Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wash sighed for the umpteenth time as he looked at Donut's empty seat. He had wandered into the way as Sarge fired at a target, and had taken the blast to the face. Definitely a lethal wound. He idly poked at his food.

"Well, men, this is another glorious day for the Reds!" Sarge shouted, wandering into the mess hall. Simmons nervously trailed him, armor still on.

"Yes sir!" he confirmed. Sarge laughed and sat down beside Wash. Wash stared at the older man in shock.

"Are you not, you know, even the least bit remorseful?" the former freelancer asked. Sarge glanced at him.

"About what?" the man asked. Washington felt his jaw drop.

"About killing Donut!" he yelled. Sarge laughed again.

"He'll be back by tomorrow, tops!" Wash looked at the man like he was crazy, but said nothing. Simmons grunted and sat down next to his commander.

"Wash, I can see you're having a hard time believing this. All I can say is, remember that time you shot him?"

"Or about that time he fell into acid?" Grif had somehow snuck up behind the former freelancer. The heavier man was also wearing his helmet and armor, surprisingly. Wash had thought the man would have jumped at the chance to get out of the armor.

"Or when Tex threw that bomb on him?" Simmons added.

"Or when Kai landed her ship on him?" Grif again.

"That time with the dehydration?" Simmons asked. Grif nodded.

"Or when he and Cronut were blown up?" Grif suggested.

"Men! Clearly, you've forgotten when Locus blew up the grenade near him!" Sarge bellowed. Grif and Simmons nodded.

"So, as you see, Wash, Donut's... well, we have no clue. Just, he's immortal and don't worry about it," Simmons offered. Washington felt his head spinning.

"How?" was all he could manage. Sarge grunted.

"No clue. If we knew, we'd all be immortal on Red Team. Then we could finally beat those dirty Blues!"

Grif shrugged. "It's Donut. Don't worry about it. Coming, Simmons?" The maroon soldier nodded and stood up. He and Grif grabbed trays of food and vanished, presumably back to their bunks. Washington stared in confusion but went back to eating. Sure enough, Donut was back the next day, as happy as ever. Wash just shook his head and decided to act like the whole event never happened.

Chapter Text

Carolina narrowed her eyes suspiciously at a small group of snowmen. First off, it doesn’t snow on Chorus. Second off, Grif was missing. Simmons had suggested Grif might be hiding, but this seemed way too obvious. She stalked over to the largest before planting her foot square on its chest area. With a hefty kick, she knocked Grif our of its center, where he had been crouching. Or napping. Or both.

“Grif?” Carolina asked. The orange soldier glanced up at her from his position on the ground.

“Yes, Carolina?” he encouraged. The freelancer hesitated for a moment, as if realizing how stupid this next question was going to sound.

“Where did you get the snow for all of this?” she asked, gesturing at the snowmen. Grif made a strange noise.

“I don’t know,” he finally decided. “If it helps any, I’d hide in these in Blood Gulch.” Carolina stared at him for a long moment.

“And you don’t feel cold inside them?” she heard herself ask. Grif waved his hand nonchalantly.

“Nah. Feels nice actually. Hey, you should try sitting in a snowman for a bit. Might help cool you off,” Grif offered.

“Where would I even get the snowman?” Carolina asked incredulously.

“That’s the easy part. I’ll build the snowman, and you can relax.” Carolina focused her stare into a sharp frown.

“You’ll build the snowman.” That came out as more of a statement than a question, but Grif still nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“First off, you’re still sprawled on the ground. Secondly, all those other snowmen are destroyed. Third, where would you even get the snow?!”

“Don’t worry about it. Even Church couldn’t figure that one out. And he’s made of numbers.”

Carolina blinked, that was it. In the span of one blink, Carolina was ensconced in white. Somehow, Grif had legitimately built a snowman around her while she blinked.

“There. Now cool off a bit, psycho lady.” Carolina growled and punched the snowman, breaking its chest open. To her surprise, Grif was already gone, probably into hiding.

____________
Carolina was not used to Grif doing much of anything. When she went to mess hall, she watched as Grif noiselessly trotted up to Simmons, armor still on. She decided he must have made noise, just the mess hall was too noisy for her to have heard. Simmons and Grif both grabbed trays of food and vanished. That was normal, however. For some reason, most of the Reds refused to eat around others. She shook her head, but went and sat by Washington.

__________
Something was seriously up with Grif. No matter how long she watched the entrance to the mess hall, Grif would appear inside. Even the cameras couldn’t detect him entering. Carolina set up multiple new cameras along the halls. Making sure to cover every angle, he was still undetectable. After a week of this behavior, the orange soldier finally allowed himself to be detected. Carolina growled internally when she noticed.

This whole group, or at least the Reds, were showing amazing abilities. This might explain how the simulation soldiers survived against Tex. In frustration, Carolina went to punch a wall. The crackling noise indicated that she had definitely missed the wall. She turned to face whatever she had just hit.

Orange armor displayed a nasty dent. The protective layer was broken in the center, revealing a bloody patch of skin. Grif had managed to get in between her and the wall, and was now definitely in pain. Simmons, who had been with him, canted his helmet to stare at the gasping man.

“Eh, I give it a few hours,” the maroon soldier commented. Carolina felt herself starting to panic.

“A few hours until what?!” she almost yelled. Simmons turned to face her.

“A few hours until he’s back to stealing food and playing the pity card. He likes to milk injuries for all they’re worth.” Carolina felt her face heating in anger.

“You’re not concerned about him? We made that mistake a long time ago, and we all payed for it. You shouldn’t dismiss something like that so easily!” She was yelling now.

“Geez, lighten up,” Grif grumbled. Carolina felt her jaw drop.

“How are you already talking? We should be getting you to the medical bay!” she gasped. Grit laughed, straightening up.

“Nah, it’s already stopped bleeding. Hey, Simmons, pull that one piece that’s stuck in the middle. It’s rubbing funny and making grating noises.” The maroon soldier hesitated, but stepped forward and grasped a large chunk of the fragmented armor. With one tug, the shard slid out of the bloody mess of Grif’s chest.

Carolina winced at the slurping noise. Grif flinched a bit, but gingerly rubbed the re-opened wound. Carolina watched as the bleeding stopped within a minute.

“How?” was all she could manage. Grif shrugged.

“Who knows?” the Hawaiian offered. Simmons nodded.

“Ever since he got run over by a tank, and he-“ the maroon soldier cut himself off, glancing at Grif.

“Point is, I’ve been able to do this for years. Just be glad you didn’t punch Donut. You’d have killed him, and then had to deal with him trying to get you to do anger management classes.”

Carolina frowned as she thought about that last sentence. “How would he do that if he’s dead?”

Grif angled his helmet in the way she had come to learn meant he was smirking.

“You remember the other day, when Wash killed him?” he started.

“Or when a ship fell on him!” Simmons piped up.

“Or when Wash shot him!” Grif added.

“Or when Tex attaches a bomb to his face, and it exploded” Simmons again. Carolina cut them off by sighing.

“So, Donut’s basically immortal?” She almost regretted asking the question. Grif and Simmons glanced at each other before focusing back on her.

“We guess so. I mean, every time he dies, he’s back the next day. We don’t question it too much. I mean, it’s not the wierdest ability from all of us ‘Sim-soldiers’.” Grif laughed. “There’s a lot of reasons that we survived Tex and killed the Meta. It wasn’t just luck.”

Carolina shuddered. These men were almost intimidating. Meta had killed so many of the freelancers, and a group of untrained soldiers had taken him out, with no casualties on their part. Maybe she should go tell Wash about Grif. The dilemma of how to end the conversation and get away was solved when Simmons nudged Grif.

“Hey, want some food?” the maroon soldier offered. Grif turned to face his companion.

“Your treat?” he tried. Simmons sighed.

“Sure, but only the first tray!” The two soldiers resumed their trek to the mess hall. Carolina warily watched them go before heading off to go find Wash. she really needed to tell someone about all this.

Chapter Text

Wash yawned and waved at Caboose as he plodded towards the mess hall for breakfast. Caboose waved back but kept staring at a wall idly. The freelancer made a mental note to return and make sure Caboose got food later. He heard Tucker say something to the taller man, then one pair of footsteps following him. From the sound of them, Wash decided it was Tucker.

The dark man caught up to him easily, chattering about something. Wash caught the name Caboose and a few other words but didn’t pay attention. The freelancer jumped when he ran smack into Caboose’s back.

“Caboose! How did you get here?” Wash exclaimed. The tall man turned around.

“Agent Washingtub!” he shouted. Frizzy brown hair curled around his head. “I am hungry!”

Wash sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“Tucker?” the freelancer started. “How long has Caboose been able to teleport?”

“We have no clue. He just randomly does it. Not like he knows how to control it. As far as we know, he only teleports to a location near people he likes, with the only exception being your obstacle course. He can go places he’s never seen before, but it seems to drain him. Look, this is one of those things like Donut’s immortality and Grif’s regeneration and snowmen. We don’t question these things. They happen,” Tucker concluded. Caboose nodded along happily.

“Caboose, you didn’t understand any of that!” Tucker sniped. The larger man frowned momentarily.

“Nope!” Caboose laughed before grabbing Wash for a hug.

“Caboose, make sure not to crush him,” Tucker idly commented. Wash awkwardly patted the tall man’s arm. Caboose dropped Wash and raced to grab three trays. He eagerly located three seats, two beside each other and the third opposite them, setting the trays down. He motioned to Wash and Tucker, calling their names loudly.

“Well, you hear him. Let’s go,” Tucker encouraged. Wash followed, dazed. Caboose pointed to the seat directly beside him.

“You can go here, Washingtub! And Tucker can sit over there,” he grumbled, indicating the seat opposite the table. Wash plopped down in the seat. He slumped over and put his head in his hands.

“Hey, Caboose? How long have you been able to teleport?” he tried. Caboose shot him a clueless look.

“I can teleport?” he exclaimed. Tucker snickered.

“That’s not how you get him to teleport. Hey, Caboose!” The tall man glanced at Tucker, confused.

“Get that thing you wanted to show Wash,” Tucker ordered. Caboose grinned, vanishing from sight instantly. A dull thud from farther in the base indicated he had reached his room.

“Probably forgot to stand up and warped in like he was standing. He does that a lot. Betya he’ll get stuck in his chair,” the darker man grinned. Wash stared at him, feeling confused.

“And he just does that?” Wash asked again. Tucker nodded.

“We figure it was something about Blood Gulch. We never really saw him teleport, though, so maybe it was that crash?” he mused. Wash nodded, remembering the obstacle course incident. Caboose chose that moment to teleport back in, standing on his chair.

“Ha! This time I am on the chair and not in it! Stupid Tucker, always laughing when the chairs attack me,” he grumbled. In his hands, he clutched a large rolled-up paper. He turned towards Wash, still on his chair. Wash actually wasn’t sure how that was possible, as his feet were almost as big as the seat.

“Washingtub! I have made you something! And you will love it! Forever!” he smiled. Wash noticed the chair was now bending slightly.

“Uh, Caboose? You might want to-” the chair broke. Caboose went straight down, dropping the paper in his surprise. He landed on his right leg oddly, causing it to make a loud snapping noise. Wash flinched. Caboose sat silently for a moment. Then he opened his mouth. And teleported somewhere.
______

His leg hurt and he had no clue where he was. Okay, so the last part was normal. He wanted to be with Washingtub, and he wanted to cry about how much his leg hurt, but only to Washingtub. Stupid Tucker (Last of the three Blues) could go find something else to do. Like, play at the shooting range (train so he doesn’t die like Church did). Or something. He doesn’t care (he cares, he just doesn’t want to admit it). Caboose frowned. He couldn’t stand, he’d already tried that. His leg is bleeding from the attempt, and something white is poking out now ( the broken bone that slipped when he fell). He’s somewhere he doesn’t know, and he’s alone.

Maybe he can crawl? He braced himself, slowly rising to an awkward tripod position. The tall man stumbled a bit but managed to awkwardly maneuver himself by a tree.

He sat down, finding some long, straight sticks. He could play with them (make a splint)! Huh, he needed a strip of cloth, to make little clothes for them (bind the splint). He ripped his shirt into strips of cloth and tied them to make a very crude splint. Church (Washington) would be so proud when he got back! He had remembered something that Church (Washington) had tried to teach him! And after Church (Washington) declared him to be his best friend (praised him for remembering such a simple thing), he could brag about it to Tucker (tell Tucker how proud he was of himself for remembering).

Now the question was, how does he get back? He had been out of his armor, because he was in the mess hall and no one wore their armor in there except Grif and Simmons, and they always ate in Grif’s room (hid away from the UNSC because of Simmons’ modifications and Grif’s patchwork skin). Donut usually wore his helmet, if he could get away with it (was self-conscious about his scar from Tex’s bomb).

He paused, sniffling. Maybe he could walk on his hands? But falling would hurt, and he might hurt the leg more. Wait. He could go wherever he wanted sometimes. Maybe, if he focused, he could go back to Washingchurch? The tall man tried focusing, he really did. Focusing was difficult. Especially when he was hurt. It wasn’t working (hadn't for a while). He wasn’t back with Washingtub (wasn't safe, couldn't relax). He wasn’t back at the UNSC. His leg still hurt (couldn't walk, couldn't run). He might as well try walking on his hands, in any direction. It didn’t even matter anymore. After all, he would eventually find something (get back to Washington). Or go in a circle. He liked circles. They started with a C, like Church (but Church was gone and had been for a long time)! Oh, right. Back to walking on his hands.

Carefully, he returned to the tripod position. From there, he used his good leg to re-position himself, balancing on his hands. He started moving, going in a random direction. Luckily, the sun was up. He decided to head away from it, moving at a fast pace. Blue eyes scanned the ground, concerned. He moved that way for a couple hours, stopping when a thorn got lodged in his palm. He decided that he had done enough moving for the day.

He carefully tipped onto his good side, grunting when his leg jarred. Gently, he curled up and attempted to sleep, hoping to pass the time faster.
_________

Wash snagged the rolled-up paper from the floor. Caboose, his poor Caboose, was gone, and he didn't have his armor. Didn't have Freckles. He faintly heard Tucker shouting something, heard a shotgun preparing to fire, a robotic whirring, more shouting, a deep voice growling. Footsteps sounded, too many to be just Tucker and the Reds, snapping Wash out of his daze. Andersmith, towering over the group, bellowing orders. Bitters, a calm look on his face, but panic and fear in his eyes. Palomo, trying to hide behind Tucker. Jensen lisping something to Simmons, who was standing by Grif. Grif was packing ammo into his guns, swiping Simmons' to do the same. A small pile of snow had formed beside him as if he hadn't summoned it consciously. Sarge was trying to help maintain order, Tucker assisting.

"What is going on?" Kimball now, angry and confused. Wash turned to face her.

"Caboose is injured and missing," he stated. Kimball didn't ask questions, just nodded.

"Andersmith, you'll command your team in Caboose's stead. Captains, try to figure out where he went and find him!" she ordered. Everyone scrambled again, but this time, in an orderly fashion.

"Jensen, get the Warthogs ready. Maroon Team will search with those. Grif?" Simmons turned to his friend.

"On it. Bitters, go get the extra ammo and snacks. Get the rest of our teams in here. Tell half of Gold Team to head to the armory and pack everything they can carry with ammo and take it to the Warthogs and Pelicans," Grif ordered. Bitters nodded, not even arguing for once. Tucker turned to Palomo, starting to rattle off orders as well. Wash turned to go to Caboose's room.

"Hey, Wash," Tucker called. Wash turned to face him, one eyebrow raised.

"Make sure to grab Freckles. If anything hurts Caboose, he'll want to deal with it." Wash nodded, grimly walking.

"Oh, and don't blame yourself. Caboose is tough. We'll have him back before you know it," the darker man added. Wash just continued his trek.
________________
Caboose groaned as the sun reached his face. He must have napped all day. He needed to find some sort of shelter. Washingchurch had told him that, he thought. Maybe not. Maybe stupid Tucker had told him. In which case, he should forget it (listen to it). He needed to stand, needed to find water, needed to find food, needed to find shelter. He gingerly tried to rise, forgetting about his bad leg. A sharp burst of pain made him groan. Right. Couldn't stand. Needed to crawl. He repeated his list of needs in his head over and over.

Food, water, shelter, crawl. Food, water, shelter, crawl. A mantra, because if he didn't think about it, it'd get lost. Food, water, shelter, crawl. He managed to find a large bush with a slight dip at the stem. Not for the first time, he hated how big he was. But he'd found it. Shelter. He didn't know where water was, but there were some berries on the bush. He'd try to eat them. Unless they were prunes. Then he would just spit those back out.

Crawling under the bush, he grated his teeth as his bad leg was jarred. The sun was setting now. Not good. He had heard Washingchurch say there were scary monsters outside the base. Maybe if he went back to sleep (don't fall asleep, stay alert), he wouldn't have to see any of them. He closed his eyes and fell back asleep.
___________
Wash sat nervously in the seat of Grif's Pelican. Despite having no formal training, the orange soldier was flying through the tall trees like he'd been piloting his whole life. Grif was forced to execute a barrel roll to avoid another tree when Wash saw it. A small pool of dried blood. It was a lucky spot, as the sun was almost down.

"Grif! Down there!" he motioned. Tucker, sitting next to them, nodded.

"Yeah, that's blood. Looks like a bit is heading west. He couldn't have gotten far!" He had to shout to be heard.

"Simmons, get to us!" Grif hollered over the radio. Within seconds, Simmons drove under them, stopping the Warthog. Sarge and Donut jumped out as well. The maroon soldier looked at the blood before activating the radio.

"It's Caboose's blood all right. All Warthogs, to me. Fan out and head west. I want no bush or tree limb left unchecked. Let's go!"

Simmons climbed back into his Warthog. Grif piped up.

"Hey, Simmons! That heat signature thing, it's working, right?" he asked. Simmons sent an affirmative over the radio.

"Good. Hey, Donut! Swap with Wash!" Grif maneuvered the Pelican to where the sim soldier could climb in and let the freelancer out. Sarge voluntarily moved to the turret, letting Wash have the passenger seat. Simmons floored the Warthog as soon as he was sure Wash and Sarge wouldn't fall out. He drove for roughly half an hour before stopping.

"Here. He's right near us now. Grif! We're about five yards from him! Send in Andersmith!" Simmons hollered. A bush just to Wash's right crackled before falling silent again. Simmons whirled to face it, raising his gun. The bush let out a very familiar whimper. Wash hated that he knew that whimper, but he did.

"Caboose!" he exclaimed.

"Agent Washingchurch?" the bush whispered. Wash grinned in relief.

"Yes, Caboose, it's me! Are you okay?" he asked, gently approaching the bush. He lifted the edge of the branches, revealing a very cramped man. Caboose smiled widely.

"Agent Washingtub! I am so glad to see you! It has been scary out here and my leg hurts and I would like to have something to eat, but otherwise, I can't really complain," he rambled. "And now I'm a bit worried that you are just a hallucination or that this is a cruel dream or that I died and this is some kind of punishment for killing Church so much, so I'm not really sure how to tell." Wash felt himself tearing up a bit, despite the smile.

"Andersmith is on his way. He'll get you into a Warthog so we can head back to base," Wash informed the tall man. Caboose frowned.

"But I want to sit with you, Washingtub," he whined. Wash just stared at him for a second before nodding.

"We'll figure something out," he promised.
__________________
Something ended up meaning Caboose sat on Washington's lap, like an oversized toddler. Somehow, Caboose was almost as tall as Meta had been. Wash had never thought he would meet another giant. Meta, or Maine, had been a little over 8 foot. Caboose was roughly 7 and a half feet tall. A very oversized toddler. He snuggled happily to Wash, ignoring the size difference. Personally, Wash was happy to have the taller man back in safety. For some reason, he regarded the tall Blue as a child. Caboose straightened suddenly.

"Washingtub, you did not look at my gift for you, right?" he asked. Wash nodded.

"I put it back in your room, on your desk," he confirmed. Caboose sagged in relief.

"Good because I still want to show it to you!" he announced. Wash smiled at him.

"I'm sure you do, and you can," he informed the taller man. "But only after we get you a cast." Caboose momentarily frowned before nodding.

"Look! I remembered how to make a splinter!" He wiggled to show Wash his crude splint. The bone was still poking out, and the surrounding flesh was turning somewhat yellow, but the splint seemed to have prevented anything worse.

"And I tried to do that teleport thing, but it didn't work. Probably because I was really scared," he rambled. "But I also remembered to find something to sleep under, kind of like a base, but I had to use a bush and I ate some of the berries, but I think they weren't good because they made me throw up, so don't eat the berries off of that bush."

Wash nodded.

"At least you're alive, Caboose."
____________
Okay, Wash knew Caboose could teleport, but this was ridiculous. After Dr. Grey gave him a cast, she told him not to walk on it. Meaning he either walked on his hands or teleported. His old range was pretty short, but now that he was actively using it, he stretched the range to ridiculous lengths. Within three days, he could go the entire span of the UNSC base. Within the week, he could appear next to Wash when he was all the way back to that bush they had found him under, miles out. Wash was hesitant to admit that Caboose kind of scared him, but this was a man who was almost as tall as Meta, and now he could teleport. His brain really broke when he saw Caboose lift a Warthog singlehandedly. While Sarge, Grif, and Simmons were on it. Sarge's idle comment about the weather really didn't help.

Chapter Text

Caboose frowned when he heard the familiar music from the Warthog. He thought it only played when the Reds were in any Warthog. He started walking towards the noise, peeking over the top of a hill. What he saw was the Reds stuck in the middle of a puddle in a Warthog.

“Good going, Grif! You drove us into a puddle!” The leader of the Reds complained, sitting in the driver's seat. The hassled response wasn’t easily made out, sounding full of indignance.

“Not my fault! …. The one driving!”

Sarge stood up in his seat, sitting back down after a bit.

“It looks like we’re stuck, men! We’ll have to get out and swim before we sink!” Caboose trotted over.

“Sargent Red! Are you and Grif-with-two-f’s stuck? I can help!” he loudly offered. Sarge winced slightly at the volume.

“Fine, but make it quick! We have to find out where Lopez went! Now that I have some D batteries, I want to activate the weather-control in him. Then I’ll make the weather clear and sunny again! But not too sunny, so Grif doesn’t fall asleep!”

“I’m right here, Sarge,” Grif grumbled. “And you can’t stop me from sleeping!”

Caboose waded through the puddle, picking up the vehicle with his left hand. Sarge looked up, almost like he was noticing the sky for the first time.

“It’s too rainy! Lopez will short circuit before we get there!” A soft thud from the opposite side could be heard, Caboose walking over while holding the Warthog to find Agent Washington sitting there, mask off and rubbing at his eyes.

“Are you ok, Agent Washingtub?!” Caboose all but yelled. Washington looked up, blinking before scooting back.

“If you drop that thing on me…!” His threat went unfinished as Caboose picked him up with his right hand, starting to walk.

“It is ok, Agent Washingtub! I will carry you back to base! You will need the doctor lady!” With that, he started running, Washington having very wide eyes, sliding his helmet back on.

Tucker laughed as Caboose ran past, carrying Wash in one hand. The freelancer had curled himself around Caboose’s arm as best as he could. Sarge, Simmons, and Grif were still in the Warthog, which was lifted and balanced above the tall man’s head. Simmons was at the turret, Sarge was riding shotgun, and Grif was the driver. Mud coated the vehicle.

“No, more to the left!” Sarge hollered. The tall Blue turned to follow where Sarge was pointing, grinning. Sarge was pointing at the building where the Warthogs, jeeps, and other vehicles were stored.

Caboose tossed down the Warthog once there, the vehicle miraculously landing right-side up. Wash yelped at the noise, not prepared for it, clinging harder to Cabooses arm. As the taller man moved his arm sideways as if to let Wash down, he was surprised to find that there was still an Agent Washingtub attached to his arm.

“What was that?!” The shorter male demanded. “You can lift a Warthog with people inside it?! And they acted like it’s NORMAL?!”

“Yeah!” came the overly-cheery response. “It’s one of the really cool things here!”

“What have they been feeding you?” he exclaimed.

“Well, we ran out of water in Blood Gulch,” Grif started shakily. “Donut, Simmons, and I drank ketchup, gravy, and soy sauce. Sarge drank strawberry Yoo-Hoos. Church and Tucker had other random condiments. Caboose, though, would drink gasoline.” Sarge stumbled out of the dented Warthog.

“I only drank the blood of my enemies!” he weakly protested. Simmons seemed to be just fine, jumping down.

“We should keep looking for Lopez,” he declared. The maroon soldier then shot himself in the foot.

“Sarge, it’s happening again!” he complained. If Wash had been paying more attention, he would have heard the metallic clang that emanated. He was still clinging to Caboose’s arm.

“Ah, user error,” Sarge grumbled. Grif snorted.

“Grif, I will get Lopez to shoot you again,” the Red leader growled. Grif snorted again.

“You do realize it would only hurt for a minute, and then I’d be just fine, right?” he asked. “Aside from that, Wash, we don’t really have a lot to tell you. If Caboose was smarter, he could tell you. If you really want to know, try talking to Tucker. He was on the same team.”

Grif stalked away with Simmons, once again silently walking. Sarge straightened finally.

“Grif! I will shoot you for insubordination!” he bellowed. Wash wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure Grif shouted something about his blood being mostly Oreos.

*time skip here*

“And that brings us to my Great-great-great-great-great-great Uncle!” Caboose grinned big at the man on the medical cot. “I can't remember his name, but I think it was something like Bonzu! Bonzu Pippinpaddleopsicopolis the third! Or else it was Bernie.”

Wash blinked, still unable to process how Caboose just went back through most of his family lineage, got sidetracked in the process to talk about types of pigs, and somehow found how he would be related to Grif. Before the narrative could continue, Dr. Grey walked into the room.

“Well, Agent Washington, all that’s wrong is you bumped your rear. You may get a small bruise, but you should be fine! Oh, and Caboose has increased his teleportation range to almost halfway around Chorus! We’ll have to start going up next! Oh, maybe he’ll be able to get all the way to that moon you guys were stranded on by the end of the month!” Her diagnosis turned to rambling about Caboose’s abilities. Wash was still glad to know. On the other hand, no one could escape the Blue anymore. Not that Andersmith cared. He always welcomed his Captain eagerly and had taken to always carrying something sugar-free to offer him. That made him Caboose’s third favorite on Chorus, after Washington and Grif. Grif bribed him with food. Wash was just his absolute favorite.

Lopez walked into the room, muttering something in Spanish.

“Oh, Lopez, Sarge is looking for you,” Wash commented. The robot looked at him. In Wash’s experience, robots were simple-minded and obeyed their creators. Lopez spat something that seemed to be a cuss word and stayed put.

“Uhhh,” was the intelligent reply. Wash frowned.

“Lopez? Sarge is looking for you,” he tried again. Lopez spat out more Spanish, Donut running into the room behind him.

“Lopez now is not the time to offer to paint all the Warthogs lime green! They need to be more of a brown! Or a light grey!” Donut replied. Wash turned to the pink trooper. He was still in his armor.

“You can understand him?” he asked. Lopez said something at the same time as Donut replied with a yes, so whatever he said went untranslated.

“Tell him Sarge is looking for him,” Wash told Donut. “He refuses to go.”

“Oh, that’s because he’s got a mind of his own,” Donut laughed. “Even Sarge can’t make him listen sometimes.”

“But he’s a robot?” The freelancer was confused. “He sounds more like an AI.” Like Epsilon. Donut laughed again.

“That’s just how Sarge rolls. You should have met Senior El Roboto! And Numero Dos had a bomb in him!”

Lopez grumbled something, but turned and left the medical bay. Caboose grinned at Donut, having just noticed him.

“Admiral Buttercrust! I did not see you there!” he shouted. Donut looked at the tall man.

“Hey, Caboose! You know, ever since your promotion, I haven’t been able to hang with you as much. We should do something together,” the pink soldier replied happily. Caboose nodded.

“Yes! We should hang out soon. Oh! I know! WE SHOULD HAVE a sleepover.” Donut nodded like that was the best idea he’d ever heard.

“I’ll be waiting!”

Wash cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable with where the conversation sounded like it was going.

“Hey, Caboose, I really should be getting back to my room, so I can get some rest. Could you maybe move from the doorway?” he asked. Caboose beamed at him.

“I have a better idea!” he announced. The tall man picked up Washington bridal style.

“Bye, Lieutenant Biscuit!” Donut was beginning to wave when Caboose teleported.

Teleportation, Wash decided, was weird. At least, when it was Caboose who teleported. It was almost like he was running, but at the same time, the world was frozen around him. He couldn’t move, even though he wanted to look around. He couldn’t make any noise, either. Caboose was moving, turning his head to glance around.

Caboose spared a moment to glance down at him, but resumed his observation. Wash was kind of disappointed that he had chosen to look at Caboose’s chest because he wanted to see more of this strange view. He was just able to see over Caboose’s broad shoulder. Palomo and Bitters were fighting, Bitters leaping at the other man. He was frozen mid-jump, face contorted into one of rage.

All too soon, the warping was over, and Caboose was setting Wash down on his bed.

“Caboose. What was that?” Wash asked.

“I just teleported. We are in your room and you are on your bed because you wanted to rest.” The simple response was not what Wash was looking for.

“No, I mean what was with that? It was like you were running and everything was frozen in time!” he exclaimed. Caboose just shot him a confused glance.

“I teleported,” was the reply. Wash just sighed and gave up.

“Okay, then what was all that about lifting the Warthog? You did that with one hand! How strong are you?” Wash asked. Caboose’s face lit up.

“Oh! Mister Sargent was stuck! Griff-” somehow Wash could hear the two f’s-” drove into a muddy puddle, which is not something he should be doing. It tends to make a mess and then Lopez has to clean it all up, and then he gets mad. But! I picked up the Warthog and took it to where all the Warthogs are. And then I put it down.”

“You threw it, making it spin. Sarge and Grif were about to hurl.” Wash corrected. Caboose nodded.

“Yeah, that.”

Wash sighed.

“So, how strong are you?” he asked. Caboose shrugged.

“I don't know. How do you tell that?” he asked.

“We find things for you to lift. Kimball has records of everything. Let’s go,” he groaned. Caboose paused for a long moment.

“Should I be in my armor?”
______________________

“So, that’s Grif and a tank, and he’s still using one hand,” Andersmith reported. He wasn’t quite as tall as his Captain, only standing at 6’6. He was still taller than just about everyone else, and stronger, but he had barely been able to lift Grif.

“He’s also in the Gravity Chamber at 300% increase,” Kimball reminded him. Wash covered his face with his hands.

“Add more vehicles,” Sarge suggested. “And some other stuff. Simmons! How much do you weigh?” Simmons paused for a moment.

“Well, back when I first joined, I weighed 79, but now… 226.” Wash shot a surprised look at Simmons. “Kilograms.”

“Uhh,” he started.

“In other words, about 150 at the start, and now 500 pounds.” At Wash’s disbelieving look, Simmons growled. “It’s personal,” he snarled. Wash looked away hastily.

“Well, get a Warthog and get in there!” Sarge ordered. Simmons nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he shouted as he ran towards the vehicles. Returning, he drove into the affected area. Caboose picked his Warthog up, and with some careful maneuvering, threw the vehicle on top of the other one. He now needed both hands, but he didn’t appear stressed. Sarge charged towards the lineup of vehicles, selecting another Warthog.

“Hey, Caboose! Get ready!” he hollered, driving at the Blue. Caboose paused for a moment before using his foot to kick the Warthog into the air, catching it on top of the others. A slight sweat was breaking out now. Bitters selected a motorcycle but regretted his choice when his vehicle landed upside down. Caboose was straining to keep the tank, three Warthogs, and one motorcycle, plus drivers, up off the ground. After another moment, he caught his balance and shifted his stance slightly. Palomo was sent in next, merely climbing the pile. Tucker joined in, clambering up to sit on the Warthog.

A loud crash made Wash flinch. The whole pile, people and all, had finally fallen. Caboose was lucky it hadn’t hit his foot. Tucker and Palomo were still on the top of the pile. Bitters was dangerously close to losing his lunch, and the Warthog was slowly rolling down the pile. Grif drove his tank away from the higher gravity zone, grumbling something over the radio.

Wash ran towards the zone, drastically slowing when he made it in. Caboose was crouched over, breathing heavily. Wash struggled a bit to raise his arm, mostly because he wasn’t wearing his armor. Caboose looked up at him and easily grabbed his arm, teleporting over to Kimball. Once again, Wash watched at the world stopped for a moment, amazed.

“Caboose, that was a lot of weight,” Sarge complimented. “You might be the strongest man here!”

“Dude. Remember back at that desert, where Caboose flipped the Warthog? And since then, he’s done pretty much nothing other than train with Wash, and then his squad?” Simmons asked. At some point, he had managed to get his Warthog out from the pile and was now standing behind Sarge. Grif finally recovered from the gravity shift and staggered over.

“I remember,” he groaned. The Hawaiian and Simmons were still in their armor, meaning Caboose had lifted more than Wash had previously thought.

Sarge glared at his orange subordinate, briefly. The glare softened slightly before the older man looked back at Wash. Wash looked at Sarge properly, not for the first time, but it had been a long time. The man’s white hair was in a crew-cut, not military regulation buzz-cut. Not that Wash was surprised. A few scars dotted his face, but not many. His eyes were brown, with bushy eyebrows. His face was muscular, with some slight stubble showing.

“What?” Sarge snapped. Wash raised his hands defensively.

“Nothing! Just… thinking,” he exclaimed. Grif canted his helmet.

“What, see something you liked?” he yelped when Simmons kicked at him. The maroon soldier whispered to his teammate before the two left again. They headed for the mess hall.

Caboose sneezed, loudly. Wash jumped. Sarge fired his shotgun at Grif. Grif swore loudly in Hawaiian. Simmons accidentally fired his rifle at Donut. Donut died. Tucker laughed. Andersmith accidentally punched Palomo. Palomo flew into Jensen. Bitters was asleep. Jensen and Palomo landed on him. Bitters started fighting with Palomo. Andersmith watched in mild amusement.

In other words, chaos once again broke out around the Red and Blue Simulation Soldiers from Project Freelancer. Wash really needed some time away from them all. Where could he go, however, that Caboose literally couldn’t follow?

Chapter Text

Simmons was talking to Jensen when it was first noted. The maroon captain shot himself in the foot. With only a pistol, thankfully. Jensen was too busy panicking to hear the metallic clang. Grif appeared out of nowhere and motioned vaguely. Simmons dismissed her and retreated with Grif.

Once secure in Grif’s room, Simmons removed his helmet. He sat down on the orange soldier’s bed, removing his boot. Grif winced at the scraping sound.

“Dude, are you sure that’s just user-error?” he asked. Simmons shrugged.

“Even if it isn’t, it doesn’t happen much. Sarge just repairs it or builds a new one. Kimball thinks he’s working on some top-secret project.” Grif removed his helmet as well.

“Heh, look at us. Too scared to reveal our faces because we look different.We’re wimps, Simmons. Complete wimps,” Grif chuckled. Simmons glanced up at him.

“Yeah. Well, how do you propose we fix that issue?” he asked. Donut picked an odd time to be present.

“Did I just hear the word ‘propose’?! Oooh, I call getting to decorate. You’re from Hawaii, right Grif?” Grif nodded absentmindedly at the pink soldier. Donut wiggled into the room and removed his helmet.

“Well, I think a nice theme would be maybe a fall theme! Does Hawaii have fall, Grif?” Simmons interrupted.

“Donut, we’re not talking about marriage. We’re talking about this.” He gestured to his face, ignoring the damaged foot. Donut frowned. He knew exactly what those two meant.

“Well, how about I go first? I’ll have my helmet off tomorrow whenever I’m in the mess hall, and I'll tell you how it went?” he offered. Simmons and Grif looked at each other.

“We don’t- uh, that is-” Grif started. Simmons glanced at him.

“Oye. Idiotas Sarge quiere hablar contigo. Además, escuché tu plan. Terminaré con cualquiera que se burle de Donut. Pero en serio. Sarge quiere hablar contigo. Ni siquiera sé por qué me envió. Ni siquiera puedes entender lo que estoy diciendo, excepto que una vez cuando te dije que intentaras pararte frente al arma en el Warthog. Y luego pensaste que hablaba en serio. ¿Por qué sigo hablando? He hecho mi trabajo. Bueno, adios.” Lopez popped into the room briefly. Donut glanced at him.

(Hey. Idiots. Sarge wants to talk to you. Also, I heard your plan. I will end anyone who makes fun of Donut. But seriously. Sarge wants to talk with you. I don't even know why he sent me. You can't even understand what I'm saying, except that one time when I told you to try standing in front of the gun on the Warthog. And then you thought I was serious. Why am I still talking? I've done my job. Well, goodbye.)

“Well, sounds like Sarge wants to stand in front of the gun on a Warthog. No clue why. Lopez, are you sure you got that right?” Lopez sighed and ran a hand down his visor. He muttered something and left, clanking the whole way.

“Odd. Welp, you heard him. Sarge is about to go, and I personally want to see him off,” Grif snickered. Simmons gasped and jammed his helmet back on.

“You know what, Donut? You do that. You go without your helmet tomorrow if you want. And if nothing happens, Grif and I will do the same for all of next week,” Simmons snapped. He charged down towards the vehicle bay, followed by a screeching Grif. Donut pulled his helmet on when he noticed something on Grif’s floor.

“Simmons’ boot, huh? I knew he was doing something with Grif!” he laughed. He grabbed the boot and jogged after Simmons and Grif.

Sarge was not in front of the Warthog’s gun. He was behind it and wanted to show Simmons and Donut the crude drawing of Grif he had made with bullets. Lopez had helped with the eyes and mouth. Donut made a comment about Simmons stripping in Grif’s room. Simmons shot him.
_________________________
The next day, Donut walked into the mess hall with his helmet safely in his room. He didn’t want to get unnerved and cram it back on. Now he wished he had it. He knew the scar on the right side of his face was bad and his blond hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, but everyone was staring. Except for Lopez, who was watching everyone else for some reason. Donut had no clue. The mess hall was dead quiet.

“Ha, look! He looks so girly! Hey dude, shouldn’t you be sleeping in the girl's barracks?” somebody hollered. Donut shrank in on himself a bit. Metallic thumping was followed by a loud thud and a howl of pain. Two of the guy’s friends, who had been snickering, were bodily lifted by a very tall and very angry Blue. Donut blinked as Caboose threw the two through the far wall. Well, he was angry. Tucker had the last fool pinned against the back wall with his sword, growling threateningly. Donut looked back to the first one.

Lopez, of all the people present, had tackled the first guy. Yeah, he wasn’t getting back up anytime soon. Lopez stood up, his visor literally glowing red.

“Este es mi idiota. Espalda. Apagado,” the robot growled. No one else moved, except Caboose and Tucker, who returned to their seats. Lopez stomped over to Donut’s side.

(This is my idiot. Back. Off.)

“Donut. Vamanos,” he grumbled. Donut followed as the robot grabbed a tray. He easily selected all of Donut’s favorites from the other trays, putting them on the one he held. Caboose actually growled when Carolina went to object, silencing the freelancer. Blue eyes met blue as Donut glanced at the tall man. Caboose was watching him like a hawk, food temporarily forgotten. Donut waved at him shakily, prompting the Blue to return to eating. Somehow, he knew Caboose would insist on a cuddle pile later.

(Donut. Let’s go)

Lopez made a slight whirring noise as he turned his head to look at his teammate.

“Estas bien?” he asked. Donut turned to face him.

(Are you okay?)

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied. He was scared and nervous. He ran his right hand over his scar, feeling the long, spidering ridges of skin. He was lucky he could still use that eye, Doc had told him. Hey, wasn’t Doc usually around whenever violence went down? Looking around, he couldn’t find him. His laugh was coming from outside, followed by a scraping noise and footsteps. Must be experimenting again.

Lopez stared at him for a bit before turning back around.

“Oh, mira. Una mesa vacia,” he announced.

(Oh, look. An empty table)

Someone made the mistake of snickering again. Before any of the Blood Gulch crew could move, a shotgun blast sounded.

“Drat this short range shotgun!” a southern accent bellowed. “You there! Get over here!”

Sarge. Lopez turned and watched the guilty soldier trot up to the angry man. Sarge’s brown eyes were narrowed, showing no emotion.

“I need to borrow this man. Better hope you have all your limbs, soldier,” he barked. “Now march! Grif! Simmons! Target practice!” The soldier’s scream echoed throughout the base.

Lopez sat down, almost denting the table with the tray he was still holding. “Donut.” The soldier jumped but sat down next to Lopez. The robot stared at him until he started eating, then returned to scanning the room. Donut heard Caboose growling again. Looking up, he saw Carolina raising her hands defensively. Wash hesitantly patted Caboose’s shoulder. The tall man went back to eating. Lopez crackled a bit but remained silent.

“Okay, I’m full. Really, Lopez. You can give Grif the rest, honestly,” Donut muttered. The robot hissed slightly but grabbed the tray. He watched Donut stand up and leave, presumably to his room, before standing and heading to Grif’s room. The orange soldier was very pleased with the food when he got back from shooting the soldier. The one training experience he had actually enjoyed!
_____________

Caboose suffered his share of harassment for defending Donut. People insulted him when he wasn’t listening, calling him crude words and vile remarks. Andersmith was walking along when he heard a couple soldiers making some of these remarks.

“Hey, did you hear the blue buffoon actually growled at that freelancer chick?” the first one whispered. The second giggled and nodded.

“And for that girly one!” he snickered.

“So, what, he’s a dog?” came the reply.

“Yeah, he’s the pink one’s bi-”

His response was cut short when he fell to the ground, unconscious. The second soldier had enough time to look up before his face met a large fist. He didn’t even know who hit him.

Chapter Text

Lopez had taken to following Donut. The brown robot carried his sniper rifle everywhere with him, aiming at anyone who looked at Donut funny. He slung it across his back when Caboose warped in front of him.

“Yes! Lopez! I will be taking Donut back to my room now!” he shouted. Lopez grunted.

“Oh, yeah! I was supposed to grab you as well!” The robot glanced up in surprise as Caboose grabbed his arm and threw Donut over his shoulder. If Caboose swung him just enough to hit a snickering soldier, Lopez wouldn’t know.
___________

Tucker was waiting in Caboose’s room. Both Blues already had their armor off. Simmons, Sarge, and Grif were pulling theirs off. Simmons waved at Donut a little nervously. Donut pulled his helmet off, giving Simmons a smile. Caboose set him down gently, almost dropping Lopez. The robot growled at him but returned to monitoring Donut. Sarge threw his last boot at Caboose, hitting him square in the chest.

Tucker laughed. It’d been so long since he’d gotten to relax and hang with the people who had been around from the start. He paused for a moment. Out of all the people there, Sarge was laughing loudest at Caboose’s expression. He stopped laughing when a pillow slammed into his face, courtesy of Grif. The bulky man swung happily at anyone who moved. Donut grabbed another pillow, hitting Tucker in the chest. Tucker grinned.

“Oh, it’s on!” he promised, grabbing his own. Caboose grabbed two, dual wielding. Simmons and Sarge scrambled to grab their own, standing back to back. Lopez just recorded it all, deciding to show it to Donut whenever he got sad again. Sarge whooped as he nailed Grif. The older man was laughing in sheer joy, with no malice behind it. Lopez couldn’t decide what he was feeling, but he didn’t mind it. He should probably run a virus scan, though.
___________

After an hour, the group was exhausted. Simmons was wheezing and Sarge had started coughing, they had laughed so hard. Grif was pathetically giggling, feathers stuck in his hair. Tucker had managed to hit Caboose so hard, he actually stumbled a bit, a sign of how strong the Blue had become. Caboose eagerly grabbed the two mattresses stored in his room and threw them onto the floor. Lopez helped him arrange a fort with the spare blankets he had swiped. Caboose had to practically crawl on his hands and knees to fit, but he was still overjoyed.

“Hey, Grif and I are going helmetless tomorrow,” Simmons announced. Grif remained silent for a long moment, unnerving Simmons. Eventually, though, he nodded.

“We figure if we can’t trust these guys, what are we going to do when we return to Earth? After all, we won’t be able to just shoot ‘em or anything,” he agreed. Sarge frowned for a moment before smiling lightly.

“You boys do what you feel is right,” he stated. Simmons almost laughed. Back in Blood Gulch, Sarge would have insulted Grif to the point of almost no return. Now, he was encouraging him. They had all grown, mentally at least. Tucker was still the shortest of them all, and Caboose really didn’t need to be taller.

“Hey, shrimp,” Grif laughed. “Remember when Sarge would threaten me?” Sarge winced slightly.

“Now, there’s no need to bring up the past. After all, we’re all sleeping together!” Donut cheered. Simmons groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

“Do you even know how dirty that sounded?” he asked. Donut laughed.

“It’s all in your head,” he chuckled.

“I’m tired!” Caboose announced. Lopez nodded.

“I’m always down for more sleep,” Grif agreed. He flopped down. Caboose decided the bulky man’s chest was the perfect pillow for the night and plopped his head down. Grif wheezed slightly but didn’t complain. Tucker found an actual pillow, curling up with his back resting against Caboose’s leg. Donut eagerly used one of Caboose’s arms as his pillow. Simmons decided that Grif’s arm was a good choice, gingerly laying down. No one commented when Grif pulled him closer. Sarge was the last to settle down, noticing Lopez about to leave.

“Hey, Lopez!” he called. The brown robot turned around, surprised.

“Come join us!” Lopez froze. He usually didn’t spend much time with the group, preferring to be away from most humans. Sarge’s call had alerted the rest of the Reds and Blues, who were now waiting for his response.

“Si,” he finally agreed. It was a bit awkward since he literally couldn’t take off his armor, but with a bit of shifting, the group made it work.

Chapter Text

Simmons shot a look at Grif. They had left their helmets and armor in Caboose’s room. A deal had been struck. If they went without their helmets all day, they could take a Warthog and vanish for however long they wanted. The rest of the Blood Gulch crew was scattered throughout the mess hall. Donut was helmetless as well, in a show of support. Breathing in deeply, Simmons marched into the dining hall. His shorts and maroon t-shirt did almost nothing to hide the metal implants and limbs.

Wash had to do a double-take. Simmons had fiery red hair, and only one green eye. The other eye was bright red. His skin was pale and covered in freckles. Almost half of his face was metal. His left arm and leg were prosthetic. A pair of glasses rested on his nose. The left side had no lenses. The red eye glanced around while the green eye looked at the back wall. Simmons clenched his jaw, making the metal creak.

Simmons stepped forward finally, allowing Grif to slip in behind him. Grif was definitely the opposite of Simmons. He was shorter, and heavier. His skin was mostly a dark brown. His right eye was almost black, while the right was green. The green eye sat in a lighter, freckled patch of skin. Stubble decorated the darker side of his chin, while the lighter side didn’t have any. Grif’s left arm and leg looked almost like they came straight from Simmons, being lankier than his right side. And paler, and dotted with freckles, Wash noted. He felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as Simmons tried to force himself to march to the trays.

Grif was watching Simmons intently with his mismatched eyes. Wash looked around the room. Caboose was holding his fork so tightly it was almost broken. Sarge was slowly reaching for his shotgun, Donut doing the same with a small pellet. Upon closer inspection, Wash decided it was a pellet holding an irritant in it. Wash had seen Donut’s accuracy with projectiles before. He resumed looking around. Lopez wasn’t far from Donut, looking almost like he was deactivated. Tucker had his deactivated sword on his table, ready to grab and stab.

Wisely, no one said anything as Simmons finally moved. Grif leaned in and muttered something to his friend. Then he grabbed two trays, sticking his tongue out at the monitor.

“Hey, Griff-” there was the two f’s again! How does Caboose always do that?-”And Simmons! You can sit here!” Caboose shouted. From Grif’s expression, he had heard Caboose somehow pronounce the two f’s. Grif and Simmons made their way through the mess of tables and sat down near Wash and Caboose.

“Yo, Caboose, you making your squad shoot again?” Grif yawned. Caboose nodded vigorously.

“Andersmith says it is a good idea if I play with Freckles at the same time! So, Freckles will shoot, too!” The mini-Mantis jumped up from Caboose’s lap.

“Captain Caboose, there are two heat signatures approaching,” it announced. Grif almost jumped out of his seat when he felt a hand clap his shoulder.

“Good job, boys,” Sarge muttered. “I’ll be hanged before I let you suffer because of the past anymore. Now then, you have any trouble-” and here he raised his voice and pumped his shotgun- “You tell me. You too, Grif,” he added. Grif nodded, smiling slightly.

“Lopez! Come on! We’ve still got that idiot under our jurisdiction! I want to get Donut some target practice!” he hollered. The whole mess hall, minus the Reds and Blues, and the freelancers, winced. They’d heard about Donut’s aim with explosives. Even non-lethal sponge grenades hurt, and there was no doubt that Donut was going to use those. He had mentioned them the other day.

The brown robot nodded and waited for Donut to stand. He followed the pink soldier silently, doing one last scan of the mess hall. Grif was still smiling when Carolina threw herself into the seat next to him.

“So. When were you planning on telling us?” she asked. Simmons froze, staring at his plate. Luckily, Grif covered for him.

“Hey, you never asked. You know, like ‘hey, by any chance is one of you a cyborg, because that would explain a lot about Simmons, now that I think about it?’” The freelancer grumbled, but had apparently learned something from Donut’s reveal. Caboose was wolfing down his food, but he was still watching Carolina in case she acted wrong.

“What happened?” Wash asked. Simmons glanced at him.

“This idiot here got run over by Sheila, and Sarge wanted to turn me into a cyborg. Grif got pretty much all my internal organs, and I got upgraded. Oddly enough, we didn’t have a diagram of a human, so he used this diagram of a cow. I heard that was a mess,” Simmons told him. Wash flinched.

“Does it, you know, hurt?” Carolina asked. Simmons shrugged.

“Not really. If it gets too hot, yes. That’s why I tend to wear my armor. But otherwise, most of my nerves are gone,” he stated. Grif mumbled something around his mouthful of food.

“Chew, swallow, then talk,” Simmons groaned. Now the nerves seemed to be fading.

“Mine sometimes hurt, along the scar lines,” Grif piped up. Wash looked closer. The skin met at slightly raised ridges. The meshing of both types seemed hasty and somewhat sloppy. Simmons’ skin, however, just stopped at the metal implanted in his face.

“And the nerves sometimes flare up in my right arm and leg,” Grif added. “That’s just because it was a rush job, and now there’s no way we could do that again. Not without a lot of anesthetics, a diagram of a cow, and Sarge, Lopez, and Donut. That’s what was used the first time. Minus the anesthetics, of course. Sarge hated me, and told me that it was a waste of perfectly good medicine.” Grif’s tone was a bit bitter at the last sentence.

“Well, you do realize Chorus has some very good medical facilities, and Dr. Grey would probably help,” Wash offered. Grif waved his hands hastily.

“I get enough of her when I’m injured, thank you very much. I think I’ll just stay as is,” he blurted.

Wash chuckled a bit before turning back to his meal. He paused when he heard violent explosions, angry yelling, and pained howling. Well, time to go see what that was. Of course, he was followed by the Reds and Blues, and Carolina.

Chapter Text

Doc had been walking along peacefully, arguing with O’Malley when he heard it. A pair of soldiers were laughing about Donut. Doc genuinely liked Donut. The pink soldier gave him food and checked on him in Blood Gulch. Over time, most of the Reds and Blues grew to like the purple medic, so he often stopped by from the hospital. Now, normally, he was a pacifist. Hearing Donut being insulted, however, made something snap. For once, he and O’Malley were in agreement.

“Would you care to repeat that?” he growled. The soldiers squirmed a bit before laughing.

“It’s just the namby-pamby medic, Doc. Even his name is just a fake!” the first fool laughed. Doc swung his head to look at him.

“Oh, you must have me mistaken!” he replied. “I am O’Malley. And you? You have just made the last mistake of your life!” The purple medic aimed his weapon, a rocket launcher O’Malley insisted he carry.

“Let’s see what kind of scars you have after this,” he laughed. He pulled the trigger, aiming at both soldiers rapidly. His fun was interrupted by Wash arriving on the scene to stop them.

“Doc! Snap out of it!” he yelled. Caboose turned to Wash.

“That is not Doc! That is O’Malley! He taught me how to be mean!” the Blue announced. Simmons and Grif took a good look at the medic.

“Yeah, looks like O’Malley’s in control,” Simmons decided. Doc was overpowered by the AI now that he wasn’t angry, allowing O’Malley full control.

“Well, of course I am, nerd,” he sneered. The effect was somewhat lost due to the helmet, but the Reds and Blues still got the full message.

“Ah, and you’ve brought the lazy one, and the idiot, and the mommy,” O’Malley continued. “It’s really a wonder that I stay in here; there was so much room in the idiot’s head. Or Nerd there had potential. Hi, by the way, Simmons!” Doc managed to snag control for a couple minutes. “How’re those metal parts doing? You’re not letting them get rusty? Oh, Grif, stop by the med-bay later. I’ve got something for your scars. Should help them stop aching as much. And Caboose, I found another coloring book! Ooh, Tucker, how’s Junior? Still playing basketball?”

Caboose cheered, Grif grunted, Simmons replied with an affirmative, and Tucker pulled out his photo of Junior. Wash had seen it. He just assumed Tucker adopted the Sangheili Elite, but O’Malley’s words made him pause. Tucker was talking about Junior’s basketball scholarships when O’Malley regained control.

“Yes, yes, very nice. Good for you, good for the little beast, whatever.” Tucker grumbled something, but backed off. Doc was the only one wearing armor, and he had a rocket launcher.

“Oh, please,” O’Malley snorted. “As if I’d attack you. That pesky medic would go crazy. At any rate, I have experiments to do! These two will be lovely test subjects.”

Grif shrugged, Simmons was watching the purple medic intensely, Caboose was still overjoyed about the coloring book, and Tucker was indifferent.

“Wait, what?!” Wash screeched. Carolina was more dignified.

“Why?” she asked harshly. O’Malley tilted his head slightly.

“They insulted the pink one, and that medic actually wanted to hurt them,” he replied. Simmons nodded, Grif was indifferent, Caboose was still obsessed with how he would color each picture, and Tucker shrugged.

“No,” Carolina stated. O’Malley turned his helmet to face her better.

“See, this is where you don’t have a choice,” he growled. Carolina stepped forward before Tucker blocked her with his sword.

“Carolina? I wouldn’t do that. Even Tex couldn’t beat him,” he informed her. “Of course, that was when Omega was actually present, but Doc still acts exactly like he did back then. Don’t fight him.”

Carolina shot him an incredulous look.

“Tex couldn’t beat him?” she asked. Tucker nodded.

“Needed Church to help. Even then, she didn’t keep him very long. Andy blew him up.” The dark skinned man smirked at her when she gave him a surprised look.

“Andy?” she asked. Tucker grinned.

“A bomb. For a while, only Caboose there could lift him. Sarge told him… ah, what was it?” he paused thinking.

“Lift with your back!” Grif laughed. Simmons snickered.

“Don’t worry about breathing! The body produces all the oxygen it needs under stress!” the cyborg giggled. Tucker burst out laughing. Carolina and Wash looked shocked.

“That wasn’t very good advice,” Caboose commented. Doc sneezed.

“Hmm. I might be coming down with a cold,” he noted. “I better go infect everyone else!”

“Or, maybe someone was talking about you?” Tucker asked. “After all, those two you wanted just got away.” O’Malley swung his head to look, growling in anger when he saw that Tucker was correct.

“I’ll be back,” he yelled. “Bye, guys! Stop by anytime!” Doc ran off, probably to find those two soldiers.

“Well, that was fun, right Caboose, Simmons, Grif?” Tucker asked. Grif yawned and scratched his chest.

“I do not like O’Malley!” Caboose announced. Tucker sighed and put his face in one of his hands.

“Well, let’s go back to Caboose’s room and grab our armor,” Simmons suggested. Grif nodded, already heading towards the Captain’s room. Wash decided to go talk to Sarge. He was kind of curious about how that surgery was even possible.

Chapter Text

Grif watched as Simmons threw his left boot into the pile of armor.

“Going without?” he asked. Simmons nodded.

“Might as well. Kimball’s starting to wonder how I get wounded on just my left foot all the time. Besides, I’m also not wearing my helmet. Remember the deal we made with Donut?” the maroon soldier asked. Grif sighed but threw his helmet back into the pile.

“Fine. But only because it’s actually easier to go without my helmet,” he grumbled. Simmons stood up.

“Alright. You ready?” he sighed. Grif nodded and moved to stand next to him.

“Well, let’s go,” he agreed. The two walked out of Caboose’s room and towards the training room.

—-
Bitters hadn’t been in the mess hall to see Grif and Simmons. If not for the armor, he wouldn’t have recognized his Captain or the lanky man beside him. He wasn’t expecting Grif to have mismatched skin or different colored eyes. He was expecting the dark hair and the general build of his Captain. Grif smirked as Simmons stepped forward, giving orders to his team.

“Okay, Jensen? You’ve been staring for the last minute,” Simmons told her. Bitters was amazed. How did he know that when everyone minus the two Captains had helmets on? Jensen jumped.

“Oh, sorry sir! I was just amazed! Those prosthetics look more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen!” she exclaimed. Simmons rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, you might want to talk to Sarge about them. He did the surgery with Lopez,” he informed her. Jensen tilted her helmet. Grif stepped forward.

“Does anyone want to know what happened?” he asked. Pretty much everyone raised their hands.

“Alright, well, it’s simple. I got run over by Sheila, and Sarge wanted a cyborg. He also didn’t want to be down a soldier, so here I am. Next question!” he announced. Simmons glared at him, turning his head so Bitters could see the metallic part of his face.

“That wasn’t an explanation at all! You covered just the very base of what happened. You forgot the part where we didn’t even have the correct anatomy sheet, so your organs are probably structured like a cow’s! Or the part where you got all my organs minus my spleen!” he screeched. Bitters watched in fascination as the metallic jaw moved in synch with the real jaw bones. Simmons narrowed his green eye at Grif, who yawned.

A gunshot sounded. Simmons looked down very slowly, closing his eye and lifting his head.

“Not again,” he moaned. Grif laughed before sighing.

“You really should get an upgrade,” he told the taller man. Simmons groaned loudly.

Bitters looked down a bit, now able to see a black fluid spreading from under Simmons’ foot.

“Did he just-” Grif cut off Jensen.

“He does that sometimes. Seriously, dude, get Sarge to upgrade your processor, yeah?” he asked. Simmons nodded, turning to leave.

“Dismissed,” he called. Grif told his squad the same before following Simmons. The teams flooded out the doors, Jensen following Bitters.

Jensen was muttering something to herself when she ran into Bitters’ back. She glanced up, confused. Bitters was staring at a man who was grinning way too broadly about being let go. He walked ahead silently.

“What’s so funny, private?” Bitters asked. His tone seemed calm, but Jensen knew he was about to go ballistic. The private snickered.

“Oh, just the fact that Gold Team is literally led by a cow. I mean, look at him. He’s fat and has patches. Honestly, it’s amazing he hasn’t tried to eat the grass yet. Looks like he’ll eat anyth-” The private let out a gurgling screech as Bitters attacked. Amazingly, no one was watching the fight, except Jensen. Jensen watched in amusement before shrugging and walking onwards.

Chapter Text

Really now, at this point, the army should stop laughing at the Reds and Blues. Of course, no one was dumb enough to laugh at Wash or Carolina, but they did with literally everyone else. Now, normally, there’d be one or two new people in the hospital a week. The last time the hospital was this busy, Caboose had been handed a rifle for all of five seconds. Dr. Grey sang happily to herself as she analyzed the newest entry.

“Burn marks, concussion, shrapnel, broken bones. Hmm, I’m thinking RPG?” she muttered. “And there’s only a select few with access to RPGs, and on such short notice…” Her voice trailed off as Doc ran by, following Donut.

“Hey, wait up!” he called. Dr. Grey never minded getting to work with the odd medic. She knew O’Malley was a construct in his head, but she had no clue how O’Malley came about. The medic squawked loudly as Caboose scooped him up. Dr. Grey watched in fascination as Caboose vanished from sight. Grif walked past with Simmons next. Unlike the others, they turned to enter the hospital.

“Hello!” Dr. Grey chirped. Grif snorted.

“Simmons here says Doc was last in this area. Was he just here?” Grif asked. Dr. Grey frowned.

“Caboose just vanished with him,” she informed him. “He was moving so fast, I thought he teleported.” Grif swatted at Simmons, the two turning to leave. Before the door closed, Grif called to her.

“Hey, Grey? Caboose did teleport,” he told her. He and Simmons left before she could react. All she did for about five minutes was stare at the far wall.

___________

Wash had been attempting to talk to Sarge for the past two days about Lopez. Unfortunately, the crafty colonel had decided he didn’t want to be found. Maybe he thought it was a game. Caboose, of course, could easily find Sarge, but the older Red had bribed him. A full carton of orange juice and a new package of chocolate chip cookies in exchange for Caboose not showing Wash where he was. The freelancer groaned.

“Alright, Sarge, I give. You, the Red Team Colonel, are officially better at hiding than I am at seeking,” he stated.

“Now that’s what I like to hear!” Wash looked up as the Red leader hopped down from a nearby building. He was in his armor, which made his hiding feat all the more amazing. Sarge jumped down. He sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed up around him. Wash pulled his helmet off. Sarge reached over and ruffled the freelancer’s hair absentmindedly.

“Well, I have upgrades to finish planning. If you need me, I’ll be with Lopez,” Sarge announced. “Hey, you think anyone’s faxed Simmons lately? I wonder if that even still works…” Sarge trailed off as he used his helmet to send a quick fax to Simmons.

“Hey! He’s within range!” Sarge laughed. A high-pitched scream emanated from only a few yards away.

“Gotta run!” Sarge snickered. Wash just stared blankly as the older colonel raced off, presumably to find Lopez.

What did he fax Simmons? And since when could Simmons even get faxes?!
____________

Grif laughed as Simmons did some kind of dance, trying to get a piece of paper out of his pants. Ripping it out finally, Simmons screamed. The cyborg froze. Grif, snickering, ripped the paper out of Simmons’ hands. He, too, froze and screamed.

Wash thundered around the corner. He grabbed the paper and frowned. Man, he knew Sarge was twisted, but this was ridiculous. Grumbling, he ripped the paper into pieces. The freelancer watched as Simmons and Grif jumped at the noise. Before Wash could say anything, a mechanical whirring started up. Simmons did an odd little dance, fishing a paper out of his pants again.

“Sarge needs to quit,” Simmons announced. Grif peered at the new paper. Wash just frowned.

‘Okay, how are you printing papers?” he asked. Simmons shrugged, pulling his helmet off. The cybernetic eye locked onto Wash immediately.

“Ohh! I know how!” Simmons winced as Donut announced. Somehow, the pink soldier had snuck up on the maroon soldier and Wash. Grif had obviously seen him the whole time.

“When Sarge and Lopez and I were helping Simmons, we ran out of spare metal. So, Sarge told Lopez to go find anything useful. And metal. All Lopez found was our fax machine. When Sarge saw it, he decided it should go somewhere wide. And so, we stuck it in Simmons’ butt!” Donut cheered. Simmons groaned at the innuendo.

“Do you even realize how bad most of what you say sounds, Donut?” Simmons groaned. Donut smiled.

“It’s all in the mind, Simmons. Or in your case, the processor!” he chirped. Wash sighed and ran his hand down his face.

“Thanks, Donut. Now, I need to ask Sarge more about Lopez. Unless you guys know anything about him?” the freelancer asked hopefully. Grif shrugged.

“Ask, but I can’t guarantee any answers,” Simmons added. Wash sighed again.

“First off, why does he only speak Spanish?” he asked. Simmons and Grif snickered.

“Well, Sarge brought the vocal chip back from Command. When he went to put it in Lopez, he didn’t ground himself. Lopez let out a static charge and damaged the chip, so now he only speaks Spanish,” Simmons answered. Wash felt his brain stop.

“Okayyy,” he replied. Shaking his head, he managed to remember his next question. “How did you guys get Lopez?”

“Sarge built him from a color coded set. Grif and I watched,” Simmons answered.

“So how is he so smart? Like, he acts more like an AI than anything else,” Wash asked. The three Reds shrugged.

“It’s a thing Sarge does. Lopez 2.0 went crazy and tried to kill everyone,” Grif shrugged. His brown eye was shut now, with only the smallest glimmer of green indicating he was watching. As Simmons turned, the cybernetic eye rolled into his skull to follow Wash.

“Huh,” Simmons commented. “Wash, why do you have that knife strapped to your upper thigh?” he accidentally said out loud. Wash made a ‘snerk’ noise.

“Wait, what?” Grif and Donut asked in unison.

“Why were you on Grif’s lap last week?” Wash shot back. Now it was Simmons’ turn to make a noise of shock. Grif grunted.

“Grif, why do you sneeze like a kitten?” Donut snickered. Grif would have responded, but he sneezed. Wash couldn’t help it. He squealed.

Grif sneezed quietly, repeatedly, and rapidly. Just like a kitten. Wash really wished he’d had his helmet on for that. His little squeal had drawn stares from Grif, Simmons, and Donut. The freelancer’s face was bright red. Simmons pulled another piece of paper from his pants.

“Hey, it’s from Sarge again,” he noted. “It reads: ‘I heard that, Wash!’” Grif sneezed again.

“Okay, whoever’s talking about me needs to stop,” he grumbled. Simmons sighed, twisting to grab another paper.

“It’s Caboose. Or, at least, Sarge sent it for Caboose. ‘Dear Washingtub. Mister Sergeant is helping me to send this. I wanted to tell you that you sound like you are leaking air. Are you a balloon? I will save you from sharp objects. Stupid Tucker won’t pop you with his sword! Love, Cabose. P.S. Griff sounds like my little sister when he sneezes.’” Simmons sighed.

“HE SPELLED MY NAME WRONG AGAIN!!!” Grif bellowed. “I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Simmons? Remember that time you learned to fly?” Grif asked. The cyborg frowned as he attempted to recall.

“Oh, yeah! I used my arm and leg to produce a polarity that contrasted with the metal in the ground!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, that. Could you carry a person with that?” Grif asked. Simmons shrugged.

“We can test that,” he agreed. Grif jumped from where he had been sitting.

“Yes!” he cheered. At Simmons’ blank stare, he shrugged. “I’m bored, sue me.”
___________________
“Alright, Tucker. You ready?” Simmons checked. The short Blue was clinging to his back, both out of their armor. Tucker nodded.

“Let’s just do this before Caboose tries to tackle us both,” he muttered. Wash and Carolina were both watching in case something went wrong. The cyborg shifted his position before slowly rising into the air. He was a bit wobbly, but that was expected. His red eye was scanning the area while his green eye remained closed in concentration. Slowly, he lifted himself and Tucker higher.

“ALRIGHT!” Grif cheered. Simmons felt his ears burning. Still concentrating, he maneuvered so the two were over a building. Tucker whooped as he jumped onto the roof. Unfortunately, the lack of weight made Simmons shoot upwards, like a compressed spring.

“Alright, then,” Wash muttered. Turning, he went to go lay down.
____________
After Tucker’s turn, Simmons had managed to fly with Carolina. He had even managed to lift Grif for a bit. However, the magnetic force generated by his arm and leg wasn’t enough to keep them up for very long. Simmons sighed as he rotated the metallic arm in its socket. A knock on his door made him jolt and look up.

“Comin in,” Sarge announced. Simmons jumped up from where he’d been sitting.

“How ya doing, son?” the colonel asked. Simmons forced himself to smile.

“Good, sir,” he lied. Sarge looked at him blankly for almost a minute before Simmons cracked.

“Not so good,” he finally admitted. “My arm and leg are bothering me, and I’m still shooting myself in the foot occasionally.” Sarge sighed heavily. For a moment, Simmons could see how old he actually was.

“Come on, I’m finishing something up for you and need your measurements. And some input,” Sarge instructed. Simmons nodded, following the older man obediently.
____________
“And this subroutine will fix the shooting your own foot issue,” Jensen announced. “And looking at the arm and leg, they’re more durable, and have enhanced strength. Also, only if you agree, I designed something to shuffle your internal components and make you more energy efficient.”

Simmons hesitated. Sarge had planned all this? Maybe the older man was nicer than first thought. The familiar whirring of his fax machine interrupted his thoughts. Sarge, upon hearing his reaction to the first picture, had continued to send them.

“SARGE!” Simmons yelled. “NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THIS!” The red soldier snickered. He had been sending disturbing pictures of him and his shotgun for more than a week.

“Oh, yeah, and I’ll move that fax machine,” Jensen promised. Simmons waved his hand.

“It’s fine, when Sarge isn’t sending those photos,” the cyborg grumbled. “Maybe relocate it, somehow?” Jensen nodded.

“Can do!” she chirped. “Okay, so we need to find a day where you won’t be doing anything for the next…” She muttered to herself, mentally calculating. “Six weeks!” Simmons sighed. Time to check his planner.
________________

Wash slowly woke from his sleep to a loud thumping noise. It was soothing, rhythmic. He didn’t want to move from where he was seated, not yet. He went to twist a bit, to curl closer to the thumping noise. Something stopped him, something large and very strong. Panicking, Wash opened his eyes. A large being was beside him. For a moment, Wash almost thought it was the Meta, or Maine. Bright blue eyes and frizzy brown hair stopped that line of thought.

Caboose had a vaguely panicked look on his face. It almost looked like he knew he should be scared, but not what he was scared about. Wash groaned.

“Caboose, what are you doing in here?” he asked. Caboose now looked embarrassed.

“I had a nightmare,” he whispered. Wash felt his heart pang. Caboose often had nightmares, lately about Temple. Temple, in a way, was Church, back in that holo room. Except, Church had apologized later. Church had been a friend. Temple had shattered Caboose’s heart. If Wash hadn’t been injured, he would have killed Temple. As it was, he mostly tried to help the giant Blue.

“So you snuck in here?” Wash asked. Caboose nodded.

“I guess I’ll go back to my room,” Caboose stated. Wash groaned slightly.

“No, you can stay. I’m sorry for panicking,” Wash told him. Caboose perked up, flopping back down. He almost launched Wash into the air. Hmm, that may be a fun game with a deep lake and some kind of waterproof airbag… Wash’s thoughts trailed off as Caboose’s heartbeat lulled him back to sleep.
_________________
When Wash suggested the idea to Kimball, it had taken a moment for her to understand his idea. Once she understood it, the hunt began. Then came some minor construction and some manufacturing. Of course, the Reds and Blues were let in on his plan. Grif had whooped and shouted something in Hawaiian. Of course, Kai, or Sister, had been shouting back, not quite understanding, for some reason, but just as excited. Simmons’ cybernetics had been fully upgraded, and weatherproofed. Caboose had only cheered because everyone else was cheering, and Tucker was hoping, of course, to pick up chicks. Sarge even admitted he was due some time off. Carolina wanted to go first, but only because Wash had hid a couple details from her.

After a short drive, Wash proudly presented a massive, deep lake with a large blob launcher. A tall ladder with a diving board enabled people to jump down and launch whoever was at the other end, then crawl over and get launched themselves. Most of the army was already rolling in behind them, so Carolina bolted for the ladder. Wash patted Caboose’s back to get his attention.

“Caboose, climb that ladder and jump onto that large bag,” he whispered. The Blue’s face lit up in sheer joy before he followed the teal freelancer. Carolina was already on the launcher, waiting impatiently. When she saw Caboose climbing, she paled. There was no time for her to escape before all 400 pounds of him hit the end of the blob launcher. Carolina flew up into the air, screaming the whole way. She hit the water gracefully, however.

Caboose was laughing as Andersmith scurried up the ladder and jumped. Due to gravity, he was able to launch his commander a fair amount, much to the taller man’s delight. Wash laughed as people flooded the base of the ladder. He quit laughing for a moment when Carolina slapped him upside the head, but started again when Caboose literally threw her into the water, laughing.

Chapter Text

Running. I’m running. I can’t see anything. Why am I running? Where am I? What’s going on?

A voice calls my name. Run to it! It’s echoing, repeating now. Another similar voice joins. This voice scares me. I remember death with this voice. I don't like it. I want to run away from it. The first voice yells, this time in pain. This voice was important once. I know who it belongs to. The name won’t come, hasn’t for a long time now. Light blue. This voice was light blue. It calls my name again, yells for help. The second voice laughs. I can finally see something. Two figures, same color. Light blue. They are both light blue. One has a blue visor, however. This is the second voice. The first voice has an orange visor. This one is his friend. Church. That is his name.

I call for Church. He doesn’t move, doesn’t look. The other does. Temple. Temple is not Church. Temple is scary. Temple means death. Temple kills people for his entertainment. I need to save Church.

I call again. Temple notices. He tells me Church doesn’t care anymore. Church never cared, he says. He lies. Church cared. Church was my best friend, I protest. Temple doesn’t hear. Temple doesn’t care. Temple laughs now. He raises his rifle. I almost laugh. Both he and Church have very bad aim. It’s funny because Church never would admit it or train. I don’t laugh. I’ve seen Temple kill people. He killed Loco. I liked Loco.

I try to run to Church. It’s like running through honey. Or glue. I open my mouth. I need to warn Church. No noise. I can always make noise. Why can’t I now? I want to scream. I try to tell Temple to stop. It won’t work. It needs to work. Why won’t it work? I try again. My throat seizes. Why? It never has before. I can’t scream, can’t warn Church. I’m still trying to run. I’m almost there! Just another step and I’ll be able to save Church. Temple fires. Church is dead.

Church is dead. I couldn’t stop Temple. I couldn’t save Church. I’m screaming. I’m awake now, I think. Washington is there. He’s trying to help. Purple. I know that color. I know that voice. I need to eliminate that voice. Purple helped kill Church. Purple did this to me. Purple is the color of Omega, the AI that started these problems. If I get rid of that voice, Church might come back. With that in mind, I lunge, ready to rip the purple to shreds.
___________
Caboose had been shouting in his nightmares. The tall Blue had rolled into his wall, screaming louder when he couldn’t move. Wash had gone over and tried to wake him. O’Malley, of course, just HAD to be present where the screaming was, for some stupid reason. Now, usually, Caboose was docile. So, naturally, Wash was surprised when the Blue launched himself at Doc.

The purple medic had run away, somehow faster than Caboose. Wash hoped he could get away and hide.

“Hey, was that Caboose?” Tucker slid into the room, wearing his armor. Wash nodded. Tucker frowned.

“We have to go, now. He’s on a rampage,” Tucker ordered. Turning on his radio, the teal soldier instructed his troops to use training guns only. He then comm’d Andersmith. He informed the Lieutenant that Caboose was rampaging and needed to be stopped before he destroyed everything. Wash finally snapped to attention.

“What’s so bad? He’ll just wear himself out, right?” Wash asked. Even as he said it, he felt stupid. Caboose was the biggest, strongest person on all of Chorus. It would be hours before he stopped his rampage. He could probably wipe out the army if he wasn’t stopped soon.

Tucker didn’t even answer. He was turning to the channel shared by the Reds and Blues.

“Guys! Caboose is rampaging again!” he yelled. Wash heard Grif and Simmons start panicking before Sarge bellowed something. Lopez said something in Spanish, which Donut translated to mean ‘I hope he kills you all.’

“Man, it’s times like this where we need someone almost as strong as Caboose,” Tucker groaned. Wash heard everyone else agree.

“Well, let’s go find him,” Wash finally agreed. Something moved in the corner of his vision. Turning to look at it, he frowned. Nothing. Tucker was already climbing to the top floor of the building. Wash followed.

“There he is!” Tucker shouted. “Sarge, go left by about 30 feet and get ready!” Wash could only see the trail of destruction. Pulling his sniper rifle up, he could just make out the large mass that was Caboose. Caboose was crashing through walls, targeting purple whenever he could. Doc was shedding his armor and throwing it in multiple directions to distract the enraged Blue.

“How did you see that?” Wash asked. “You have your sword, not a sniper rifle.” Tucker turned to him impatiently.

“Do you want your answer now, or after we stop the homicidal unstoppable force called Caboose?” he snarked. Wash sighed.

“Let’s go,” he agreed. Tucker jumped down, landing safely on the ground. As Wash followed, the contradiction of Tucker’s last statement registered.

“Wait, what?”
_________________
Red, not purple is in front of me. Ignore it. That’s not the person who stole Church. Pain. My side. Fine. Red wants to be a target? He can be. A swift dodge and a blow to the back of my head. Ugh. He really wants a fight. I lash out, grabbing the back of his armor. A quick throw and he goes through a building. That ought to stop him for a while. Yellow. Blaring yellow.

Female. She jumps out of my way, easily punching my arm. Heh. That barely registered. I swing, but she dodges. Orange now. What does this one want? He should just go hide. That’s what Orange has always been good at. Orange and Yellow dodge my next swings. Take them out. I need to get rid of both of them. They’re keeping me from Church.

Orange swings Yellow now, launching her straight at me. Somehow, she dodged my fist in midair. She’s like a snake. I need to hit her, get her out of my way. A large weight slams into me. Orange. I fall back a few steps. I hear screaming. They have backup? I need to get away, need to find Purple and eliminate him. These colors are stopping me!

Female Teal jumps in my way next. It’s like the colors don’t want Purple gone. There’ll be another Purple. I just want Church back. Male Teal runs in. He’s calling my name. He surely doesn’t think he’s Church, now does he? Church is light blue. The two Teals back up when I roar at them. Words are useless. They just want to stop me.

Can’t stop. Need Church. Dark grey and yellow. I know this one. He’s not-quite-Church. Name. What was his name? A state. There are two states. And an idiot. They’re not attacking, just talking. I can’t understand them. This talk is useless. If they stay out of my way, they can live. I’m not here to kill everyone, after all. Just Purple. If Purple is a male, why is Female tan-and-purple hiding? I’m not here to kill her, either. Purple is male.

Male Teal sees where I’m staring. He jumps in between me and Female Tan-and-Purple. Too long of a name. Female Purple. Dark grey is talking as well. He’s so hard to understand.

I’m done here. Male Purple wants to hide? I’ll just break EVERYTHING. I slam into the building next to me. A nice new hole, yes, but it hasn’t fallen. I want it to FALL. Male Teal is yelling. His loud, annoying voice is bothering me. Maybe I should swat him like the insect he is. I reach out to do so. He blocks with a glowing sword. Fine. Back to destroying the buildings. Purple is hiding somewhere!

There! A scrap of Purple. He must be throwing off his limbs, like a lizard. I can follow the trail and find Purple. I can kill him while he’s defenseless. The colors relax a fraction as I grab the limb. It’s his arm. They scatter. More senseless chatter. They don’t seem to understand. I need to get Church back. Where is he? Purple needs to die for Church to come back. I look around. Dark grey is following me. That won’t do. Need to eliminate him. Can’t be followed, or he’ll alert Purple. I charge. He runs, gets out of my way. I keep following the purple. Another building.

I smash through the wall. Purple made a mistake. He’s trapped himself. I can hear him. His voice is changing rapidly like he’s talking to himself. I growl, and I move in for the kill. He’s frozen as I grab him by the throat and pin him to the wall. He’ll die and Church will come back. I hear a word. Caboose. My name. Slowly, my thoughts clear.

Church is gone. It wasn’t because of Pur- Doc. His name is Doc. It wasn’t because of Doc. It was Church’s decision to save us all. I drop Doc.

Chapter Text

Wash sat in a chair next to Caboose’s hospital bed. After his rampage, he had dropped. Wash had thought he was dead, but Doc confirmed he had a pulse and faint breathing. He shuddered. Caboose had been more like the Meta while he was rampaging than Wash ever thought possible. The biggest difference was that Wash had seen Caboose’s face. The tall man normally had blue, expressive eyes. Not while he was that mad. His eyes had been red, full of rage.

In the next bed over, Sarge was unconscious with a concussion and broken arm. Dr. Grey had informed the Reds that he’d be fine after a few days, but he needed rest. Caboose had multiple scrapes from smashing into a building without armor and a burn from where Tucker’s sword had met his hand.

Andersmith was temporarily put in charge of Blue Team. He mostly did joint training with Green Team. Simmons had stayed back, knowing he wouldn’t be much help, so he had avoided getting damaged. Grif and Kai had really helped matters. Their teamwork slowed Caboose enough for everyone to catch up.

Wash had been the one to call Caboose’s name, just before he fell. He could still see it plainly in his head. He could see himself calling Caboose’s name. Caboose dropping Doc. Caboose gripping his head. And Caboose falling, as if in slow motion.

Wash shook his head. He was hoping the giant Blue would stand up soon. He wanted to be there when Caboose woke up. Caboose definitely wasn’t asleep. When he was in a deep sleep, he snores louder than Maine had ever growled. And that was saying something. Wash could hear Sarge snoring from the next bed. The older Red probably hadn’t slept well in a long time. Doc trotted in.

“Hey, Wash. Just wanted to apologize for all the mess,” he murmured. Wash looked at him, confused.

“None of it was your fault, though,” Wash told him. Doc frowned and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, technically, O’Malley was caused by the AI Omega. Now, O’Malley is basically a scar in my brain. He ejected himself to find Tex after a while. It wasn’t as bad as Caboose had it, though,” Doc offered. Wash jerked up and stared at the medic.

“Caboose was infected by Omega?” he asked. Doc nodded.

“If I remember, Caboose was infected first. Then I got Omega. Then, Omega wanted to end some kind of war, so he tried to jump back to Tex. He found Simmons first. Then he went into Donut, Sarge, Grif, and Church. Simmons, Donut, and Sarge went crazy under his control. Grif took a nap. Church didn’t feel any different. Kind of obvious why now. And then he found Tex. He tried to leave with an alien, Tex, and Junior. Sarge and the Reds stuck Andy on the Pelican and blew everyone up.” Wash felt a headache building.

“How long was he in Caboose?” he asked. Doc shrugged.

“A while. If I remember right, Church went in and forced him out, but destroyed some of Caboose’s mindscape. Later, Tex and Church both went after him, destroying Caboose’s mindscape farther. That’s part of why he’s not so bright,” Doc admitted. Wash couldn’t move.

Caboose had three AI ejected forcefully from his head. The effects from Epsilon fragmenting were one thing, they were manageable, but three AI? It was amazing Caboose could even still talk. Combined with the gasoline drinking? By all rights, Caboose should be a vegetable.

Doc was still talking.

“And my first encounter with Caboose was when Church shot his toe. His left pinky toe, to be exact. Yeah, it fell off. Caboose, if I remember right, said something like ‘rest in peace, pinky toe’ in his normal voice, and then his voice got all deep and he said ‘YOU SHALL BE AVENGED’. Ahh, and then Grif did this totally embarrassing and humiliating speech so I could be traded as a hostage to Red Team,” he rambled. “Here, check it out! I’ll show you the missing toe.”

The medic pulled the sheet at Caboose’s feet, revealing the left one. Wash felt his eye twitch, looking at the four toes.

“You said Church shot it off?” he clarified.

“Well,” Doc hesitated. “He shot it and it fell off about 30 minutes later, but yeah. Church shot it off.” Wash sighed.

“Alpha sure was… interesting,” he finally stated. Doc nodded cheerily.

“Oh, yeah! When I met him, he was in Lopez’s body. And then he broke Lopez’s legs, so Lopez couldn’t walk, so he was making Tucker try and fix it, but the switch for the Warthog was in a really weird spot, so it looked really wrong.” Doc laughed. “When the Warthog was going, it almost killed Sarge. Sarge survived. Sarge is tough. You know that small scar above his ear?” Wash nodded mutely.

“Caboose shot him! Well, Church was in him at the time, but still. And Grif did CPR, and Sarge came back to life!” Doc smiled. His brown eyes flared towards red, but moved back to the deep brown.

“Anyways, I better go. Good talking to you!” he called, running out of the building. Moments later, Wash heard explosions and evil cackling. He sighed and settled back down, covering Caboose’s foot back up.

_________
Tucker was next to stop by. The teal soldier laughed as he heard Wash’s back pop.

“Man, you’re getting old,” he joked.

“Old enough for you to call me dad?” Wash joked.

“Oh, I’ll call you daddy alright,” Tucker smirked. “Bow chicka bow wow!” he added, watching Wash’s face turn red.

“Tucker!” the freelancer hissed. Tucker laughed.

“You walked right into that, and you know it!” he shot back. Wash just shook his head.

“Okay, enough. Hey, you never told me Caboose had three AI rip themselves out of his head,” Wash told Tucker. The teal soldier stopped laughing, all amusement wiped off his face now.

“Should I? Look, he’s pretty simple to understand. If you had treated him any differently, he wouldn’t still be here. You’d have arranged for him to be sent back home immediately. We all would have died back when we were fighting the Tex bots. Face it, Caboose took out more than all of us combined, even with the drones Carolina beat before we got there,” Tucker pointed out. Wash stopped, considering that information.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me he had drunk gasoline? Or tell me any of that after we beat Hargrove?” he asked. Tucker shrugged.

“Same reason. Look, you know this, but I’ll say it anyway. Caboose is the last Blue from Blood Gulch, other than me. He’s been there as long as Donut. Now, after all that with Tex, and then the Meta? We all agreed that if one of us left, we all did. The closest to breaking that was Grif. We didn’t want Caboose sent away, even if he was annoying. Actually, I think Simmons plans on hanging with him and Grif after all this,” Tucker mused. Wash nodded slowly.

“Well, I’m not sending him home,” he reassured Tucker.

“Good,” Tucker replied. “None of us would let you. Anyways, did Doc already tell you the story of how Caboose lost his toe? Looks like he showed you.” Wash laughed slightly.

“He told me Church shot it. I didn’t hear about the rest of it,” he informed Tucker. The teal soldier sat down on the floor.

“Well, buckle up, because this was an amazing story,” he grinned. Wash sat back, listening as Tucker told him tales from Blood Gulch.
_____________
Meanwhile, a maroon soldier strode through the UNSC base. He waved away the guards around Temple’s cell.

“Look, I’m Captain Richard Simmons, and I want to interrogate the prisoner further,” he informed the hesitant soldier. “Now move before I have you put on latrine-digging detail.” The tan soldier almost ran out of the hallway, leaving the maroon soldier alone in front of Temple.

“Well, what are you here for today?” Temple sneered. The maroon soldier removed his helmet, revealing two grey eyes.

“Oh, not much, sir. Just figured I’d release you, Buckey, and Cronut so we could get our revenge on those last two freelancers,” Gene smirked. Temple sat up expectantly.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

Chapter Text

“Those Zealots are still under our control?” Temple asked, striding to Gene’s Warthog.

“Yes, sir,” Gene replied. Temple nodded.

“Gather them and tell them to await my command. And what of the various Sim Troopers?” Temple instructed. “If they still are loyal, do the same for them. If not, kill them. We have no use for failures or weaklings.” Gene nodded and started the Warthog.

“Cronut,” Temple hissed. When the pink soldier replied, he instructed “Get ready for the attack. Gather supplies. They must be back at their base. Gene can find that. I want you to find the Sim Troopers.”

Cronut replied in the affirmative, swinging up into the Warthog.

“Sir, I’ve managed to learn something about them,” Gene squeaked. Temple looked at him expectantly.

“Yes, Gene?” he urged.

“They don’t have a counterpart for you,” he replied. Temple smirked.

“So, I could pose as a new recruit and let you and the Sim Troopers in, is that what you’re saying?” Temple asked gleefully.

“Yes, sir. Or, you could pretend to be your alternate. He’s gone missing, so you could 'return' as him,” Gene offered. Temple grinned maniacally.

“I like it. Fill me in on my duplicate,” he ordered. Cronut began to read off Leonard Church’s file as Gene drove.
___________

Dr. Grey frowned as she ran a scan of Caboose’s brain. Wash tensed next to her.

“Well, I have no clue how to phrase this, so I’ll just say it bluntly. Caboose, by all rights, should not be alive. He is literally too brain damaged to exist,” she told the freelancer. Wash just stared at her.

“Okay, I phrased that badly. See this right here?” she asked, pointing to the scan. Wash nodded. “That’s all scar tissue. His brain is damaged so badly, it’ll never be the same. It’s not even repairable. That’s how bad it is.”

“Thank you,” he managed to force out. She patted his shoulder and left the room. Caboose almost ran in, stopping at the last moment to duck through the door.

“These doors are for small people,” the Blue decided. Wash laughed.

“Oh, but what about the doors where you lived?” he teased. Caboose smiled at him.

“They are very tall!” he announced. He raised his hand to the ceiling. “They come up to here, so everyone can fit.” Wash laughed again.

“You come from a tall family, bud?” Caboose laughed now.

“I am the tallest!” he replied. “And the strongest!”

“Well, come on. We’ll go make some hot chocolate or something, yeah?” Wash offered. The taller Blue perked up.

“Yes!” he agreed. Caboose grabbed Wash’s arm and tugged, lifting the freelancer off his feet.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Wash laughed.
_____________

Temple snarled. He had found the freelancers and frozen their armor again, but Washington had managed to call over their idiotic Blue. Loco’s counterpart, if he recalled. He wasn’t even sure how the Blue had told him apart from Leonard Church. He had memorized all of the details from Church’s info sheet, and yet Caboose had taken one look and charged.

Now, Temple was hiding in an abandoned building. Cronut’s counterpart trotted in. If Donut was anything like Cronut, a lethal shot wouldn’t work at all. He just had to play nice and get closer to the Red before wounding him.

“Hey, Donut! I need some help,” Temple hissed. “Caboose has gone crazy!” The pink soldier looked over at the light blue soldier.

“That’s because we all know you’re not Church,” Donut replied. Temple scrambled back a bit.

“Who told you?” he snarled. Donut canted his helmet.

“We just know.” Temple growled at the pink soldier’s response. He noticed Cronut charging at their Biff, Grif. The orange soldier didn’t even bother trying to dodge the hasty knife swings. Donut followed his gaze. In that moment, the light blue soldier raised his pistol and fired two shots into Donut’s abdomen and chest. Donut gasped before he crumpled. Temple turned to go find a new hiding spot.

The Red Team robot, Lopez, was standing in front of his exit. Temple growled as the brown robot shouted something in Spanish. He needed to dispatch Lopez before Caboose caught up to him. Pulling out a knife, he leaped at Lopez. He was swatted away easily.

“You know, your friend over there is injured,” Temple goaded. “You should help him before he dies.” Lopez shook his head, stomping over to Temple. He lifted Temple by the chest plate. The light blue soldier slashed viciously with his knife, separating Lopez’s arm.

“Honestly, underestimating me? Big mistake,” Temple sneered. Lopez stared at him passively for a moment before speaking in Spanish again.

“You idiot robot. No one understands you around here, and they never will at this rate,” Temple told the robot. Lopez moved at that. He stepped forward. Even missing an arm, he was still intimidating. Temple leaped forward again, attacking his unguarded side. This attack slashed through some important looking wires and plating. Sparks flew from the severed wires. Temple tried to slash out more wires, but Lopez swatted him away again. The robot stumbled momentarily. Temple took advantage of the slip-up by attacking again. He managed to slice more of Lopez’s abdomen area. He stuck his knife through Lopez’s visor and kicked the robot into some crates.

“I’d love to stay and play, but I’ve got to go,” Temple sneered as the crates wobbled. He turned to leave just as the crates fell over Lopez.

A wall of blue was in his way. A 7’6” wall of blue. A 7’6” wall of blue not wearing any armor.

Caboose loomed over Temple. His red eyes glowed in the low-light setting. Temple really wished he’d pulled his knife out of Lopez’s visor. Wordlessly, the tall Blue roared at him. Temple backed up slowly, stopping at the sound of a rifle priming.

The last thing Temple registered was the sound of the rifle being fired.

Chapter Text

It was too bright. Donut attempted to roll over but was stopped by a sharp pain in his abdomen. He gasped and opened his eyes before squeezing them shut again. Slowly, he turned his head to the side and opened his eyes again.
______
Ooh, hot chocolate! Wash said I could bring some to Private Pastry, so he’d feel better quickly. He hands me a silver thermos. Tells me it’s for Admiral Buttercrust. He then gives me a large mug. This one has whipped cream and marshmallows in it! It’s mine! All mine! Colonel Bagel can have the boring, regular kind. Unless… Unless Wash put marshmallows and whipped cream in the thermos!

I almost open it, before I remember. Right. Donut. Bagel. McMuffin. McDonalds. Ronald McDonald. Clown. CLOWNS! WHERE? Right, right. Donut. I can go clown hunting later. If I remember right, Grif calls Matthews a clown all the time. I’ll get him first and make him tell me where the nest is. Maybe it is in space! After all, clowns are from space!

I sit down next to Donut’s med bunk. When did I get here? Oh, well. I set the thermos beside him, on a small table. He’s not yet awake. I can wait. I will wait. I will wait. Wait. Wait for it. Wait for it.

“Legendary!” I blurt out. Huh. That’s weird. I usually prefer epic. Or awesome. Or amazing. Right, right, Donut. Focus. Focus. I’m still tired from earlier. Getting mad always wears me out for some reason. Hmm. I think they need bigger chairs in here. I feel like a kid sits in this chair. The floor has lots of room. And corners, according to Wash, are the warmest because they are 90 degrees.

I crawl into the corner with my hot chocolate and sit down. A quick nap can’t hurt, right?
________
Wash stood by Donut’s bedside.

“Hey, Wash,” Donut croaked. “Hey, what happened?” Wash handed him a thermos of hot chocolate.

“Buckle in. It’s a long story,” he began.
~~~~~~~
Simmons stood by Grif, watching Gene approach at the head of the Blue and Red army. Gene sprinted suddenly and tackled Simmons, rolling with him. The two stood up, indiscernible again.

“Grif, he’s Gene!” one shouted.

“No, I’m Simmons. He’s Gene!” the other cried. Grif sighed and put his hands on his visor.

“Alright, alright. Take off your helmets,” Grif ordered. He could feel the confusion rolling off both of them before elaborating.

“Obviously you two don’t get it, but that’s fine. Just pull off your helmets or your left boot. Take your pick,” Grif grunted. One of the duplicates turned to the other.

“Yeah, what are you afraid of?” he sneered. Slowly, both men reached for their helmets and pulled them off. Gene was pretty obvious, seeing as he didn’t have cybernetic enhancements.

“Wait, what?!” Gene screeched. Simmons walked over to Grif and snickered.

“Side effect of having an orange guy on your team? You get to be a cyborg,” Grif laughed. He and Simmons stepped back to allow Caboose to barrel past, Donut slinking into a building. Gene stared pathetically.

“Well, my dear Simmons, shall we leave?” Grif asked, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture. Simmons glared at him briefly.

“Fine, let’s go,” he agreed. Their plans were paused when Gene tackled Simmons again and Cronut charged Grif. The maroon pair struggled for a moment before Simmons leered at him.

“Remember how I’m a cyborg?” he casually asked. “Well, I just got an upgrade.” He swung his arm and backhanded Gene, launching the Red a fair distance.

“Easier than throwing Donut that far,” Simmons commented. He jammed his helmet back on his head, charging into the fray of primary colors and tan.

Grif, meanwhile, failed to notice the glint from Temple’s visor as Cronut swung at him with a knife. He didn’t bother to dodge, allowing the knife to impact his armor. One strike got lucky and scraped him in between the plates of armor, but the scratch healed almost as fast as it appeared. Cronut didn’t seem to notice, pressing his ‘advantage’. Grif raised his rifle casually, firing off a few rounds and hitting Cronut with each bullet.

“Hey, you’re Donut’s duplicate. What color’s your armor?” he joked. Cronut glared at him before answering.

“Reddish-white,” he spat. Grif stared at him for a moment before laughing.

“Man, you and Donut are really twinsies. Although, I bet you never dealt with a sticky bomb to the side of your face,” he commented. Simmons popped up from the fighting.

“Or had a ship land on you!” he added. Cronut just stared blankly.

“Or the dehydration thing!” Grif shot back.

“Or when he got shot by Wash?” Simmons laughed. Cronut interjected.

“See! Those freelancers are always attacking us! Why not fight them?” he seethed. Simmons and Grif just stared at him blankly.

“Dude, if I could be bothered to take revenge on everyone who’s ever shot at me, I’d have to kill Sarge, Donut, Lopez, Simmons, Caboose, Tucker, and a whole lot more I don’t care to remember. Revenge isn’t worth it,” Grif replied.

For a moment, Cronut almost felt like Grif was onto something before the orange soldier added, “It’s way too much work. I could use that time to nap. Or eat. Or nap AND eat!” Cronut snarled and stood back up.

“Fine then! See if I care when those two freelancer pets of yours kill you all. That is if I don’t kill you first!” he growled. Grif and Simmons looked at each other before shrugging.

“Dude, Wash, and Carolina both already tried to kill us. And you know what? We’ve already proven that we’re better than you,” Simmons spat. Cronut backed up a step, obviously confused.

“How are you better than us?” Gene mocked, having slunk back over.

“Well, WE managed to kill Tex, Meta, and capture Hargrove. We’ve survived being blown up, shot, run over by tanks, and Sidewinder. We killed Felix, with some help from Locus. And, we’ve beaten you all before,” Grif roared. “You, on the other hand, have lost most of your members BEFORE we even got there. Do you want to act like you’re superior? Take out a freelancer without their armor being locked. Take out two! Dismantle the organization that created them! Survive all their attacks. Any of us could defeat all of you!”

Cronut and Gene backed up slightly. Their retreat was interrupted by a wall of snowmen forming behind them. Grif stalked forward.

“Get involved in a civil war light-years from any place that you know! Just trying existing within our group. I could rant for hours about how Caboose doesn’t know better than to shoot people on his own team, or how Sarge used to hate me. I could literally go crazy telling you all our adventures, and lack thereof. BUT! I’m not going to. I’m fed up with you idiots. You all blindly followed Temple, and look where that got you! You’re trapped here, your forces are dying by the dozens, and you’ve lost most of your friends.”

Simmons stood idly by. He figured Grif needed some stress relief, and these wimps were perfect targets. For one, they were now trying to tunnel their way out of the snowmen, which Simmons’ eye told him were coated in ice. Second, Grif was mad. He needed to be calmed down before he started an ice age. Already, the temperature was dropping.

“Meanwhile, MY group was off having half human, half alien babies! That’s right! Tucker’s a mommy! He gave BIRTH to a Sangheili Elite! I get run over by a tank, and get all of Simmons’ organs minus his spleen! Caboose can throw a Warthog so far, you won’t even be able to see it! Sarge SOMEHOW created a robot that might as well be an AI from a COLOR-CODED KIT! And the kicker? LOPEZ ONLY SPEAKS SPANISH!” Grif howled. “AND DONUT MIGHT AS WELL BE A COCKROACH! HE IS UNKILLABLE BECAUSE HE KEEPS COMING BACK TO LIFE!”

Simmons noted that Grif was about to enter that strange mental state where he was so mad, he actually sounded calm. He sat down on the dirt, wishing he had popcorn.

“TUCKER CAN SEE YOU COMING BEFORE YOU COULD EVEN SEE THE BASE! CABOOSE TELEPORTS! SIMMONS IS A CYBORG! AND MEANWHILE, I CAN CREATE SNOW AND SNOWMEN ON A WHIM!” his tone changed suddenly, shifting into that strange state of calm rage.

“And finally, I can heal at unprecedented rates. So, tell me. How are you so sure that you’re superior?” Simmons almost laughed at the look on Gene’s face. He looked like he had pooped himself and was about to again. Cronut was more difficult to read. After years of being with the same group, their body language was pretty obvious, to the point where they could tell each other’s facial expressions. These Blues and Reds, however, were more confusing.

Simmons decided Cronut was about to poop his pants. That body language was pretty universal.

“Well, we-we gathered almost all of the Simulation Troopers,” Gene stammered. Grif glared at him.

“Big deal. Here’s a hint: You missed a few,” he snarled. Simmons decided to step in before Gene passed out.

“Hey, Grif!” he called. The orange soldier turned to face him, glare softening slightly under his helmet.

“Yeah?” he replied. Simmons smirked.

“Let them go. They’re pathetic. Besides, it’s not like any of the Blues and Reds survived. Tucker wiped a good chunk of them out,” he suggested. Grif considered for a moment before shrugging.

“Alright. I want a nap,” he complained. Simmons laughed.

“Fine, we can nap,” he agreed. The two meandered away from the battle scene to go find their bunks.

Chapter Text

Sarge seemed to be having the time of his life. His shotgun was firing as fast as it could and he was laughing almost maniacally. Tucker was defending Wash and Carolina from the Sim Troopers as Doc fired his rocket launcher. And Tucker had confirmed it was Doc firing, not O’Malley. The normally pacifist medic seemed to have some pent-up frustrations, so Tucker just told him to fire at the invaders and try not to hit any of the Chorus soldiers.

Tucker almost got shot by a trooper in red armor when Sarge shot the Red. He turned to the older soldier with an incredulous expression.

“You just shot a Red,” he gasped. Sarge sneered.

“I shot an invader who painted his armor red. He was obviously a Blue at heart,” the Red replied. Tucker smirked.

“Hey, thought we decided Red vs Blue is outdated. Didn’t malarky win that debate?” he joked. Sarge laughed.

“That’s just for those bases. And in the 37 other very specific circumstances we agreed on,” he shot back. Wash laughed while Carolina groaned.

“Yeah, what about battle versus soldiers in regulation blue and regulation red armor? What government did we decide works for that?” Tucker snickered. Sarge thought for a moment, shooting a Blue.

“Didn’t we decide that becomes a military dictatorship?” Wash input. Sarge straightened in excitement.

“That was it!” he bellowed. “Military dictatorship!” Carolina sighed.

“Well, hop to!” Tucker laughed. Sarge charged back into the fray. Tucker stabbed almost everyone who got too close to the armor-locked freelancers. A rush of the invaders overwhelmed him.

“Tucker!” Wash screamed.

“BLARGH!” The invaders turned in curiosity at the new voice. A large teal and cerulean Sangheili Elite stood in front of the entrance to the base.

The Sangheili charged into the fight, easily batting the Blue and Red Sim Troopers aside. It pulled Tucker out from the pile, honking at him.

“Junior!” Tucker cheered. “Look how big you’ve gotten! Hey, how’d you get here?” The Sangheili honked and blargh’d at him, Tucker seeming to understand what it was saying.

“You got our message, huh? Well, welcome back, son! Now, let’s fight these idiots!” Tucker and the Sangheili fell into a familiar-looking rhythm to fight. Tucker stabbed and the Sangheili shot. Wash and Carolina watched in fascination. The moment was ruined when Sarge found his way back.

“You came back? Thought we finally got rid of ya,” the Red grunted. The Sangheili gave him a look from the corner of its eye, honking indignantly. Tucker laughed slightly, straightening from his crouched position. Faintly, the Reds and Blues could hear Grif screaming at the top of his lungs. Sarge almost smiled, fighting down the urge by thinking about the Sangheili in front of him.

“Hey, no dissing my kid!” Tucker grinned. “He came as soon as he could. He saw our message about Hargrove.” Sarge laughed at that.

“Kid, you’re almost a year slow. We already captured Hargrove. Hey, you still drink blood? Think I heard Caboose muttering about ‘vampire linebackers’ a week ago,” Sarge offered. The Sangheili honked eagerly at that. Wash cleared his throat.

“Mind introducing us?” he asked sarcastically. Tucker turned to him and Carolina, still grinning.

“Junior, these are my friends, Wash and Carolina,” he told the Sangheili. “Wash, Lina, meet my son, Junior.” Doc trotted over, still firing his rocket launcher at the invading forces. Unsurprisingly, the forces were looking very thinned out.

“Hey, Junior! Are you still doing alright? Man, I can remember when you were a newborn, clawing your way out of Tucker’s abdomen, draining Caboose of around half a gallon of blood,” he reminisced. Junior stared at him for almost a minute before honking quietly and turning back to Tucker.

“So, you been alright? Hook up with any chicks?” Tucker asked. Junior seemed to grin at this.

“Bow Chicka honk honk!” he crowed. Tucker laughed loudly.

“Yep, that’s genetic,” he snickered.
__________
During the conversation and introduction of Junior, the topic turned to how to free Wash and Carolina. Surprisingly, Junior suggested removing their armor. He pointed out how the armor was locked, not their bodies. After a minute of thinking, Tucker used his sword to carefully slice the freelancer’s armor off. Junior used his claws to cut their helmets free, setting them aside. The whole time, Tucker and Junior talked, with added comments from Sarge and Doc. Sarge was supporting Wash as the freelancer recovered from the temporary paralysis. Doc attempted to help Carolina, who half-heartedly glared at him. Wash was frantically trying to scratch his back when he heard a shot go off from inside a nearby building.

“What was that?” Sarge asked, almost dropping Wash.

“I don’t know,” Tucker replied. “But I’ll go find out.” Sarge made sure Wash was seated before grabbing his shotgun and following the Blue, along with Junior.

Slowly, the trio crept into the building. Caboose was holding Temple in the air like a ragdoll. A bullet hole could be seen in his visor. From the angle, the bullet would have only scraped him. Tucker rushed over to Caboose.

“Caboose! Drop him!” he shouted. Red eyes glared at Tucker, but his grip loosened. Temple hit the floor limply.

“Is he dead?” Sarge asked, nudging the Blue with his boot. Caboose stayed silent.

“Nah, he’s still breathing. Caboose, you need to calm back down, please,” Tucker told the taller man. He received another glare.

“Son, you need to stand down. The fighting’s over,” Sarge attempted. Caboose’s eyes flashed between red and blue for a minute before he fell to the ground silently.

“Hang on,” Tucker suddenly exclaimed. “Donut!” He noticed the pink soldier lying face-down on the floor, a puddle of blood pooling under him. Sarge darted over to his soldier, gently flipping him over. Junior honked in distress, poking at Caboose.

“Junior! Get him out of here,” Tucker told his son. The Sangheili grunted and lifted the Blue, struggling slightly due to his size. Sarge and Tucker exchanged glances before crouching down and lifting Donut gently. They slowly shuffled out of the building, heading for the hospital.

“Hon-” Junior was cut off as his strength failed him. He crashed onto the ground, squashed by Caboose’s weight. "Blargh."

Chapter Text

Donut stretched as he walked out of the hospital. Dr. Grey had used a med pack, bringing him back to full health. He hadn’t put his armor on. Currently, he was meandering to Sarge’s workshop to help paint Lopez before his activation. Otherwise, the grumpy robot would paint himself, and Sarge didn’t want to run the risk of him getting paint on an exposed wire.

“Hello, Donut,” Caboose greeted. The tall Blue had to look down to see him. Then again, at 7’6”, Caboose had to look down to see everyone. Donut still wasn’t used to the sheer height, especially when Caboose picked him up. On the other hand, he could easily lean against Caboose’s side and sit comfortably next to him. It didn’t hurt that Caboose was a furnace either.

“Hey, Caboose! I’m here to help paint Lopez,” Donut told him. Caboose smiled.

“Yes! I have gathered paint for you! Sergeant helped me!” he cheered. Okay, so Caboose didn’t get into Donut’s nail polish again. That was a disaster.

“Well, let’s head in and get busy!” Donut chirped. If he focused, he could almost hear Simmons groaning.
________

“And some brown, and this needs to be lighter. Ooh, and I can put this color on this panel to hide the off-color. Lopez needs to keep his clothes on, otherwise, this will be a mess. Hey, can you hand me a toothpick, Caboose?” Donut asked. He was almost done painting Lopez, but he needed to get a drop of paint away from the edge of a panel before it set. He was handed a thin piece of plastic almost as big as his hand. He turned to face Caboose.

“No, I meant one for people my size,” he clarified. Caboose made a grunting noise, poking around for something suitable. He popped back up with a screwdriver, shrugging at Donut’s look.

“Can I have my toothpick back now?” the Blue asked. Donut sighed and handed it over, swiping the screwdriver. It would have to do. Sarge had gone all out, making flexible fingers, toes, and even eyelids for Lopez. When the robot woke up, he’d be a lot more efficient.

According to Sarge, Lopez could now ingest food, but he’d have to expel waste, much like a real human. He would be able to lift heavier weights, although nothing could compare to Caboose. He still didn’t need to breathe, but he now had a cooling system that used a fan. This gave the illusion of breathing. Kimball had scrounged up a new vocal chip. Sarge had grounded himself while installing it. There was an emergency program that allowed Lopez to control his body if his head got separated. Lopez was, overall, better and quieter. Assuming he could be restarted.

Lopez’s new paint scheme made him look Hispanic, in honor of him speaking Spanish for so long. Also, Donut was 82% certain the Warthog played mariachi music, so there was that to consider as well.

“Alright, now the clothes. Caboose, can you hand me the bag you’re sitting next to?” Donut asked. “It’s time to help Lopez shimmy into his new outfit!” He almost laughed as Simmons screamed. The cyborg was fun to mess with.

“Okay!” Caboose passed him a shopping bag with Lopez’s new outfit in it. The first thing he pulled out was a pair of underpants.

“First the underwear~” the Red almost sang. He easily slipped the garment onto the inert frame. Caboose started humming something in the background.

“Now the pants,” Donut decided. Caboose’s head snapped up.

“Pants time?” he asked suspiciously. Donut nodded.

“But what about nap-time?” the Blue whined. Donut turned to him.

“Lopez has been napping this whole time,” he informed him. “Surely it’s pants time for him.” Caboose thought about this and nodded. Donut pulled his chosen pants for Lopez out of his bag. He had bought long chocolate-brown pants with large pockets. He carefully got those onto Lopez as well. Socks went on next, followed by a red pair of sneakers. The next issue was his shirt. Donut had located one, but he was too short to get it over the robot’s head.

“Caboose,” he started. “I need to get this over Lopez’s head, but I’m too short.” Caboose stood up with a light huff and ambled over to his friend. Instead of simply putting the shirt on, he lifted Donut to be at the correct height. Donut almost screamed when Caboose’s big hands made contact with his side but held it in. He easily wiggled Lopez’s body into the light brown shirt he had chosen.

“Alright!” he cheered. “Wait, it’s backward.” He corrected it so the wrench on the front was visible before remembering the jacket he had picked.

“Dang it, there’s no way I can reach that jacket from my bag that is conveniently located on the table,” he muttered. Caboose shifted his grip on the shorter man, holding him with one hand and grabbing Donut’s shopping bag. Donut thanked the Blue and pulled out a darker brown jacket, adding that. He pulled a comb he conveniently kept in his pocket out, styling the synthetic hairs Sarge had let him add.

Of course, Lopez had dark brown hair styled in an up-swept, windblown look. The front of the hair was dyed more of a caramel color that Donut thought looked amazing on the robot.

“Yay!” he cheered. “We’re done!” Caboose cheered as well, drawing the attention of Sarge.

“What’s all the ruckus?” he asked. Caboose, still carrying Donut, turned around eagerly.

“Donut finished Lopez, Sergeant!” he informed the Red. Sarge grinned.

“Well, let me see!” he urged. Caboose took a couple steps to one side. Sarge’s jaw dropped.

“Now THAT’s something we should have done years ago,” he bellowed. “Lopez looks like a person now!”

Donut cheered again from Caboose’s grip.

“Caboose, you have such a good grip,” he told the Blue. Caboose gave him a clueless look. “It’s so firm,” he elaborated. In the background, Simmons screamed again. Donut smiled innocently.

Chapter Text

I watch passively as Donut walks into a building that is currently used as a storage unit, according to records. I follow. After all, even if he can’t understand me, I still might be able to help him. He’s talking to someone now. Temple. It has to be. I pick up the pace. Two gunshots. I’m too slow!

There he is. And Donut is on the ground, bleeding. I must be feeling rage. That has to be what this new feeling is. I yell at him, warning him to back off. He pulls out a knife and leaps. Weak.

It’s all too easy to swat him aside. He teased me, telling me I need to help my pink idiot. I know that! I walk over and pick him up by the chest plate. He weighs less than expected. Well then, this should be simple. Before I can do anything, he slashes. There goes my right arm. I tell him that won’t stop me, he needs to get out of my way. I tell him to go get killed by the Blue idiot.

More insults. A threat, not so thinly veiled. I’m bigger than Temple, though. This’ll be easy enough. Temple charges my right side, damaging my systems. Warnings flood my visor. I’m badly hurt. He’s still in reach, so I bat him away again. It’s times like these where I’m glad I’m a robot. I can take more damage than any human, but this body is limiting. Any attack that breaks my armor is guaranteed to damage my systems.

I stumble. The damage warnings increase as Temple charges again. I attempt to make a backup and store it, but he stabs through my visor, damaging the upload. I can tell that the corrupted file just infected every backup I’ve made over the years. This is bad. If I die here, I’m properly dead. Temple kicks me into some of the crates. According to the logs, these crates are full of spare mechanical parts.

Temple turns to leave just as the crates fall on top of me. My left arm’s pinned and my right arm is halfway across the building. I’ll die here if I don’t get rescued quickly. This new feeling is fear. Fear for my life.
__________
Lopez watches Caboose attack Temple. He watches as Junior takes Caboose and Sarge and Tucker carry Donut out. He feels relieved to know his idiot will be safe. In a way, that makes his situation better. It only takes a few hours before the damage starts taking its toll. He’s lost too much of his internal fluids, and too many systems have been damaged.

Lopez starts shutting down his systems until he’s reduced to nothing more than a camera. Even then, he registers his power levels dropping, although much slower than before. He misses the notification Kimball sends to all soldiers. She wants all buildings searched and emptied, in part to look for any more Blues and Reds, and in part to utilize any necessary equipment.

Lopez sees the Reds and Blues enter the building. He can only watch as Caboose and Simmons start actively removing the crates while Sarge and Tucker instruct them. Wash and Carolina team up to remove their crates. They have to. Caboose and Simmons are easily the strongest soldiers on Chorus. Grif just stands off to one side, pretending to help. He's only looking for food. Lopez knows none of the crates contain food. Only armor and equipment.

Caboose is the one who finds him. There’s a distressed scream from the tall Blue. Sarge and Wash are tied as they race to his side. Sarge lets out a strangled sound. Tucker and Simmons are the next two over. Both of them are noticeably distressed. Grif lets out a pained groan when he sees Lopez. Carolina is the last one over. She and Wash look mostly confused. Of course, they would. The freelancers never really tried to understand the robot, just interacted with him like he was a standard AI. Like FLISS.

Sheila was too smart to be classified as a standard AI. She was easily Church levels of intelligence and free will. Lopez regretted not getting to spend more time with her. Maybe he would get to see her in the robot afterlife.

“Of course not!” Sarge huffed, talking to Wash. He had his shotgun aimed at the freelancer.

“Yeah! Lopez is one of us,” Simmons shot. Wash backed up, raising his hands.

“Alright, I’m sorry I suggested it. Now, how are you going to repair him?” the freelancer challenged. Sarge snorted.

“Duh. In my workshop. Caboose! Pick up Lopez and let’s go,” the Red grunted. Caboose slung his gun onto his back and cradled Lopez gently. The tall Blue followed Sarge silently as he stalked out of the building. Simmons and Grif exchanged glances before following. Carolina jumped into their path.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she snarled. “We were ordered to move these crates-”

“Yeah, but we weren’t given a time limit,” Grif shot back. “Now out of the way before we make you move.” Wash stepped over to Carolina.

“Where are you going?” he repeated. Tucker walked up to stand by the two Reds.

“We’re going to see what we can do to help,” the teal soldier stated. “Lopez is one of us, and if you think you can stop us, you’ll see first hand how we can fight.” The freelancers exchanged glances before Wash stepped off to one side. Carolina stood defiantly in their path.

“Not until the job is done,” she insisted. “Your robot will be fine until the crates are moved.” The Reds and Blue looked at each other before nodding.

“We’re leaving,” Tucker growled. “This is your last warning before we make sure you can’t stop us.” Carolina’s glare faltered for a second before she dropped into a defensive position. The three opposite her canted their heads before turning and running towards the far wall. It iced over just before Simmons raised his fist and punched. Tucker slashed it with his sword. Grif barreled into it. The three soldiers broke an impressively large hole in the wall, charging out of the building and bee-lining for Sarge’s workshop. Carolina and Wash just gaped at the massive hole and the three retreating captains.
_____________________
It’s dark, and I can’t see. That’s fine with me. I can wait here for Sheila. I feel an insistent tug. This is the call of a restart. Do I really have to? It’s so nice here.

Wait. My pink idiot. I need to make sure he’s okay. It’s an incessant tugging in the back of my processor. Fine. I’ll check on him. I start the wake-up process. My body has shed some weight. How? Perhaps it’s just the missing arm. My sensors come online, revealing several new systems. I’m mostly pleased with the ability to move my body when my head is detached.

Huh. More sensors awaken. I have clunky boots for feet, so why does it feel like I have toes? My visor isn’t coming online. Instead, I seem to have two smaller cameras located where eyes would go. Several of the sensors along my body, arms, legs, and feet are muffled, though not to the extent that armor tends to dull them. This is lighter, whatever it is. And softer, I note. I’m not too upset so far by the reboot.

My hearing comes online. I can hear concerned muttering about how long this is taking. It sounds like all the idiots are here, except the teal freelancer. I don’t like her, so I’m not too upset.

Finally, all systems are online. I snap my eyes open.

Chapter Text

Green eyes glanced over to meet blue eyes. Both pairs narrowed. A subtle nod from the blue eyes had the green eyes stepping out of the shadows.

“Please, dear fighters, don’t argue with each other,” a tall female purred.

“After all,” a second voice rang out. “The best part is yet to come.” A large mass of armored soldiers turned to look at the owners of the voices. The tall woman had her helmet off, revealing messy brown hair. Her green eyes stared at the crowd expressionless, while her face had a large grin on it.

“Oh, Flight, it looks like these poor people haven’t received word,” the second voice gasped.

“Oh, but I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise,” Flight leered. The second voice growled at Flight.

“If you insist,” Flight smirked. “Well, lucky you, my dear Armada, we have word from the spies that there’s still a place we can find bounties in. They haven’t caught word of the glorious Armada. Now, our bounties are two freelancers!” The assembled soldiers laughed.

“Yeah, I thought they were all gone as well, but two survived. Now, Pixie and I will head down with my guards and do more… thorough reconnaissance. This will take a while. You all are to maneuver closer to Chorus and get ready for our fight. We who are heading down will take some teleportation cubes and get them primed for the new location. Now, our second, more worrying piece of news,” Flight finished. The second person, Pixie, stepped out of the shadows.

She was physically smaller than Flight, but she fought dirty. She could almost always match Flight kill for kill on the field, but in the training room, Flight usually won sparring matches.

“We’ve heard that they have six Simulation Troopers with them. Now, records show that these Sim Troopers have survived multiple freelancer and mercenary attacks. This will have to be exceptionally skilled and quick to avoid detection. Each shot must be a headshot, or immediately fatal.”

Flight cut in. “Of course, you are all highly skilled, so any failures will not be tolerated. Kill or be killed,” she summarized. The assembled soldiers roared in affirmation.

“Excellent. Ashley! Red!” Flight called. A short female soldier and a tall male soldier saluted and followed Flight obediently as she walked to the hangar on the massive ship the Armada was in. Pixie scowled but darted after the small group.

“You and I, dear Pixie, need to drop the code names on this mission. And the attitudes,” Flight told the smaller mercenary.

“So, back to Autumn and Kim?” Pixie asked. Flight nodded.

“Back to the basics,” she confirmed.
____________

Lopez stretched experimentally. So far, he hadn’t tried speaking, aside from a loud scream when he saw himself. The robot was twisting and testing the limitations of his new body silently. Finally, he turned to face the waiting soldiers. Unsurprisingly, the Reds and Blues were all present. Wash and Carolina were there as well. Interestingly, Dr. Grey, Kimball, and the Lieutenants were watching him in anticipation. Although he noted, Grey looked like she was waiting for him to either explode or go berserk.

“Well, what do you think, Lopez?” Donut asked anxiously. Lopez paused and thought for a moment.

“I think-” he cut himself off. That was not Spanish!

“Sarge gave you a new voice chip, but Caboose crammed the old one in beside it. Your voice will be monotone, but it’ll be in English. I still say you could have learned hot to speak English, however. English aren’t that hard!” Tucker laughed. Caboose guffawed beside him before staring blankly at Tucker for almost a minute. Lopez watched blandly.

“Like the dirtbag said!” Sarge cheered. Lopez coughed awkwardly.

“Well, thanks. You’re all idiots!” Lopez spat. He grinned as the Reds and Blues gaped at him for a moment. “You’re all my idiots, though.” He pretended he didn’t see Donut almost crying in sheer joy.

“I am going to find something to build. And you!” the robot hissed, pointing at Jensen. “You touch another Warthog today, I will find you and tie you to the back of a Pelican and drag you behind it while Caboose and Donut fly it!” Jensen recoiled, almost bowling Bitters over.

“Understood!” she squeaked. Lopez grinned again. So nice to be heard.
__________

“Greetings, Autumn, Kim, Ashley, and Red. What brings you all down here to Chorus?” Kimball asked cooly. Autumn shifted in her green armor.

“We heard there was a war effort here and wanted to join up with you guys. We served for a while a few years ago, and realized we couldn’t adapt to civilian life again,” the tall woman replied. Kimball nodded.

“You would be expected to pull your own weight around here,” she warned the four. Kim waved a light blue hand dismissively.

“We do that anyways. There’s only so many habits a couple years on Earth erase,” she laughed lightly. Kimball smiled and nodded.

“Welcome to Chorus,” she told the four.

Chapter Text

“Hi there,” Donut cheerfully greeted Ashley. The white soldier watched him silently. Donut wasn’t fazed in the slightest.

“Silent type, huh? Well, let me show you to your new bed,” he offered. Ashley nodded, following a few feet behind him. The four soldiers had split up. Autumn and Red went to scout around, Kim went to observe the freelancers, and Ashley had been assigned to gathering information on various soldiers. Donut held the door to the bunks open for Ashley.

“This is the female bunks, so I’m not allowed in,” he informed her. Ashley nodded, still not speaking. She scanned the inside of the building.

“Well, I’m off! Call if you need me!” he smiled, bouncing off. Ashley watched him leave before turning away from the building. She closed the door and vanished down a nearby alley.

she called over the radio. A deep, Russian-accented voice sounded in response.

Red answered. Ashley hesitated.

Ashley sneered. Red’s laughter filtered through.

Autumn cut into the channel.

Red reported. Ashley nodded even though the others couldn't see it.

Ashley added.

Kim cut in.

Autumn decided. The four mercenaries cut their radio channels.
___________
“I don’t trust them!” Sarge bellowed. “Random strangers claiming the war affected their ability to live perfectly functional lives outside of the battlefield? I don’t believe it!”

“Sir, that’s a perfectly accurate description of you,” Simmons groaned. Grif laughed, stopping when Sarge chunked a boot at him.

“Hey! Simmons is right, you know!” the orange soldier griped. Donut bounced over to the Reds.

“Well, I met the white one. She’s quite the quiet one!” he laughed. Simmons groaned loudly.

“Seriously, we need to get him a book on double entendres,” he muttered.

“We did,” Grif yawned. “He used it for toilet paper after we ran out.”

“Such nice pages,” Donut smiled. “So soft on my-”

“Okay, we get it!” Simmons yelped. Donut gave him a confused look before changing the subject.

“Well, it’s my daily wine and cheese hour!” he chirped. The pink soldier darted off to wherever he held those on Chorus. Sarge watched him go before turning back to Simmons and Grif.

“See! They’re not talking! They’re smarter than we thought!” he ranted. Simmons and Grif glanced at each other before sighing. This might take a very long time.
____________
Red briefly scanned his surroundings, confirming where his boss had brought him. Autumn had located the mess hall and marched straight to it, pausing for both mercs to take their armor off. Autumn opted for a green t-shirt and jeans. Red went for a similar look, just in red. His black and grey hair ruffled slightly in the breeze as the two walked in.

“Hey! New guys, over here!” a dark-skinned man called. Autumn casually padded over.

“Hey there. My name’s Tucker, but you can call me whenever, ” the man winked. “Bow chicka bow wow!” Autumn gave him a thin smile.

“How about dead?” Red offered. Tucker glanced at him with an uninterested look.

“You her boyfriend or something?” he asked. Red and Autumn shot him disgusted glares.

“No! He’s like, my best friend,” Autumn explained. Red nodded.

Tucker opened his mouth, only to be cut off by a blond man. Red recognized him as one of the freelancers.

“Sorry about him. He needs a muzzle or something,” the freelancer sighed. Tucker smirked and started to say something when the freelancer made a vague motion. An empty food tray slammed into him hard enough to dent.

“Bad Tucker!” a deep voice boomed. Red turned to see if the newcomer was a threat or not, only to see the man’s chest. At 6’5, Red was not short, but this man was over a foot taller than him and built like a football player. Unconsciously, the merc took a half a step back. Autumn turned to see what was wrong, only to have her train of thought derailed.

An assault rifle was slung across his back. Dark brown hair went every direction as if he had just woke up. He had bright blue eyes that reminded Autumn of an ocean. He looked like he could bench-press a tank with no problems. The most unnerving thing about him was his expression, or rather, lack thereof. He had a vague air of happiness to him, yet his face was blank and he was staring at the opposite wall.

“Caboose, sit down,” the freelancer intoned. Tucker was still recovering from the hit to the head. Autumn jumped out of the giant man’s way as he focused on the freelancer and then the table. She motioned for Red to grab a couple of trays and sit across from the freelancer.

“Sorry for all this,” the freelancer sighed. Autumn smiled.

“Not a problem!” she chirped. “I’m Autumn and this is Red.” Red nodded, placing one tray in front of her. The freelancer smiled back.

“You must be two of the new recruits,” he commented. “I’m Washington, but I prefer to be called Wash. You’ve met Tucker and Caboose.” Caboose raised his head and seemed to finally notice Autumn and Red.

“Oh, new people!” he cheered. Red watched him cautiously. “I am Washingtub’s best friend!”

Autumn gulped down her food as fast as she could. She didn’t seem to notice Kim and Ashley sitting down beside her.

“Hey, Red,” she called. Red turned to look at her. “Let’s go find the training range.” This was just an excuse to leave. On her way out, she swiped a roll off of Kim’s tray, barely avoiding Kim’s fork aiming for her hand. She casually waved over her shoulder, ducking under Kim’s spoon. Red obediently trotted after her. Wash and Tucker just watched in amusement.

Chapter Text

Normally, Kim was quite stealthy. She wasn’t built like Autumn. She was shorter and leaner with longer legs. Autumn, in hand-to-hand combat, charged in headlong. She caused a distraction, made a large mess in the middle. Kim would slip in and kill the distracted soldiers. They made an excellent team. So, in Kim’s mind, a view of the base from the roofs would prove useful at some point.

She was running silently, observing the base, when her foot slipped. She tumbled from the roof she was on, falling towards the ground. It was just her luck that the building was a good four stories tall. Kim tensed, preparing to hit the ground when she landed on something much softer than the ground. And pinker.

“Whoopsie-daisy!” Kim winced at the sound of the voice. Great. A witness.

“Sorry about that,” Kim blurted. She really wasn’t, but she would look weird if she didn’t apologize. A Hispanic man shoved her off of the pink soldier, helping him up with ease.

“Hey, no biggie!” the pink soldier chuckled. He pulled off his helmet. Kim almost gasped at the sight of his face. A large scar spiderwebbed over his right side. His eyes were blue, and both looked to be working properly. Blond hair was pulled back in a short ponytail.

“I’m Donut,” he greeted enthusiastically. Kim frowned beneath her helmet. So this is how it is. She fixed a smile on her face, pulling her own helmet off. Despite how she and Autumn fought, they were extremely bruise resistant, and Autumn had developed resistance to burning and scratches, while Kim tended to avoid getting hit, so they both had very few scars. The Hispanic man was glaring at her, so she dropped her smile and turned to face him.

“Hey, it’s rude to stare, turdman,” she snapped. The Hispanic man blinked in surprise before glaring again. Donut piped up.

“That’s racist!” he blurted. Kim scowled at him.

“I’m referring to his outfit, Pinkie Pie,” she shot.

“It’s not pink, it’s lightish red!” he squawked. Kim snorted.

“And I’m a fairy,” she retorted. Donut laughed at her response.

“You’re certainly short enough,” the Hispanic man interjected. Kim turned to him, ignoring Donut’s cry of ‘Lopez!’

“Hey! I may be shorter than you, but I’m at the perfect height to punch you in a spot you definitely don’t want to be punched!” she growled. “At any rate, I’m going back to my bunk. Bye.” The light blue merc pulled her helmet back on and stalked away.

“Should we tell her she’s going the wrong way?” she heard Donut ask.

“Nah,” Lopez decided. “Let the new idiots get lost. They can stay that way for all I care.”
____________________
Autumn and Kim were sparring again. Autumn threw a punch straight at Kim’s chest, aiming for her arm at the last second. Kim let it hit her and spun with it, twirling to get behind Autumn. From there, she grabbed the back of the taller woman’s neck, squeezing a very sensitive pressure point. Autumn bowed down, squirming.

“Say uncle!” Kim crowed. Autumn squeaked something out, sweeping one of her legs in a futile attempt to bowl Kim over. Kim raised an eyebrow before letting Autumn up. Autumn glared at her.

“Shut it,” she muttered. Kim grinned widely.

“Didn’t say anything,” she snickered. Autumn’s glare darkened as she launched herself at Kim.

“Hey!” a new voice snapped. The two mercs looked at the newcomer. Red hair, green eyes. Scowling. Female. Threat level: extreme.

“What?” Kim snarled. The freelancer turned to face the smaller woman.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” she snapped. Autumn frowned at her.

“Sparring. We were done anyways. Come on, K,” Autumn replied. She brushed past the freelancer, the smaller woman following.

The freelancer watched passively as the two left before going to a punching bag.
____________
“Lopez!” Donut wailed. “I just remembered that Sarge put a new food converter in you, and I haven’t made any food for you yet!” The robot watched as Donut threw himself into a frenzy in the kitchen.

“What?” Lopez answered. Donut looked at him, tears in his eyes.

“It’s a tragedy! I haven’t helped you try any of the amazing foods I make!” the pink soldier cried. Lopez sighed heavily.

“Then make something, idiot. Don’t just cry about it,” he groaned. Donut perked up.

“Alright! I have lots of yummy stuff for you to try!” he cheered. Lopez sighed again.

15 minutes later, Donut laid a variety of treats in front of him. Cookies, a couple of pies, and donuts, of course. Lopez eyed the spread warily before snagging a chocolate chip cookie. He tentatively took a bite. His eyes widened before he scarfed the rest of the dessert down.

“I knew you’d like it!” Donut laughed. He handed Lopez one of the donuts. Somehow, the pink soldier had managed to make pink frosting. Lopez bit into it before deciding this was his favorite so far. He ate this one slower so he could enjoy the flavor.

Donut grinned happily, handing him a slice of pie. This process lasted almost an hour as Donut made more desserts for Lopez to try. Finally, he ran out of baking powder, so he quit making the pastries. Lopez still liked the donuts best.

“Ooh, donuts!” Grif cheered, walking into the kitchen. Lopez shot him a nasty look as he reached for one of the small pile of donuts. Grif raised his hands defensively.

“All yours, buddy. Ooh, are those chocolate chip cookies?” The orange soldier meandered deeper into the kitchen, following the scent of cookies. Lopez picked up the plate of donuts and ran to his room, determined to keep Grif away from his treats.
______________
Ashley nodded to the woman in green armor. Autumn canted her helmet slightly before slowly glancing at the female bunks. The two soldiers slowly meandered towards their shared room.

“Alright, report,” Autumn muttered. Ashley grimaced.

“The female freelancer, Hispanic soldier, and red Sim Trooper have their suspicions about us. Nothing confirmed. Red has located four possible locations we can contact the Armada from. Kim has set bugs in all the Sim Trooper’s rooms, minus the freelancers. She has been using the claim of being lost, but the female freelancer is getting more suspicious. The male freelancer is usually in the training range, but he seems to have expert security in his room. Tomorrow, the bugs will begin collecting data at 4:13 AM sharp,” Ashley recited. Autumn nodded.

“Well, I’d say we’re still a little ways away from beginning this thing. Have Kim get plants in the mess hall, hospital, training range, and a few other locations. She can choose the last few. We’ll contact the Armada in a few more days. That should give the targets time to relax around us. See what you can find on the mercs they wiped out,” Autumn ordered. Ashley silently left the room.

“Now then. Kim, come out of the shadows. We need to get the defenses in place around our planet-side base. Let’s go,” Autumn grunted, stalking out of the room. Kim melted out of the shadows, silently following.

Chapter Text

The next few days passed uneventfully. The mercs snuck out in pairs to work on their base. Usually, Autumn went with Kim. After a week and three days, Autumn and Kim left to contact the Armada. The mercs had learned the names of the Reds and Blues. They had learned their overall attitudes and a very small amount of their skills.

Autumn called over the radio. An answer crackled in her ears.

Autumn grinned beneath her helmet.

There was a momentary pause while Frost presumably was relaying Autumn’s orders. She was back on the radio quickly.

Autumn paused, thinking.

Autumn cut the transmission, turning to Kim.

“Let’s drop the name ‘Felix’ and see what we get out of that,” she muttered. Kim nodded. The two women trotted back to the UNSC base.
_______________
“Where did you learn that name?” Wash asked suspiciously. The Sim Troopers around him tensed.

“Oh, you know. Around,” Autumn leered. Kim stood silently next to her. The silence was broken when a purple soldier charged up to them.

“Guys! I heard that there are four mercenaries hanging around and they want to kill Wash and Carolina and- two of them are already here…” he trailed off. Guns rose to point at the two women.

“Well, this has been fun,” Autumn hissed. “But we have to go now. Red! Ashley! Retreat!” The two women took off, weaving through buildings and shoving soldiers into their pursuers’ paths. They all moved towards a different escape. Autumn barreled through a larger building, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. Looking around, she noticed pale blue armor. It was darker than Kim’s and built for a male trooper. Huh. Maybe she could eliminate one enemy before the assault. Silently, she slunk over to the armor. A voice made her jump.

“Hey, you’re not one of the usual visitors,” a man hissed. She turned to see who was speaking. Male. Dark hair, blue eyes. Threat level: low.

“No, I’m a mercenary. Tell me, why are you in a cell?” she sneered. The man alternated between relief and fear.

“I tried to kill them all. Hey, I know a lot about them! Take me with you and I’ll tell you everything I know!” he begged. Autumn pretended to consider the offer.

“Well, I suppose something could be arranged,” she purred. The man’s face lit up. “How good at running are you?” His expression dropped a bit, but he waved a hand in a so-so motion.

“Why do you ask?” he questioned. Autumn smirked.

“We’re leaving, now.” She broke his cage open. “Keep up if you want to escape!” The man quickly threw on his armor, racing behind her as they ran for the exit. By sheer luck, both of them made it out and vanished into the surroundings.
__________________
“They got away,” Grif snarled. Sarge pumped his shotgun.

“Not for long. Think! What is the one thing you’d do if you were a secret agent and was planning on killing everyone?” he asked. Simmons paused for a moment, answering.

“I’d have a base nearby so an attack can be launched,” he slowly answered. Sarge nodded.

“Now, all we need to do is find that base! Felix and Locus had those pirates with them, so logic says that these mercs have some sort of force as well,” Wash added.

“Ooh! Maybe they have puppies! Then I can adopt one! And I will call it… Crispy!” Caboose bellowed. Wash patted his back.

“Sorry, bud. I doubt their army is puppies. Or dogs,” he told the tall Blue.

“So, all we have to do is monitor the area for incoming ships?” Simmons asked. Carolina frowned.

“If they’re half as smart as they seem to be, they’ll use Pelicans or something small to bring in small groups over time. Or they’ll have cloaking. We’d need something capable of scanning for heat signatures,” she advised. Caboose jumped to his feet.

“Ooh! Maybe we can put Freckles back in his big body, so he can scan everything!” he cheered. The Reds and Blues looked at each other.

“Caboose, that’s the best idea you’ve had since using a tank to get into that base,” Tucker gasped.

“Run! It’s the apocalypse!” Grif snickered. Simmons whacked him on the head.

“Hey, where’s Lopez?” Donut glanced around. “He’s usually hanging around us.” Sarge shrugged.

“Said he had a special project to work on. Apparently, those mercs brought something with them that has him obsessed with getting his hands on it.”

“Lopez is very hands on!” Donut laughed lightly. He ducked under Simmons’ arm as the maroon soldier swung viciously at him.

“Okay, well, last time we got into a fight, we forgot about our special abilities,” Tucker interrupted. “Let’s recap them.”

“Well,” Sarge started. “I built Lopez from color-coded parts and he gained more sentience than possible. I also built more robots, but they’ve all been destroyed.”

“I’m a cyborg,” Simmons added. Grif yawned.

“I have super-advanced healing and can create snow,” he recited.

“I come back to life!” Donut gushed.

“I’ve got O’Malley,” Doc mentioned.

“I’ve got the best eyesight ever from Church never giving me the sniper rifle,” Tucker grumbled.

“Caboose can teleport, has super-strength, and is good with mechanics,” Wash listed. Carolina nodded.

“So, when we fight, keep those in mind. Hey, Sarge? Take Caboose and make some defenses for the base. There are some broken Mantis robots over in the junk pile. Use those to re-build Freckles’ big body. We should assume those mercs don’t know about you guys. They weren’t here long enough,” Carolina instructed. The Reds and Blues nodded.

“Alright, let’s get going,” Wash sighed. Sarge and Caboose jogged towards the Red’s workshop. Tucker stood and stretched.

“Hey, Grif. Grab a Warthog. We’ll scout out the nearby areas,” the teal soldier grunted. The orange soldier nodded and lumbered out of the building, followed by Simmons.

“Alright. Doc, you and Donut go get something done. I don’t care what,” Tucker told the two. He walked out of the building. A Warthog rumbled past. Grif was driving, Simmons was beside him, and Tucker was on the back, holding the gun. He swung it playfully at the building, careful not to fire. Carolina hefted her rifle threateningly. From Tucker’s body language, he was smirking.
______________
“So,” Autumn called, stalking into her new base. “Have you guys found anything interesting lately?” Temple slunk behind her, trying to avoid attention from the horde of soldiers.

“Well, we found an interesting base AI,” a white-haired woman replied. “Bring it in, Tempest!”

A grey-armored man brought in a small computer.

“We had to isolate it so it wouldn’t trash our other systems,” he apologized. Autumn waved a hand, watching the computer.

“Hey!” A mechanical, female voice answered. “I resent that remark!” Autumn watched as Tempest glared at the computer.

“Hello. My name is Sheila. Would you like me to run the tutorial program?” Autumn shook her head.

“I was wondering, miss, if you happened to be an acquaintance of some red and blue Sim Troopers,” she politely requested. Sheila spoke up eagerly.

“You know them? I was separated from them. If you don’t mind, could you put me in a Warthog? I will drive to them on my own,” the AI informed her. Autumn shook her head.

“We can’t do that. They’ve been corrupted. We went to tell them about you, but they attacked us and told us that you weren’t of any use anymore. They have a new AI named Freckles working with them,” Autumn lied.

“Sure. If you say so, liar,” Sheila retorted. Autumn glared at her.

“Well, that’s interesting. Tempest, shut her down. We’ll deal with her later,” the green soldier ordered. Tempest shot a panicked look at his commander.

“Boss, my apologies, but the AI refuses to shut down. It’s part of why we stuck her in an isolated system,” Frost interjected. Autumn glanced at the white-haired woman.

“Fine. Put her away. I’ll handle her on my own,” Autumn snarled. Tempest left, bowing to the green soldier.

“Well, Boss. Welcome back, and may I be the first to tell you that we await your command,” Frost smiled. Autumn grinned.

“Let the final preparation begin,” she laughed.

Chapter Text

Red listened as the sound of a Warthog’s engine grew closer and cut out abruptly. The Armada had set up several false bases on Autumn- Flight’s insistence. She had predicted that search parties would be sent out, so false bases would spread them thinner and force them to use valuable resources. Pixie and a select few were at the false base the Warthog had just found. Hopefully, the intruders would be killed, or go back with a false report.

Pixie’s voice crackled in his helmet.

Flight chuckled. Red tensed as the answer came through.

Pixie cut her transmission. Silence ruled before Red heard a strangled scream and gunshots. He snarled.

Flight demanded. Red jumped as light blue armor emerged beside him.

“Hey, call Flight and tell her my radio’s broken. Can’t make calls,” Pixie grunted.

Red relayed.

Flight hissed. Red watched as Pixie all but vanished in front of him. He belatedly realized that he hadn’t told her what base Flight was at.
________________
Tucker growled as he shook himself off. A glue-like substance was clinging to his armor, making it difficult for him to move. Grif was already peeling his armor off, dropping it in disgust. Simmons was scanning the area for heat signatures. Finding none, he pulled his own armor off, stacking it carefully.

“Was this their base?” Grif sniffed. “You’d think they would have better defenses.” Simmons thought carefully, almost missing Tucker’s comment.

“Maybe they set up a fake base? That Kim chick was here, so you’d think Autumn would be here also,” the teal soldier grunted. Simmons ran some calculations in his head.

“This base had a 5 written on it. I think they wanted us to know that there’s a bunch of fake bases,” Simmons realized. “This is a decoy. They knew we would look for them, so they decided to hinder us by making fakes.” Grif’s eyes widened in horror.

“And the longer we take to find their real base,” he breathed, “is more time they have to prepare.” The three soldiers exchanged glances before racing towards the Warthog. Or, two ran and one realized he was glued to the floor.
______________
Red started walking as Flight listed his orders. With a light wave of his hand, five seated soldiers jumped to their feet and marched after him. These five were part of his specialized squad.

“Sir, orders from Boss?” Thunder asked. His dark grey armor shimmered lightly as the squad activated their cloaking. Lightning, Thunder’s younger brother, remained uncloaked. His bright yellow armor would be visible soon, but the violent soldier preferred to wait until the last possible moment. Red nodded at the cloaked soldier.

“Boss wants us to kill the red one. His name is Sarge,” he informed them. Frost uncloaked for a moment, just to stare at him.

“Sir, Boss didn't read the specs! He’s an idiot! Why are we, the second strongest force, being sent to deal with him?” she exclaimed. Red looked her in the eyes.

“He is an idiot, yes, but he is a dangerous idiot. Cloak, all of you!” he hissed. Lightning and Frost activated their cloaking just as they emerged from some foliage. Red switched on a voice modulator to hide his accent.

“Hey! I’m looking for a man called Sarge! My squad wants to negotiate with him about defeating the Blues!” Red hollered. Two helmets peaked over the wall to the UNSC base. One the same color as Red’s armor, and one in Regulation Blue.

“Hang on a moment and I’ll be right there!” the red helmet bellowed. Red stood patiently as Sarge climbed down a rope held by Caboose.

He instructed his squad.

“Son, I am very glad you came to talk to me about how to finally defeat the Blues once and for all. Let’s walk and talk,” Sarge approved. Red started walking away from the base.

“Ah! Getting away from their hearing, huh?” Sarge laughed. “Good man!” The two soldiers walked a distance away, lightly chattering about being on Red Team. Red was just about to call in his team when Sarge raised his shotgun.

“Alright, that’s far enough, he growled. “You can drop the act.” Red felt his blood run cold.

“Sir, I have no clue what you mean,” he tried. The older man laughed.

“You’re that merc that we ran out the other day. My guess is that you have a team with you and you’re here to kill me?” Red could only nod at the accurate guess. Sarge aimed his shotgun at Red’s face.

“Well then, I have no choice. You’re not walking away from here, I can tell you that,” the colonel threatened. He fired his gun at Red’s chest. Red collapsed as the buckshot tore several holes in his torso. He could faintly hear Lightning and Thunder jumping at the soldier, only to suffer similar fates. Frost was slinking away, attempting to retreat.

That made three of his underlings. Where were Volt and Static? He was answered when Sarge stumbled. Volt was hanging onto his back, his electric-blue armor clashing with the blood red of the colonel’s. Static was attempting to pull Red to safety while Volt kept Sarge from noticing.

“Run, Static. Go tell Flight and Pixie where I am. I’ll hang on until you can get back,” Red promised. Static looked terrified, but he nodded. Re-cloaking, he ran for the real base, detouring towards false base 2 just in case. Volt finally jumped off, heading towards false base 1. Red held perfectly still as Sarge shook himself off. The red soldier gave a glance around the area before snorting and heading back to the UNSC base.

Once he was out of earshot, Red slowly turned his helmet. He jumped when he saw the lifeless body of Lightning beside him. Thunder was a distance away, also dead.

‘At least they both died,’ Red thought. His body was slowly failing him. He could feel his heart slowing.

“Sorry, Flight,” he whispered. “See you in the afterlife.” His eyes slid shut just as footsteps approached.

Chapter Text

Flight snarled at Tempest, who recoiled.

“Ashley did WHAT?” she roared. The smaller man flinched before hesitantly straightening.

“She went to the UNSC base on her own without telling anyone or even grabbing a healing unit,” Tempest squeaked. Flight sighed heavily.

“She must be doing this because Red is in critical condition,” she groaned. “Dismissed.” Tempest left the room eagerly.

“Flight, are you sure Ashley will be fine?” Temple asked. Flight had decided to keep him near her for security reasons. Pixie snorted as she dropped from the rafters.

“Only a direct order from Flight or I will stop her, and we’re not ordering her to stop,” the smaller woman sneered. “She won’t listen this time. I’d hate to have to punish her for mutiny.” Flight nodded.

“The punishment is death. We’ll let her rampage and work off some steam. Then we’ll order her back.” Temple gulped at the implications of the first sentence. The moment he tried anything, these mercenaries would kill him with no hesitation.

“Now then, we need to shore up our defenses farther. There is no such thing as over-prepared,” Flight ordered. She motioned to Temple and Pixie, striding out of the room. Pixie followed silently behind Temple as he darted after Flight.
__________________
“Dude, it’s the other merc chick, the white one,” Grif panicked.

“What’s she doing here?!” Simmons squeaked.

“Look at her gun. She’s here to attack,” Sarge snorted.

“Why? She’s obviously seen what happened to the last group to attack,” Tucker piped up.

“Maybe she is angry! And she wants revenge, so she is not thinking good!” Caboose gasped.

“Who are you and what have you done with Caboose?” Grif blandly asked. The tall Blue looked confused.

“I am me! And you are you! And I am Caboose!” he replied. Wash stayed silent, gun focused on the approaching merc. She took another two steps before vanishing. Belatedly, he fired at where she had just been. Two gunshots fired in response, each from different places.

“What’s going on?” Carolina asked, charging to the assembled soldiers.

“Attack by one of those mercs,” Wash quietly told her. She nodded, aiming her rifle. A sudden cry of surprise made the freelancers jump. A grenade had been thrown into the middle of their cluster. Without a second thought, the Reds and Tucker darted away, retreating to a safer distance. The freelancers both looked like they were going to throw themselves on the grenade when they were lifted and suddenly flung into the Reds.

Tucker was staring in horror as Caboose flung himself down onto the grenade just as it exploded. The Blue’s helmet went flying, exposing his face.

“We need to get him out of there,” Wash ordered. “Tucker, can you handle the merc? The rest of us will get him to Doc and Grey.” Tucker straightened his back.

“Give me a moment, and I’ll handle her just fine,” he snarled. He raised his sword before holstering it on his thigh. Instead, he raised his pistol and focused. Part of the background was distorted. It was a slight distortion, something most people would need binoculars to see. He could see that the distortion was shaped like a person in armor raising a gun. Tucker growled and shot once.

“Boom, headshot,” he hissed. The merc’s camouflage dropped as she fell to the ground, dead.

“Caboose!” The Reds were already running for the fallen Blue. Tucker sprinted to his teammate’s side.

“He’s got severe burns and shrapnel lodged in him,” Carolina analyzed. “We can’t move him without causing further damage.” Simmons was already running into the base, Grif surprisingly on his heels. Both were yelling for Doc and Grey. Sarge struggled out of his armor, peeling his shirt off and tearing it into strips. Wash and Carolina gently wrapped the larger open wounds with the cloth. Doc was the first of the two medical staff to arrive.

“Show me the patient!” he roared. He dropped without a second thought and began analyzing Caboose, muttering the whole time. When Grey arrived, she quietly joined in. Sarge snorted but pulled his armor back on, stalking back into the base. Wash and Carolina were ushered away. Tucker appeared to have gone into shock. Wash turned and slowly touched Tucker’s arm, gently tugging him along.

“Let’s get him inside, and we can go from there,” he muttered to Carolina. She nodded and helped him get Tucker into the base, ignoring the sounds coming from Doc and Grey.
________________
“First Red, now Ashley,” Flight howled. “I will see those freelancers DEAD before this is over, that I promise!” Pixie was as impassive as ever.

“Well, you’ll have to incapacitate those Simulation Troopers with them,” Temple stammered. “They’re extremely loyal to those freelancers.” Pixie turned to face him.

“When you say loyal,” she prompted.

“The orange one had abandoned them. He came back with one of those mercs. The merc saved the freelancers first, then saved the Sim Troopers. They destroyed everything because I sent out a message pretending it was from their friend Church and taunted their idiot,” he replied. Pixie stayed silent, while Flight turned around.

“This has… potential,” she admitted. “Come on, we have one more thing to do. Elaborate on your story while we work. Then, we wait for them.”

Chapter Text

To Temple’s surprise, waiting included a lot more trap-setting. Over the next 4 days, several pits were dug. Some were hidden. One particularly deep pit had spikes around it. The pit made a trench around the base, the spikes on the outer edge. It was wide enough that a vehicle was needed to jump it, but the spikes prevented such an action. Flight had smirked at the spikes. Tempest had added them as an impromptu idea, and Flight had loved it.

She had forced a couple of prisoners to test every trap. The prisoners were captured when they had gotten too close for Flight’s comfort. One of the prisoners was now out an arm, the other merely mentally scarred. Temple was very glad he was still considered valuable.

“Tell me about how they fought,” Flight demanded, entering a meeting room. She sat at the head of the large conference table. Pixie sat to her left. On her right, a computer displayed Red, who was still forced to be in his medical cot. He was attending via the computer. Tempest sat beside Red’s computer. Frost was beside him.

Sitting next to Pixie was a very scary-looking woman. Temple hadn’t seen much of her, but from what he had heard, this was Pixie’s direct subordinate and trainee. Multiple names had been whispered, including Echidna and Banshee. The names were accompanied by rumors that Temple hoped were over-exaggerated. Whole armies dropping at the woman’s feet, even the best soldiers not making her break a sweat. No one had seen her fight and live, except for Pixie.

“I’ve heard rumors,” the unnamed woman rumbled, “Our worst foe will be the Sim Troopers and not the freelancers. Supposedly, they are responsible for three freelancer deaths and one mercenary death. The freelancers are Maine, Texas, and Wyoming. For a time, it was assumed that Washington was also dead, although his death was supposedly at the hands of Maine, also known as the Meta. The mercenary was Isaac Gates, codename Felix. They were prepared to kill him when his partner, Samuel Ortiz, codename Locus, joined in. Locus refused to help his partner, allowing for two explosives to go off. The first would have done nothing. The second sent him flying over an edge. The death of Felix has been confirmed.”

Temple frowned at the semi-robotic way the woman spoke.

“Alright, thank you. However, I was asking Temple. Pixie, keep our reaper under better control,” Flight warned. Pixie snorted but switched over to a private channel on her radio to talk to the soldier.

“Temple. Flight asked a question. What are the fighting styles of the Red and Blue Simulation Troopers?” Frost hissed. Temple faced Flight.

“Well, I’ll start with the Colonel…” he began. The assembled group settled in to listen.
_____________
Tucker scrubbed at his armor methodically, working at getting the glue-like substance off of it. Once he was done, he turned to the pile of Caboose’s armor. Scorch and scratch marks decorated the Regulation Blue armor.He contemplated not cleaning it, but guilt and worry overcame his hesitation. Slowly, he picked up the helmet. The visor was shattered, but he sat back down and started cleaning it. About half-way through the helmet, Wash walked in and analyzed the situation.

“Tucker, you shouldn’t feel guilty. Carolina and I were right there, we should have done something,” Wash told him. He didn’t try to sugar-coat his words, just told Tucker bluntly.

“I was beside him,” Tucker whispered. “I shouldn’t have run, I should have stayed.”

“Then he’d have tried to throw you out and you both could have died,” Wash argued. The teal soldier glanced up at him.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that I still feel guilty,” he admitted. Wash sighed and sat down next to him. Tucker moved slightly so he was leaning against the freelancer slightly.

“Hey, tell me about how you met him,” Wash suggested. Tucker snickered weakly.

“Well, the Reds got a delivery. Church and I were standing up on a ledge…”
____________________
Simmons grunted lightly, catching Grif and Donut’s attention. All the Reds, including Lopez, are scouting for the real base. So far, they’ve found false bases 2, 4, and 6. Simmons is not happy about 6. That means there still could be more. All told, false bases 2, 4, 5, and 6 were dismantled rapidly. They were getting better at spotting the traps.

Grif and Donut slink to the maroon soldier’s side.

“What?” Grif askes. It came out harsher than he meant it to, but Simmons could tell that.

“Over there. It’s the most fortified base we’ve seen yet. Look, they’ve set up a trench around it. I think we found it,” Simmons whispers. Donut nods.

“Yep! There’s a bunch of holes, too! Be careful not to go into them!” Donut cheerfully told the other two. Simmons aimed his gun at the pink soldier. Grif put his hand on it, forcing him to aim away from Donut.

“Not worth it. You’ll catch their attention, and he’ll come back. Set down the marker and let’s go,” he urged. Simmons sighed but tossed a small chip onto the ground. It started letting out a faint signal for the others to follow.

“Let’s go,” Simmons agreed. As the group was turning to leave the area, precisely aimed stunning darts caught the three. Simmons’ cybernetic parts countered the effects. He dropped to the ground like Grif and Donut before freezing.

“Reaper, pick up the orange one. Banshee, you’ve got the pink one. Echidna, grab the maroon one. Take them underground to the cells. Put them in separate cells.” Simmons recognized this voice. This was Kim, one of those mercs.Three identical suits of armor marched towards him and his friends. They were dark blue, almost black. Each person picked up one of the fallen soldiers.

“Oh, and Echidna? Knock out the maroon one.” At that, Simmons’ world went black.
______________________

It’s dark again. I don’t like the dark. It reminds me of O’Malley.

“Idiot.” There he is. I know the AI is dead, but it’s almost like a fragment of him was left behind.

“So, you let yourself get blasted to save your friends?” he sneers. I nod wordlessly.

“Look, you have to have some measure of self-preservation,” O’Malley hisses. I shrug. Words are useless here in the mindscape. O’Malley uses them to appear threatening, but I know better. He’s only as scary as I let him be.

“You really believe that? You’re dumber than I thought, and that’s saying something,” he scoffs. I almost laugh. We both know that I’m nowhere near as stupid as he thinks, but nor am I as bright as I used to be. This group of soldiers I call friends have that effect. And drinking gasoline can't help at all. O’Malley coughs awkwardly.

“Gasoline? Wasn’t there any gravy nearby?” he can’t help but ask. I shrug and smile. Tucker kept hoarding the gravy and Church liked the salad dressing.

“Well. We both know what needs to be done,” O’Malley states. I nod. We need to protect my friends. Or, as he puts it, wipe out all those who challenge us. Make them taste defeat, which tastes like Red Bull. We walk towards each other. And then, we walk into each other.

I open my eyes.

Chapter Text

Simmons groaned in his cell. Echidna had taken his arm and leg when ordered to. It seemed the three soldiers wouldn’t do anything unless ordered. That may be useful later. Grif was across from him. From the way the Hawaiian was rubbing his shoulder and hip, the grafted limbs were flaring up. All three of the prisoners had been stripped of their armor. In Grif’s case, Reaper had also snagged his shirt by mistake, tearing it off. A tribal-style shark wound down his chest.

“You okay, Simmons?” Donut quietly called. He had been put in the cell next to Simmons. Simmons grunted softly. They fell silent as the door to their cell block swung open. Two of the soldiers marched in carrying Lopez. The robot was unharmed, judging from what Simmons could see. This time, it was the taller woman who accompanied them. The third soldier marched in with Sarge slung around it? Her? Their? shoulders. Lopez was deposited across from Donut and Sarge was put beside Grif.

“Flight!” A grey-armored man raced into the room, panting heavily.

“What, Tempest?” she hissed.

“We’re under attack! There’s a purple man, a teal man, and the freelancers,” he reported. “There’s also a yellow woman and a Sangheili Elite!” Flight snarled and whirled out of the room.

“Nymphs! Follow me!” she roared. The three soldiers marched out of the room, steadily following the merc.

“Well, sounds like our rescue party has arrived,” Grif yawned. Tempest glared at him.

“You’re not going anywhere. If your friends get past the Nymphs, I’m under orders to kill you. Although, anyone getting past Pixie’s hand-picked warriors is impossible, unless you’re Flight,” Tempest sneered. Temple chose that moment to stroll into the cell block.

“Well, look who’s here,” he smirked. “I told Flight this was what you’d do.” He jumped as Lopez slammed into his cell door.

“Settle down, or we’ll get Pixie to deal with ya,” Tempest snorted. “She’ll rip off your limbs one by one. Pixie can dismantle any being with her bare hands.” Temple eyed the grey merc warily before straightening and puffing his chest out.

“See? Flight rescued me because I’m important,” he boasted. “Maybe I can convince her to lock you all in your armor until you die. Ooh, I wonder who would last longest?” Tempest huffed lightly, motioning vaguely with his gun. Temple shot a parting sneer as he left. Tempest sighed.

“If Frost wasn’t so determined to always fight, she could have been down here,” he muttered.

“Hey, so why do you all work for those mercs?” Grif asked. Tempest turned to face the Hawaiian.

“Simple. Where else do you go when you’ve hit rock bottom?” he replied. A laugh emerged from the doorway.

“What, forgot your pickaxe? Because I’ve brought mine and am fully prepared to dig!” Flight chuckled. Tempest snickered.

“You couldn’t dig your way out of a wet paper bag!” the smaller woman shot at Flight. Flight swatted at Pixie playfully. The three identical soldiers filed in behind her.
“Echidna, put the teal Sim Trooper and the purple soldier in the final cell. Temple was telling me about another way to store prisoners. Specifically, a method for storing freelancers. He has tested it with great success,” Flight almost purred.

“Pixie, swap out with Tempest. We need to go deal with our new friends here.” Flight motioned to the two freelancers. Tempest saluted and followed his leader obediently. The three soldiers followed silently. Pixie sneezed as she looked at the cells.

“Well, you’re one of the two leaders?” Donut tried. Pixie stared lazily, sneezing again.

“Yep.” Donut almost flinched as her gaze landed on his scar.

“Nice scar. Flight has a pretty nasty collection on her legs,” Pixie told him, sneezing another time. The soldiers were still processing what she had said as she sneezed another three times. Pixie activated her comms.

“Flight!” she roared. “IF YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT ME, YOU’D BETTER STOP!” The effectiveness was lost with another two sneezes. Pixie giggled a bit at the response before she sneezed again. Flight slunk in behind her silently. Just before the taller woman could poke the other, Pixie turned and grabbed her wrist.

“Nice try, but no cigar,” Flight snickered.

“Besides, that’s a sneeze-” Pixie was cut off as an explosion rocked the floor.

“Tempest!” Flight bellowed. “Guard the cells! Nymphs! Get out there and defend us!” Tempest charged into the cellblock while Pixie and Flight charged out past him. After a minute, Sarge groaned lowly.

“Sarge!” Simmons yelped. The Red opened his eyes.

“Simmons! What’s going on?” he asked gruffly. Simmons opened his mouth to explain before Tempest walked in between the two’s cells.

“Quiet. Old man, do you need medical treatment?” he asked. Sarge growled something under his breath.

“What?” Tempest stepped forward.

“I’m not old!” Sarge growled. Tempest pulled off his helmet, revealing white hair and blue eyes.

“Look, do you need a medkit or not? The Boss will allow medical treatment and we were about to bring food,” he explained. Grif raised his hand.

“What?” Tempest groaned.

“Can I have seconds?” The white-haired soldier stared at him for almost a minute.

“Uhh,” was his intelligent response. Sarge snorted.

“Like I said, old man, I’m allowed to give medical treatment. You’ll be released once Boss gets those two freelancers to our destination,” Tempest offered.

“I’m fine,” he grunted. Tempest nodded.

“So, why are your bosses mercs?” Simmons asked. Tempest turned to face him.

“Well, Flight’s a merc because she needed money. She wasn’t lying when she said she couldn’t return to a civilian life. And Pixie’s here, as she put it, ‘for the lols.’ Whatever that means,” he muttered. He jumped when Grif slammed into the cell’s door.

“I SAID THAT FIRST!” the heavier man bellowed. Tempest shrugged.

“Say what you like.” He pulled his helmet off, activating his radio.

Red shot back. It only took him a moment to get down to the cellblocks.

“I say, let me rest, but no. This is a rainbow of insanity and I cannot escape thanks to my idiot past self. I say, let me work with you on one mission. Then I am a good friend. I say I will be a bodyguard, I will defend. No, I almost die three days ago because I think it is a good idea to not set up traps in the area. I refused to listen and- Where was I going with this? I had a point. I blame my pain medicine,” Red ranted as he found Tempest. He snorted irritably, sitting on the floor.

“What did you need, Tempest?” he grunted. Simmons glanced at the un-armored man.

“So, I’m going to guess you didn’t die when Sarge shot you,” he mumbled. Red shot him a nasty look.

“Look, as the third in command, I can make your stay here absolutely miserable,” he threatened. Simmons shot to the back of his cell, while Grif and Sarge huffed.

“Let me tell you about miserable!” Grif snorted. Red raised an eyebrow, prompting Grif to begin telling him about life as a member of the Reds and Blues.
______________
For once, Flight and Pixie were nervous about the outcome of their mission. This one Blue was doing more to unhinge their plans than any army could. He had lept the spiked trench and was now slaughtering soldiers left and right. Flight jumped back as a spray of blood washed over her armor. She had liked that soldier, she mused. Well, he was now torn in half by the enraged giant.

“Reaper! Echidna! Banshee! Kill!” Pixie ordered. Flight charged into the fray, doing her best to distract the warrior. She was knocked aside easily.

Pixie raced to her. The green chest plate was dented from the backhanded blow. Desperately, she peeled the armor off. Flight would be bruised, but she’d live.

“Frost! We need a retreat!” Pixie bellowed. “Bring the prisoners!” The grey-armored woman nodded and vanished, hailing the Armada’s ship. It was only another moment before she gave the signal to enter the base. Pixie hauled Flight to her feet.

“Base, now!” she grunted. Flight followed, falling behind rapidly. Luckily, she made it just as a light blue beam covered the base, pulling everything into the Armada ship.

Chapter Text

“Temple is just a one-trick pony,” Carolina growled. Wash grunted in agreement. Flight had taken them into a small room, where Temple had locked their armor. Shortly after, Junior and Sister were added in.

“We might be able to get something from the Sangheili Elite, and the girl may join us,” Flight had told Temple. From the way she was eyeing the device in his hand, she didn’t like the idea of him having it. Wash sneezed.

“Eew! There’s snot on my face!” he whined. “And my nose itches again.” Carolina almost laughed.

“Wash, just have faith that we’ll be rescued again,” she told him.

“And then can I remove my nose?” he asked.

“Hey, that’s not sexy at all!” Sister piped up. Junior let out a disgruntled honk.

“How are you not complaining?” Carolina asked. Sister laughed.

“I’m, like, really flexible, so I just wiggled around until I got comfy. Also, once, this guy put me in a cast of myself with holes cut so I could see and breathe, and there was another hole-”

Got it,” Carolina interrupted.

“Honk! Blargh blargh blargh, honk honk, blargh blargh honk,” Junior added. Sister snickered.

“Junior said that his kind tends not to move much when they have nothing to do, so he’s fine,” she translated.

“Oh, hey, Big B,” Wash warbled. “Long time no see!” Carolina shot him a glare as well as she could. Flight chose that moment to stalk into the room.

“Well, if you promise to behave, we’ll unfreeze you,” she offered.

“Why?” Carolina asked suspiciously. Flight snorted.

“Because we’re a good distance away from Chorus, if you act up we’ll freeze you again, we don’t want you dead yet, shall I continue, or have I made my point?” she mocked.

“I don’t like grape Kool-Aid!” Wash protested weakly. Flight spent a moment looking at him.

“Wow. He’s only been here for a day and he’s already like that? Temple, let him and the yellow girl loose. She can tend to her friends,” Flight ordered. Carolina narrowed her eyes.

“I won’t cause trouble,” the freelancer grunted. Flight smiled at her.

“Good. Temple, let all of them loose,” she amended. Temple sneered at her.

“No.” He aimed the device at Flight, attempting to fire it. His plan was thwarted when he realized she was only wearing her gloves and boots.

“Pixie, deal with him. I’ll let this slide this ONE time, but try that again and you’ll wish you died,” Flight hissed. Temple backed up, hands raised. Pixie jumped down from the ceiling and swiped the device from his hands.

“Alright, follow me, you four,” Flight waved. Pixie unlocked all the armor in the room before tossing the device to Flight, who caught it easily. Junior picked up Wash and trotted after the merc, followed by Carolina and Sister.

“Your friends are very anxious to see you. See, after we beamed onto the flagship here, we decided that as long as you all behave, you can have some freedom up here. If I hadn’t been dealing with a piece of absolute human trash, this would have been less awkward. At any rate, you’re allowed to go just about anywhere. We have bunks set up, along with rations in the dining hall. The only places you’re not allowed to go is to Pixie and I’s hallway, and to any of the tech rooms. If you need a computer, we have one set up in your hallway. Any questions?” Flight asked. Carolina glanced at Sister.

“Yeah. Why?” the freelancer asked. Flight looked back at her, not stopping.

“Why what? Why become a merc? I can’t adjust to civvie life. Why let you run free on the ship? Well, why lock you up? Then I have to guard you and send food to you. Far better to let you fetch your own food. Really, there’s no need to be cruel, agreed?” Flight shrugged.

“At any rate, here you guys are. I left maps in your rooms. There’s two bunks to a room and five rooms in all here, so I suggest arrangements get made quickly. On that note, your computer is just down there a bit, in the records hall in the fourth door. Have fun!” With that, the mercenary strode down the hall, turning a corner and vanishing.

“Anyone notice she didn’t make any noises while moving?” Sister asked. “It’s almost like she’s a ghost.”

Carolina shook her head and entered the first room. Grif was on the bottom bunk of the small room. Simmons sat on the top, his head not even close to the ceiling.

“Guys!” The cyborg jumped down, still missing his arm. Grif shot upright, almost hitting his head on Simmons’ bed. The noise Simmons was making drew everyone out of their rooms. Lopez and Donut, Sarge and Tucker, and Doc ran out, jumping into a group hug. Doc hung back before Donut pulled him in.
___________________

Lopez yawned lazily. He could get used to tasting food, he decided. The Armada seemed to have a fresh food source not too far away, so they had chefs to make proper food, not military sludge. Donut was allowed into the kitchen to make desserts, provided someone monitored him at all times. As he cleaned his plate, Pixie walked into the dining hall. Well, it was more of a very large room. He glared at the smaller woman as she loaded a tray and sat down next to him.

“So, poop-boy. Want to spar?” she asked, not looking at him.

“No,” he replied flatly.

“Aww, why not? Worried about a bruise or two?” she taunted. “I’ll make it fair and leave Flight at home.” Lopez redoubled his glare.

“I could beat you both by myself,” he shot back.

“Well, care to prove it?” she leered. He snarled at her.

“Sure! If I win, you let me go to Chorus,” he growled. She grinned.

“And if I win, I can call in a favor later,” she bargained. They shook hands.

“We meet at 3:00 PM sharp. If you’re late, you forfeit,” Pixie decided. Lopez watched in barely-concealed horror as she opened her mouth and started shoveling her food in.
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“Lorenzo, thank you for stealing this body for me,” Shelly smiled. She was in a robotic body that was humanoid. Apparently, the soldiers at the UNSC base on Chorus had charged out to deal with some sort of emergency, so Lorenzo took advantage of the vacancy to poke around. He had stumbled across a workshop painted brown.

There, an untouched body, clearly female, was waiting. He had swiped it and brought it back to Shelly, who had jumped into it. He had also snagged a nearby bag, which conveniently held clothes. Female clothes, to boot. Shelly exclaimed in disgust as she pulled out a purple tank-top.

“This is disgusting. We need to go shopping, right now!” she demanded. Lorenzo started to protest in Italian.

“I know you want your revenge, but I refuse to wear this color any longer than I have to. Let’s go, maybe one of the female soldiers has something I can wear,” Shelly grumbled, dragging Lorenzo with her.

“Then we can go after Lopez. Starting with Donut.”

Chapter Text

Wash scratched frantically at his back.

“Dude, why are you like this? Every time you come out of armor-lock, you act like you’re being bitten by mosquitos,” Tucker groaned. The sleeping arrangements had been re-arranged. Donut and Doc now shared, Grif and Simmons were still in the same room, Sarge and Lopez formed a pair, Tucker and Wash were put together, and Carolina bunked with Sister. Junior was given his own room.

No one had gone to use the computer except Lopez, who spent a considerable amount of his time on it. Green armor caught Tucker’s eye as Flight tore down the hallway. She was yelling.

“PIXIE, I WILL TURN YOU INTO PASTE IF LOPEZ DOESN’T!” she roared. Snickering from the ceiling made both men slowly look up. Pixie was clinging to the far corner, as high as she could get. She lightly jumped onto Tucker’s bunk and down to the floor.

“Ah, but who will help me fight, if not you? Truly, I have been betrayed, and by the one person who I thought would never betray me!” Pixie wept dramatically. Flight shoved her way into the small room.

“Quit talking like that, you know that flowery speech makes me mad. For the record, I’ll help in the fight, but afterward?” Flight drew her finger across her neck. Pixie cackled.

“Sure, sure. Tell yourself whatever you want. The fact is, you looo-” The smaller woman was cut off by Flight smacking the back of her head.

“I could murder you in so many ways right now,” she blandly stated. “Do you really want me to list them and DEMONSTRATE them using you?” Pixie laughed harder, waving a hand.

“We’re going to be late,” Pixie giggled. “Let’s go!” She ran past Tucker and Wash, vaulting Flight to leave the room. Flight bellowed wordlessly, charging after her. Wash and Tucker looked at each other before shrugging and following.
____________________
As it turns out, most of the Armada showed up. The chosen room had stands in it. For convenience, the Reds and Blues were allowed to choose their seats first. Carolina climbed the stands, choosing a fairly close spot with slightly elevated viewing. Everyone filed in behind her with Wash bringing up the rear. Donut and Doc were sitting very close, whispering to each other. Tucker sat fairly close to Wash. Simmons was practically sitting on Grif’s lap, although the Hawaiian didn’t seem to mind. Red had given clearance for him to get his arm back, although the soldiers weren’t given their armor back. Sister was nowhere to be found, but Junior strutted in a moment later, honking threateningly at the soldiers in his way. He slid in between Tucker and Grif, forcing Grif to move over, which ended with Simmons literally in his lap.

Before the cyborg could say anything or move, the lights dimmed, with two spotlights in the middle of the room activating. Frost strode into the middle of the floor, which was sunk almost 2 feet and isolated from the stands by a bullet-proof glass wall.

“The rules of the match are simple,” Frost announced. “Armor is allowed for the challengers, approved by both sides. No weapons, and no lethal hits. Anything else goes. As the person who was challenged, we have Lopez, from Blood Gulch.” The robot entered to a roar of cheers. Tucker was confused until he heard the soldier behind him muttering.

“Yo, Hurricane, it’s been way too long since we got to watch the sibs brawl with someone. Isn’t the last guy still in the med-bay?”

“Yeah, Basilisk. Personally, I’m hoping Flight uses that one move where she pretends to be knocked out, and Pixie’s who-knows-where, and then Flight jumps up and pins the guy while Pixie comes in and grabs them,” a second voice whispered.

“Nah, I’m here for that one pressure point that Pixie loves to hit. You know, the one on the back of the neck?” a third voice piped up.

“Ooh, good point, Flare. I wonder which one they pull first?” the first voice, Basilisk, asked. Tucker forced his attention back to the fight just as Frost whirled around.

“And as the challenger, we have Pixie, literally the sneakiest fighter you’ll ever meet without cloaking!” she yelled dramatically. Pixie swung down from the stands where she had been hiding with the soldiers.

“To back her up, we have Flight! Our boss, and the one who saved us from death, the green brawler!” Frost bellowed. She stepped to the side as Flight jumped in, landing in a crouched position.

“Now, I’m just the ref, so I’ll be on top of things, but for those in the back, we have the viewing screens booting up. Someone tell me when they’re on. Alright, Red, haul me up!” Frost grabbed a lowered cord, rising onto a catwalk.

“And, begin!” she roared with the crowd. Flight bull-rushed Lopez, slamming into him. He pushed back at her but missed when she swung herself out of the way. Snorting angrily, Flight jumped back to avoid his foot. Pixie came in and grabbed at his neck, but he caught her and threw her at Flight. Flight caught the smaller merc and threw her upwards before rushing Lopez again.

The fight continued in a similar manner for almost three minutes before Lopez grabbed Flight’s arm and pulled harshly, attempting to dislocate it. He didn’t hear it click, despite the fact that human arms shouldn’t extend quite that far. He let go in surprise.

“Hah! It looks like he just fell for Flight’s favorite gimmick! She dislocated her shoulder before he could! Thanks to her parents for that one, because her family has many people who all can dislocate various limbs willingly!” Frost announced. Lopez snarled and swatted at Pixie, connecting for once.

The merc still managed to evade damage from the blow, mostly thanks to her armor. The three fighters weren’t speaking, but Flight and Pixie seemed to be communicating. Lopez watched and listened as Flight returned his snarl, adding a click to the end. Pixie dropped in. He let the blow hit him, smirking. Of course. They were using noises that wouldn’t seem out of place on a battlefield to communicate various moves. Or so he thought because Flight and Pixie suddenly coordinated their attacks with no movement or noise. Lopez decided to finish this.

He calculated carefully before bringing his arms up in a defensive position. Pixie split off from Flight but got hit in the gut when Lopez turned his leg at an impossible angle to kick her. Lopez grabbed Flight’s thumb at the last second and attempted to wrench it backward. His plan was foiled when she dislocated the appendage herself. She kicked his chest, sending him stumbling. Pixie leaped in again, but Lopez was struck by an idea. He held perfectly still before moving, smashing his head into her gut, denting the chest piece. Flight growled lowly, falling into a defensive position. Lopez walked slowly towards her, swatting Pixie away again.

“Look, you may think you mercs are awesome,” he began, tilting his head to the side, “but all it takes is one being to bring you all down.” Flight canted her head but remained mostly still. Lopez could see her general thought process. She was planning how to do this.

He paused as she collapsed. ‘Tch. Fainting. Well, I better pin her before the small one helps her,’ he thought. Slowly, he approached. In one smooth movement, Flight jumped up and grabbed him, using her weight to knock him down. Or, that was the plan. Lopez grabbed her by the helmet and swung her into the floor as hard as he could. There was a sickening crack, even as the green merc stood back up. The visor of her helmet was all but shattered, fracturing as she pulled the helmet off. Her nose sat at a crooked angle.

Pixie dropped down, trying to put Lopez in a choke hold. The robot didn’t even acknowledge her as Flight snarled at him. Blood streamed down her face, and the skin was already turning purple. Pixie grunted loudly before doing something unexpected. She put her head next to Lopez’s, and she screamed.

Screamed wasn’t the right word. She was loud and shrill. To Lopez, she was the sound of death. He reached up to cover her mouth, albeit shakily. He rapidly removed his hand when she licked it. Artificial skin or not, that was disgusting. Pixie resumed her wailing, throwing him off balance just in time for Flight to bull-rush again. She knocked him down this time. Pixie had jumped at the last second. Flight let go, allowing Pixie to land on Lopez’s chest.

Normally, that would result in broken ribs. Lopez just smirked and grabbed Pixie’s leg, pulling her around and swinging her into Flight. Flight groaned and stayed down, while Pixie jumped to her feet again. She rushed Lopez, abandoning any strategy. Lopez punched her in the face, shattering her cheekbone and nose. With a howl of pain, she dropped. Flight bellowed, struggling to stand.

Lopez walked over to her and raised one eyebrow before drawing back his foot. He swung his foot forward, kicking her into the wall. She didn’t move.

A moment went by silently before the crowd roared. Frost was yelling something, but the crowd was too loud. A hoard of people in white and red armor swarmed the two mercs, carefully dragging them out of the arena. The Reds and Blues swarmed Lopez, cheering happily.

“We knew you could do it,” Donut bawled happily. “Now you can go get help and save us!”

“Good job, son!” Sarge bellowed. “You fought very well!”

“ That re-enforced chest piece doesn’t seem so stupid now, huh?” Simmons snarked. Lopez glared at him.

“Dude, nice! Now there’s one less person eating our rood here!” Grif cheered. The Blues didn’t say anything, aside from Junior making a lot of noise.

Lopez let the group hug him for a while longer. After all, he needed a little more time before his plans were complete.

Chapter Text

Sarge shook his head. The Reds and Blues had decided to go to a nearby rec room to talk for a bit before Lopez left.

“Son, I have been more injured than this,” he grunted, batting Wash’s hand away. The mercs had been forced to do a series of complicated maneuvers to escape some space pirates, and Sarge had hit his head against the wall of the rec room.

“At least go to the med-bay and have the medics look it over?” the freelancer asked. Sarge sighed, but stood.

“Fine. What do you all think you’re doing?” he barked as everyone else stood with him.

“Making sure you actually go there and don’t go back to your room?” Simmons offered.

“Scoping out the skills of the medics?” Carolina shrugged.

“Swiping food?” Grif snickered.

“Hot nurses!” Tucker whooped.

“Bow chicka honk honk!” Junior honked.

“Ditto!” Sister cheered.

“Fine,” Sarge grunted.

“WAIT, WHAT?” Simmons and Grif chorused. Sister shrugged.

“Hiya! You’re not going to believe what I was doing yesterday,” she chirped. At her brother’s disgusted look, she swatted him playfully. “Not that kind of thing! Jeez, bro!”

“Well?” Carolina asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I ran into those three big warriors when they were out of their armor!” Sister announced. “First off, they’re chicks, but they have more robotic parts than he does!” She pointed at Simmons, who looked mildly panicked.

“Wait, so they’re not human, they’re cyborgs?” Wash clarified. Sister nodded.

“You! Med-bay!” Wash snapped, pointing at Sarge. “We can continue this later.” The older man grumbled, but trudged off to the medical end of the ship, followed by everyone else.
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“K, K! KAY!” Flight bellowed. Her eyes were unfocused and she was looking in the general direction of Pixie.

“What, Flight?” Pixie grumbled. She turned to face the taller, and loopier, woman. Flight was staring at a wall now, unmoving. She stayed that way until Sarge stomped in.

“Fish cat in breadbox,” Flight muttered. “I.. I need to put my headphones in the… the thing. You know, the thing!” Her left arm jerked hastily upward, stopping when her ribs responded with pain.

All things considered, she had probably come out worst in that fight. Her ribs were cracked, she had a concussion, her collarbone was broken, her eyes were almost swollen shut from the broken nose, and the ribs that weren’t cracked came very close to it. Pixie only had bruised ribs, a shattered cheek bone, and a broken nose. The medics had Flight on some strong painkillers, which made the normally composed merc a little loopy.

“What.” Tucker’s voice was deadpan as he observed Flight mumble to herself briefly. Pixie snorted.

“She’s loopy on pain meds and I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t talk to an invisible being today,” the smaller merc snickered. Flight turned to the Reds and Blues, eyes wide in astonishment.

“A rainbow! Where’s the green?” she asked. “Am I supposed to be green? I’m not wearing my green today. Is today Saint Patrick’s day? I shouldn’t get pinched, I am green!” Grif lumbered a bit closer to her.

“Sorry, but you’ve been demoted. You’re now grey,” he told her. Her face scrunched up after almost 5 seconds.

“I hate grey, too amoral!” she whined. “I want to be green! They’re coming!” One of the medics, a woman in a scarlet tank top, threw a needle with deadly accuracy. Another, closer medic, emptied the contents into Flight’s bloodstream.

“I go nighty-night now,” she muttered before slumping over. The second medic sighed in relief before standing back.

The first medic stormed over, analyzing Flight’s medical equipment before snorting angrily.

“You’d better be injured,” she started, “or I’ll fix that issue myself!” Everyone, even Junior and Carolina, pointed at Sarge, who looked like he was being approached by some kind of monster.

“Uhh, I got slammed into a wall earlier and hit my head?” he hesitantly explained. The woman raised one eyebrow, looking at him.

“Alright. I need your age, general health, activity level, and any allergies,” she rattled off. Sarge shifted his weight.

“48, usually good, highly active, and none,” he listed, ticking them off on his fingers. She nodded.

“Take a seat. Out with the peanut gallery!” she roared, grabbing a handful of scalpels. Wash attempted to stay, but a couple well-thrown scalpels had him all but running out of the med-bay.
__________
“A blasted concussion,” Sarge grumbled. “Of all things, I have a minor concussion, and you all made me endure that torture chamber they call a med-bay for a CONCUSSION!” Tucker snickered from where he was hiding behind Wash.

“Shut it, shrimp!” Sarge growled. Tucker jumped over Wash, already growling.

“You want to go, old man? I’ll fight you!” he howled. Junior hesitantly grabbed his father, holding him back.

“Sarge, you were about to tell us how you and Lopez got captured,” Carolina prompted. The Red glared at her before huffing and shaking his head.

“That little one, Pixie? She got the drop on us. We cleared out one of those false bases and marked it. So, we went to call Simmons, Grif, and Donut, but no one answered. We decided to go check, but when we got there, all we found was their tracker chip. Then, we decided to go find them, but that little harpy jumped me. Two of those big soldiers attacked Lopez. We were knocked out and taken into their base,” he answered.

“Hey, where is Lopez anyways?” Donut asked, looking around. The robot was off on his own.

“Probably getting ready to head back,” Simmons offered. “From what I’ve heard, he’ll be given that computer in our hall, because it’s got its own system. He also is getting a small ship that has the coordinates punched in. Apparently, Flight wrote this all out when we got captured.” Everyone shrugged.

“So, Flight’s the tactician?” Carolina asked, eyes narrowed.

“Nah, she’s just the leader,” Simmons answered. “I heard that there’s a tactician over in that area we’re not supposed to be in, along with a hoard of snacks. And there’s some rumor about a ‘special’ prisoner in that same wing.” It only took a moment before Simmons slapped his hand to his face. At the questioning looks, he gestured towards where Grif had been sitting.

“I- that’s talented,” Wash admitted. Junior let go of Tucker in his surprise. Grif had left an orange blanket covering some pillows and a crudely-drawn face on a sheet of paper. Tucker took advantage of the distraction to bodily tackle Sarge.

“CALL ME SHORT AGAIN!” he roared, punching at the older man.

“Popcorn?” Donut asked, offering a bag to Simmons and Wash. Sister offered Carolina and Junior bags as well, sitting down and munching on her own.

Chapter Text

Lorenzo growled to himself as he hammered out one last metal plate. He had convinced Shelly that he needed something for himself, so she had agreed to let him work on it. Of course, she told him that he was going to miss his chance if he didn’t work quickly, so he was building as fast as he could. Shelly had located some guns laying around. Lorenzo was suspicious. Why were all the soldiers gone from this base?

“Lorenzo! Are you done yet?” Shelly asked from where she was waiting. Lorenzo shook his head, immersed in his work.

“Hurry. We only have another day before we need to be moving,” she snapped. He ignored her.

One last plate, and… done! He had managed to build a basic humanoid body. The features were minimal, and he would definitely need to hunt around for clothes, but otherwise, he would be unrecognizable. Shelly stood and stretched.

“Finally!” she groaned. “Let’s get you in.” Lorenzo grabbed a cable, hooking one end into the chest of his new body. Shelly plugged the other end into the back of his neck.

<>
<>

When Lorenzo could see again, he looked human.
______________________
“Lopez, you’re free to go. Seeing as Flight can’t do this herself-” and here Pixie looked at the still-loopy merc “-You may use pod 7. It is programmed to take you back to Chorus, and right into Armonia. One of Flight’s escorts will accompany you.” A woman wearing a sickly shade of green stepped forward.

“Meet Maple, our poisoner,” Pixie announced. “She’ll escort you to your base and return.” Lopez opened his mouth to protest.

“As my legs learned the hard way, you’re a robot. Maple deals in poisons, not acids. If I wanted you dead, we’d be sending Oak, or Cypress. They’re the acid-slingers,” Pixie interrupted. Lopez shrugged and nodded.

“Pleased to meet you,” Maple offered her hand. Lopez went to shake it, but paused when he noticed she only had three fingers.

“Uh,” he started. Maple huffed.

“Well, that’s what I get for not being more careful around my poisons,” she told him. “I’m lucky I still have the hand.” He nodded, shaking her hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he replied. She reached up and pulled her helmet off. She had light brown hair pulled into a ponytail. One of her eyes was sealed shut by a scar that ran down her entire face. Lopez had almost expected her face to be covered in bubble-like indented scars. The long one was the only visible scar.

“Surprised, Robo-boy?” she laughed. Maple turned and started walking through some hallways. Lopez jogged and caught up with her.

“Well, I was not expecting you to only have the one scar,” he retorted. Maple snickered.

“And I was not expecting you to be a robot,” she shot back. Lopez was about to respond, but the three navy soldiers marched past.

“The Nymphs. Pixie found them dying of hyperthermia, and their limbs had to be amputated. She had cybernetic parts made for them, but their minds got… scrambled,” Maple explained. “Pixie’s working to fix them, but it’s rather delicate work.” Lopez filed the information away.

“Are all of you…” he trailed off as more soldiers darted by, looking mildly panicked.

“Rescued? Yes. Most of us were on the verge of death before the Boss took us in. Between her and Pixie, about 300 of us have been rescued. And we’re not all on this ship. Some of us are on our new home planet,” she answered. She swung her arm out suddenly, grabbing Red as he jogged past.

“Red, what’s happening?” she asked calmly. The taller man looked more amused than anything.

“Tucker’s fighting Sarge, and everyone’s betting on the winner,” he snickered. Maple looked extremely irritated.

“I want twenty bucks on the shorter one,” she demanded, passing him a bill. He laughed and took it, bolting down the hallway.

“At any rate,” Lopez dryly started. “I’m taking the computer with me.” Maple nodded.

“Already on board,” she told him. “And speaking of board, duck!” She crouched just as a man wearing orange and red armor threw a plank of wood down the hallway.

“WILDFIRE!” she roared. The man gave her a smug look.

“Hey, you both lived,” he snickered. Lopez had caught the board in one hand. With one squeeze, the board got crushed.

“Aww, I was going-”

“No, you weren’t,” Maple snarled, holding a green vial. Wildfire raised his hands, still smiling.

“Fine, fine. Bye!” He trotted off in the same direction as Red.

“Well, let’s get going,” Maple grunted, putting the vial into a pocket on her armor. Lopez nodded, following.
______________
Caboose just stood still, watching the Chorus soldiers scramble around. Kimball was by his side, looking out a window. He and O’Malley didn’t want to waste energy. They wanted to kill Temple slowly, and painfully. Perhaps the mercenaries would let them. That may provide them with enough entertainment to distract them. Purple eyes slid over to the lieutenants.

“We can count on our captains,” Andersmith insisted. “Captain Caboose will help them, and then they’ll kill those mercs.”

“Sure, and I’m neon pink!” Bitters hissed. Palomo snickered. The orange lieutenant smacked the back of his helmet.

“Hey, don’t fight!” Andersmith reprimanded.

“Yeah! We just have to put our faith in our captains!” Jensen added.

“Palomo started it!” Bitters whined.

“Hey, has anyone else noticed Caboose staring at us?” Palomo asked. Slowly, everyone but Andersmith looked at the tall Blue.

“Scary!” Bitters shuddered. Andersmith began to clean his rifle.

“What are you doing?” Jensen asked.

“Cleaning my rifle. Clearly, Captain Caboose wants us to be doing something more productive than arguing,” he replied.

“Well, I’m taking a nap. Wake me up when we get to their ship,” Bitters yawned. He found a row of bench-seats with straps and wound one around his waist, plopping down on the floor. Within moments, he was snoring. Jensen grabbed a datapad and began typing furiously, tracking the merc ship. With any luck, she would also be able to hack its systems and stall it, allowing the Chorus army to catch up. Palomo sat down next to her, watching.

A large, grey sip appeared in the distance.

“Bingo,” General Kimball muttered.

Chapter Text

“Boss, an enemy ship has been trailing us for the last couple of days,” Red announced. The green mercenary had finally been released for light duty. Considering her whole torso was still in a cast, she couldn’t wear her armor either.

“Alright. We need to get everyone possible to Safety,” she decided. “Have everyone load into the pods without tracking. And Red.” He turned to look at her.

“Get yourself and Pixie in there. I’m injured. I’ll just take up too much room. With three hundred people, including innocents, we can’t afford for both leaders to be captured, and my right hand will need to take my place,” Flight instructed. Her green eyes glinted with determination. Red nodded and strode away.

With that taken care of, Flight went to the bridge of the ship. She waved off a minor officer, grabbing the microphone to the built-in broadcast system.

“Everyone. Retreat to Safety in the unmarked pods. Soldiers are allowed to remain and fight, should they wish to do so. New recruits, you are required to return to Safety. On my orders as the absolute leader, I order Red and Pixie to retreat. This has been Flight.” She put down the mic, sighing heavily.

“Boss, you can’t-” the minor officer started. Flight slumped as much as her cast allowed.

“Look, Atlas, get yourself to Safety. I’ll stay behind and wait. Look, if those soldiers get here, it will be a slaughter. At best, I live and am banned, forced to stay on Safety. At worst, they capture me and torture me for information. I promise that Safety will stay safe, though.”

“No. I’m staying,” Atlas protested. “I’ve been by your side for two years, Boss. Without you, my life would be nothing. I’ll fight for you.” Flight nodded briskly.

“Fine. We’re setting up a defensive area. Go find somewhere. No windows, more than one entrance. No vents big enough for a grenade even. Not at an edge,” she rattled off. Atlas saluted and raced away. Flight headed to the small row of windows.

“Well, I can see them, and I’ll be ready,” she muttered.
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Kimball narrowed her eyes as several small pods shot off from the large ship.

“General, what’s happening?” Jensen asked. The general turned back to see the four lieutenants and a small crowd behind them. The only one who wasn’t huddled was Caboose, but she had no doubts that he could easily hear her.

“Multiple small pods have shot off from the main ship. We’ll capture the ship first, then go after the pods,” she ordered. Caboose huffed lowly.

“What, Captain?” Kimball asked, glancing at the tall man.

“Leave the pods. They’re fleeing,” he grunted. His voice was deep and absolutely terrifying. He slid his eyes over to look out the viewport.

“If they wanted to fight, they’d have stayed. They want to escape, so let them. They will not be a threat.” Several of the Chorus soldiers shuddered. For her part, Kimball only raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. We’ll let those people escape. I want everyone but the ringleaders dead,” she agreed. The much larger merc ship had almost stopped, it was going so slow. The lights flickered before turning off entirely on it.
_________________
Temple crept along. The ship had turned off all the lights. The fleeing members of the Armada had beaten him to the pods. He shrieked as he bumped into something.

“Shush,” Flight hissed. She had her gloves, boots, and helmet on. “You have proven to be a worthless being. You have attempted to betray me, undermined me multiple times, and consumed resources with no output. You will not be going to Safety, and you will not be leaving the ship alive. I will hand you over to the Reds and Blues, even if it costs me my life!” Temple shrieked again.

“Hey! What was that?” Tucker yelled from deeper in the ship.

“Over here! It’s a mutiny!” Flight shouted back. The look she was giving Temple deeply unnerved him.

“Did they leave any food?” Grif asked. Flight grabbed Temple’s shoulders, forcing him in front of her.

“No, but they left my employer. He’s been forcing me to work for him this whole time!” she lied. The Reds and Blues charged around the corner.

“That’s Temple,” Wash told her. She tilted her head as if she was confused.

“I know. He told me if I could capture you, he’d pay me lots of money. Our homes are so run-down, we almost can’t live in them. I was going to return to Earth and gather some supplies,” she told him. “Then, I was going to head back to Safety and repair the homes. Most of my crew turned out to be under his control and they mutinied! We killed the rebels and hid. I was sent out to see if anyone didn’t get to Safety.”

Only Sarge seemed to catch on to the fact that Safety was more than a descriptive term.

“Where is this ‘Safety’?” he asked suspiciously. Flight turned to face him.

“Well, I can’t tell you the name of our home, but we live not far from here,” she dodged. Temple squirmed under her grasp.

“Hey, we’re forgetting something here!” Tucker cut in. Temple froze as Flight tightened her grip slightly.

“What?” Simmons asked.

“Duh. We need to hold on to Temple so Caboose can massacre him,” Grif snorted. Tucker shook his head vigorously.

“No, some of those hot nurses might have stayed here!” he exclaimed. Junior honked and Sister whooped. Flight all but threw the light-blue man at the trio.

“Take him, I really don’t care,” she growled. She turned to leave. Carolina ran in front of her.

“Nope, you’re coming with us,” she snarled. Flight pulled her helmet off, revealing the still-healing bruises.

“And why is that?” Before Carolina could answer, Flight looked up.

“Hey, come to help, Pixie?” The assembled soldiers looked up quickly, not noticing Flight duck into a new hallway and enter a maze of halls.
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“Atlas, we need to be on alert!” Blaze hissed. Maple nodded from beside him.

“The Boss will not be pleased if we’re caught slacking,” she agreed. The ship shuddered before the smaller man could speak.

“Get ready,” Atlas announced darkly. “They’re coming on.” Just as he finished that statement, one of the walls of the hideout shuddered. It dented before splitting completely. There, a tall, violet-eyed man leered at them.

“Peekaboo,” he laughed, stomping over. Blaze jumped in front of the others.

“Run. Tell Flight that the biggest threat is here, and keep her safe,” he whispered. Maple and Atlas nodded, taking off. Still, Atlas looked back at the sound of Blaze screaming. The poor man had his arm being twisted off.

“Maple, I think we’re dead no matter what,” Atlas whispered. The taller woman nodded.

“We’re up against an undefeated force. I’ll stall. Oak will meet you in the next room. Stay alive, bro,” Maple whispered back. She stood, letting the young man continue.

She took in a deep breath, aimed a poisonous syringe, and threw. Let the battle commence.

Chapter Text

Flight watched from the bridge. She knew what was happening to the people who had stayed. Atlas had made his way to her side, and they both were watching the security feeds. The tall, violent man was doing most of the damage. The Armada members who had stayed were literally being torn apart.

Blaze went first. After his arm was twisted off, the Blue took pleasure in swinging him by the other one until it, too, tore off. Then, he had crushed Blaze’s skull. Flight had a list, with both the code names and the real names of the fallen, along with how they died.

-Blaze-Matt-Arms torn off and skull crushed
-Maple-Melody-Injected with multiple vials of poison
-Oak-Troy-Hit with own acid
-Wildfire-Darrin-Torn in half
-Frost-Page-Smashed into wall repeatedly

The list was constantly growing. Almost half of the three hundred soldiers had stayed behind, but they were falling. Flight glanced at Atlas before setting one computer to record and transmit the data to Safety. Atlas had had a sister. Maple. She had chosen to save him, twice now.

Flight could remember finding the two. Back then, they were Melody and Jacob. Ashley and Red hadn’t even joined at that time. She had been wandering a relatively small city, and there the two were. Melody carried a large backpack, sitting beside the road. Flight had wandered over.

“Hey, nice to meet you. You have nowhere to go?” the tall woman had asked. Melody had clutched Jacob closer.

“Hey, I’m not here to hurt you or kidnap you. I’m starting a new home. It’s called Safety, and it’s a very long way from here. There, no one will hurt you again, unless you choose to work alongside me. If not, my sis and I can protect you,” she had offered. Melody had accepted. Shortly after, it became a common practice to leave Safety and offer help to anyone who would work for themselves. When the small army had been formed, code names were assigned. Autumn changed to Flight, Kim to Pixie. Everyone picked what they wanted to do in the small force.

Melody picked the name Maple, and poison became her main weapon. Jacob chose to operate the ship, meaning everyone’s safety rested on his shoulders. He chose Atlas, after the mythical Titan who was said to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The name fit now more than ever. Atlas watched the people he had come to call friends and family get slaughtered. The Reds and Blues were looking for their armor. The Chorus army was looking for the Sim Troopers, the freelancers, and Flight. The rogue Blue was looking to kill everyone. Flight snarled out loud suddenly.

“They want me? They can HAVE ME!” she roared. “Atlas, grab a weapon and let’s go. We’re putting up the biggest fight we can, to honor those who died for us!” Atlas snarled as well, grabbing his rifle off his back.

“You got it, Boss!” he agreed.

Flight hissed and pulled a broadsword out of a hidden compartment. Another slot revealed daggers. She opened multiple across the room, drawing mostly close-range weapons. Atlas followed, picking up guns, ammo, and grenades. At a clicking sound, Atlas obediently trotted out of the bridge behind her.

The whole way to the largest rec room, Flight bellowed wordlessly. Apparently, she didn’t need words, because the remaining few of the Armada showed up, all loaded with as many weapons as they could carry. A snarl had everyone take up positions in the halls, in rafters, and in rooms. Hidden passages were packed with the close-range fighters. Flight herself roared one last time, the sound echoing around the mostly silent ship.

Quiet reigned, until a deeper, louder, roar answered. And then the floor exploded beneath the rec room, and violet eyes gleamed through the dust.
____________
Simmons shuddered as the loud roars echoed around the ship.

“Dude I promise that there are no monsters,” Grif whispered.

“People can be monsters, too, ya know,” Wash told the two. Simmons squeaked and jumped onto Grif’s shoulders, hanging on like a scarf. For his part, Grif managed to keep a straight face. Barely.

“People make the worst monsters,” Carolina mused. “You can see exactly how they became that way, and they look perfectly normal. It’s scary knowing that if your life went any differently, you could turn out the same way as them.”

“I want to brain Temple,” Tucker griped. “But no, we need him to calm down Caboose. I say we put him in a back room, lock it, and blow up the ship.”

Sarge and Doc, who were dragging Temple, dropped him at a sudden noise. A person crawled out of a room, staying low to the ground. They looked up just in time to avoid running into Wash.

“Hey! Boss wants all hands to her side. Can’t you hear?” the person exclaimed. Before they could run off, Carolina grabbed them.

“We’re not on your side, but we have a few questions for you,” she told them.

“Name’s Ember. We’re under attack by an unstoppable man. Boss wants everyone to the largest rec room for one last stand. If we hurry, we’ll beat the monster there,” they rattled off. “Now, come on, Spark! Volt! Static!” Three more people ran out from nearby rooms.

“Wait!” Sarge grunted. “Where would armor from prisoners be?” Ember gave him a neutral look before shrugging.

“In the next hall, two doors down and on your right. Weapons are on the third panel down from that door, same wall. Code is 5759. Get your stuff and meet us at the rec room!” Ember slipped free, following the three other people. They had just vanished when another, far scarier roar echoed through the ship.
_____________________
Andersmith attempted to remain calm despite the terrifying roars. They were getting louder as the four lieutenants got closer to the heart of the ship. They cut off after a bit. For a moment, there was quiet. Palomo managed to quit hiding behind Jensen, and Bitters started to relax. Then, the loudest roar yet met their ears. Everyone, even Andersmith, shrieked and ran behind a corner.

“Wh- what was that?” Bitters managed to ask.

“Death,” Andersmith answered.

Chapter Text

Caboose snarled at the thirty or so Armada members. Each one aimed various weapons at him. Most had guns, but there were a few with swords, knives, or staffs. All of them wore assorted pieces of armor. Another four ran in, breaking the tension.

“Die,” Flight hissed. Atlas launched a grenade while the gun wielders fired directly at him. Wildfire and Ember used flamethrowers to scorch the immediate area. As the debris settled, Flight jumped back to avoid Caboose’s hand swinging through the area her head just was.

Instead, Caboose grabbed a man holding a staff. He ripped the staff out of his grip. The man howled in pain. Caboose grabbed the man’s arm and ripped it off effortlessly. He grabbed the man’s chestplate and tightened his grip. The man opened his mouth to howl in pain again. The tall Blue shoved the limb down his throat, dropping him. Flight stepped back instinctively, raising a knife.

“Hey, ugly! Over here!” Wildfire snarled, aiming his flamethrower. Caboose dodged the stream of fire and charged to the man. A blow to the top of his head dropped the smaller man. It was followed by Caboose stomping on his ribcage, crushing it.

The gun wielders fired again, but after that initial burst, they were running low on ammo for the more powerful weapons. Atlas started throwing grenades, but missed most of them. Flight threw her knife, but Caboose caught it. One of the soldiers attempted to run in and hit him with a staff, but the attack was once again caught. This time, Caboose flipped the dagger and split open the soldier from their stomach to their neck. Blood gushed out, coating his blue armor.

Flight glanced at Atlas, who was turning a shade of green.

“Hey. No throwing up until this is over,” she directed. “We need to focus on this. Once we’re done here, you can hurl all you want.” Atlas aimed his gun, focusing. He fired the last round, shooting the rampaging Blue. All that accomplished was making him drop Volt, whose lower half was twisted around. Volt fell limply to the ground where Caboose walked over him.

“Atlas, get behind me,” Flight ordered. She pulled her sword off of her back, tensing. Static threw himself in front of her, gloves crackling with electricity. He lunged at Caboose, but was grabbed by the head. Caboose brought his other arm up and ripped the smaller man’s jaw off, throwing him carelessly into a wall. Ember charged in.

Chaos broke loose. Caboose pulled Ember’s eyes out, crushing her skull. The Chorus army managed to locate the fighting. The Reds and Blues charged around a corner, Temple hanging limply between Carolina and Wash. Atlas dropped his last grenade. He and Flight bolted, but he lagged behind. Just as the grenade went off, Flight grabbed him and pulled, shielding most of him from the blast. His legs were caught in it, though. He howled in pain.

Flight had taken the worst of the damage, however. Her back was a mess, despite the thick cast. She was fading in and out of consciousness. She saw Caboose grabbing the nearest weapon, a pool cue, and spearing Temple with it. She saw Atlas struggling to reach her. Caboose grabbing a pool ball and throwing it so hard, it fractured his arm. A chopstick being shoved into Temple’s nostril so far, he started bleeding. A hornet’s nest being shoved down his throat. Tucker throwing his sword and stabbing the man in the leg. Itching powder shoved into his armor. His spine was broken. She watched all this and more through blurry vision, fading in and out. She forced herself to focus since someone was talking.

“You want to know how we knew you weren’t Church?” the male voice asked. Temple sputtered in response.

“First off, Church is an AI. A small, glowing version of his old self. Second, Church would never admit to being Caboose’s best friend. See, you failed in so many ways, but you’re forgetting the biggest thing of all,” the voice picked up.

“W-what?” Temple gasped.

“Church shattered himself to save us,” Caboose snarled. “You can’t be him.” Temple started screeching out apologies and promises, but Caboose didn’t listen.

“Bye-bye,” he growled, finally crushing Temple’s skull. The pathetic man stopped moving finally, falling to the ground. The purple in Caboose’s eyes faded somewhat.

“Well, now we have the mercs to deal with,” Tucker grumbled. He stepped over to Flight. She struggled to sit up and get in front of Atlas, but only flopped uselessly. The other Armada members were dead. She could tell that much from what she could see.

The Reds and Blues, along with Kimball, walked over to her. Her efforts to shield Atlas doubled.

“Calm down. We’re not going to kill either of you,” Kimball crouched down.

“And wh- what do I h-have to believe y-you on that?” Flight wheezed. Kimball shrugged.

“You’ll just have to trust that I am a nice person,” she replied. Flight gazed at her for another moment before nodding.

“Take care of him first,” she begged. Kimball nodded, signalling a medic as Flight finally passed out.

Chapter Text

When Flight opened her eyes, she was expecting to be in a prison cell, or shackled down. She was surprised to find she was in a medical bay.

“Obviously, if she joined our side, she’d be a red!” Sarge was yelling at Tucker. The Blue shot back that she’d be on the blue team, starting a massive argument. Flight watched for a moment before jumping in, amused.

“I’d rather go home. Can I go back home?” she asked. Sarge pointed at her.

“See! At the mere thought of joining your team, she wants to go home!” he sneered. Tucker huffed.

“Uh, it’s clearly because she’d be uncomfortable on your team! I mean, we have a woman on our team, so they can bond!” he shot back.

“Actually, I’d be more uncomfortable around her. I would like to go home, though. Seriously, how long am I supposed to be here?” Flight laughed.

“Besides, you’ve already had all the females on your team! Let us have one!” Simmons piped up.

“Yeah!” Grif agreed. “Maybe she can entertain Donut!”

“But I want to go home,” Flight snickered. “I have people waiting on me!”

“You don’t get a say in this!” Sarge bellowed. “You’re a Red!”

“No, I’m green!”

“That’s not a team!” he grumbled.

“It’s my team!” Tucker shouted. “I’m the leader of Green Team! That means she’s a Blue!”

“No, I want to go home. I’m on my own team!” Flight argued. She had intended to stay passive, but had gotten caught up in the madness.

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell us everything,” Carolina cut in. She and Kimball were standing in the door.

“How’s Atlas?” Flight asked. Carolina’s glare doubled, while Kimball merely sighed.

“We’ll let you see him when we’re done here,” the general offered.

“Fine,” Flight agreed. Carolina started to protest, but Kimball held her hand up.

“Look, she’s agreed to answer our questions, and she told us to help him first. She cares about him, so we’ll let her see him. It’ll keep them both agreeable,” Kimball whispered to her. Flight was watching Sarge and Tucker continue arguing, Grif and Simmons chiming in every so often.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Why are you all here?” Flight asked. The Reds and Blue looked at her.

“Well, Caboose is in here, and we’re waiting on him to wake up. Wash made me bring hot chocolate,” Tucker grumbled.

“Flight, let’s begin. First, who are you?” Kimball began, sitting down. Flight smirked and glanced at the woman.

“Tell you what. I answer a question, I ask a question. You can choose not to answer, but I have to answer each question,” Flight bargained. Kimball glanced at Carolina.

“Every third question,” the freelancer demanded.

“Deal!” Flight agreed. She turned to face Kimball.

“Who are you?” the general repeated.

“I’m Autumn, born on Earth,” she replied.

“Why did you become a mercenary?” Carolina asked next. Flight’s smile fell.

“On Earth, I was given a small vehicle capable of going through outer space. I found a planet that was similar to Earth, and decided to live there. After heading to Earth to fill out the paperwork, Pixie and I decided to do some shopping. We split up and I found a pair of runaway children. I decided to bring them back to my planet. It continued on. Every time I returned to Earth, I picked up one or two more people who were on the streets. The only common theme was that they all had to be willing to work for a better life. We got the planet colonized in no time, but funding was cut off after the ‘colony’ hit 200 people. My own check wasn’t enough to cover everything, so our council decided to try and find a few jobs that paid well. It took a bit, but we managed to find one. After that, we decided to make that our new main income source. Most of what the Armada makes is used to provide,” Flight shared. She sighed heavily. “My planet has almost a thousand people now. This was going to be our last job before we were self-sufficient.”

“Sad story,” Carolina snarked.

“Right, so next question,” Kimball cut in, stopping any argument. “Where is this planet?”

Flight neutralized her expression. “I won’t say. I promised never to bring harm to those who stayed behind, and I can’t trust you to leave them in peace,” she forced out. “There are still 700 on my planet, but your forces can wipe them out.” Kimball frowned, while Carolina surged forward. She picked up the taller woman and picked her up by the throat. Walking forward, she roughly pinned her against a wall.

“Hey!” Tucker protested. The Reds were making a lot of noise now, but Flight remained expressionless and still. Upon closer inspection by Kimball, she was still breathing, but very slowly and quietly. She almost looked bored, with her toes touching the floor and- oh.

Flight was standing on her toes. Carolina was just keeping her there. Add that to the new cast reaching up her throat, and she probably didn’t even care. Kimball felt her respect for the merc raise just a bit.

“Let her down, Carolina,” she ordered. Carolina ignored the general.

“Tell us where your planet is, so we can get this over with sooner,” the freelancer demanded. Flight made a strange noise.

“Nah,” the merc sneered. “I’ll do you one better, though. I know a planet with some of the oddest beings you’ll ever meet. You said you lost that Church guy? They can bring him back, no problem, and no payment. Well, I say no payment, but, they have a strange price. All they ask is a bit of knowledge they can only get from you.”

Carolina almost let Flight down, but snarled and shoved her harder into the wall.

“Wait!” Tucker ran over and started pulling at her arms. “Let her talk, and let her show us. Worst comes to worst, we have just her to deal with, and you can kill her. At best, we get Church back!” Carolina snarled again, but slowly lowered the taller woman. Flight tensed briefly, bringing her hands up before straightening back up.

“Tell us more about this species,” Kimball urged. Flight limped back over to her medical cot.

“Well, their name doesn’t translate, but they agreed that we can call them ‘Watchers’. They have many skills…”

Chapter Text

“You’re sure this is where the Watchers are?” Carolina asked. Flight was pointing at a zone of space with almost nothing in it.

“Yeah. They’re scattered through this whole area. Hey, just so you know, there’s a price for everything,” Flight told the freelancer. She had a grimace on her face.

“What price?” Kimball asked, stepping in between the two. Flight shrugged.

“I don’t know. Anything I got from them was as a gift for my assistance,” she replied. “I wanted to help with no intentions of any reward, so they appreciated that. I only ever asked for one thing, but I worked to pay off any debt I had.” Carolina narrowed her eyes.

“What do they look like?” Wash asked from the front of the ship.

“Like people, but it’ll seem like something’s… off. You won’t be able to put your finger on it, but something just feels wrong about them,” Flight informed him, shuddering slightly. “We’re almost at the main colony. Some basic info on these guys is important.”

“I agree,” Carolina nodded, glaring.

“Well, they’re capable of accessing other dimensions. Typically, they enter dead dimensions to use them as storage. They can travel wherever they want thanks to this ability. Another important fact is they can see vague impressions of the future. Nothing like who gets married, or when you die. Just how many exist at any given point. If your friend is dead here, there’s a good chance they’ll find a dimension where he’s alive but you’re all not. They might even pull him from a dimension just before he dies where you were going to die. All I know is they’ll want something they can’t get from just anyone in return,” Flight told them. “Now then, they’re almost a hive-mind. They can think for themselves, but they’re all connected. We’re meeting with Eclipse and Spiral, two of the higher-ranking Watchers. When talking to a Watcher, don’t look at their eyes. Their eyes are disturbing and might drive you insane. Watch your mouths. One wrong word, and they’ll kill you. Address them by name, never by ‘you’. They’ll maim you.”

“Landing!” the pilot called. Flight clapped her hands together and nodded.

“Let’s go.” She whirled and marched out of the door. The soldiers followed her reluctantly. When they caught up to Flight, she was talking with a brown figure. She waved them over.

“May I introduce Spiral, one of the Watchers who can help you,” she smiled. The Watcher turned to face the colorful soldiers.

“You seek to revive the dead?” she whispered. Carolina stepped forward, looking in between the Watcher’s eyes.

“Not a dead person, a dead AI,” she clarified. Spiral snorted.

“Dead is dead, regardless of species. What do you offer?” Hissing voices repeated the question.

“What possesses the value of the dead being’s soul?” Spiral clarified. The voices around them whispered variations of the question.

“I’ll sacrifice myself for Church to be back,” Tucker offered. Spiral stared at him in curiosity.

“You? You believe your life has the same worth as that of the dead?” she asked. Tucker shook his head.

“No, but mine has different attachments,” he admitted. “Church is more important than I am.” Spiral stared for a moment before laughing.

“Well, this is certainly unexpected. Flight, I thank you. These people are indeed unique,” she chuckled. “Follow me. We must have Eclipse present to attempt this. I warn you, we will be taking him from a world where you all failed. We will pull him just before he dies. This shifting will leave its mark, both physical and mental. Are you prepared for this?” Everyone nodded.

“We will get Church back?” Caboose asked eagerly. Spiral nodded.

“The price has been paid, and we will be willing to save him,” she smiled.

“Wait, what was the price?” Tucker asked, bewildered. Spiral laughed again.

“You have provided proof that there are people who care so much for their old friends that they would sacrifice themselves. We do not think any one else could have given us that knowledge,” she laughed. “For that, we will fetch your friend.” She trotted towards a small hut, ducking inside. The soldiers followed her, but Flight stayed outside.

“Spiral, I’m going to find Solar and Lunar,” she shouted. She then meandered off towards the edges of the civilization.
__________
“The fee is paid?” Eclipse asked. Spiral nodded.

“The knowledge that humans will sacrifice themselves for a friend,” she replied. Eclipse nodded.

“We will help you. This is a simple matter. Spiral found this dimension by accident. Would you like to look?” Eclipse offered. He held up a large mirror. Slowly, it changed to the scene on Hargrove’s ship. Epsilon didn’t fragment himself. Everyone watched as they were killed mercilessly.

“How-” Tucker couldn’t even bring himself to finish his sentence.

“Everything is, and is not,” Eclipse answered. “In this dimension, he chose to fight with you. He has been captured for several months. We can pull him from there without affecting everything else. We must warn you. If something goes wrong, he will die once again. We will have to wait many months before trying again. Are these terms acceptable?”

Everyone nodded firmly, Tucker and Caboose most eagerly.

“Very well. Step outside. We will be done in a few minutes,” Spiral rumbled. All the soldiers left, standing outside. They split up to explore. Donut pulled Doc off to who-knows-where, Sarge went to go poke something probably life-threatening, Tucker and Caboose were whooping, Grif and Simmons went to either find food or a nap, Carolina and Wash were deep in discussion, and Kimball was silently watching the proceedings.

After almost half an hour, Spiral stumbled outside. “We have results,” she breathed before turning back inside. Nervously, the gathered soldiers followed.

Chapter Text

Church looked different. Tucker supposed this was from being pulled across the dimensions. His avatar wasn’t in armor. He was a light glowing shade of blue with darker, jagged marks running from below each eye to the top of his jawline. Three on each side. His eyes were immensely green and darted about suspiciously. Raven black hair formed a mop on his head.

“Wha?” Tucker gasped out. Church looked equally stunned.

“You guys died!” the AI protested. Tucker shook his head.

“Not here,” he replied. Eclipse rose to his feet.

“We freed him, but in the process, more souls slipped through. None of us can locate them, but they are from various dimensions. Please round them up and bring them back,” the tall, ghostly being requested. “We can offer a great reward. Anything of your choosing.”

Church floated backwards from him.

“Look, man, I don’t know who or what you are, but all this is another simulation designed to get me to crack.” Tucker opened his mouth, but he was cut off by the AI. “I know what happened to Alpha! This is just like that!” he screamed. “I’m not falling for it! I know that my friends are dead! I watched them die!” Before he could say anything else, Tucker jumped at him.

And landed on the ground in pain.

“Yeah, still a-” Church cut himself off. “Wait. There’s no way Hargrove could have accessed that. But how?” Tucker groaned from the ground while the Reds laughed at him.Caboose was still processing.

“Well, that was… interesting,” Spiral weakly chuckled. She was leaning heavily on Eclipse.

“Hey, how is this possible?” Church asked again. Flight picked that moment to barge in, practically carrying two, far ghostlier beings. One was colored like a star, the other in shades of grey.

“Yo, Eclipse. Solar and Lunar are drained from that. I’m guessing that most, if not all, of the colony is drained,” she grunted. Solar flickered momentarily. “I’ve gotten most of them settled, but these two demanded to see the reason for the energy drain. Is anyone else on this planet affected?” Eclipse shook his head.

“I miscalculated,” he admitted. “Thank you for caring for our colony. When we are done here, I will return you to your home.” Kimball stepped forward.

“She’s not allowed to leave. She and another mercenary, Atlas, are our prisoners,” the general informed him. Eclipse tilted his head.

“She agreed to bring you here, however. What are you giving in return for the life of a comrade?” he asked, puzzled.

“We’ll let Atlas free, then,” Kimball offered. Flight snorted.

“Let him free. I’ve got a good offer, one even your idiot would take,” she smirked. Carolina motioned for her to continue.

“I round up your newest problems and I stay here,” Flight bargained. “Just think, I’ll be here and not back with my people, something you all so desperately never want to happen again. You all won’t have to play hide and seek with two beings. I’m out of your hair.” Carolina frowned. The Reds were muttering to each other. Wash was yelling at Tucker for tackling Church. Church was glaring at her suspiciously. Caboose was trying to hug Church.

“No,” Kimball declined. Flight canted her head slightly.

“We’re not letting you have any freedom until you tell us everything,” she elaborated. Flight’s eyes lit up.

“Everything?” she asked, drawing the ‘i’ out. Kimball nodded.

“Well, it all began almost 13 billion-” Flight was cut off as Carolina slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Not that far back,” she hissed. Kimball motioned outside. Carolina shoved at the merc, forcing her back out. The two Watchers on her shoulders slid off, nosing at Church. He flickered out of sight, reappearing on Tucker’s shoulder. That prompted Caboose to start whining about how Church picked “Stupid Tucker” over his best friend. Church moved to Wash’s shoulder. That didn’t help.
__________
Sarge launched himself outside before Carolina and Kimball could even begin.

“I want to help,” he declared, pumping his shotgun. “I know just how to get her talking!” He aimed at Flight’s head. She merely grinned.

“Now, now. If you kill me, who are you going to interrogate? You agreed to let Atlas go, after all,” she cackled. Sarge lowered his gun, confused for only a moment.

“We’ll just torture it out of ya!” he cheered. Carolina nodded.

“Simple response,” Flight replied. At the moment’s pause, she grinned even wider.

“What if I still refuse? I’d be worthless. You’re better off killing me right here if you want information. At most, I’d tell you trivial nonsense, such as the color of our sky, or about the plant life,” she crowed. “I have spent most of my life working to set this up, and I’m not about to be the reason my people get wiped out.” Carolina snarled at her.

“Well, you’re not going free until you tell us, so we’re at a stalemate,” Kimball replied sternly. Flight sneered at her.

“You misunderstand me,” she snarled. “I will not be taken back for interrogation. Even if I have to die in order to get free, I will be leaving.” Kimball almost took a step back. Flight leapt backwards as Church zipped past, followed by Caboose. Tucker and Wash charged by as well. Flight stepped forwards again.

“Well?” she asked. Kimball shook her head.

“Sarge, Carolina, keep her here and restrained. I want to talk to Eclipse,” the general announced. She turned away as Flight was tackled by the two. Donut, Grif, and Simmons walked out at a gesture from her. Just as she went to talk, Donut piped up.

“Aww, are you all wrestling? It’s much more fun when you’re not in armor!” Surprisingly, Flight yelled along with Simmons.

“DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT A DOUBLE ENTENDRE IS OR DID YOU DELETE IT ALONG WITH THE LAST OF YOUR CONVERSATIONAL SKILLS?!?!” Flight roared. Kimball almost cracked a smile before remembering why she was back in the small dwelling.

Chapter Text

“So, how can I be sure that you’re not part of Hargrove’s simulations?” Church asked. Tucker shrugged while Caboose watched a tree.

“What if we offered information that couldn’t be made up?” Wash suggested. “Things he would never know?” Church stared at him before grinning widely.

“Alright. Hey Caboose!” he called the tall Blue. Caboose bounded over.

“Pay attention,” Tucker scolded Caboose.

“Stupid Tucker should be paying attention,” he sniffed.

“Okay, there’s no way he knew Caboose calls Tucker stupid,” Church laughed. He stopped for a moment as Tucker went flying, courtesy of Caboose’s flailing.

“Tucker did it!” Church laughed again.

“Or that,” Wash groaned. He went to go save the teal soldier from the tree he was stuck in.

“All I’m saying is that with all the oreos you eat, I wouldn’t be surprised if your blood was oreo colored!” Simmons screeched. Grif yawned and covered Simmons in a layer of snow.

“GRIF!” he yelled.

“Since when could Grif summon snow?” Church asked.

“Same time I never got THE SNIPER RIFLE!” Tucker seethed. Church waved his hand.

“Hey, aren’t you still in that tree?” the AI asked.

“Yeah. I can see pretty far,” Tucker admitted.

“See, while you were gone, we all figured out we have special abilities,” Wash informed him. “Like, Simmons being a cyborg, or Donut reviving, or Grif making snow. Honestly, I understand how you took out the Meta now.” Church snorted.

“Tell me more about this planet,” Church demanded. Wash blinked, but shrugged.

“Apparently, these beings that inhabit it are called Watchers. They can go through dimensions, so we made a deal with them to bring you back to life. That’s honestly all we know. Flight led us here,” he told the AI. Church frowned.

“Flight? What have you guys been up to here?” he asked. Wash sighed, but sat down next to him. Tucker sat down and leaned against the freelancer. Caboose sat down and seemed to temporarily shut down. Even Grif, Simmons, and Donut sat nearby, both to hear the story and correct any details they didn’t like.

“So it all began after we beat Hargrove. Tucker activated this Temple,...”
__________
It took all of Church’s self control not to break down laughing. At some point, Flight had meandered over, bringing Sarge and Carolina into the mix. So far, he had heard five different versions of how the group had spent their vacation. He especially liked the part where Carolina had punched Grif, damaging his armor. Then there was the part where Caboose learned to teleport. Someone had the bright idea to see if the Blue could teleport to an AI. It turns out he can. That’s terrifying.

Church was also fond of the part where Sarge faxed those pictures to Simmons. Of course, he was surprised that they had almost all gone without their helmets on Chorus. On his demand, the Reds pulled their helmets off.

Church almost couldn’t believe his eyes. He knew Simmons was a cyborg, but he wasn’t expecting him to look like a red-haired, scrawny Terminator. Grif looked like a patchwork doll. Sarge looked about like he expected. Donut had started dying some of his hair pink (lightish-red). At the part about Temple claiming to be him, the AI pretended to be hurt.

“How dare he think he could even begin to look like me?” he fake-whined. “I mean, I’m an AI!” Wash laughed.

“We knew that. He locked Carolina and I in our armor again, so we had to wait.” The story continued, everyone present pitching in with their side. Finally, they got to Flight’s involvement. Sarge turned to get her side, only to find her missing. Everyone could still see their ship, so she hadn’t gone to escape, but they were still worried.

Tucker shrugged.

“She’ll be back,” he yawned. “No one can resist our charm. Bow chicka bow wow,” he added. Church frowned.

“Freckles, do a thermal scan,” he requested. The gun stayed silent.

“Ooh, I left Freckles in his new mini body,” Simmons winced. “I didn’t get him back in before Flight captured us all.” Church scowled at him.

“I guess it’s up to me,” he groaned. He expanded his sensors. Nothing. He raised the distance. There were two heat signatures not too far away. According to a map he downloaded, the heat signatures were at the next colony, a larger, more mechanical series of buildings.

“Who’s up for a road trip?” he smirked.

“Shotgun!” Simmons and Grif chorused. At the resulting laughs, they both blushed.

Chapter Text

“Caboose! Stop. Singing.” Church hissed. Caboose had sung the alphabet for almost ten minutes now, and he was getting sick of hearing it. It wasn’t helping that none of the letters were in order, either. Or that some of them were numbers. And colors.

“R, 7, purple, k, y, orange, 9!” Caboose finished, triumphant. There was a moment’s pause.

“You don’t like the a-b-c song?” he asked. Church really wished he was in a body right now. Although, considering he wanted to slam his skull into the nearest available surface, maybe it was for the best that he was a hologram. He could seriously hurt himself. Or Caboose could kill him. Again.

“Not when you add in numbers and colors, and make it a remix,” Church growled. Caboose nodded and stayed silent for a moment. Church focused on his thermal scanner again.

“Hey, there’s four of them now,” he told Grif. “They’re all in the same area.” They had run back to the ship and snagged two Warthogs. Sarge, Wash, and Tucker were in one, and Grif, Simmons, and Caboose were in the other. Carolina had elected to remain behind to tell Kimball, and she had ‘convinced’ Donut to stay as well.

“Meh,” Grif responded.

“Hey, Church? What happened in your dimension?” Tucker called over the radio. Church scowled.

“Nothing good. You all remember what happened to Alpha?” he replied. A resounding ‘yes’ came everyone except Caboose, who replied a few seconds late.

“Well, Hargrove’s goons did that with me, too. I guess he never knew I’m the memory fragment of Alpha, because they’ve spent the last few months trying to get me to fragment. He’s run simulation after simulation through me, hoping to make me crack,” he explained.

“And us?” Wash asked. Church sighed.

“Dead. Back on Hargrove’s ship, we fell first.” He could see Grif falling first, the heavyset Hawaiian not cut out for fighting. Then Simmons went down, screaming. Sarge was next, followed by Donut. Doc was next. He had only lasted that long thanks to his rocket launcher. Tucker followed shortly after. Even the Meta’s suit wasn’t enough. Lopez deleted all his backups and wiped his memory, reducing himself to nothing more than a mindless drone, no longer the defiance of all logic that was typical to the group. Caboose was the last of them to fall. He took out so many of Hargrove’s forces, but he was only human.

“Hargrove managed to re-activate the MANTIS drones down on Chorus. They exterminated everyone on the planet.” He had seen FLISS trying to fight Hargrove’s order, but he over-rode her systems. With one touch to a screen, he re-activated the robots. The pirates combined with the drones were easily enough to overwhelm the other army. Of course, Wash and Carolina worked to take out as many as they could, but even they failed.

“When Donut popped back up, just fine, he was captured for experimentation. I haven’t heard about him in a long time. I think they actually managed to kill him,” Church admitted. He hung his head in shame. Screams used to echo through the ship. Hargrove had mentioned different serums, studies of the pink soldiers’ blood. His troops would be unstoppable soon.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do more,” he groaned. “I couldn’t save you. He reformed me from the fragments I left in that suit.”

“Church, you tried. According to those Watchers, you were doomed to fail. See, there’s lots of timelines. Half succeed in various actions, and half fail. You had a bad timeline. Now, you’re with us. We succeeded. Hargrove is locked away on Earth, and he’ll never be back,” Tucker stated bluntly.

“Yes! We will have lots of fun now! And no one will die! And if they do, which they won’t, we won’t get mad about it, and we will all agree that Tucker did it,” Caboose chirped.

“Dude! I don’t go around aiming at anything that might be Church or Wash with a rifle!” Tucker roared. Sarge, who was driving, aimed his shotgun at the teal soldier without looking.

“Shut yer mouth, ya dirty Blue,” he grumbled.

“Dude! There’s no way this one falls under the Military category! Actually, wasn’t this the one where anarchy is allowed?” Tucker squawked. There was a long moment as everyone processed this. Chaos broke out. Grif floored it, jumping off of any surface the Warthog could handle. Caboose fired the large gun on the back at random. Sarge started firing at Tucker. Simmons whipped out some throwing knives and aimed them all at Wash, who caught them. Church just watched in amazement.
____________
“So, Eclipse, how do you know Flight?” Kimball asked. The Watcher stared at her in amusement.

“We assist her with her panet when she needs it. She crashed on our planet on her voyage with Atlas and Maple. The little ones were scared and hurt. She begged us to save them, promising anything. To see such kindness is still extremely rare. We saved them. We fixed their ship. She worked around here. She didn’t, and still doesn’t, know that we still owe her. As a species, Watchers see all timelines. The odd thing is, there are very few where she doesn’t ask us to save them,” the ghostly being answered.

“How does your species work? Like, I know you can see the timelines, but what do you do with that ability?” Kimball pressed. Eclipse grinned at her.

“How does a human see? What do you do with that ability?” he parodies. “We change some of the timelines. We can’t save them all, as another immediately splits off where we didn’t change anything. In some, we wipe out the universe so it can start again.” Kimball shudders a bit.

“You guys are powerful,” she muttered, more to herself. Eclipse chuckled.

“Not as much as humans. I will make a deal with you. I will prove that you humans are more powerful than you believe. In exchange, you will allow Flight to go home. Deal?” A part of his side split off, forming a hand-like protrusion. Kimball grasped it and shook it.

“Deal,” she agreed.
___________
“Stupid fools who can’t do anything, including remember that I am not with them and I am back home. Stupid double who stole Sarge’s idea and made himself a new body. Stupid program for swiping the body I was working on and painting her hair yellow. Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Lopez grumbled. He was currently held back by duct tape, attached to the wall. Apparently, duct tape worked to keep even a super-strong robot stuck to a wall, when enough was used. You learn something new every day.

Shortly after Maple got him back, she had received a message calling her to return to the Armada’s ship. She had left in a rush, leaving Lopez all alone. That was when Lorenzo and Shelly showed up, forced him into a shut-down, and captured him. And he was mad. There was no way the idiotic duplicates would live through this. They hadn’t taken his computer away, although it was ‘shut down’. It was actually working to contact the Reds and Blues to alert them of the situation.

And, because it was that group of idiots, they hadn’t given him the access code to long range communications.

Chapter Text

“Okay, so this is where the signals said they are,” Church muttered. “I can’t really get any better readings. It’s like they don’t want to be tracked.”

“Then let’s do some old-fashioned exploring,” Tucker grumbled.

“Yeah, we’ve been locating people without help for a long time now,” Wash added.

Everyone was a mess. Both Warthogs were on fire, Grif’s armor was pretty much shattered, Simmons had knife marks from where Wash got fed up with him, Tucker was coated in duct tape and scrapes, Sarge was bleeding from a wound to his right ear, and Caboose was… Caboose was actually fine. He had managed to shoot Sarge’s ear, but somehow, Tucker’s duct tape coating protected him. Church had watched as the Blue fired on his own teammate. Whether that was an accident or not was left to be seen. Although, his eyes had turned red for the time.

“Anyways, we should get started,” Church decided. He looked around. Several Watchers were present, ignoring them. Only one was looking in their direction. It was a grey and black wispy being, barely visible.

“What?” Grif snapped at the Watcher. It approached. As it got closer, the group noticed it had no visible arms or legs. It was gliding over with wisps of itself streaming behind.

“Greetings on behalf of the Metal Colony. We were informed of arrivals,” it welcomed, voice barely above a whisper. “Eclipse sent the warning. Some of you seem hurt, do you need medical attention?”

“Nah,” Tucker waved his hand. “We’ll be fine soon.” The Watcher looked confused, but nodded.

“My name is Whisper,” it told them.

“Really?” Grif asked sarcastically. Whisper shot him an annoyed look.

“We are currently hosting five others like you,” it continued. “Would you like to go to them? They have already agreed that you may.”

“Wait, five? I only caught four,” Church frowned. Whisper shook its head.

“One is more like you than the others. Would you like to go to them?” it asked again.

“Yes,” Wash cut in before anyone could say anything else.

“Very well,” Whisper agreed.

“How are we supposed to get to them?” Simmons asked. Whisper pointed to a blue Watcher.

“Ocean shall escort you. She is more than capable,” it replied. It turned to face Church.

“We do not want violence. Should anything escalate, we will send in forces to detain the fighting. Please refrain from attacking anyone here. Your vehicles shall be repaired while you are gone in exchange for not fighting.” It looked away, glancing at Ocean.

Ocean moved closer.

“We may go,” she breathed. She turned and started down the street. Everyone looked at each other before following. Instead of constantly projecting himself ahead of the group, he relocated to Caboose’s shoulder. It made a good spot to look around, what with how high it was.

It didn’t take long to reach a small cafe-like building.

“The resting spot,” Ocean told them. “I must go. Start no fights.” She turned and seemed to dissolve, blue wisps floating away on the wind.

Wash was the first to walk in. At his strangled gasp, the others ran in, weapons at the ready.

Flight was sitting with someone who almost looked like Caboose, a black AI, and two women. None were in armor. The Caboose look-alike and the AI had the same dark jagged markings as Church. Flight looked up and waved lazily.

“Yo,” she greeted. Caboose gasped excitedly.

“Loco!” he shrieked happily, grabbing him for a hug.

“It is Caboose!” Loco replied with as much enthusiasm as Caboose. Church warped over to the other AI, time slowing.

“Tex,” he greeted coldly. She glanced up at him.

“Church,” she replied quietly.

“How are you here?” Church asked. Tex shrugged.

“Same way Loco is. We saw this big white and black shape, then we were here,” she answered. Church felt himself getting angry. Eclipse had done this on purpose. He had set them up.

“What was your timeline like?” Church asked her. Her expression darkened.

“After I was captured by the Meta, you set off an EMP blast. Shortly before it actually reached me, time froze and that shape appeared. I was pulled here and told to come to this city,” Tex told him. The two AI thought for a moment.

“In my timeline, we were fighting Hargrove. They failed,” Church admitted. “I had a hard time accepting that this wasn’t a simulation designed to break me, but honestly, they started all this nonsense.” He sent her the data files from the drive over. It only took her a moment to view them.

“... You have a true pack of idiots. They mentioned different governments. What’s up with that?” she asked.

“Who knows. Anyways, let’s get the stupid reunions over with,” Church huffed. They returned to normal time.

“I have missed you! A lot!” Caboose cheered. The two AI facepalmed.

“I handle the big one, you get the other?” Church offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Tex agreed.
__________
After a bit of Caboose and Loco wrangling, they managed to learn that the two were both stupidly strong. And stupidly tall. Loco wasn’t as tall as Caboose, but he was close. Wash became best friends with a wall after he was lodged upside down in it, courtesy of Loco panicking.

Sarge aimed his gun at Flight, who was talking calmly with the two other women.

“Alright, ya pest! Start talking!” he barked. Flight barely payed him any attention.

“Val, how’s the work going?” she asked. The smallest woman huffed.

“Pretty bad. Pixie’s throwing a fit and keeps destroying our tools,” she replied. Flight frowned.

“I’ll make sure to fix that when I get back. Sphynx, how about your end? The mines and all that?” She turned to the other woman.

“Not bad. We are hauling out enough metals to keep up with your bratty underling’s tantrums,” she grinned. Flight snickered.

“Hey, until I get back, she’s one of your leaders, show her some respect,” Flight joked.

“I’m sorry, let me fix that. She is your bratty superior,” Sphynx laughed. Flight shuddered.

“Ugh, no thanks!” Sarge finally had enough. He pumped his shotgun menacingly.

“Shoot that, and the Watchers will capture you and take you to their idea of a jail. It’s a completely empty planet in another dimension,” Flight hissed. “You don’t want to be there.”

“How did you get here?” Wash asked, brushing himself off. Flight shrugged.

“Spiral told me this was where I was required. So, she brought me here,” she replied.

“We need to go, my friends. Hey, Sim Troopers!” Flight stood. “Next time you’re in the area, let Spiral know. She’ll call me and we can hang some more. On that note, never enter this area.” The other women stood with her.

“And tell your short tempered attack dog that I’m leaving,” she added. ‘Bye bye!” The three walked out the doors and turned a corner, vanishing. Whisper glided in.

“Was someone fighting?” it asked, pointedly staring at the wall. Oh boy.

Chapter Text

After a long explanation, Whisper allowed the group to leave. It did, however, tell them they were no longer welcome back to the Metal Colony for a long time. It took five minutes and the combined strength of Caboose and Loco to get Wash free from that wall. Church and the others were too busy laughing at him to help any.

“Pull from the groin! It’s the center!” Wash shrieked. Caboose was pulling on his legs and Loco had grabbed his arms. Whisper stood by, mostly confused.

“I am pulling!” Caboose cheerfully told Wash’s feet. “But you are just feet now!” Loco gasped.

“He walks on his hands?!” the other Blue squealed. “He is awesome!”

“But, he is merely upside down?” Whisper asked, very confused. Church stopped laughing long enough to move over to the Watcher.

“Nah, don’t try to reason with them. They’re not the brightest. Even Wash gives up sometimes,” he snickered.

“Caboose! Just teleport me out!” Wash finally shrieked. The Blue gasped.

“Of course! I will go get Carolina!” he announced triumphantly. “I will be back soon!” He grabbed Loco and the two vanished. Church felt his jaw drop.

“Since when could he do that?!” the AI exclaimed.

“Uhh, since like, Chorus,” Grif snorted. “Try paying more attention when we tell you things!” Simmons bopped him on the head.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk!” the cyborg muttered. Grif laughed.

“And you listen too much. I bet you were taking notes when we were talking with Church,” the Hawaiian snarked. Simmons blushed.

“They could be useful!” he weakly protested. Grif snorted.

“Sure, if we ever needed to reveal the Watchers to the galaxy,” he retorted. Simmons just swatted his arm.

“Get a room, you two!” Wash yelled from his position in the wall. The two blushed, but didn’t move apart. Grif raised an eyebrow and looped his arm around Simmons’ waist. Simmons swatted it away, blushing more furiously.

Caboose reappeared holding Carolina and Donut. Loco was holding his arm in a deathgrip, not that Caboose noticed.

“Yes! We are back!” Caboose announced. Carolina groaned.

“Never again,” she hissed. Donut looked clueless, as usual. Caboose dropped the two. Loco finally let go of his look-alike’s arm. Carolina looked at Wash and sighed.

“What are you doing?” she asked him. He frowned.

“Loco got a bit scared and panicked. I got hit,” he replied,glaring at the Blue. Carolina snickered as everyone else went back to laughing at him.

“It’s not funny!” he whined. Carolina smirked.

“Sure it’s not,” she replied. She went to work at getting Wash free, with Caboose and Loco ‘helping’. In other words, she tried to free him, and the two pulled on him again. After a good amount of work, he finally flew free and crashed into Caboose’s chest. A normal person would have stumbled or even fallen. Caboose didn’t even notice. He was too busy talking about Church to Loco.

“Hey, are we missing someone?” Donut suddenly asked. “I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Well, Doc’s somewhere. He’ll show up. Other than that, nah,” Grif lazily replied.

“Hmm, I feel like we’re missing someone metal!” Sarge cut in.

“I’m over here, sir,” Simmons raised his hand a bit.

“Oh. Nevermind,” Sarge huffed.
________
Lopez sighed. He would have stuck his face in his hand, but he was still taped to the wall. Thankfully, someone had installed a translation program, so he could understand Lorenzo, who was monologuing about something or another in front of him. Idiot.

“And once we have that pink idiot, we will make him suffer and eventually, kill him in front of you,” Lorenzo finished. He turned to face Lopez.

“Snore,” the Hispanic robot responded.

“Shelly! He’s not cooperating!” Lorenzo whined. Lopez looked offended.

“Wait, you wanted me to cooperate? Even though you kidnapped me?” he asked, amazed. “You are dumber than I thought. And that’s saying something!” Shelly slapped him hard enough to dent his face.

“Quiet!” she hissed.

“Nah,” Lopez retorted. “If anything, you should get that sorry excuse of a drone out of here!” Shelly hit him again.

“Shelly, thank you,” Lorenzo called out. “Now, Lopez, was it? Mind if I call you Lo?”

“Only if I can call you Idiot, idiot,” Lopez spat. Lorenzo ignored him.

“Well, Lo. If I get my way, and I will, you and your friends will die,” the Italian robot continued. Lopez scoffed.

“Yeah. That’s what Tex, and Wash, and CT, and Felix, and the Meta, and Hargrove, and Temple all thought. Look what happened to them. Trust me, I’ve tried to get them killed for years, and nothing works. They keep coming back,” Lopez told him. Lorenzo stared at him.

“Wait, really?” he asked. Lopez nodded.

“They’re idiots. Even when they kill one, they pull some sort of timeline nonsense and bring him back. Or he’s an AI,” the Hispanic robot confirmed. Lorenzo looked nervous.

“There’s no way that’s possible!” he retorted. “Even Biff died!” Lopez snorted.

“Well, if you don’t believe me, come over here and I’ll prove it!” he challenged. Lorenzo inched closer.

Closer,closer, Lopez thought. Now! He forced the tank that dissolved food to spew out the acid in it. The acid struck Lorenzo in the middle of the face. He turned to Shelly threateningly. She screamed, grabbed Lorenzo, and ran.

“Nice move, Lopez,” the computer he was holding told him. He forced more acid to melt the duct tape holding him.

“I’m going to get my revenge,” Lopez huffed. “But, let’s get you a body first, Shiela.”

Chapter Text

Doc blinked. Where was he? Those people had flooded for the hangar and taken him with them.

“So,” a man started, staring right at him. “What’s your name, and not your codename?” Doc blinked again.

“Mute? Alright. Just flip through and find your name,” the man told him, handing the medic a clipboard. He thumbed through it, pointing at a random name.

“Well, good to have you here, Frank,” the man smiled. “Medics are hard to come by on these pods, so it’s nice that you’re in here.” Doc took another look at the name he had pointed to.

Frank DuFrenne, low level medic Huh, would ya look at that. Doc grinned weakly.

“Ah, no worries, man. Most people don’t remember the younger medics exist, so they got their own list. I assumed that the red crosses on your sleeves meant you worked in medical, so I decided to try that list,” the man laughed. “You’re the newest one, yeah?” Doc nodded. Best to stay quiet.

“Well, welcome aboard. We must have snagged you off of Earth. Alright, let me explain something. We’re heading to Flight’s planet, Safety. Until you get there, we can’t tell you its real name. Once you reach Safety, stick with me. I’ll get you settled in my building. Then we’ll get you to the supply district, and you can get a change of clothes and some other stuff, like a toothbrush. After that, we have orientation for the newbies, and then I’ll take you back to your building,” the man listed. He counted each event off on his fingers, smiling warmly at Doc.

Dog smiled faintly. He’d be forgotten in ten minutes, just like always.

“I forgot to introduce myself,” the man laughed. “You can call me Ash.” The name suited him. He had gray hair and a pale complexion, but he only looked like he was in his mid-thirties. Doc waved.

“Hey, you’ll get your own nickname soon,” Ash told him. “And then you’ll get to decide if you want to stay a medic or if you want to change. I’m in the Medical Division as a supplier. At any rate, I need to see who else made it and report in. Here.” He passed Doc a comm unit and a lanyard with a nametag and a button at the end. After a moment of digging in his pockets, he also handed Doc a pen.

“Mark down your name on the tag. Use that button to call me if you need anything,” the pale man told him. Doc nodded. Ash disappeared among the milling people. Doc had just turned around when his blood ran cold. Red was in front of him, staring right at him.

“Frank, yes?” Doc nodded weakly. “Come, we need to have a little… talk.” All Doc could do was follow the tall man and hope he survived.
___________
Now that the Warthogs were fixed, it was time to decide on seating. Sarge, Wash, and Carolina went in the first one, and Grif, Simmons, and Donut went in the second one. Church elected to go with Caboose, Tucker, and Loco since he wanted to see Caboose teleport. Tex decided to go with him, to act as the voice of pain.

“Don’t you mean voice of reason?” Tucker had asked.

“Raisins! Yuck!” Caboose and Loco agreed.

“No, the voice of pain,” Tex had growled. Everyone had stayed quiet after that.

Alright, we’ll meet you there,” Church nodded. He was running through Caboose’s armor, but Tex decided to hook onto Tucker’s. Tucker scrambled onto Caboose’s back while Loco grabbed his arm again. Grif waved lazily.

“Have fun. Hey, what system was assigned to returning from a trip?” he asked Simmons. The cyborg frowned and pulled up a list.

“Umm… Matriarchy,” he replied. Slowly, everyone turned to face Carolina.

“Bye!” Except Caboose, who teleported away. Carolina just stared for a moment before sighing.
________
When Kimball walked out of Eclipse’s dwelling, she was expecting to see many things. Carolina and Sarge interrogating Flight. The Reds and Blues talking with Church. Even everyone napping. She was not expecting Caboose to appear with Loco, Tucker, Church, and Tex. She was not expecting Grif to pull up in a Warthog actually going a safe speed, with Sarge doing the same.

“Where’s Flight?” Kimball asked. Carolina puffed up angrily and pointed at Sarge.

“Well, when we went after her, she left the planet,” he admitted.

“And?” Carolina hissed.

“And we managed to get Wash stuck in a wall,” he continued.

“And?” Carolina prompted. Sarge sighed.

“And we got banned from the Metal Colony,” the colonel mumbled.

“And?” Carolina asked. Sarge blinked before grinning.

“And we’re back from the drive so this falls back under Malarky! WHOOO-HOOOOOOOO!” He floored the Warthog, as did Grif. Kimball turned to face Tucker.

“Please tell me they’re not doing what I think they’re doing,” she groaned. Tucker grinned.

“Caboose! Go play Demolition Derby with Loco!” he shouted. Church and Tex sat back as the two Blues raced into the fray.

“New game?” Church asked. Tucker nodded.

“Yeah. See, every so often, we need to let Caboose get himself worn out. Considering he can lift tons of weight, we decided that letting him chase heavily armored attack vehicles is the best choice.” Tucker smirked as Church burst out laughing.

“Well, I’m not going to argue,” he laughed. Kimball just sighed and put her face in her hands.

Chapter Text

“You are not quite who you claim,” Red stated. “And yet, I have confirmed that DuFrenne didn’t make it onboard.” Doc blinked in surprise. Red had taken him to his personal room, which was soundproofed.

“I got swept up by the crowd,” Doc admitted. Red nodded.

“Are you here to spy, or finish the job your juggernaut started?” he asked.

“Juggernaut?” the small medic asked.

“Unstoppable person. Caboose,” Red answered. Doc shook his head frantically.

“No! I don’t want to cause any trouble. Just give me a ship and I’ll leave,” he babbled. Red reached behind himself and rapped on the wall twice. Doc froze as the door opened and Pixie walked in.

“He is cleared. Take him back to Ash’s corridor,” Red told the merc. She glared at him.

“You do it,” she huffed. Red turned to face her.

“Pixie.” The word was said in the same tone, but for some reason, Pixie snorted and motioned for Doc to follow her.

“Doc, Ash doesn’t know. No one but Red and I recognized you. You could stay. We always need more medics. Or, you can leave. Go back to the people who forget you time after time. They left you to die before. Will you go back to them?” Pixie’s blue eyes gleamed in a darker patch of the corridor. Doc wasted no time.

“I’ll stay for a while,” he agreed. “But if I want, I can head back to them, right?” Pixie nodded.

“We won’t keep you against your will. You will be put in a pod with Ash and sent to Chorus. If you don’t find them, we will accept you back. At any rate, here’s Ash. Tell him if you like, but you’re not allowed to play mute,” Pixie grinned.

Doc nodded.

“DuFrenne! Hi!” Ash greeted warmly. Doc could feel O’Malley starting to take control.

“ Silence, you fool! ” O’Malley laughed. “ Now that I am on this ship, I will go and put Red Bull in all the vending machines. Then, when you are thirsty, there will be nothing good to drink! You will all be forced to taste Red Bull! Which is disgusting! ” Pixie burst out laughing.

“Ash, got a camera?” she snickered. Some random person passed the woman a camera. She took a few photos of Ash’s stunned expression. Doc felt his ears turning red as his face paled. Ash finally snapped himself into action.

“Dang, with a voice like that, who needs enemies?” he chuckled. Doc waved his hands frantically.

“No, I don’t normally sound like that!” he squeaked. “That’s O’Malley.” Ash nodded.

“O’Malley, huh? Split personality?” Pixie chimed in. Doc shook his head.

“I used to have the AI Omega in my head, and he was in there for so long, I accidentally split my mind,” he explained. He flinched as Ash’s hand landed lightly on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about him. We aren’t going to kick you out because of something like that,” Ash told him. The taller man grinned widely.

“Now, let’s get you a room,” he added.
___________
“Hmm,” Sarge muttered. “I feel like we’re forgetting someone. Someone brown. And made of metal.” The two Warthogs had been destroyed again, courtesy of two overly strong Blues ‘playing’. For their part, Caboose and Loco were unharmed. They were still playing tag, running from Carolina. She was enraged and needed a good target to take her aggression out on, so when Church and Tex pointed at the two Blues, she had eagerly gone after them. Kimball was inside their ship, making sure they had everything they needed before they left.

“Nah,” Grif waved a hand lazily. “We only know Lopez, and he’s back on Chorus.” Simmons nodded.

“Yeah, that merc got him there,” he agreed. Donut yawned.

“This sun is so nice and warm. I should strip!” Before anyone could react, he pulled his armor off and slumped against a rock. “~”

Simmons screeched with rage. Grif responded by wrapping one of his arms around the cyborg and pulling him to the ground. Tucker shrugged and peeled his own armor off. Church turned to stare at him.

“You guys are never out of your armor. What gives?” the AI demanded. Tucker shrugged.

“The sun is warm, and it’s not Blood Gulch or Chorus, so we’re all taking naps in the sun, apparently,” he replied, dropping to lay on his back. Church stared in fascination as his brown eyes changed to an unnatural teal.

“What’s up with-” He cut himself off, motioning to his eyes. Tucker raised his head.

“Crunchbite. I also got some wicked tats. Girls dig tattoos.”

“How would you know?” Grif snickered. Tucker smirked.

“Just ask your sister,” he shot back. Grif almost sat up, but responded by lazily making a rude gesture in return. Tucker laughed.

“Help!” Wash shrieked. He had been nosing around and found a stuck creature. Unfortunately, rescuing it meant that he himself was now stuck. Sarge flopped down, still in armor.

“Sorry, I’m just an old man,” the colonel grinned. “My muscles are too feeble to help!” Donut shot up.

“We could always lube you up! Then you can slide in nice and easy!” he exclaimed. Simmons didn’t respond with any words, but his mechanical parts started whirring dangerously. Grif lazily swatted at him.

Naptime,” he insisted. Wash struggled even more as Donut came closer.

“No! I think I’m almost out! Really,” the freelancer shrieked. Donut was digging in his pocket when Caboose and Loco thundered to Wash’s side. Instead of pulling him free, they pulled the walls towards him. Wash shrieked.

“Other way! Other way!” he yelled. Carolina was slinking to get behind the two Blues when they finally got Wash free. Unfortunately, Loco’s wall crashed onto Donut. Donut made a little ‘huh’ noise before it hit him.

Loco froze and curled into himself. Caboose didn’t seem to notice him as he worked to get the wall off of Donut’s corpse.

“Hey, Loco, come here,” Grif called. The Blue slowly made his way over to the orange soldier.

“Lay down with us,” Simmons offered. Loco fidgeted nervously.

“But, I- I killed him,” he stammered. Grif snorted.

“Yeah, Wash did that. And Sarge. And a desert. And multiple bombs. He’ll be back,” the Hawaiian grinned. Loco slowly lowered himself.

“Naptime!” Grif cheered. Caboose dropped Donut’s body on the rock he had been on earlier before grabbing Wash and Carolina. Before they could react, he flopped down onto the ground. Unfortunately, they were trapped under him. At least they could still breathe.