Shiny Things

The mechs assigned to what amounted to the “knocking down the front door” part of the mission immediately headed into action once Carolina had given the order. Their target was the now obvious open hangar where they could see a Charon research vessel of some kind being loaded up with whatever ancient tech the human rights group had managed to pilfer from the ruins on Trocadero.

Still, after all that the group from Chorus had gone through after being duped into coming here? Like hell was Carolina going to let Charon take off gloating with anything. The others, she knew, felt just as strongly on the subject.

Tank began laying down suppressive cover fire as the various Reds and Blues moved in closer, effectively causing the Charon operatives out in the open to scatter for cover. Pink, piloted by Donut with Doc’s assistance to make sure the younger Elvari did not reopen his unfortunate gunshot wound, was doing well. Carolina had to admit that the flexibility Donut had with the oversized robot was thoroughly impressive.

“Oh, they are it!” Caboose shouted gleefully from within Freckles as he “helped” a transport onto its side and watched the driver scramble out.

“AFFIRMATIVE.” Freckles intoned in his usual serious manner. The fact that he alone, out of all of the mechs she had thus far encountered, could talk still always gave Carolina a wondering pause though that was really neither here nor there at the moment.

Without waiting for Caboose’s guidance, Freckles launched a rocket into the overturned vehicle upon noticing several more hostiles unloading weapons to use against them within.

“Fire in the hole!” Donut responded to the explosion rather eagerly.

“This is making me think of camp.” Caboose mused, “We should have brought smores.”

“¿A qué campamentos fuiste?” {“What camps did you go to?”}

“Come on, guys, focus.” Carolina advised, gritting her teeth as a mismatched mech in gaudy steel and orange burst through a dented wall of the hangar, no doubt just for added dramatic effect as it made a beeline straight for Freckles.

Fortunately for the mech and its pilot, Freckles had good reflexes and jumped out of the way of the oncoming blade attack. Doubly fortunate for them was that Tex had also seen the enemy’s move, and Black was able to move in to intervene before the opponent could follow through with another strike. Black’s arm blocked the knife with a resounding clang that shook the buildings nearby.

“Not today, asshole.” Tex smirked as she deftly moved her hands over the controls to strike out with Black’s free hand.

“Truth be told, fighting someone who actually knows what they’re doing makes things more interesting.” Felix informed her smugly as he countered Black’s attack, then he called out over the communications, “Price! Get the rest of this space antique shit loaded on while I mop up.”

“Think we’ll let you off that easy?” Tex murmured as Carolina let her know of an air pressure change off to their side, allowing Tex to alter Black’s standing position so that Felix’s next blow didn’t have its desired effect of completely knocking them over.

“Would totally make my paycheck a steal if you did.” Felix replied back, swiping his knife towards the mech’s neck plating with all of his might.

The remaining three Reds and Blues’ mechs snuck around to the other side of the hangar’s perimeter while the firefight was going on. As had been the plan, the frontal assault left this portion of the facility less guarded than it would be otherwise. It took very little time at all to dispatch the few remaining Charon troops that they uncovered.

“They’re underestimating us.” Sarge stated what everyone was thinking with an obvious air of annoyance lacing his words, “It’s downright distasteful!”

“Maybe, but it works to our advantage.” Washington remarked, ignoring Sarge’s indignant murmurings as he exited Aqua along with Tucker once they found what appeared to be a suitable backdoor entrance, “We shouldn’t complain.”

That was true, Dexter Grif reasoned. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that shit. They would just have to get Price back for thinking so little of them later. After they had rescued Simmons, of course. That was never not going to be his top priority here.

“So,” Tucker turned their attentions back to the long corridor they now found themselves in, “”Where to next?”

Sarge let out his customary harrumph, “Isn’t that obvious?” He asked, brandishing his weapon for added emphasis, “We go and find that diabolical Price fella. It’s high time I had a talk with him, hermano to shotgun!”

Washington, who one would expect to have a counterpoint in the face of a logical need for strategy, actually surprised the other three men by nodding his head in agreement, “That is a good idea, Sarge.” He stated, his voice darkening a second later, “I’d honestly like to have a chat with him as well.”

Tucker and Grif glanced at the other and, as if the half-Strassian was picking up on Grif’s volatile body language, Tucker made it a point to speak up before the orange-wearing human could well and truly explode, “Hold the fuck up, guys! What about rescuing Simmons and Maroon?”

Tucker made a not-so-subtle gesture over to the simmering Grif that Washington thankfully picked up on, “Simmons is still top priority.” The older man replied.

Sarge nodded his head in staunch agreement, “It’ll be easy enough to rescue Simmons and kick Price’s arse from here to kingdom come.” He reassured the group, “They’re more than likely in the same area.”

Washington shot him an approving look, “And that would be…?”

“The loading bay for that dang research vessel.” Sarge informed him testily, “Keep up!”

“That,” the blond-haired Strassian considered his words, sounding rather surprised to be saying them, “Actually makes a lot of sense, Sarge.”

“Yeah,” Tucker let out an appreciative whistle, “Who knew?”

Sarge scoffed and started to grumble to himself, “You lot have no respect for seasoned soldiers.”

Grif was already moving down the corridor with his Grif Shot at the ready, and the others hurried to catch up. They ran through the intersecting hallways of the facility, taking out the occasional unpreoccupied Charon goon they found until they finally reached the loading bay.

There, it was easy to spot the towering, motionless Maroon standing off to the side as if waiting to be loaded up. The mech was also standing beside the machine with the same matching shark motif painted over it as adorned its pilot’s helmet, Sharkface about ready to enter the cockpit and join the fray outside of the hangar as Price spoke quietly to him.

Closer by Maroon, looking for all the universe like an abandoned and bewildered puppy was…

“Simmons!” Grif shouted out.

Washington was about to yell that Price and Sharkface shouldn’t move, but his entire body seized up in bewilderment a moment later upon getting a closer look at Sharkface’s atrociously painted mech.

“Uh, Wash?” Tucker asked him nervously, “Everything okay?”

“I don’t fucking believe it.” Washington’s voice rose to an incredulous pitch, “What are you doing with Steel?”

“Huh.” Tex nearly winced herself when Felix’s mech managed to get a resounding backhanded blow to Black, causing both women inside its cockpit to jostle violently in their seats, “Hate to admit it, but this asshole isn’t all talk.”

Carolina raised a red eyebrow, having been roughly thinking the same thing but not expecting the full-blooded Veroni to actually admit it out loud. Still, it didn’t mean she had to lay off some good-natured ribbing, “Does this mean that the great Texas is saying she’s out of her element?” She didn’t even bother hiding the smirk in her voice.

Tex scoffed in response, “Please.” A second later though and, spinning Black to get in a surprise throat jab, the blonde was very much frowning at the enemy mech in front of them, “There’s something off-putting about this whole thing. It moves familiarly.”

Carolina frowned as well, the half-human looking at their opponent through Black’s monitors. She had noticed that too. Not so much in the way that Felix was piloting, but in the overall movement range and speed of his mech. The way all of its limbs seemed to come from different machines, as though they had been cobbled together.

Realization hit her in the same moment as a wave of dread did, “That mech is assembled from Freelancer ones!” Carolina exclaimed as the cold reality set in.

Of course Price would allow something like that to happen. The dead never could just be left to quietly rest when it came to the remains of Project Freelancer.

“Took you two sweethearts long enough to figure that out.” Felix’s voice was as smug as ever as his mech’s knife tried to slice Black’s arm clean off. Tex barely managed to jump back in time, her reactive punch also barely missing its target.

“But how’s that even possible?” Doc’s voice nervously queried as he helped Donut to maneuver Pink in order to provide better cover fire for Caboose and Freckles, “I thought the mechs chose their pilots.”

Before Carolina could grimly respond over the video comms, Felix actually beat her to it, sounding positively gleeful as he did so, “Oh, you’d be amazed at just what you can accomplish with enough money and ancient tech at your disposal.” He laughed, his mech jumping into the air, “Though I suppose it ended up being more costly than profitable in the long run.”

Which no doubt explained why Price had wanted to get his hands on a fully functional mech that still had its chosen partner connected to it, like Maroon.

Felix, however, apparently loved to hear himself talk because he was not finished gloating, “I guess it’s going to be something of a bitter irony that you’ll be taken out by mechs that once belonged to your allies, huh?”

Tex and Carolina both glanced at one another, realizing Felix apparently expected that train of thought to be upsetting to them. They both shrugged indifferently at the same time, smirking, “This is nothing compared to what happened when Freelancer finally crashed and burned.” Tex informed him.

Felix let out a growl, swooping downwards for the kill only for Tex to have Black dive out of the way and then quickly roll back into the unprepared mech. The steel and orange mishmash of a mech fell forwards, Black drawing its hand back to form a fist meant to penetrate right through the plating and…

Gunfire suddenly erupted from the sky overhead, Tex cursing under her breath as she dodged the rain of bullets that put some distance between the two oversized robots.

Up above, in a mech that seemed more spider-like than humanoid, was no doubt Felix’s partner, Locus. The looming silence would have been a dead giveaway, if the green accents hadn’t been.

“Took you fucking long enough.” The other mercenary stated in way of greeting.

“If you didn’t play around so much, the battle would have been over with already.” Locus’ response was matter-of-fact.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Felix’s smirk was back in his voice, “I take it your mission was successful?”

“It was.” He didn’t miss a beat, “We should depart now.”

“Not until I’ve…!”

Whatever threat Felix had been about to say was cut off by the sounds of another transport entering the atmosphere overhead. Carolina felt herself grinning at the welcome sight of Four Seven Niner’s ship, weaponry no doubt already locked onto several hostiles.

“Guess what, assholes?” Her brother’s triumphant voice came through loud and clear over their communicators, “It’s time for some fucking payback!”

Sharkface grinned at the obvious shock David Washington displayed while seeing the mech he had assumed long gone right before him again, “I guess it is rather poetic justice to use your own fucking Freelancer tech against you.” He said with a smirk.

“H—how…?” Washington blinked, shaking his head in disbelief, “They took Steel away after I…after I couldn’t pilot it anymore thanks to the experiments.”

“A truly unfortunate turn of events, since we had been hoping to improve your compatibility.” Price distantly noted.

But Washington ignored him to focus on Sharkface instead, his obvious hatred and his words still ringing in his ears, “You do…” he began thoughtfully, “You do seem vaguely familiar.”

Now that the half-Strassian thought about it, hadn’t one of the groups Freelancer had gone after during training missions have a guy who seemed questionably fond of sharks?

An angry growl burst forth from Sharkface at Washington’s comment, “I’ll be sure to make you remember exactly who I am before I fucking kill you.” He snarled out.

“It is actually something of a relief to see you again, gentlemen.” Price spoke up rather cordially though Washington doubted the sincerity of his words. Brown eyes took in the newfound weapons that both Grif and Tucker were carrying, recognition slightly creasing Price’s eyebrows, “I must admit to being a bit surprised that you were able to bypass the forcefield in order to acquire those relics.”

“Uh, what forcefield?” Tucker inquired, looking very confused, “All we did was fucking walk up and take them.”

Suddenly, Santa appeared in their midst, giving everyone a bit of a start. Something must have happened out on the battlefield to make his presence with Caboose no longer required, and Washington could only hope that meant good news for their side.

“The half-Elvari is correct. A forcefield had been activated to keep the relics out of the hands of outsiders.” Santa inclined his holographic head slightly in Tucker’s direction, “However, your presence in particular seemed to cancel it out.”

Tucker beamed, “Because I am just that fucking awesome, yeah?”

There was a slight pause as though the ancient Artificial Intelligence was trying to come up with a polite way to respond, “Yes, let’s go with that for the moment.” Santa finally managed to say.

As Santa and Tucker conversed, Price regarded Tucker in a rather analytical manner as he mulled over this latest reveal. Washington frowned and cut off the Counselor’s scrutiny by bodily placing himself between Price and Tucker.

“Why are you working for Charon now?” Washington asked, his brain trying to make sense of it all. The man was even half-alien, after all! Charon would turn on his own people.

“Nothing more than a simple desire to survive events that are soon going to engulf the entire galaxy.” Prince informed him, “It’s nothing personal, Agent Washington. I just decided to align myself with the side most likely to win.”

Washington grimaced, feeling as if he were about to vomit, “You son of a bitch!”

“Enough talk.” Sharkface took a menacing step forward, motioning to the research vessel nearly completely stocked further on behind them, “Price, get Simmons and his mech onboard while I take care of these assholes.” He grinned, “I’ll even see what I can do about giving you one of those relics afterwards.”

Price inclined his head, “Intact, hopefully.”

“No promises.”

“Now wait just a dang minute!” Sarge stepped forward, pointing his weapon at Price before he could even attempt to take a step, “There’s no way I’m letting you abscond with our favorite yes man. Not when you,” he motioned to Price, “Have a standing appointment with my shotgun!”

Price inclined his head once more, expression still remarkably and infuriatingly impassive. As if acting on some silent cue, Simmons suddenly moved to stand directly between Price and Sarge with that same faraway, hardly registering look in his eyes that he had when piloting Maroon before.

Sarge frowned, “Out of the way, son.”

The Strassian said nothing, not even acknowledging that he had even heard Sarge’s order.

A pained, horrified look crossed over Grif’s face then, “What the fuck did you do to him?” He asked Price.

“Simmons’ past traumas have made him particularly susceptible to the hallucinations experienced here on Trocadero, as well as to further mental and emotional tampering.” Price stated in way of explanation, “It would certainly be advantageous for Charon to have at least one pilot already chosen by a mech.”

Grif’s brown eyes narrowed, “What past traumas?”

Instead of directly answering Grif’s urgent demand, Price looking knowingly over at an unflinching Washington instead, “I believe you have an inkling as to what I am referring to, Agent Washington?” He asked, infuriatingly calm.

Washington stiffened when he felt everyone’s regard, “It isn’t my story to tell.” He managed to say under the scrutiny.

Price took the momentary distraction to reach out as if to grab Simmons’ arm and pull him bodily with him towards the waiting ship. Grif, however, noticed and raced forward with more speed than anyone would probably have ever given him credit for. He moved quickly past Sarge and grabbed one of Simmons’ limp hands, pulling him closer as he hefted the Grif Shot up and brought its blade threateningly close to Price’s face over Simmons’ lanky shoulder.

“Simmons.” Grif tried saying the redhead’s name yet again, and this time the blue freckled Strassian seemed to react to it ever so slightly as he blinked out of his glazed-eye stare for a moment.

Simmons took in a deep, shaky breath before suddenly unleashing a horrifying scream of anguish as he crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down his face and hands pressed tightly against either side of his skull.

“Wh—what in tarnation is going on?” Sarge asked, clearly a bit panicked by the response.

A stricken, terrified Grif dropped to the floor right beside Simmons, the Grif Shot clanging to the floor forgotten as he gripped onto the redhead’s shoulders tightly.

“Simmons is most likely being overwhelmed as a result of snapping out of Price’s control so suddenly.” Washington surmised, feeling rather helpless at being unable to really offer any support to his protégé.

“Simmons!” Grif called out his name again, panicked but pulling Simmons into an even tighter embrace as Sarge kept Price at bay with his shotgun.

Through his tears, Simmons blinked once more and finally seemed able to at least focus in on Grif’s face, “G—Grif…?” he managed to get out in a watery, shaky voice.

Grif nodded, his expression turning even more urgent and desperate as he continued to reassure Simmons, “I’m right here, nerd.”

Suddenly, any fog that was in Simmons’ eyes completely faded away as recognition came back to him, “You fucking stabbed me, you asshole!” He shouted loudly in the same instant that all of the strength seemed to leave his body and he fell back against Grif limply.

Grif silently hugged Simmons as close to his own body as he could, glaring murderously at Price as he reached for the Grif Shot.

“It is time for us to depart.”

Everyone started at the female voice that spoke up, the group surprised to find a lone Veroni woman with white lines across her face departing from the research vessel. She seemed oddly similar to Sheila, from a features stance, despite being quite a bit taller than the petite brunette.

“Thank you, Filss.” Price told her, “It’s a shame, but beyond acquiring a chosen pilot and their mech, our goals here on Trocadero have been reached.”

Sarge pumped his shotgun, “Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere!”

“Yes, we are.” Sharkface growled out just as emphatically, cracking his knuckles, “I hate that I can’t drag this out because I’d intended to really make you,” he turned to Washington then, “And those two Freelancer bitches suffer, but I guess I’ll just have to make due with ensuring your deaths are as painful as fucking possible later.”

“Fucking anger issues much?” Tucker moved in front of Washington then, his newfound sword flaring to brilliant life. Washington regarded him and his gesture with open surprise.

“You can take your Blue Dotted friend back with you.” Sharkface glanced over at Simmons, “Mind fucks aren’t something I care for.”

Price opened his mouth as if to protest when the female Veroni spoke up again, “There are still active hostiles we need to contend with outside.”

He sighed slightly, “Of course, Filss.”

Sharkface turned in the direction of the stolen Steel, “Move your ass, Doc.” He called over his shoulder to Price, only for Washington to step past Tucker in an attempt to block him, pushing into Sharkface with all his might.

The two men ended up grappling with one another on the ground, Sarge and Tucker both cautiously approaching from the sides but unsure of how to intervene without accidentally hitting Washington.

“Forget about me,” Washington managed to get out in-between a flurry of punches and well-placed kicks, “Make sure Price doesn’t get to the ship!”

“That plan sucks major ass!” Tucker yelled in protest.

Sarge, however, pulled him along grimly and determined all the same, Grif still clinging to Simmons behind all of the commotion.

“Keeping your friends out of the fight won’t mean a fucking thing once I kill you!” Sharkface sneered in his face, the expression made all the more terrible by the vicious burns and scarring adorning part of it.

Washington grit his teeth and ignored the blood streaming down from a blow to the side of his head, “Fuck off! I won’t let you hurt anyone else, and that includes Steel!”

His only response was a bitter laugh in the face of Washington briefly returning to his rookie naivety, “Hate to break it to you, but I’ve already used your precious mech to hurt plenty of people.” Sharkface exclaimed gleefully.

Meanwhile, Tucker and Sarge were just about on top of Price when an explosion rocked the entire compound. Price lost his footing and fell as the others struggled to stay upright.

Grif, from his spot on the floor, clutched onto Simmons protectively even more and attempted to try and shield him from whatever was going on, “What the fuck just happened?”

Had that been friendly or not-so-friendly fire?

“The charges around and inside the facility have started to detonate.” Filss stated quite calmly, “Which means that no one will be able to continue any research into the ruins and their tech here.”

That had the people from Chorus unsure of what she was talking about, though Price had little trouble following. He regarded her in a rather assessing manner, as if seeing the alien woman in a new light, “I would not have suspected that you were capable of such actions.” He told her at length.

“My only regret is that I can’t destroy the research transport without raising suspicion.” Filss admitted, glancing in the direction of the more distant sounds of fighting, “This base’s loss, however, could easily be viewed as collateral damage.”

Price reached for what was most likely a communicator before deciding against it ultimately and stopping himself, “You have no doubt blocked out the ability to communicate with the ship or mechs, given how cleverly you staged this.” He surmised, “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be revealing yourself now.”

She gave him a curt nod before there was a glint of something small and metallic in her hand, “Goodbye, Counselor.”

And then the Veroni shot him pointblank, the man’s body crumpling to the ground in a pool of ever-growing blood underneath his prone form.

“Holy shit.” Tucker muttered under his breath as he watched the pool of crimson underneath Price grow larger and larger.

Sharkface paused in his fight with Washington, “You bitch!”

He reached for one of his own concealed weapons, but Washington was quicker. The former Freelancer picked up his own discarded gun from the ground and the Strassian fired into Sharkface’s back at the same time that Sarge shot him in the chest, Tucker’s energy sword following the shotgun shell.

Sharkface’s body slid down to the floor as Sarge harrumphed, “Guess teamwork does make the dream work.” He mused, “If the dream is the complete and total annihilation of your enemies!”

He guffawed loudly to himself as Tucker gaped, “Dude. That might be too much.”

“Thank you.” Filss inclined her head, her voice earnest and sincere.

“We don’t have time for idle chat,” Sarge cut himself off to look at the mysterious woman seriously, “Why don’t you tell us just what’s going on instead, missy?”

“Yeah, aren’t you with Charon?” Tucker asked, his eyebrows furrowing, “Even though that’s all sorts of fucked up because you’re Veroni and all.”

Filss smiled politely, “Unfortunately, we don’t have time to explain that either.” She gave a slight pause, “Just know that I’m an ally of sorts, and that you should all well and truly leave this place before the rest of the detonators go off.”

“Hey, wait!” Tucker tried calling out to Filss again as she turned and calmly headed in the direction of the waiting research vessel, but she ignored him as even more explosions began rocking the structure.

“She’s right,” Washington said, frowning, “We need to get out of here.”

Sarge nodded, slapping him hard on the back, “Better get to your mech and hop to it, then!”

Washington started to protest with a stricken look directed towards Steel, but Tucker squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, “It’ll be fine, Wash, we can do it together.” He said supportively.

For a moment, Washington regarded him silently before nodding all the same.

Simmons had managed to regain enough consciousness at that point to try and pull weakly away from Grif’s grip.

“Simmons?” Grif asked, clearly concerned and not wanting to acquiesce to the Strassian’s request just then.

“I…I have to get to Maroon if we want to get away from here…”

Grif frowned, “But…”

Simmons cut him off, “We don’t have many options.” He stated softly but firmly, a slight tinge of red to his cheeks as he quietly added, “B—besides, you’ll have my back in the cockpit, right?”

For a split second, Washington was rather glad Donut was not there to have heard his protégé’s comment, and that Tucker decided to opt out of his usual trademarked catchphrase too.

Grif nodded earnestly, “Yeah, just to make sure you don’t pass out on us again or anything.”

He helped Simmons shakily get to his feet, Sarge hot on their heels as they made their way over to Maroon at the same time that Washington and Tucker headed over to Steel.

They managed to escape the facility with only seconds before it was swallowed up by a veritable wall of flames.

Tucker watched it happen, glad to not be feeling that intense, blistering heat on his skin as he let out a low whistle, “Guess it’s good fucking riddance to Charon’s research here.”

“One positive to keep note of.” Washington agreed, his grip on his mech’s controls still shaking.

Tucker ignored the sudden impulse he had to reach out and touch the other man’s shoulder, “You’re doing great, dude.”

Before Washington could no doubt argue as the frown on his face indicated he was just about to, the communications system came to life all around them.

“Talk about things getting hot and heavy!” Donut exclaimed, a note of concern lacing his words as he added, “Is everybody all right?”

“As much as we can be.” Washington confirmed.

“The mercenaries and their ship got away.” Carolina noted grimly, before her tone softened considerably for just a moment, “But I’m glad that everyone made it out in one piece.”

“Yeah, at least there’s that bit of good news.” Church’s sullen voice followed his older sister’s from Four Seven Niner’s transport, “The rest of it can well and truly fuck off as far as I’m concerned.”

Tucker sighed and settled back down into his seat as they headed towards where they had hidden Aqua and the other two mechs, wholeheartedly agreeing with the Veroni’s sentiment.