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shegetsburned · 1 year

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𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐬. 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧

summary : Sarge, Donut and Washington are held by the Federal Army on Chorus, the last place the Freelancer thought he’d reunite with a former teammate.

characters : Locus (red vs. blue), Donald Doyle, Agent Kansas (freelancer oc), Agent Washington (red vs. blue), Sarge (red vs. blue), Franklin Donut

pairing : Locus x Kansas - “you are the only truth”

note : Finally, throwing myself into a rvb fanfic! So yeaaah, basically this is how Kansas shows up again and the beginning of something with Locus. I really enjoyed writing it and I do hope you guys will like reading it.

word count : 3,3k

chapter 1 - …

The outpost offered itself to Washington, Donut, Sarge, and General Doyle on the promontory. Doyle had brought them here to have a sight upon the snowy mountains where Outpost 37 of the Federal Army was located.

“Upon your arrival, I ordered Locus to confirm his findings and bring you to us as soon as possible.” General Doyle clears his throat, anxiously searching for words to excuse Locus’ previous behavior. “Unfortunately, it appears as though I should’ve been more specific in the exact method of your acquisition.”

“So what? It was all your mercenary’s fault?” Washington asks, still waiting for an answer to why such violent measures had been taken in their attempt to rescue the Reds and the Blues from the New Republic.

“Not only my mercenary-”

Washington cuts the General off.“You expect us to believe you guys find us this quick, that Locus found us this quickly?”

“Agent Washington, we had several ways to locate you. One that might appear even more familiar.” Doyle lingers on his last words as footsteps are heard on the metallic stares behind him.

A dark burgundy armor slowly makes its way beside the General. At the sight of the new soldier, Washington freezes. It’s like thousands of memories come rushing back to him. As if he hadn’t already felt the wrenching pain of reliving painful ones during his few minutes with Epsilon. Feeling his fingers squeeze the handle of his rifle, he can’t help but spit out his thoughts.

“What the fuck.”

“Uh, might tell us who that lady is?” Sarge asks, noticing the familiar anger that surrounded the group every time an acquaintance from the past resurfaced.

It’s this familiar voice, echoing into his brain.

“Hello, Wash.”

His friend. Another Freelancer. The same one he thought he had lost when she had gone AWOL and never returned.

“Kansas.” Her name slips from Washington’s mouth in a whisper. “You fuck!” He immediately aims his rifle at her.

The sight of the barrel frightens General Doyle, as he flinches and hides behind his Freelancer.

“Sarge, what is going on?” Donut asks, trying to get a hold of what’s happening.

As they hadn’t already had enough on their plates, the Reds seemed to attract trouble wherever they went. Especially ghosts from the past.

“I have no idea, private, but it appears we’ve stumbled on another crazy-murderous lady! And this time.. she’s red!”

“If you could please lower your weapon agent, so I don’t lose one of my most precious assets.” The General pleads, head slightly peaking over the girl’s shoulder. “That would be most appreciated.”

She was calm when she spoke. “Let’s talk. Then you’ll be able to put a bullet in my head.” Understanding the man’s frustration, Kansas wanted nothing more than to ease the mind of the soldier and not get into too many details as to how and why she was still alive.

“You’re supposed to be dead, Kansas.”

“We sure do seem to say that a lot.” Says Sarge remembering the numerous times Donut came back from the dead.

“I do realize way too many people have strong opinions about my survival.” Kansas states, slowly shifting to the side to reveal Doyle’s shaking figure.

Washington hesitates. His finger was perfectly still, resting upon the trigger. He examines his past teammate, years of friendship flashing into his head.

Tension filled the atmosphere before Washington finally laid down his weapon.

“You owe me more than a talk.”

Without any more threat in sight, relieved, Doyle regains composure, his stature rising straight beside Kansas. “Agent Washington, I believe you crashed here for a reason.”

“It certainly wasn’t to see her again.”

Kansas lays a hand on her chest plate. “Ouch. I’m hurt.”

“Good.” If it hadn’t been for the helmet, Kansas would’ve recognized a peak of irony in the man’s voice. The usual kind of sarcasm the Freelancers both shared.

“Gentlemen, I am fully aware I might never gain your trust, but let me be perfectly clear, we are not your enemy.”

“Listen, the New Republic has your men.” Kansas adds to Doyle, trying to draw the conversation towards the most crucial part. The part that would win them over.

“And I can promise you, they’re likely recruiting them in their rebellion as we speak.”

“I could inform our troops not to attack them. But I cannot keep them from defending themselves. That’s the best we can do.”

Peaceful alternatives were always considered by the Federal Army, especially when it meant protecting Washington’s group. Kansas had entrusted him during these many years of training. The trust still remained, at least on her side.

But Washington also knew there was a cost to getting his friends back.

The General was a smart man, had he only been in this position for weeks, he had assumed full responsibility for the Federal Army. Gaining the Reds' and Washington’s trust would definitely balance things out.

Doyle also knew that their first thought, after rescuing their friends, would be to escape this planet, as soon as possible. “So, I can’t promise you a safe way out of here, ships are shot down before they can leave the atmosphere.” Doyle explains, erasing any thought of escape from the minds of the men standing in front of him.

“Then what can you promise us?” Washington asks, credible.

Doyle and Kansas exchange a look before the General decides to once and for all, declare the real reason for the Reds and the Blues’ rescue attempt.

“If you can help us defeat these terrorists, you would not only save our planet, you would also save your comrades.”

“So then? Speak.”

They had withdrawn into the outpost’s quarters. Thin walls separating them from the cold breeze of the mountains.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me.“ Declares Kansas “I’m fairly disappointed.” Her attempt to defuse the situation was as poor as her negotiating skills.

“I’m sure you are. Speak.” Maintains Washington, dedicated to unravel the truth.

“Wash. May you explain what in Sam Hill is going on here?” Asks Sarge, once again, nervously trying to figure out if his shotgun would finally be of good use, today.

“She’s a Freelancer.”

Freelancer. The word nobody dared to use around the Reds and the Blues. Donut and Sarge immediately readied their weapon in Kansas’ direction.

“Freelancer means problem! And as much as I love proving my superiority to the Blues by taking down agents, I’ve had enough!”

“Listen, this is important.” Softening her voice, she leans forward, just enough to establish a friendly environment.

This was one very important task for Kansas, and she was willing to do everything to rally them to their cause, for a better chance to defeat the New Republic and get their people safe.

“What? This? Them? What has gotten into you, all of a sudden?”

Her determination to save these strangers had to be the oddest thing Washington had encountered since their arrival on Chorus. That, and a General that crumbles at the sight of a firearm pointed at him.

“You want to save people now? Not abandon them to their deaths?”

“I didn’t abandon you.” Kansas immediately responds, more on the defensive. This subject was not something she wished to elaborate on. It rested heavily upon her heart. This had to stop.

“Yes, you did. You ran. Without us. Knowing about all the lies surrounding the Project.” The memory of a detailed speech by the Director sparked in his mind again. “They told us you died as a traitor.”

“I went to get help.” There was hesitation in her voice. Like she tried to voice the reasons for her departure to Agent Washington, but something was keeping her from elaborating more.

“Guess the only help you got was for yourself.”

Knowing the past events were permanent scars on the Freelancers, Kansas chose to keep her calm, not searching for any confrontation. After all, it’s them she needed to convince.

“I’m not here so you can forgive me, Wash. Doyle hired me to help them in this war.” This ounce of guilt could be heard once again when she spoke. “They’re good people, and if nobody helps them, they’ll die.”

Washington rested only on one word, like all the others were irrelevant to him. Hired.

“So you’re doing this for money, still? Unbelievable.”

A chuckle escapes the girl’s mouth, reminding the other Freelancer of his not-so-honorable past actions. “Didn’t you work with the Meta to get a ticket out of prison? We all have our reasons.” Noticing Washington’s absence of remark, she centers the conversation, once more, towards what really mattered. “If you want to rescue your friends, working with us seems like the best solution for you guys, right about now. It’s your choice. I won’t have a problem throwing you out of here with the rest of your team.”

“Hey!” Of course, Sarge was offended by the simple thought of being in the same team as their worst enemies, as he lowered his shotgun. “Don’t you see he’s a Blue?”

Kansas can’t help but look at the three of them before reformulating her statement to satisfy the old man. “Then with the rest of- with the- the red guy and the other lightish red guy.”

It takes a second for Washington to realize what she had just said. “Lightish red? Are you kidding me?”

“Do not give Donut a reason to talk about color palettes again. I’ve had about enough of the practical guidance for color mixing and its terminology based on the color wheel and separation palettes!” Sarge cries out, remembering the horrors of what hours of very intense and detailed explanations of the color palette theory by none other than the pink armored soldier who defines himself as lightish red had felt like. It was engraved in his memory. Forever.

At least, there was a very enthusiastic man in his ranks, now. “Wow, Sarge! Who knew you had time to listen to my seven-hour color theory podcast?”

Kansas, who slowly paves the way for a deeper conversation about colors, crosses her arms, clearly enjoying the situation. “Considering you guys are called the Reds and Blues, and not the Mixed colors and Blues, I’d say it would be more than appropriate to state that Donut is, indeed, not pink…” She slowly shifts her gaze to Washington before emphasizing her last words. “But lightish red.”

There was no way she was not fucking with him. Playfully engaging the conversation with the two simulation troopers standing beside the Freelancer.

“Ah! Who’s the obsessed one, now, Sarge? How can I be obsessed when I’m absolutely right?” Chants Donut, proudly showing off his armor in a twirl.

Sighing, Washington rubs his helmet before intervening, once more. “This is not how obsession works. Quiet, Donut. Can we get back to the point?”

“The point is, your friend here isn’t pink.” She states, with an amused chuckle.

Donut’s head slowly shifts towards Sarge. Unfortunately, his desire to recognize Kansas’ color knowledge is cut off by Agent Washington, who takes a step forward.

“There’s something in it for you other than money. What is it?”

It was fair to think Kansas had other things in mind than money. Her life had once revolved only around missions and war. And she was getting paid for both of these.

“Why would you even think that?”

“During a civil war, most of the time, both sides aren’t rich enough to pay mercs and freelancers.“ Washington’s words betrayed his knowledge of the Freelancer. “What are they giving you?”

“They’re not giving me anything more, Wash.”

As much as they knew Kansas, even Donut and Sarge waited for a more elaborate answer.

It took several seconds before she spits out what Doyle promised her as a reward. “Alien artifacts.”

“I knew it.”

“Advanced weaponry, armor piercing rounds, upgraded terrain vehicles. Did you know you could mount cannons on a mongoose-”

Washington knew Kansas had to be stopped before she felt the need to explain every single vehicle she had fallen for since her arrival on this planet.

“Okay, okay, we get it.” He finally cuts her off.

She can’t help but finish in a single breathed sentence. “Overall, dope as fuck artifacts.”

“Talking about dope as fuck artifacts, where are Lopez and Lopez 2.0?” Interrupts Sarge already hung up on retrieving his robot friends. As a matter of fact, it’s all he’s been thinking about since Kansas mentioned the artifacts.

“Your Spanish robots?”

“That’s right! Where are our friends? And an even more important question would be- Are there any cooking classes here? Ever since we’ve arrived I’ve sensed this amazing pastry smell-”

Sarge clears up his throat. “Shut up, Donut.”

Washington takes another step forward, readjusting his hands around his rifle.

“Show us to our robots.”.

After her conversation with Washington and the Reds, Kansas took some time to collect her thoughts. Seeing another Freelancer alive, especially Washington, the man who was always one step ahead of her on the leaderboard. The leaderboard. The Director had successfully found more than one way to divide the soldiers. Divide the soldiers and torture their minds until it was enough for them to break.

But there was a part of her that felt relieved. After all they’ve been through, the possibility of finding more of her friends still alive out there brought hope to the freelancer. She also hoped to not get the same treatment as the one she received from Washington. Considering all the facts, Kansas couldn’t blame him. She was just glad he was here, and that he agreed to help them.

As she takes a few steps down the road, passing in front of the infirmary, her trail of thought is interrupted by a familiar voice.

“How did it go?”

Locus makes his way towards Kansas, not stopping her, but joining her walk. He had this intense glare, forcing anyone who faced him to answer whatever question he would ask. His helmet made the mercenary even more frightening.

Kansas did not mind. She was used to scary faces. Especially his. Several missions had been led by the two of them, used to being the most experienced soldiers in the field by now. Kansas looked up to Locus, but she also felt obliged to not commit the same mistake she once did with her superiors.

The chain of command was important, but Locus was like an unleashed dog. He did as he pleased and was getting graciously paid for it. He wasn’t the soldier you wanted to have on the opposite side of the battlefield. The man was restless and exemplary. Kansas believed Locus could discern these same qualities in the Freelancer and that it was the reason she had been entrusted with so many responsibilities and classified information.

But there was something else. Locus seemed obsessed with the fall of Project Freelancer, with the idea of becoming the perfect soldier with the help of the AIs.

“It went better than I thought it would. I didn’t think I’d get out of this room with a head on my shoulders.” Kansas finally answers, lifting her head to meet the man’s impenetrable gaze. “Imagine my disappointment when I got out with both my head and their help.”

As much as Locus' voice could soften, it did.

“Good.”

His timbre of voice always had a tint of authority. When he spoke, Kansas couldn’t help but listen. There was not one word that passed over her shoulder.

But there was more than one question she felt like the mercenary could help her with.

“I know I haven’t been here long, but does the New Republic know there’s a Freelancer on the other side?” Kansas voiced her worries to the mercenary.

“They most certainly do.”

“Then, why not hire another?”

It was quite simple really. “We’ve sided with the only one that they could’ve hired.”

Noticing the absence of response, Locus glances down at her. “What is it?”

“I’m not ready to meet more of my past.”

Oh, their past. How painful had they been to these two soldiers. Molding them into who they were today. One thing Locus understood about Kansas was how her previous years had impacted her.

“You won’t have to.”

He suddenly stops, forcing Kansas to lower her pace and focus on his next words.

”Just do what you do best, and we’ll both have what we came here for.”

“What did you come here for?”

There was no hesitation when he answered.

“Felix.”

Kansas was already familiar with the name. She also knew he was a big deal for Locus. She tries to discern any sign of emotion under his helmet but he speaks again to diverge from the subject of his old partner.

“I talked to them. They’re meaningless.”

“Their story proves the contrary.” Responds Kansas, still baffled by the Reds and Blues’ ingenuity and stupidity. “How is it that they’re known throughout the galaxy as war heroes and are still dumber than they look?”

But Locus knew there was something else to it.“They give meaning to senseless objects and fight against all odds to protect them. Where’s the sense in that?”

“Is it so hard to believe they’ve found meaning in these beings?”

She was particularly thinking about their robots. Those machines they had been so eager to find, after their rescue.

“What’s hard to believe is their implication in taking down Project Freelancer.” Locus wasn’t wrong. An entire organization taken down by a bunch of simulation troopers? How was that even in the specter of being possible?

“I believe they’ve had help.”

Kansas glances at her surroundings, a thought peaking into her mind. They clearly, very clearly, considering their skill set and tactics, couldn’t have accomplished this prowess on their own.

“Agent Washington.”

She hums in approval. If someone had helped the Reds and Blues, it was most certainly Washington.

“You never mentioned the names of the other participants when you talked about the Project.”

The question brings her focus back to Locus.

“I told you all you needed to know about my part in Project Freelancer, Locus.”

Kansas tried not to betray herself, pumping her chest in confidence. Unfortunately, she knew she would not be able to fool the mercenary much longer. He was onto her, whether she liked it or not. The truth was bound to come out.

“Listen to me.” Locus shifts his weight forward, just enough to destabilize the girl. “I have been involved in this conflict for months, and you- Agent Kansas, you stumble onto our little planet, involving yourself in a civil war, and in the process, manage to ask for a fee in exchange for your services and gain ranks inside the Federal army within weeks. If there’s something I want to know, you must tell me.” His voice sounds deeper and more menacing. “It is not a question of what you want to tell me, it’s about what I want to know.”

Kansas can hear the man breathing into his helmet. It’s rhythmic and slow. Her chest piece follows her own breathing, twirling her tongue into her mouth and weighing her next words, carefully.

“I understand.”

Satisfied, the mercenary grunts, before taking a step to the right, his shoulder brushing Kansa’s and finally letting her breathe.

She eyes Locus as he walks away, thousands of questions still left unanswered. She couldn’t possibly let him leave without addressing her biggest concern.

“How do you know so much about Project Freelancer?”

Locus immediately stops in his tracks, not even bothering to turn around and face her. He doesn’t waste any time before responding ever so clearly than before.

“Do not interfere in my business, Agent Kansas.”

—

tag @sstewyhosseini

#don’t know if I like the banner but here it goesss #added a red vs blue wiki link for those who might be confused #don’t oblige yourself to read it if you don’t go here <3 #please tell me if you’d like to be tagged for when more comes out!#rvb locus #oc: kansas #rvb sarge #rvb doyle #rvb donut #x: you are the only truth #my fic stuff #locus x oc #red vs blue #freelancers #rvb #not a monster a soldier

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