yeah, it is. Honestly, I don't know what Tex said or did, but she somehow convinced them to let me join her when she was assigned to Delta."

They continued onward, thinking on what Church had just described. They were all curious, interested, envious, or some combination of the three.

The group walked in silence again a little more before Tucker asked another question. "Are you and Tex together now? I'm hearing you went steady on her. Bow-chicka-bow-wow."

Church felt irritated at his remark and sighed, trying to clamp down on his emotions. He had to remember that this was who Tucker was, just as Tex's cold demeanor was a part of who she was and how his angry, abrasive attitude was a part of him as well. None of that should matter anymore. He had survived far worse and the Blue's perverted nature was nothing unusual compared to his time at Blood Gulch. In fact, if anything, his overuse of sexual innuendos were surprisingly subdued. Besides, he was part of the team now, whether he liked it or not. "No, Tucker. We aren't together now, as a couple or anything like that. We've just been working as a team."

Before anyone could say anything else, however, the group stopped in a much larger hall. There were multiple doors and gaping corridors along the walls, each leading to different sections of the ship. Most of the doors had names, their names, displayed above them in bold, black print. The doors were sectioned off by team color, red on the left, blue on the right, and Freelancer at the end. To confirm Tucker's suspicions, Church's door stood next to Tex's at the far end of the room, who in turn was right next to the door labeled 'Agent Washington'.

"Alright," said Wash, turning to the rest of the group, "get yourselves settled in and report to the bridge at 1340 Hours. We've got work to do."

"How are we gonna know where everything is?" asked Junior. Grif and Simmons turned to him in surprise. The Sangheili hadn't said a word until now but now he had spoken in completely fluent English. This was a whole new experience for them, apparently. Some, like Church and Sarge, had already known ahead of time, while others, like Donut and Tex, weren't even surprised anymore.

"Yeah," said Grif, choosing to suppress his sudden anxiety at this small revelation. "And where can we get a bite to eat? I'm starving."

"There will be a terminal in each of your rooms where you can find the ship schematics. Even one for you, Junior." Wash nodded to the alien. "Upload it into your helmet and you should be able to access it from your HUDs. You might as well upload a connection to Sheila too while you're at it."

The group broke up, most of them heading to their own rooms to dump their stuff, while Church, Tex, and Wash went down another hallway which led to the bridge.


Location: UNSC All or Nothing Bridge, Paris-Class Frigate, Lyria High Orbit
Shipboard Time: 1340 Hours
Date: June 17, 2557

Everyone had assembled on the bridge as instructed. The Reds had assembled to the left of large command podium that stood to the center of the bridge, which was connected to the back. The Blues stood to the right and the Freelancers were in the middle, awaiting instructions. Farthest to the right was another MJOLNIR-armored man, this one being the color violet. He sported nothing but an enhanced plasma pistol, which acted as a modified stun gun, EMP trigger, scanner, and small, portable healing unit all put into a small pistol. Everyone had their helmets back on, their neck braces sealed.

The bridge itself reminded Church of the Mother of Invention's own command center, with a nice, open viewport in the front, modules and terminals below and to the sides of the podium, and displays at the front of the heightened platform on which they stood. It also had a holotable stored below them, which could be brought up for mission briefings.

Washington stood at in front of them, his arms at his side and his posture straightened.

"So," said Grif, "now that we're all here, Wash, what do we do?"

Expecting the question sooner or later, the steel-colored Freelancer replied, "Okay, first things first. We need to narrow down our options on where the Director could be hiding."

"How do we do that?" asked Donut.

"Well," replied Wash, "what we need is to gather information from the Insurrectionist data center, which is located on an ice shelf at the northern Lyria hemisphere." Behind him a monitor flashed to life, zooming in on a 3D representation of the planet below them. The screen zoomed in on a nearby structure similar in shape to an oil rig.

"Why would anyone put a data center here?" questioned Tucker. "It's in the middle of fucking nowhere."

"The facility is in a remote location, somewhere where the UNSC won't be able to easily find it. Not only that, but the rig can be easily destroyed if needed. If it can't be easily found and accessed, why look for it?" No one answered the question, getting the idea behind the statement.

"How do we get the information?" asked Donut.

"We need to get a small infiltration team into the building and upload the data into a memory chip."

"Why can't we just do a smash-and-grab? That will make this particularly easy," commented Grif.

"The system in which the data is held is in a tight security network. If an alarm goes off, all computer terminals will go into lockdown and we'll lose our window of opportunity. We can't afford to lose that window. To lessen the risk of the systems going down, we'll have to send in a small insertion team who can get in and get out without being seen."

"Well, in that case," asked Church, "who are we gonna send in and how?"

"'Who' will be up to you guys."

"I'll go," piped Donut. Everyone turned to him in surprise. "I've done these sorts of missions before. Pink team normally deals with high-risk infiltration and extraction missions all of the time. And I became pretty well acquainted with the way they run things. I'm good at getting in and out unseen."

The pink soldier moved his helmet left and right, scanning his comrades. "Which of you is the best with demolitions?" he asked.

"That would probably be me of Tex," replied Grif.

"Okay. I'll take you, Grif. And who's the strongest here?"

"That would probably be Caboose," answered Tex. "Why?"

"I need someone who can open steel doors without much trouble. If we get into a sticky situation Caboose can smash our way out of there."

"Alright, then," broke in Wash. "In order to get near the base all three of you will be going in SOEIV pods specially designated for minimal detection. These pods will move in with the floating debris that has been orbiting outside of the planet. Due to the nature of the planet's rings, falling debris is a common occurrence." He sighed before bringing about his final conclusion. "So, you know your jobs now. Grab whatever equipment you need, get to your pods, and good luck. The rest of us will be providing tactical support from here."

As one, Donut, Grif, and Caboose all turned around and marched out of the bridge. The rest of them began to disperse, Simmons walking away with Sarge and Lopez, and Junior going with Tucker. Church, Tex, Wash, and the purple man were the only ones who stayed.

"Wow," said the purple man with no small amount of awe. "This is really exciting. I love how inclusive you guys have become. Just like that. This is so different compared to four years ago."

"We all know, Doc," said Tex.

The group stood there for some time, staring at each other through gleaming gold visors. Eventually the medic turned and walked off the deck.

"I don't know why," said Church, "but I'm getting a very strange sense of déjà vu."

"I am too," commented Tex.

"If it is, let's hope it's from something good," replied the grey-armored Freelancer.


Author's Note:

In case you all are curious, yes, I know the original Allison was blonde and had blue eyes, but there is a story reason for why I have it this way. Beyond that I have no further comment.

Hope you enjoyed! Be sure to favorite and comment!