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Tucker paced around his room unhappily, his armor clunking against the metal floor. Caboose watched from his bed, quiet for once. Tucker hadn't looked at him for ten minutes, so he wasn't exactly sure if Caboose was actually still awake. It was pretty late, after all.
The time was what was worrying Tucker. Two hours ago, Kimball had told the group that their five days were up. She was having a meeting with Felix right now. The hope of rescuing Wash was depending on the merc's opinion of their team. So Tucker had reason to be so jittery.
They had only managed to sneak up on Felix and distract him long enough to allow Tucker to tackle him yesterday. Even though he thought that they were ready, Tucker still doubted Felix's faith in them.
To be honest, Tucker wasn't sure if he had complete faith in his team either. Sure, they had gotten Felix, but he was pretty sure that Locus was better than him. If it had taken them this long to get just one guy, how could they get a whole army?
Tucker tired to push aside his concerns and focus on the positive side. Pretty much everyone had improved drastically. Bitters was actually good with firearms. Smith's arm was comparable to Donut's. Jensen was great with her hands and machines. Palomo had gotten better at hand to hand combat and had quick reflexes. Tucker might even trust the idiot on the battlefield now.
It wasn't just the Rebel soldiers who had gotten better. Simmons could efficiently communicate now. Grif had seen Bitters's lazy attitude and learned to do his job. Even Caboose had gotten, if possible, stronger. The dude was built like a fucking tank.
Tucker wasn't sure how he'd improved. He wasn't the smartest on the team. He wasn't the strongest, the fastest, or the best. All he knew was that he'd tried. He'd tried as hard as he could. He just hoped that it was enough.
The heavy metal door to their shared room creaked open, interrupting Tucker's deep thinking. Kimball stood in the doorway, a grim expression on her face. Tucker's heart sank in disappointment. She was going to say no.
"Congratulations, Captain Tucker. Against my better judgement, Felix convinced me to allow the rescue operation. I need your team debriefed and outside in ten minutes," Kimball said, her mouth set in a straight line.
Tucker blinked in shock as Kimball left, closing the door behind her. They were going to rescue Wash. They were actually going to get him back.
He couldn't help but smile, before turning to Caboose. The blue solider was snoozing on his bed. Caboose had insisted he have the top bunk, but after one night of fear, he refused to go back up their ever again.
Tucker gripped his shoulder and shook him gently. "Caboose, wake up. It's time to get ready. Come on buddy."
Caboose slowly opened his eyes, looking grumpy. "Whaaaaaat?"
"Time to go get Wash back."
The words had barely left Tucker's mouth, when Caboose leaped out of bed and scrambled to his armor. As Caboose got dressed, Tucker walked next door to wake up Grif and Simmons.
He rapped on their door, earning an annoyed groan from Grif, but Simmons opened it immediately. He had probably been waiting as anxiously as Tucker had.
"Did Kimball say anything?" Simmons looked hopeful. Sometimes Tucker forgot that Sarge and Donut had been captured with Wash. Sarge's disappearance had definitely affected both Simmons and Grif, though neither would admit it.
Tucker nodded. "Get ready and meet us outside as soon as possible."
Simmons's jaw went slack, before the door was slammed in Tucker's face. He could hear Simmons barking orders at Grif through the thick walls. "Get up assface! Get dressed, too!"
Tucker jogged down a few doors, until he was outside the lieutenant's room. Not bothering to knock this time, he burst in, just like Wash used to. "Come on, what are you guys doing out of armor? We have a rescue mission to perform!"
Bitters and Palomo jolted awake, looking confused. Jensen scrambled to put her armor on. Smith looked up from the pistol he had been cleaning and offered up a half-smile. Tucker nodded in appreciation, then turned his attention to the group. "Be outside in two minutes."
"Two?" Palomo whined, struggling to get his chestplate on.
Tucker narrowed his eyes at the private. "You're a solider Palomo, you should be able to do it in one minute. Should I make it one?"
The entire group was suddenly glaring at a sheepish Palomo. "No, sir."
"Good. We'll be waiting for you." With that, Tucker left the room, leaving them to get dressed in peace.
He walked through the halls, rushing to meet up with Kimball. He walked through the large doorway and outside, where it was dark and humid. Tucker could feel the wet air even through his armor. Crickets chirped from a patch of grass nearby, interrupting the quiet night. Two Warthogs were parked near the entrance.
They were actually going to go get Wash. He would finally be back with them, so things could go back to normal. Tucker could almost see their rescue in his head. He would find Wash and cut down any Feds in his way. It would absolutely sweep Wash off his feet.
Tucker paused, suddenly tempted to take his helmet off, something he almost never did nowadays. He played with the idea of pulling it off for just a minute while he waited for the others.
The roar of a Warthog's engine quickly wiped the idea away.
Felix pulled up next to him and jumped out of the third cat-like car. "You ready?" For once, the merc was completely serious.
Tucker shrugged, not saying anything. To be honest, he didn't know if he was ready.
Felix watched him carefully for a few moments, before saying something. "Tucker, I need to talk to you about Locus."
This surprised Tucker. Usually at any mention of Locus, Felix would clam up and refuse to say anything. Tucker cast Felix a sideways glance. The mercenary wasn't looking at him, but instead at his boots.
"He's... A bad guy, Tucker. A really bad guy."
Tucker snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."
"No, you don't understand. Locus is the kind of person who'll torture and kill people without a second thought. He has no morals, he'll do anything as long as he gets paid. It doesn't matter who you are, you're just another target to him," Felix spat out.
The intensity in Felix's voice was shocking. It sounded like this was on a personal level. Tucker didn't say anything though, he thought that he knew where this was going.
Felix sighed, as if he sensed Tucker's apprehension. "What I'm saying Tucker, is that Wash might not be okay after this."
Tucker knew deep down that Felix was right. The thought made him sick to his stomach, so he was glad when Grif, Simmons, and Caboose joined them.
The Grif-shot was strapped to Grif's back, making Tucker smile a bit. He wondered what that Maine guy would've thought when he saw such an incompetent solider with his most prized possession.
Then Tucker realized that Grif wasn't incompetent anymore. He was a capable captain with good strategic skills. Grif now brought extra ammo with him everywhere and wasn't caught dead without grenades.
Tucker found himself staring at the orange solider until the rest of the team arrived. They all looked jittery, even Smith, who was usually cool and calm.
Tucker could see Kimball watching them. He sighed, knowing what was expected of him. He jumped up onto a Warthog, putting himself above everybody else. He was silent until everyone was looking his way.
"You're probably all terrified. I know I am." Tucker paused, trying to think of what he was going to say. The group stared blankly up at him. "You've all heard stories of Locus, how he can rip off heads and tear limbs. I think that they're just stories. I've seen people who can do those things, and believe me, Locus isn't one of them. Grif has told you all about how we brought down Project Freelancer. We did that through teamwork. Today, we're going to need to work together. This mission is dangerous. But if we can take down Felix, we can take down Locus."
Kimball stepped forward. "Thank you, Captain Tucker. It's time to leave, is everyone ready?"
"Yes ma'am!" Smith saluted Kimball. "It's been an honor working with all of you, especially you, Captain Caboose."
Caboose looked over at Smith, suddenly seeming concerned. "You're not going anywhere, right Smith?"
Smith shook his head. "No, sir! I'm staying right by your side through this whole time."
Caboose nodded, satisfied, "Yes. Good."
"Alright, now that the mushy part is over with, get in the Warthogs," Felix announced, giving Palomo a little push to prove his point.
"Shotgun!" Simmons called out and jumped into a passenger side before anyone could say anything else.
Grif grumbled unhappily and slowly climbed into the driver's seat, taking his time. Bitters got onto the back, taking the gunners position.
In the second Warthog, Jensen offered to drive, much to everyone's relief. They were all secretly scared to let Caboose near the Warthog again and for all of Smith's talents, using machinery was not not of them. Smith was good at using the gun, however, so he took that spot instead.
Felix climbed into the driver's side without saying anything. Tucker supposed that it was for the best, neither him or Palomo was a good driver. Tucker claimed shotgun, leaving Palomo in the back.
Kimball nodded at them, but directed her gaze at Tucker. "Good luck."
Tucker couldn't bring himself to return the warmth.
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The drive took five hours. By the time they got there, it was morning and everyone was tired. The only upside was that hopefully the Feds were tired too.
They all loaded out of the car and walked to the chain link fence that surrounded the compound. Grif let out a slow whistle at the size of the building as they all stared in shock.
Felix, who had seen it before, was unfazed. He pulled out a pair of wire cutters and started working at the fence.
"How the hell are we going to find them in that place? They could be anywhere!" Simmons exclaimed, looking around for suggestions.
Felix shook his head. "Right wing is where Locus keeps the prisoners. They'll probably be at the end."
"So... What's the call, then?" Palomo asked, looking from Felix to Tucker.
Everyone turned and looked at Tucker, who had been silent the whole ride there. Tucker pointed at Grif, Bitters, Caboose, and Smith. "You guys will be a distraction. Go as far away from the right wing as you can and blow shit up." Grif and Bitters suddenly looked interested and Caboose nodded happily while Smith saluted him.
Tucker paused, then pointed at Simmons and Jensen. "You two break into the security room and monitor everything. Keep an eye on all of us and warn us of anything bad. Felix will get you in there, then he'll secure a way out for everyone." Jensen and Simmons both straightened up, looking unusually confident. Felix just shrugged, as if he didn't care.
Tucker turned to Palomo, who looked anxious at not receiving an assignment. "Palomo, you're with me. We'll be in the right wing looking for Wash, Sarge, and Donut." Palomo perked up when he realized that he wasn't being left out.
"Use your radios to keep in touch, report everything, and don't get caught. Call for help if you need to. Everyone good?" Tucker asked, not waiting for a response. "Then let's go."
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It took Felix ten minutes to point everyone in the right direction. Tucker had been on edge the whole time, waiting for a group of Feds to round the corner. They didn't get caught though, and in no time, Palomo and him were standing at the entrance to the right wing.
It was a dim hallway, lined with rows of doors. Lights flickered all the way to the end, as if nobody ever bothered to change them.
Tucker turned to Palomo. "Set your trackers just in case. If you get anything big on them, go invisible. Try not to overuse it, the units are a little bit banged up. They might fail."
Palomo nodded and hurriedly set his trackers as Tucker waited impatiently. He talked as he fiddled with the controls. "What's the plan?"
Tucker glanced down the hallway again. "We'll need to split up. Look in the front cells for Sarge, Donut, and Wash. I'll check in the back." He decided.
Palomo shot him a nervous glance. Tucker had to admit, it was a pretty daunting task. Palomo didn't say anything though, he just nodded and turned to the first cell.
The radio in Tucker's helmet crackled to life. "Green team, this is Orange and Blue team. We're set up, detonating on your call," Smith announced.
"Great. Red team, are you good?" Tucker asked.
"Good to go, Captain Tucker." Jensen responded.
"Felix?"
"Working on a way out, don't worry about me," Felix replied.
Tucker nodded. "Detonate on my mark, Blue team. 3, 2... 1."
The ground shook as something exploded in the distance. Several people called out in surprise from the cells. Alarms blared on, flashing red.
"Green team, this is Red team. You're good to go," Simmons confirmed.
Tucker nodded to Palomo, who peeked into a cell. Tucker started walking down the hall, wincing at the sound his armor made against the floor.
As he passed cells, people would yell. They would ask what was going on, who he was. Tucker kept his head down, trying to avoid their gazes.
"Hey, you! What in Sam hell is going on here?"
Tucker's head snapped up and he found himself staring at an annoyed Sarge. Sarge clearly didn't recognize him, Tucker could tell from the grumpy crease of his eyebrows and the angry glare. Sarge's bruised face was pressed up against the small window in the door of his cell. Tucker took a step toward him.
"Sarge?" Tucker asked quietly. He couldn't help himself, it was good to see the old red, even if they had tried to kill each other on several occasions.
"Yeah, numb nuts. Who'd ya think you were talking to?"
Tucker rolled his eyes, but didn't respond. Instead, he hissed over at Palomo. "Palomo, get over here now."
Sarge suddenly looked suspicious. "I don't know any Palomos. Is he new? Are you new?"
Tucker pulled out his energy sword and quickly cut the lock on the door, catching it before it fell to the ground. Sarge stood in the now-open doorway, looking amazed. "Tucker? Is that you?"
As he put his sword away, Tucker nodded. Palomo jogged over, staring at Sarge. "Captain?"
"Captain?" Sarge roared, suddenly indignant.
"Shut up!" Tucker shushed Sarge quickly. "I'm gonna go look for Washington. Sarge, can you help Palomo find Donut?"
Sarge thankfully shut up, but still looked unhappy at Tucker's knew rank.
Tucker continued his walk down the hallway until he reached the very back. He used his thermals to scan through the metal doors of the last cells. One was empty, but the other picked up something. Hoping that he wasn't making a mistake, Tucker pulled out his sword once again and sliced the lock. He didn't bother preventing its small clatter.
Tucker warily pushed open the door, glancing inside the small cell. Leaning against the wall was a bloody, unconscious, and broken Washington.
He was unable to do anything for about ten seconds, then he quietly walked over to him. "Wash?" He asked tentatively.
Wash just groaned and flipped him off.
Tucker laughed at the insult and bent down. As a last minute thought, he pulled off his helmet. "Hey asshole, are you dead?"
Wash looked up at him in surprise. Tucker grinned as Wash's jaw dropped. "Tucker?"
"Here," Tucker offered Wash a hand.
Instead of taking his hand like a normal person, Wash did the thing that Tucker expected the least. Wash grabbed his face and smashed their lips together. Tucker flailed in shock, before leaning into the kiss hesitantly, because honestly, that wasn't at all what he was expecting.
It wasn't by any means the best kiss. It was rushed and rough and Wash's mouth tasted like blood. It wasn't the most romantic either, because of the whole prison thing. But it was the most personal kiss Tucker had ever shared in his life.
They broke away, both breathing heavily, before Tucker laughed. "Come on, let's get you out of this place."