Shiny Things

It was an unusual occurrence for Kimball to officially order all of the Reds and Blues to gather together in one of the large debriefing rooms, but no one was about to argue with the leader of Chorus. Especially not with Carolina there, breathing down their necks to ensure they’d be on time.

Even the perpetually late Grif was right on schedule, such a total rarity that Richard “Dick” Simmons gave a bit of a start when he saw Orange’s pilot shambling in, “Wow, Grif, it’s rare to see you taking the initiative like this.” He stated as the heavyset human made his way over to where the redhead was sitting, datapad for notetaking at the ready.

Grif rolled his eyes at the remark, “Whatever, I just plan on sleeping in the back.” He reassured Simmons before mumbling under his breath, “I’m only here because I’d rather not get punched in the nuts again.”

There was an awkward pause as the Strassian mech pilot processed his words, “Is…that a reoccurring issue for you?” Simmons asked, though he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

For a brief moment, Grif turned to look nervously towards Tex, sitting with her legs propped up on the debriefing table. She caught his dark-eyed glance with her own and smirked, cracking her knuckles for added measure.

The human shuddered before turning his attention back to Simmons, “I really don’t want to talk about it.” He informed him, though Simmons was starting to get a pretty good idea as to why he hadn’t been late to any meetings recently. Grif shot the slightly younger man an appraising look instead, “It’s good that you seem to be more up and about.”

Simmons couldn’t help the sudden rush of heat to his face at the reminder of how indisposed he had been recently as he coughed and shifted awkwardly in his seat, “Y—yes, well…”

But he let his voice trail off when Kimball entered the room, Carolina right behind her as both women peered around the space to see if everyone was present. The conversations that had been taking place also teetered off with the debriefing room’s latest occupants.

Kimball cleared her throat pointedly and made her way over to the meeting table, “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you here.” She began, getting straight down to business.

“Oh, oh!” Caboose was practically bouncing up and down in his seat next to Church and Tex, “Is it for a surprise party?” He asked rather hopefully, “Because if so, we are very much all surprised.”

Kimball smiled apologetically at his question, “Not exactly, Caboose,” she told him, “Though this meeting does have to do with a rather surprising message we received a few hours ago.”

“Boring.” Grif declared under his breath, eyelids already drooping.

“Grif!” Simmons admonished under his own breath, bringing his finger to his lips for added emphasis.

Grif crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat instead of heeding Maroon’s pilot, “Wake me when it’s over.”

The image of a man decked out in cobalt armor not unlike Church’s save with a blue visor suddenly came to holographic life overhead as Kimball pressed a button on the table to replay the message she had received.

“Greetings to the mech pilots from Chorus known as the Reds and Blues.” The man began. He certainly didn’t sound like Church.

“Huh. At least he’s a snazzy dresser.” The cobalt-lined Veroni mumbled appreciatively.

Grif’s relaxed posture suddenly went extremely rigid at the sound of the unknown man’s voice.

“My name is Mark Temple. I run a taskforce of Arenians who have taken the fight to Charon in earnest.”

“Turn it off.” Grif stated in a surprisingly cold voice, much to Simmons’ and everyone else’s surprise given his usual laidback demeanor.

The recording carried on, however, unheeded.

“My group has unfortunately made some tactical mistakes in the past,” Temple’s hologram informed them regrettably, “But we’re sincere in hoping to help the planet of Chorus fend off this so-called pro-human rights group. I’m sure that we can aid one another greatly.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Simmons noticed Grif biting his lip as he gripped the sides of his chair tightly. The redhead began to feel somewhat uneasy himself.

…But why? What the hell was wrong with the guy in the message? Did Grif know him or something?

“In fact, my second-in-command Surge is well-acquainted with one of your pilots already.” Temple continued in the recording.

The vid-feed panned over to reveal a red-armored figure standing behind Temple. He dipped his blue-visor helm in way of greeting and simply said, “Sarge.”

“I’ll be!” Sarge breathed out at the sight, “I haven’t seen that mug in quite a while!”

“Todavía no lo ves porque lleva casco.” {“You still aren’t seeing it since he is wearing a helmet.”}

Whatever Lopez exasperatedly said was ignored as the recording focused back on Temple, “We’re also aware that both Antoine Bitters and Franklin DuFresne are now serving on Chorus too, and they can no doubt vouch for our standing.”

“They always were excellent visitors on Sangheili.” Doc told the gathered Reds and Blues emphatically, looking as if he’d been waiting for the right moment to reveal that he knew Temple’s group.

“I owe Surge my life, in fact.” Sarge was quick to add in as well, “We can trust him at least.”

Grif remained strangely silent even at the obvious opening the older Arenian had just given him to remark on his “good judgement.” Simmons glanced over at Orange’s pilot worriedly, surprised to see Donut shooting the human a thoughtful frown as well.

“I know that trust can be hard to come by in these tumultuous times,” Temple’s recorded voice began again smoothly, “So I propose that we meet up on neutral territory, away from both Chorus and our Arc Ships.” His form flickered briefly as though a technical hiccup had occurred, “The Elvari colony world of Iris will do nicely as a middle ground for us both.”

“Huh.” Donut mused out loud at the mention of his own people, “I’ve never even heard of it.”

Kimball’s fingers absentmindedly traced the shell of one of her pointed ears, “Neither had I.” She admitted rather uncomfortably, “But all the intel we’ve gathered about the colony since verifies its legitimacy.”

Tex smirked, “So no hidden surprises like on Trocadero.”

“Hopefully.” Kimball nodded, still looking rather troubled all the same.

“Dude, don’t even remind me of that place.” Tucker groaned, “Worst. Trip. Ever.”

“It was a mission, actually.” Washington corrected from where he had taken a spot right next to the dark-skinned half-Strassian. Simmons had noticed that they’d been doing that sort of thing a lot, recently, although his mentor didn’t seem entirely aware of it, “One that admittedly could have gone better.”

“You’re telling me!” Tucker grinned all the same, “But we did get some swanky shit, so it’s all good.” He swung his sword in a sudden arc of light for emphasis and Washington rolled his eyes.

Subconsciously, Simmons found his hand traveling to the knife wound scar at his side. He didn’t even need to turn around to know that Grif had quickly brought his gaze his way at the action. He felt rather guilty for the human’s concern.

“Please refrain from doing that in an enclosed area.” Sheila advised Tucker about his sword as he nearly cut off a chunk of her brown hair.

“Oops! Sorry! My bad.”

“And we met Santa there!” Caboose was quick to happily remind everyone.

“For which I’m most grateful.” The recently transported ancient Artificial Intelligence stated rather politely.

“Guys. Focus.” Carolina cut into their talk, her voice as direct and serious as always, “What we need to figure out now is whether or not we should go ahead with the meeting.”

Everyone in the room looked at one another before cautiously starting to shrug or nod in apparent agreement to the idea.

“No.” Grif spoke up suddenly, his tone rather adamant.

“Grif?” Simmons asked, completely unsure as to what was going on. He wasn’t used to the human being so declarative about something other than food or slacking off.

Grif grit his teeth and refused to meet anyone’s gaze as he tried to explain himself, “There’s just something familiar about that guy’s voice. I didn’t like it.” He shook his head, “I can’t trust him, and my head keeps screaming that this is dangerous.”

“Nonsense.” Sarge harrumphed indignantly at the notion, “I’ve trusted Surge with my life plenty of times before.”

“And they really aren’t all that bad, honest!” Doc was quick to add in with a reassuring smile Grif’s way, “They can be quite nice even. Maybe you’re letting what happened before on Trocadero cloud your judgement?”

Grif frowned, his eyes fixated on the frozen holographic form of Temple.

Simmons regarded him thoughtfully for a few moments before offering up a rather similar concern to help the other mech pilot out, “What do you think this Temple guy meant about them having made mistakes in the past?”

“Who knows?” Tucker shrugged his shoulders indifferently to the taller Strassian’s inquiry, “What matters is how they can help us out now.” His eyes lit up excitedly, “This could be our fucking chance to finally get a one-up on Charon!”

“Hemos estado en una situación de estancamiento con ellos desde ese robo.” {“We have been in something of a stalemate with them since that break-in.”}

“Looks like it is still a majority for going to take a peek at what this is all about, dirt-bag.” Sarge stated to Grif rather triumphantly.

“We will certainly be vigilant.” Kimball tried assuring the still obviously uneasy human.

The chubby human frowned and stared up at the blue-tinted visor some more before sighing rather apathetically, “Whatever.”

“I’ll be notifying everyone of what exactly we’ll be doing once all of the details are sorted out.” Kimball told the assembled group, “For now, you’re dismissed.”

“Grif, wait up!” Simmons called out as Dexter Grif stormed impatiently out of the debriefing room, “Where are you going?”

“Where does it look like?” He scoffed as if the answer should have been obvious, “I’m going to see Bitters. I sure as fuck trust a maverick’s opinion over Sarge’s and Doc’s.”

“You’re really worked up about this.” Simmons noted, both surprise and worry lacing his voice.

Grif almost felt bad, but he carried on as if he didn’t notice, “There’s just something about that Temple dude I don’t like.” He huffed out a further explanation, “He seems familiar to me, and that means he was at Rat’s Nest and, believe me, no one who was at Rat’s Nest was up to any good.”

“Grif…” Simmons trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say.

Grif sighed and instead opted to shoot an assessing look the blue-freckled mech pilot’s way, “Anyways, are you sure it’s even all right for you to be planning to go to this Iris place?” He asked, trying to cover up his concern, “Won’t this be your first big mission since all that shit went down on Trocadero?”

Where Grif had even been manipulated into fucking stabbing his teammate. He felt guilt worm its way into his chest again, like he really needed to remind them all of that now.

Simmons’ expression became as flustered as always when the topic came back around to him, and Grif noticed how he just barely avoided running his hand over his scar again as he self-consciously fidgeted, “I’m…I’m fine, really.” The redhead managed to squeak out, a determined look in his green eyes as he added, “I feel like I need to get out there and help!”

“Okay. Fine then.” Grif sighed, “Guess it’s a moot point anyways since I’ll be coming along too.”

Simmons stared at him in open shock then, “Really?”

Grif rolled his eyes, “Yes, really.” He informed him matter-of-factly, “Did you honestly think I’d let you or Kai possibly go alone if either of you get assigned to this stupid mission?”

“I—I…!” Simmons spluttered, his face going completely red for some reason.

“Hey, guys!” Donut’s voice called out before Grif could truly process just what he’d said and, sure enough, he was there with the reporters Dylan Andrews and Jax Jonez in tow, “Just who I wanted to see!”

Grif sighed, annoyed at the interruption as he watched Simmons’ color start to return to normal, “What do you want, Donut?”

“Well, I was just talking to Doc about this group and apparently they’ve really gotten around. Hopefully with protection!” Donut tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Which made me a bit curious, so…”

He trailed off as Dylan stepped forward to continue, “So Jax will be going with those assigned to the mission on Iris to help investigate while I begin a more detailed inquiry here.” She looked over at Grif in particular rather quizzically, “Donut told me that one of you had concerns?”

“No comment.” Grif was quick to respond with, turning his head away abruptly.

“I meant no offense.” Dylan was just as quick to elaborate, “Skepticism is good in my line of work. While it is true that Chorus is in need of allies, it is best to remain cautious.” She smiled slightly, “I’m sure Kimball is thinking along those lines too.”

“Though whatever happens probably won’t be anywhere near as bad as Trocadero.” Jax hummed out helpfully, “Man, was I bummed I missed filming that!”

Simmons’ and Donut’s faces both fell, having only just recovered from their injuries and Dylan shot the younger man a look.

“It’s definitely not going to be like that mind fuck of a place.” Grif said succinctly before surprising everyone by grabbing Simmons’ arm, “Come on, kiss-ass, we should get the mechs ready.”

“R—right.” It looked as if Simmons was trying to unsuccessfully fight down another blush at the sudden, unexpected contact between them.

“Oh, can I come too?” Donut asked all too quickly, “I just love rubbing down Pink.”

Grif and Simmons both groaned at his phrasing, though Grif recognized wanting a diversion when he saw it, “Sure.” He said apathetically.

That just left the two reporters standing in the now empty hallway.

“Think it was something I said?” Jax asked after a few seconds, looking thoroughly confused.

Dylan only sighed in exasperation.