Chapter Text
Agent Washington and Caboose stared up at outpost 48A… or at least, what was left of it. There was a huge crater in the defense wall, the lone chaingun defence was rusted beyond any form of use, and perhaps most obvious of all…
There was nobody in sight, and especially nothing to defend from. Quite frankly, it seemed like the outpost was abandoned years ago- Wash assumed it was likely because any simulation troopers posted there would have no one to fight, given that the opposite base had, apparently, either been swallowed by the earth, or simply was never built. Either way, the idea of the person they were here to meet actually being present seemed… far-fetched, to say the least.
Wash looked over at Caboose again. “And you’re sure this is where we can find this guy?”
“I think so.” Caboose was still craning his neck to stare at the high walls of the outpost. “We all found out our new orders at the same time. He tried to hide his from me so I would not know where he was.”
“Really. I can’t imagine why.” he replied dryly, and returned to examining the fortifications in their way.
“I said it was like a game of hide and seek, and he said that that was right! And the only way he could win, is if he dies without ever seeing me again!”
“...and he knows about Freelancer as well?”
“Oh, yeah, he knows the most! He knows all about your A.I. game! He dated Tex!”
Wash whirled around incredulously. “A-agent Texas? How could a person-”
His horrified curiosity did not last long, because a loud gunshot had his brain on an immediate swap to combat mode. He dropped to the ground, and scrambled into cover behind a conveniently located boulder. “Fuck! Sniper! Get down!”
Caboose did not move. Wash could pretty clearly imagine the dumb look on his face under the Mark V helmet. From somewhere above, a very angry man’s voice called down to them. “Okay, that was your one warning shot! The next one’s going right between your eyes!”
“Private Caboose! Get down!” Wash yelled.
“Waaaait a minute.” Caboose said suspiciously, still not bothering to take cover as he was ordered.
“Alright, I warned ya! Sayonara, biatch!” more gunshots rained down- sending up blasts of hot sand as they went wide over and over. “Ah, come on, what the fuck!”
“I know that voice!” the bright blue soldier cried. “Church! Church, it’s me! Your all-time best friend!”
“Caboose? Caboose, is that you?”
“Yes! Church! It’s me!” At Caboose’s words, Church began to fire again, a bit more like a frenzied attempt to fend off a charging bear than actual sniper work. Caboose was completely unfazed, and continued calling out even as bullets pinged off the ground all around him. “I have missed you so much! It has been so long! Did you miss me?!”
There was a brief pause, presumably as Church reloaded. “Fuck! I missed him!”
“I knew you did!” Caboose cheered.
“Go. Away.” Church yelled. Then, more distantly- spoken back into the base- “Ali, come on, you’re good with this thing, help me out here!”
Another, much more distant voice responded, indecipherable but distinctly nonchalant. “Bitch!” Church shouted, and started firing again.
“This… is your friend?” Wash asked incredulously, having to shout over the rifle fire.
“Yeah!” Caboose said cheerfully.
“...and he’s shooting at you.”
“Well, at me, and stuff around me.” he shrugged casually. “Yeah, it is kind of like our thing- so, he acts like he doesn't like me, but he really does. Oh! and he might bring up something about me killing him, but that's only... Uh, it's a joke. You could play along if you want!”
It was abundantly clear that it was not a joke. “Wait, that doesn’t make any sense. You did what? You… you killed hi-”
“Hey, scram! Seriously, get the fuck out of here!” Church appeared in the previously vacant-seeming sniper nest. To Wash’s horror, Caboose simply sauntered up even closer- but it seemed like perhaps the cobalt-armoured man had finally exhausted his ammo reserves, because he did not take advantage of the improved shooting conditions.
“Hey Church! This is Agent Washington! He needs to speak to you!” Wash stood up at his words, hoping that Church was finished taking pot shots.
“Agent Wa- You brought a Freelancer here?” Church sputtered, reaching for his pistol as if he was expecting better luck with a less accurate weapon. “What’s wrong with you?!”
“Open this gate!” Wash called up, raising his battle rifle to imply ‘I can actually shoot you if you miss me’.
“Uh, no can do bud!” Church told him staunchly. “See, this is a secure facility: nobody in, nobody out. Sorry, I guess you'll have to come back... never.”
“Oh no.” Washington deadpanned. “I guess we’ll have to just… walk through the huge hole in your secure wall.”
There was a beat of silence. Wash stared at Church. Church glared at Wash. Caboose looked between them both like an excited puppy, unaware that there were such tensions. “Ugh. Fine.” he said finally, and turned into the base. “Hey! Guys! Open the fucking gate!” distant unintelligible responses replied, and Church scoffed. “What? Don’t be a fucking dick, it’s your base too- I wasn’t doing target practice ! There’s- oh, fuck it, whatever, I’ll do it myself. Goddamn…”
His voice faded away as he stormed off into the base, and after a few moments of awkward silence, the gate slid open and Caboose bounded inside, barely even checking to ensure Wash was with him.
If the outside of the base was concerning, the interior was horrifying. Vehicles were strewn across a small courtyard, but aside from a single warthog that appeared to be under repair, they were all dilapidated far past working order. Rubble lay all across the ground, and the two buildings of the base had crumbling concrete walls and rusted metal awnings. In the only part of the courtyard that was actually cleared, there was a single mannequin wearing an unfamiliar helmet model. Burn marks and bullet holes peppered the humanoid plastic shape, which suggested it had been subject to serious abuse. Given the local resident’s apparent anger issues, this was not surprising to Wash in the slightest.
Church appeared in a doorway. “Okay, well, sorry the place is so messy.” he told them, not sounding very sorry at all. “We would have cleaned up if we knew someone was coming, but… you know, no one called ahead.”
Wash looked around at the disarray. “How… long have you been here?”
“How long… hm, what day is today?”
“Today is Tuesday.”
“We’ve been here fourteen months.”
Wash’s jaw dropped. “What? Over a year? How many of you are there?” he didn’t add the ‘in this shithole’ part, but he was thinking it.
“Well, yeah. There’s me, and Kris, and the-” Church turned towards the building across from him, and yelled, “BITCH ON THE RED TEAM!”
“...you’ve been living in the same base as the enemy?” Wash was suddenly struck by how much of a fucking joke the ‘war’ between the simulation troopers really was.
“Yeah.” Church grumbled. “And she doesn’t even pay rent.”
“Our arrangement never seems to bother you much when I fix all the shit you break.”
A woman in grey and purple armour strode out of the building Church had yelled at, carrying a warthog tire, and froze for a moment staring at Wash before cocking her head. She recognized him, but decided it would be best to pretend she did not, and instead sent off a helmet-bourne instant message to her cousin. After a moment, she spoke, voice dry and scathing. “So. You weren’t missing your practice shots, you were missing… actual shots, on intruders. And when you couldn’t hit them, you… invited them in for lunch?”
“Oh, fuck off, it’s not as if this base is secure . I mean, hell, we’re supposed to be on separate armies. If you’re in here, that’s about as un-secure as it can get.”
“How is she on the red team?” Wash asked, dumbfounded. “I thought purple is the medic colour.”
“Nope. Purple is red team.” she said stiffly.
“ No , purple is blue team. We’ve been over this, you just stole our colour.” Church objected.
“Listen, man, I’m the one who’s purple, here. I’m the authority on the subject. And I’m telling you that purple is red!”
“Purple is not red.” Another voice sounded from behind Church. Yet another woman emerged from the base- and she had purple trim on her black armour. “I’m purple too- purple’s blue.”
“Purple isn’t red OR blue! purple is purple!” Caboose yelled.
“Technically, purple is actually red and blue, Caboose.” the new woman said. She then stared at Wash for a moment. She had known from the other woman’s message that he was here- but did not say that, because she was making the wise choice to be sneaky. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Agent Washington! He wants us to come on a secret mission with him!” Caboose told her cheerfully. “Oh man, this is gonna be great! We can be, like a special club, of best friends!”
The two women shared a look. “Nice to meet you Agent Washington.” they chorused.
“For the first time ever.”
“Because we have never encountered a freelancer before.”
“Except for Texas.”
“And Wyoming.”
“I am Ali.”
“I’m Kris.”
Wash didn’t know how to feel about the newly extended group. It seemed that, perhaps, every last one of the sim troopers were just really fucking weird. “You… really are an odd group of people.”
Luckily, he was spared from their response, or further weirdness. Because his radio whined and crackled, signalling that command was radioing him. “This is Command calling Recovery One, come in Recovery One.”
He held up a hand to the others, and stepped away from the group. “This is Agent Washington. I found some blue team members that have extensive experience with Omega.”
“Did he just say Omega?” Church mumbled to the others.
“Yeah. and some other words, too.” Caboose observed.
“Excellent, Agent Washington, please stand by for orders.”
Ali and Kris shuffled to the side, and began mumbling amongst each other about the fact that interacting with a freelancer could very well blow their carefully crafted cover. Were anyone to be paying attention to them, the way they were behaving might seem a bit suspicious. Washington, however, was too busy to notice- command’s orders beckoned. “Now that you have reassembled the blues, you should head to Outpost 17-B. See what clues your team can gather there based on what they know.”
“Roger that.”
“They want you to stop the Meta at all costs. This is a Level One directive. Good luck Wash. Recovery Command out.”
“Recovery One, out.” Wash turned to the group. Everyone was staring at him expectantly- except Caboose, who was staring into space. “Alright, come on, let’s move out.”
“Move out?” Church echoed, sounding quite disgusted indeed. “Hey, at what point in this conversation did you think that we were buddies or something? I'm not going with you.”
“Yes! You are not in our special club of best friends!” Caboose added.
“Shut up, Caboose.” Church snapped. “A-and, what did I tell you about that armour, when we had to pick new suits?”
“Youuuuu told me to upgrade.”
“That’s not an upgrade! This is Mark Six armour! That’s Mark Five! This is an upgrade!”
Caboose shrugged. “In a top ten list, five is better than six.”
“Well, shit, he’s got a point, there.” Ali said. Her tone was deadpan enough that Wash could not tell if she was serious or not.
“We’re not a top ten list!” Church yelled in exasperation.
“Well, duh, there’s less than ten of us.” Kris pointed out, equally deadpan as her cousin.
“How do you ever get anything done, if all you do is argue with each other?” Wash asked them, horrified.
“We don’t!” Church snapped. “That’s part of our charm! Quit fucking it up!”
“Yeah, man.” Kris agreed, folding her arms. “We’re lovably incapable bastards, stop messing with the vibe.”
“Look, I know you guys are all wrapped up in your ‘red versus blue’ battles-”
“Blue versus red battles.” Caboose interjected. “No one says red versus blue, it sounds stupid when you say it backwards.”
Wash stared at him for a moment, trying to formulate a response, and then decided he didn’t care enough to expend the effort, and pretended he’d never spoken. “-but this is important. Actual military operations, not your fake simulation stuff- something is hunting our top agents, and I need all the help I can get to stop it.”
“Stop it?” Church scoffed. “If it’s killing freelancers, I want to start a fan club for it. Build it a website!”
“Now that the ship from your canyon has crashed, we think it’s more powerful than ever.” Wash pressed on. Whether he was tuning out Church, or just hoping the others would listen to him, it was not clear. “It gains new abilities each time it kills, an-”
“Wait wait wait.” Church said sharply. “You found Tex’s ship?”
“We believe so.”
“Where?”
“Come with me, and I’ll show you.”
“Okay. I’m in.”
“Yes!” Caboose yelled. “This will be the greatest road trip ever!”
“If you say anything positive, I will fucking kill all five of us right now.”
“Okay. I will be very depressed about how awesome this will be.”
Wash turned to Kris and Ali, who were standing stock still and kind of looked like kids caught with their hands in cookie jars. “What about you two?”
“Uhh.” Ali looked at Kris. Kris looked at Ali. There was an awkward silence as the two purple soldiers seemed to have a moment of psychic communication- but really, they were just sending each other instant messages in their helmet. Then Ali nodded, and turned back to Wash. “We’re coming too. Because, uh... living here, miles from any form of civilization has been boring as fuck.”
“That is the reason we are coming with you to fight the mean freelancer-killing thing.” Kris confirmed.
Washington did not pick up on the fact that this was suspicious. He was busy trying to figure out the logistics of trying to wrangle this group that would be accompanying him. In fact, had Kris and Ali said they were not coming, it was entirely possible he would not have heard them, and continued operating under the assumption that they were. “Alright.” he said, authoritative tone making up for the fact that he had not been paying attention. “Let’s move out, then. You have a vehicle?”
“Let me slap the tire back on this Chupathingy, and we’ll be ready to go.” Ali nodded. “Just fixed her up with reinforced anti-puncture weave.”
“My plants say you’re welcome for the latex.” Kris reminded her sweetly.
“Yeah, yeah, just come help me.”
Wash, Church, and Caboose watched as the two huddled around the jeep for a few moments. “So, they were in your canyon, too?” Wash asked. “I don’t think I saw anyone by their names mentioned in our files- but they were a little too…”
“Batshit insane?”
“I was going to say ‘chaotic’. To fully understand.” he said. “But yeah, yours works too.”
“Dunno what to tell you, dude- take it up with Vic. Can’t imagine that asshole was great at record-keeping.” Church shrugged. “But they were there for all the bullshit. Kris was on blue team with us, growing our fucking garden or whatever, and Ali was a red that spent more time hanging out with us than she did with her own team. Their sergeant drove her a bit nuts. Think they’re cousins, or something.”
“They’re… weirdly familiar.”
“Uh, yeah. Probably coincidence. No way they’d have been anywhere near you freelancers. Way too fucking weird for that.”
Kris stood up from where she and Ali had inconspicuously been whispering about the fact that they had, in fact, been anywhere near project freelancer, and that they were very much not happy about the idea that something that was hunting freelancers could, potentially, realize this carefully hidden secret. Conveniently, during their extremely ordinary-looking whispering, Ali had also affixed the new tire to their vehicle, whose “official” name was still hotly debated.
“Jeep’s ready!” Kris yelled.
“Shotgun!” Ali yelled hurriedly, despite the fact that literally nobody else had attempted to claim shotgun. A habit bourne of desperation to not be the one crammed into the storage compartment or stuck standing at the gunner’s post was one hard to kill. However, she also realized as soon as it exited her mouth that this vehicle had no gun, and instead contained seats she had painstakingly transplanted into its bed. And this meant instead of chilling in the back with her friends, she would be stuck in the front with-
Agent Washington nodded. “I’ll drive.”
“ Fuck .” she whispered under her breath. Something told her Wash would not be interested in singing roadtrip songs like Kris or Caboose.
Kris gave her a look that indicated she knew exactly what had just transpired in her brain, and that she wanted Ali to know it was her own fault. She then began walking towards the door to the base. “Just have to grab some things, first. We don’t want to be unprepared out there.”
While the rest of the group assembled in the jeep, and Ali ensured her secret stash of snacks was properly accessible from her regrettably-begotten position, Kris gathered up a metric fuckton of plant specimens, placed them in carefully-crafted travel containers, and then surreptitiously slipped in a sleek locked case that contained her and Ali’s secret equipment that must never be misplaced, abandoned, or discovered by others. It would, however, experience all of those things in the near future. Kris did not know that though- because Kris did not know the future. If she did, she would not be in the fucking ridiculous mess she was in to begin with.
Unfortunately, the mess was about to get even more messy. Because that was the nature of their existence.
Kris stuffed everything she’d gathered into the storage compartment of their vehicle, and added some fistfulls of ammo for good measure before snapping it shut. She then hopped onto the seats on the left side of the jeep-chupathingy-puma-warthog. Church was on the right, looking very disgruntled, and Caboose was sidled right up to him, looking extremely pleased with their situation.
“Ready to move?” she asked.
“Ready.” Church grumbled.
“Ready!” Caboose cheered.
“...Ready?” Wash agreed, clearly unfamiliar with this casual form of pre-mission checks.
Kris waited for the final response, but Ali was silent, staring up at the cliffs around the base. Kris leaned forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “Ali. Ready to go?”
“Hm?” Ali turned, voice sounding slightly off. “Yeah. yeah, I’m ready.”
“See something up there?”
Ali pondered that for a moment. “No. No, it was nothing. Just the sun.”
Washington, eager to get moving and not picking up on the fact that something was off, keyed the engine. “Good. Then let’s move.”
Without further ado, they took off for Outpost 17-B. And Nothing watched them.