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“Oh, it is so good to be back.”
Tucker turned around with the rest of the Reds and Blues and felt his heart freeze over. Felix was standing at the entrance to Blue base, his armor hardly even scratched, as if nothing had happened since their last encounter. Felix , who he’d spent many late nights convincing himself was dead for the sake of his sanity, was back , and he had Caboose in a chokehold, with a gun to his helmet.
He almost blamed it on a hallucination, but everyone else spun around at the same exact time. Sarge lifted his shotgun with a sharp grunt; Carolina and Wash were already eyeing Felix down the barrel of their guns, fingers resting over the triggers.
“Hey, hey, I think we can all chill out for a second, alright?” Felix’s smug, charismatic voice was already digging layers beneath his skin. Tucker had to look away from him or he’d go mad. Caboose was choking in his hold; his gun had clattered to the ground when he’d first been grabbed, and his hands were tugging on Felix’s arm.
‘Get off him, get off him, get off him--’
“I think we can get all nice and personal for a minute, too. Does that sound nice?” Even with the suit on, Tucker could see Caboose’s full-body shiver as Felix managed to single-handedly remove his helmet completely, dropping it to the floor with a ‘clunk’ . Any resistance the rest of the red or blue team had been planning on disappeared, as the gun was pressed harshly against the side of his unprotected head. Caboose’s bright blue eyes fixed themselves on Tucker, and he felt a primal rage pounding in his skull.
“Why can’t all you Freelancers and mercenaries just stay dead?!” Sarge shouted.
“Not including you two!” Simmons quickly added, with a backwards glance to Wash and Carolina.
Felix chuckled. “Wow. The idea that any of you thought you’d actually killed me with such a pathetic attempt, and with so little evidence to go on -- I gotta say, that’s some funny shit right there.”
“Let him go,” Tucker demanded.
“You know what, I don’t think I will,” Felix hissed back, giving Caboose a small, condescending head pat, and he squeaked for air. “I think I’m gonna need this one for a little while.”
“Don’t you dare!” Carolina shouted, her voice harsher than it’d been in a long time, since before she joined the Reds and Blues, since before Project Freelancer had been terminated.
Her tone only seemed to get Felix’s gun pressed deeper into the side of Caboose’s head, though he did loosen his hold enough for Caboose to take a big, gasping breath. “I would dare, actually.” Felix huffed. “You’re all so weak. So eager to give up the fight at a moment’s notice, and all for what? The weakest link in the chain? Honestly, what has this big blue buffoon ever done for you that hasn’t backfired?”
“Don’t,” Tucker said through clenched teeth.
“Don’t what? Speak the truth?”
“Caboose, don’t listen to him,” Wash commanded.
Caboose forced a smile. “Okay! Don’t listen to Tucker!”
“What?! Caboose, gimme a fucking break!”
“Quiet!” Felix snapped, and the room settled. “I won’t say it again. Lay down your weapons, or I’ll start firing.”
There was a few seconds of a delay, and a moment later Felix’s gun was drawn away from Caboose’s head and pointed at the Red team.
There wasn’t even a moment to think. The booming sound of a gun being fired at close range sent them all into temporary shock. Tucker almost didn’t notice Simmons was lying on the ground, a strangled, watery sound coming from beneath his helmet.
“Fuck! Simmons!” Grif dropped to his knees, leaning close to the fallen soldier. His head hovered over Simmons’ for a moment, and suddenly his body went rigid. “W-Wash…”
“Grif…?” Sarge still kept an eye on Felix, a finger hovering over the trigger.
Wash kept his eye on Felix as he slowly approached the body, then kneeled down beside it. Grif had turned Simmons’ helmet to the side, leading to a small, pained whine from inside. “Wash, he -- I think it got his throat or something, he -- I have to get his helmet off.”
“Not here ,” Tucker hissed, glaring viciously at Felix. “Not with him .”
“That was your warning shot,” Felix announced, bringing the gun back to Caboose’s head. “I’m not asking again. Drop your damn weapons!”
“... Do it,” Wash commanded. Carolina huffed in disdain, but she led the group in removing her hidden weapons and letting them fall to the ground. Sarge glanced skeptically down at Grif and Simmons, then swore and released his shotgun before moving to stand over them.
“What’s goin’ on here?” he demanded.
“Get his helmet off,” Carolina commanded. Wash followed her order this time, pulling the maroon helmet off gently, and sucking in a deep breath at what he saw.
Simmons’ eyes were wide in terror, but glazed over. His body was convulsing, the pale bits of his face that weren’t covered in metal or blood turning blue. Blood was pouring out of his neck; Wash immediately started removing his armor, to get some sort of cloth to hold against it, but then Felix spoke up.
“Alright, alright, your weapons are down. Now, step away from the body.”
Grif’s head snapped up. “ What?! ”
“I said, step away from the body,” Felix replied. “You’re not gonna save him; I made sure it was fatal. So, step aside, and listen to the rest of my demands.”
“Over my dead fucking body!” Grif screamed, placing his hands on either side of Simmons’ face. Simmons let out a low whimper, but he didn’t so much as tilt his head.
Felix aimed his gun. “If you say so.”
“Grif, move!” Wash cried. Sarge stuck his arms underneath Grif’s and dragged him away from Simmons.
“No! Sarge, stop it!” He desperately tried to swat the arms away, but Sarge didn’t let up, angling him away from Felix’s gun. “We can save him!”
Carolina glanced down at Simmons’ body, then shook her head. “He’s… He’s already gone.”
“What?!” Grif turned back to the body. “He’s still moving, he -- shut the fuck up!”
“He’s convulsing. His nerves are severed. I know what this looks like, Grif. Felix was right; he’ll be dead in seconds.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Hey, hey, I appreciate your analysis of my work here, but you all should really start moving before you lose another one of you.” Felix tapped Caboose’s head with his gun. Caboose’s eyes were lingering sadly on Simmons’ body, but there was something hard in those blue eyes as well. Tucker knew that look; he just hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash.
“Why are you doing this?” Carolina hissed.
“Why? Because I can. Because I want to. And because I deserve to get at least some joy out of the absolute fucking bullshit you all put me through!”
“What do you want?” Wash demanded. “What do you want us to do?”
Felix chuckled darkly. “What do I want you to do…?” His gaze passed over each individual soldier. “I just want you to suffer. And you will, I promise you that. I just haven’t figured out exactly how I want it done yet.”
“Simmons…” Grif strained his arm toward the maroon armor, but Sarge had him in too tight a lock to reach very far. Wash sighed, closing Simmons’ eyelids before standing up. He slowly stepped away from the body, his arms raised in surrender.
“He’s gone.”
“No…” Tears welled up in Donut’s eyes.
“He can’t .” Grif struggled to free himself, but Sarge’s arms only tightened. “Sarge, shotgun,” he whispered.
“Not now,” Sarge mumbled back.
“If not now, then when?” Grif’s eyes strayed behind them, where on the other side of the base, a warthog sat in wait. The problem was, Grif wouldn’t get two feet without a bullet in the back of his neck.
“I’ve got a record of no soldiers lost in this war. I’m not breaking it twice in one day. Even if it just so happens to be you, dirtbag.”
Grif growled. “Fuck you, Sarge.” His voice cracked at the last syllable, and though Tucker would never call Sarge sentimental, he was fairly sure Sarge’s helmet had lowered to gently rest upon Grif’s shoulder.
“Now.” Felix cleared his throat. “All your weapons. I want you to kick them over to me, one by one. No funny movements. No synchronized movements. One. By. One.” He nodded to Wash. “You first.”
Everyone’s eyes fell on Washington as he raised his arms higher, keeping his back straight and unthreatening. He dragged back his left foot and then slammed it forward, kicking his gun across the gap between them, where it landed inches from Felix’s foot. He did the same with the rest of his weapons, kicking his knife onto the top of his foot and then swinging it forward until it crossed half the distance between them. Felix nodded satisfactorily.
“Good boy, Wash. You always were the best at following orders.” He turned his attention onto Carolina then. “You next.”
Carolina lifted her first gun carefully onto her foot, her eyes glancing up at Felix to judge the distance. She kicked it over to him, then allowed her eyes to meet Caboose’s. She saw the hard look behind those misty eyes, and hoped that he got the message. She lifted the second gun onto her foot, then faked a stumble over her knife beneath her other foot. As her body leaned forward, Felix was already taking action, squeezing the trigger. Caboose had tilted his head just out of the way enough to avoid certain death, but the bullet still went right through his ear.
The BAM of the gunshot was the last sound Caboose ever heard.
The sickening sound of the shot and the sight of Caboose beginning to stumble, his face scrunched up in pain and blood falling from his head, made Tucker see red. Carolina’s gunshots fired off at Felix as everyone scrambled back for their weapons. Even with an open bullet wound in his ear, Caboose had enough sense to try and leap out of the way, but he was too disoriented and unbalanced from his injury and sudden deafness to know which way was which. Felix tightened his grip on him and swung him right back into the line of fire. Carolina’s gun blasted Felix in the arm, and he lost grip on Caboose, but Felix had already swung him right into her second shot, which hit him square in the chest.
“ Caboose! ” Tucker cried, ducking down to grab his sword and sprinting forward, Washington closing in on the other side. Caboose began to collapse, but Felix grabbed the back of his neck with his left hand and held him up in front of him, preventing Carolina from firing another shot.
“You fucking idiots!” Felix shouted, groaning as he forced his gun arm back up in the air. Caboose’s wheeze was the last thing Tucker heard from him before Felix’s gun returned to Caboose’s temple.
“Caboose!” he cried, and despite his inability to hear, those blue eyes somehow found and latched onto his for just a moment. Then his eyelids fluttered shut, and they didn’t open again.
Tucker was five yards away when the shot fired.
***
“Tucker…? Tucker !” Arms were shaking him. A voice was sounding off in the distance, muffled as though he were underwater. The arms shook him harder. “Tucker! Tucker!”
He blinked and came back to his senses with the smell of blood. His alien sword was lying on the ground at his feet, the blade reverted. Tucker was standing over a set of orange armor cut up into dozens of pieces and bathing in a red liquid and other gooey bits Tucker didn’t want to think about. His body was trembling; Wash had stopped shaking him, but he still couldn’t stop the little vibrations reverberating through his body.
“Tucker…” The arms circled around him ever so gently. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry…” Both palms lingered on his back, just beneath his shoulder blades, hardly pulling him in at all. He figured it was meant to be comforting, but not stifling. It didn’t matter; Tucker wasn’t feeling much of anything at all. He was dangerously numb.
Tucker’s eyes traveled from the dismembered orange armor to the dark blue set lying a few meters away; one corpse had been dragged away from the other. Carolina had taken off her helmet and was sobbing over the blue armor. Tucker told himself that it wasn’t Caboose in there. If he thought about Caboose being dead, if he allowed himself to process it, he was afraid he’d go red again, and this time a certain Freelancer would be at the other end of his sword.
“FUCK!”
Tucker turned his head. Grif was leaning over Simmons’ body again. Grif’s armor was scattered all over the place, his shirt off and pressed into the wound, but it wasn’t bleeding much anymore. Sarge was watching him from a careful distance, and Donut was weeping at Simmons’ side. Tucker felt a kinship with Grif as he saw the orange soldier scream, trying to convince Simmons to open his damn eyes. But Simmons wasn’t waking up. Not again. Not ever.
Neither was Caboose.
Neither was Felix.
And this time, they weren’t just rumors, just assumed deaths. They were real. Church, Tex, Caboose, Simmons… They were never coming back. Tucker felt so excruciatingly alone.
“I’m sorry.” Wash lowered his head over Tucker’s shoulder, his voice shaking, but no tears streaming from his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tucker. And I know you don’t want to hear this right now… Not from me. But... I’m still here for you. I’m still here.”
‘All I want to do is stand around and talk to my friend, but he’s gone now, and all I’ve got is you!’
Tucker couldn’t pretend he didn't care anymore. He dug his head into Wash’s shoulder, squeezed his arms tight around the only close friend he had anymore, and cried.