Chapter Text
Everything was white. Blindingly white. His suit was fuzzing, he couldn't hear. Everything was just... Strange. And while Tucker wasn't the greatest stranger to strange, bow-chicka-bow-wow. This wasn't one of those moments. But the white was starting to vanish, starting to calm. And soon enough, he could hear voices, Washes voice in particular, than Carolina's. He expected cabooses next, maybe even Grifs. Instead he heard a british voice, Wyoming. Wait what?
"He's moving." Wash soon followed, his voice.. lighter. Metal boots stepping away from the teal soldier as he slowly rose from the metal ground, Tucker's vision had cleared at this point, he was surrounded by a number of soldiers, some he knew, some he had killed. Others he didn't. Wait.. killed?
"Wha... Carolina? Wash? Where... Why is..." The two named soldiers looked at Tucker with confusion when he stated there name, very confused as to how to the strange Aqua-blue soldier knew them. But a sudden headache followed by woozy like feelings caused Tucker to fall back to the ground with a thud his vision blackening as he drifted to sleep. A faint voice calling out.
"Take him to the med bay."
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Waking up was never a strange thing, waking up with cuffs around your arms was kinda new and not new. Waking up on a metal bed with his helmet off, guarded by a stranger. Very new. "Hey what the fuck kinky shit is this?" Tucker exclaimed as he tried to lift himself from the bed, finding the cuffs fitting around the arms of his suit kept him in place.
"Oh look, seems our prisoner has awoken." A female voice spoke and a woman in purple armour became clear, a battle rifle in hand.
"Oh, sorry girl, as pretty as you may be under the helm, I don't really feel like playing kink games with you. Now how about you let me out." Tucker stated, only for the woman to tsk and mutter asshole under her breath. Soon the metal door would open and two men would step inside, motioning the purple woman away before looking at Tucker.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm the director of this here vessel. This is counselor Price. Who are you exactly?" Tucker looked at the director, eyes widening. This guy was the director of project freelancer, he could tell because he was surrounded by fucking freelancers and this guy just called himself the director. Holy shit. He had gone back in time. This guy was dead, Wyoming was dead. But alive now... Holy shit. He'd gone back in time. Holy. Shit.
"Umm... My name. Is Tucker... Where's my sword?" Tucker said as he looked to his thigh, only to see that the alien artifact was missing.
"Tucker... As to the alien weapon found on your person. Your... 'sword' We took it. However we can't seem to get it to work. While similar in design to sangheili weaponry. It does not work like theirs. Nor does it seem to share some.. Components." The director stated, talking about the sword like he'd analyzed it in the span of time and knew everything. But he didn't. But he was holding it, which meant they hadn't tried to break it. Good.
"Yea. It's a momentum, can I have it back? Just on my thigh where it belongs. Not like I can use it with my arms chained.. Oh and the fact it's not working should help." Tucker sarcastically said as he eyed the weapon. Watching as the director looked to the counselor and placed the weapon on a nearby table.
"Well. Tucker. You appeared on our ship. Suddenly and surprisingly. Your armour is advanced, not the highest quality but it is certainly better then your average armour. You had an advanced DMR, which is not slightly melted and thus in-operational. and a broken alien piece of weaponry. And a orange spiked cube. Oh yes. You also knew two of my agents by name and yet they don't know you by face or voice. So tell me. Tucker... Who. Are you."
Holy shit, what could he do. Tucker thought that could lie, but felt that it wouldn't work, he can't lie.. Or could he? He knew he just couldn't say. 'Oh hey I'm from the future. Your name is Church and you die. Asshole.' No, if he was in the past, he was already changing things. Things were already fucked. But knowing the future and letting others know it could just as well fuck it up even more. Of course, there was another problem... He had no fucking clue how he did this or when.. All he knew was Chorus. The reds and blues, Wash, Carolina, Kimball and... Doyle. Felix and Locus, but everything else was a.. blur. Just names, people, an idea. A war. "I... Look. you got me. I know a little about this operation of yours director. The project, some of your..." He hated it, he killed these people, befriended others. "Agents..." He stopped when a pistol was aimed right at his head, held by the director.
"Well. Tucker. Tell me how, who sent you and why. And maybe I'll find a way to let you go.. Peacefully." Hell to the fucking no, he was not going to be dying today by the hands of an asshole dead man. And if that meant he needed to lie harder, then Tucker was all too happy to do so.
"No one sent me. I am a merc, and I found out about your project after months of digging and hard Looking, I honestly don't know how I got here. But I'm here, which in fact. Was my plan... I like the idea of your project Director." He hated every fucking word, and his next ones are going to suck so damn much. "I want in." And with that word Tucker found himself amused over, before they looked into my record extensively. The Tucker he knew at this year (When was this year anyway) Was just a teen, young adult at best, not yet drafted into the army. So any records on a 'Tucker' would be incredibly hard to find, for now. And indeed they didn't find any.