|This article, RvB On a Boat, was written by MrFluffman. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission.|
RvB In a Boat
This article has been elected as Fanon of the Month!
Prolouge: How This Story Came about.Edit
My friend and I were looking up stuff on RvBfics.com when I started showing him the AUs. He was shocked the the crew had done so many things, such as gone to jail, become lawyers, and more. He actually asked "What else are they, scuba divers?"
I said no, but the idea was born.
It was easy, adapting RvB to scuba fashion. As anyone who has seen Deadliest Catch, or Swords, or any other ship based show can attest, being stuck on a ship can be funny.
For the title, I decided to be direct and simple: RvB In a Boat.
"No way." Lavernius Tucker glared at the man across from him on the deck of the Blue. "No way."
Leonard Church sighed. They had had this argument a million times before, and the results were always this annoying. Tucker couldn't just give up.
"Listen," Church said, "just because their is no chance of girls ever coming on this ship again, doesn't mean that you can seclude yourself from all contact."
"Didn't hear you saying that when Tex broke up with you." Tucker muttered.
Church threw his hands up. Both men were semi-cland in scuba gear, having just finished the latest dive. As usual, there had been no finds.
"I learned my lesson." Church protested.
"Uhm hmn," Tucker shook his head, "you and your litttle box of memoirs-"
"Have you been rummaging through my stuff again?"
"Then how did you know?"
"Are you just saying exactly to annoy me?"
"... Just help Caboose out of his scuba gear.
"Grif! Simmons! Where the heck are ya?"
With a yelp, Dexter Grif tried to flatten himself into a crew locker, but his enhanced bulk prevented him from entering the locker. In contrast, Richard Simmons actually looked up smiling from unlatching his air tank, which was extra bulky in case Grif ran out of air. That fat wasn't for nothing.
"We're in the Armory, sir."
The Armory was thier leader's, a fomer military man named Sarge, name for the equipment storage area.
"Don't call him, you idiot," Grif's whispered angrily as feet pounded down the hall toward them.
"Aha! There you are Simmmons, and- Grif!!!!!" Sarge's face turned red with fury, "Why in the bowls of Heck are you eating a donut during work hours?!!!!!!!!!"
Grif gulped and hurridley shouved the last of the donut into his mouth. Simmons grimaced and said, "You sure put the dough in donut."
"Did someone call my name?" came an effiminate voice from down the hallway. The others groaned as Franklin Delanon Donut came down the hallway.
"No, Strawberry Shortcake," Sarge said, trying to close the door, "we were just discussing Grifs questionable eating habits.
"Aw, is someone upset about his chubby belly," Donut crooned, sliding through the door easily. He made a beline for Grif, who tried to back away, but was caught by Donut's hug.
"Get off me," Grif squeaked. Donut just hugged tighter. Sarge reached over and pulled Donut off him.
"But Sarge," Donut whined as the war veteran dragged him toward the living quaters of the ship, "I'm just being affectionate!"
"Be affectionate somewhere else," Sarge growled as he threw Donut into his quaters.
"Doc! Doc! Doc, where the heck are ya?"
Frank DuFrense gulped and hurredly tried to hang up his favorite motivational poster, a kitten hanging on a clothes line. The caption said, 'Hang on, Kitty!'
Church stamped through the door.
"There you are. I've been looking all over this forsaken ship for 3 hours!"
"What do you want, Church?"
Church sighed. "Tucker and I had the usual argument."
"So I have to help Caboose out of his gear again?"
"Pretty much. Oh, and when you're done, unclog that toilet. It's been making some funny noises."
Church left. Doc moaned, then headed for the bathroom, plunger in hand. He wished for once someone would actually come to him with a case that needed medical help. So what if he hadn't finished med school? He could still put bandages on!
Doc had joined the crew about a few years earlier, around the time Tucker had said that Tex had left and joined another company. The crew had needed an extra sailor, and the fact that Doc had some medical expretise helped. In a few days, the contracts where signed, Doc had worked out the terms with Vic, chairman of RvB Boating, and was on board.
He had been regretting it ever since.
Simmons heard his door slam open, and he looked up to see Grif standing there, looking positively livid. He moved into Simmons's quaters. "Personal space," Simmons protested, holding out both his hands.
"Screw personal space," Grif muttered, heading toward a loose floorboard, "we share the same room, why have it. It's not like we're in collage or that crap, we're on a crappy boat crap."
Simmons had already assesed the situation. "Sarge took away your supply of donut's again?" he asked, grinning.
"Did someone call my name?" came Franklin's voice. "NO!" Simmons yelled quickly, hoping Donut would take the hint.
"Anyway, yeah, he did," Grif muttered. Simmons barely held back a laugh. "What?" Grif thundered, "it's not like I'm stupid enough to keep all my stashes in one place."
"Yeah," Simmons replied, "but it's still a few weeks until we dock again, so don't you want to save them? I mean, you eat like, 50 a day."
"Meh," Grif muttered, dismissing Simmons' argument with a wave of his hand, "I've still got more. And besides, you're looking forward to docking as much as I do."
Simmons shrugged. "But Sarge says if we don't have anything found before dock, we're not gonna dock at all."
"He always says that!"
Church sighed and looked up from where he was plotting the next dive. He knew what was comming, and besides, these peice of crap maps were hard to read, anyhow.
Michael J. Caboose crashed into the room, blond hair flashing. He looked around, as though wondereing how he got there, then turned his attention on Church.
"I found a pretty seashell on the last dive. First I wanted to give it to Apples-"
Church groaned at the mention of Caboose's pet seagull.
"- and then I decided to give it to you!"
"Yeah, thanks Caboose. Now can you please leave me alone so I can get some sleep?"
The door slammed shut again, and Church leaned back, hoping that this was the last time he would be interrupted tonight.
"Church! Church!" came Tucker's voice from down the hall.
Church had finally managed to get to sleep, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, this had happened.
"What?!" Church asked angrily as Tucker came through the doorway into the captain's quaters.
"There's trouble on the front deck, sir!" Tucker's voice was faintly mocking. Church glared at him, then said, "What's the real reason, butthead?"
"I donnow," Tucker shrugged, inching toward the door, "just wanted to see if you were looking at your, memoirs."
Tucker's next thoughts were preoccupied with dodging the bullets from the pistol Church kept by the nightstand.
Sarge couldn't sleep.
He turned over and over in the bed in the Captain's Quaters, but sleep still alluded him.
He couldn't help think of all the nothing he and his crew had found. Sure, the Blues hadn't found anything either, but he still wanted to come home with more treasure than them! It just didn't seem fair.
He had worked his team the hardest, trained them into the shape of sharpened nails, or, in Grif's case, a rusty, dull nail, and had sent them out every hour.
And still treasure aluded them.
"Man, I miss the army." the war veteran muttered before finally falling asleep.
Church woke up and looked at the clock. Fifteen past midnight. He groaned and got up for a glass of water. If this had been the old days, Tex would have been beside him. But those days were long gone.
As he made his way to the kitchen, he thought about the old days. Before RvB, before Tucker, before Caboose. When it had just been him, her, and O'Malley.
But then O'Malley had betrayed them, and Church's world had ended in blood.
He had survived the sinking ship, and was picked up by the crew of the Blue, led by the now deceased Cpt. Flowers.
When they had gotten into port, Church had made the deal with Red vs Blue Boating, and was assigned as the new leader for the Blue Team. Vic had thought it was because Church loved the sea. But he didn't. Church had hated the water ever since the O'Malley Incident.
He had done the deal to find Tex.
Grif woke up, wrapped in a blanket. For a moment he wondered where he was. But then it all came back. Ship. RvB Boating. Crap.
Grif stood up, then went to get some cookies, sliding past the detectors that Sarge had built rather gracefully dispite his bulk. As he went near the fridge, Grif thought of the past.
He and Simmons had been roomates, were still roomates, when they had gotten the call. They had been sharing their apartment with Grif's sister, when one day Grif had came back from college, having flunked out again. Angry, and cursing the instructor's, Grif had stormed off to the docks.
After a few hours, Simmons had gotten worried, and after telling Sister that he would be right back, where the food was, his cellphone number, exctra, excetra, he had gone where Grif had gone.
He had seen Grif on the deck of a ship called the Red Base, and, not wanting to get left behind, had jumped on. Before they knew what was happening, they were off, and Simmons was signing a contract with RvB Boating.
Grif had thought it would be fun. It wasn't.
Grif slid into the kitchen, he saw a light. Why was a light on? Sarge didn't allow lights after 9:00. As he drew closer, he saw the pink pajamas.
Donut looked up from where he was getting a glass of water, dropped it, and ran up to Grif, hugging him. Grif yelled and jumped for the railing. A crash sounded as they both went over the edge.
Grif spluttered and floundered in the water. He had never learned to swim, so this was like torture. At least in scuba diving, you could just let yourself sink, and then go from there.
Donut continued to try and hug him, but Grif kept squirming away. A light shined down on them, and a life raft followed.
Simmons pulled them up. As he saw Grif, he said, "I promise I won't tell Sarge if-"
"Won't tell me what?"
Church slid into the scuba gear easily, looked over the edge of the boat. The blue ocean greeted him. He couldn't help smiling. Man, was that gay, looking at the ocean and smiling. He really had to get that looked at.
"Tucker! Where the heck are ya?" he yelled to the inner cabin.
"He's helping me get the gajettxsz on!" Caboose's voice, slightly muffled, came from the doorway. Church groaned.
"Catch up with me, okay? Don't wanna come back with nothing."
"Ok, whatever," Tucker's voice came from the doorway.
Church slid on the mask, hit the activation stud on his air tank. Just in case, he strapped a spare on his back, withought attaching it to his mask.
He slid into the water, let himself sink. As always, the blueness of the water suprised him. It looked brownish-gray from the surface, but underneath-
As he sank deeper, the blue turned to black. Church lit a small light on his helmet. Instantly the darkness was illuminated.
That's when he saw it.
It was only a small metal pipe, and at first Church was excited. Sunken pipe = sunken ship = treasure, or at least some spare parts. Church had learned that it was better to go to port with something rather than nothing.
But as he swam closer, he saw the pipe extended into a rather long, bullet shaped ship. His heart started thumping. It couldn't be there. It coul-
There it was, painted on the side. The words, Freelancer, Inc.
Church found himself pelting toward the site, swimming as fast as his legs could move him. As he got closer, he saw a small dark figure in the distance.
No, no, nononoonononNONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!NONONO!
He saw her. Same reddish-brown hair, freckles, scuba suit barely pulled on, unconsious, air tank leak, the works.
As he reached her, he stopped for a minute. Yep. Definatley unconsious. He ripped off his spare air tank, replaced hers with it, screwed the mask in place.
As the air finally flowed, she gasped, looked up. Church was pushing toward the surface, she looked confused for a moment, then passed out again.
When Church came to the surface, Tucker's first thought was 'Awesome! He found something!' But when he saw what Church was carrying, that thought died.
Church gasped, heaved Tex onto the surface, then climbed onboard himself. Tucker was already there, and running over. Caboose stayed behind, struggling with the gear.
"What the crap, dude!" Tucker yelled as he ran toward Tex, "why the crap did you bring her back?!" Church ignored it, and struggled to remove the mask and air tank.
She gasped, and muttered as she woke up. "You butt-sniffing retards, you ruined my suit!"
Same old Tex.
Wyomin sat at the deck of the Zanzibar, looking out over the sea. As he paused in his smoking of a cigar, a voice cleared it's throat behind him.
"Yes, I planted the charge," he replied, knowing the question without asking.
"How what, mate?"
"How did- nothing."
Wyoming smiled. "How that she's alive?"
"O'Malley, old chap, I make sure what happens with my jobs," he said, looking backward at the person behind him.
"How did she survive?" O'Malley asked, confused and angry at the same time.
"She was rescued by a chap in a boat. He was scuba diving, found her ship. Stringy black hair, five-o'clock shadow, some stubble."
"Chhhurrcchhh," O'Malley hissed, throwing his hands up in the air. "He's always there, no matter how much I try-"
"If you want me to-"
"No, it's fine. Just make sure she's dead."
O'Malley turned back, fuming. No matter how much he tried, Church just wouldn't go away. He filled a capacity for Tex that he never could. And that was why he was angry.
That was the annoying thing about Church. He was always in the right place, the right time, to help her. That was something O'Malley could never do.
He smiled, then reached for the phone in his pocket. He would add Gary to the job. Gary would make sure it was done right.
Maybe Maine, too.
Tex woke up slowly. All she could remember was the explosion, the figure who was pulling her up, and her muttering something nasty. Then she had passed out again.
Her vision slowly cleared. The face above her had to be a hallucination. For a moment she considered that this had all been a dream, and she and Church were back in their cabin on the Zanzibar, O'Malley trying to cook something partway edible. But then she saw that this Church was slightly different.
"Hey," he said, grinning, "waking up? Any more insults for the guy who saved you life. I'm all ears."
His voice had that slightly annoyed tone that was normal for him.
"Not yet," she said, slowly pulling herself up, "but it's good to see you."
Church grinned, stood up. "Okay, I'm gonna tell the other guys that you're awake. Hopefully, you won't blow the place up."
"Count on it."
Church heaved an exaggerated sigh, left the room.
What was on Tucker's mind wasn't the guest in the hold, it was the two Reds in front of him.
So he was rather aprehensive that Church came out of the hold grinning. Then again, it wasn't on his pay roll to care. So he didn't.
"She's awake, if that's good news."
That came from one of the two reds, the one that Tucker was sure was called Grif.
"Oh it's somebody," came a ruff Southern voice behind the two Reds. Sarge pushed the two men aside, then stepped forward, looked at Church, "and since we both work for the same company, I demand an explanation."
Church sighed. "You're really gonna push this?"
Church sighed again. "Okay, it's story time. Whoop-de-doo. I suggest you sit down. This will probably take a while.
How do I start this? Well, I guess the best way to tell this is my side. In my own words.
I'm gonna start with me. Selfish, I know. Anyway, I was an orphan. Don't sob on me, I don't need it. My parents kicked the bucket some time, and I found myself in Awesome Institute, or AI for short. Everyone was given a code name, and mine was Alpha. I grew up with another kid a lot like me, called Epsilon, or Eddie. Life was okay, if not great.
Then the Prof. came. His name was Prof. Leonard S. Church, and if you've seen the news anytime, you've heard the name. He decided to adopt me and Eddie, the sons he never had. Eddie became Epislon Church. I became Leonard Church, Jr. I don't know why he named me after himself. Sometimes I don't care. Anyway, we moved into the mansion he had.
We were fed three square meals a day. For education, we got the bessed tutors. From him, we learned more about science than most people now when they're fifty. All this. Life was pretty good.
And then Eddie came up with the idea of running away. I told the Professor, and he told me to go ahead, as long as we came back. So we packed up, and left in the morning.
I'm not going to go into too much depth about life on the run. It's not as bad as you think. There was usually food we could steal from streets, and no real animals where wandering around those days. Things were pretty routine.
And then we met Tex.
She didn't look to different then now, and let me tell you, that's a good thing. Same red hair, same freckles, same look that said, 'I could gut you like a fish, and I know it.'
Eddie was always a little younger than me. Still a kid really. He was twelve, I was fourteen. I had been taking care of him all this time, but it was a little tricky. Tex was about my age.
"Hey," she said as she came over, "who are you?"
"Church. Leonard Church. This is my brother, Eddie."
"Nice to meet you, Leonard."
"Likewise. And who are you?"
"Just call me Tex."
And that's how it started. She started following us, helping me take care of Eddie. It was a friendship, the kind that you wouldn't expect to turn into something else. It worked.
Then Eddie left me. He left a note, saying he had decided to care for himself. I later got back into contact with him. He's doing fine, by the way. Works in shipping, like I do.
I thought Tex would take off after that. She didn't, I still don't know why. What do you know, maybe it was a bound. Still don't know.
We ended up trying to find our way to New York. During this time, we let the guards down. I told her about the orphanage, about life with the Prof. I taught her all the science I knew from memory. And it was a lot. She told me she was the daughter of a human diplomat. Several Elites had killed him, leaving her to fend for herself.
"Well, Leonard," she said, leaning against me, "some people just have no luck." She punctuated this by punching me in the gut.
One day, while looking for some food at the docks, Tex was approached by a guy from the orphanage I grew up in. His name was Omega, but he had changed it to O'Malley. He offered a postion on the ship, the Zanzibar. She excepted, and went to get me.
During the time on the Zanzibar, we more or less, well, ah, uhm, became a couple.
Shut up, Tucker. Don't act like you haven't done it before.
Anyway, it followed the usual stuff. Moved into my cabin, lololololkoklolo, blah, blah, blah.
Then O'Malley betrayed us.
"What, that's it?" Sarge asked angrily, "that's all you're gonna tell us?"
"For now," Church said defensivley, "and besides, I've probably told you too much already, look at Tucker."
Tucker was grinning like he had hit gold.
"Tommorow," Church said, looking at the angry faces, "I've gotta go check on the patient."
"What?" Sarge yelled from behind his rather large desk as Simmons came in.
"Well, I was just wondering if... sir, what are you doing?" Simmons asked as he stared at the piles of paper files on Sarge's desk.
"Just looking through are records," Sarge replied, "if the Blues have a new crew member, than-"
"Sir, I'm not sure she counts, sir."
"You heard that Blue! They were friends! Or worse, whatever that Tucker guy said. But I'm trying to find someone to sail with us, to even the scales."
"Hmmmm..." a grin appeared on Simmons' face, "sir, I think I know the perfect person. Plus, she already knows us."
"Then hire 'em already!"
Grinning, Simmons whipped out a cellphone, choosing selected calls. He then clicked on the tag, 'SISTER'.
"No, Caboose, you can't visit the mean lady."
"Because... ah.... do you remember the broken bones?"
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Okay. I remember."
Tucker leaned back in the kitchen, staring at the wall that Church had declared a quarintine zone. And, dispite Tucker's attempts to set up cameras, Church always found them, and destroyed them.
"Have you been telling Church were to find my cameras?"
At that moment, Church barged in, looked at both of them, then let out the announcement.
"We're going ashore in a few hours."
"What?!" Tucker said, his face widening, "$%^$^$^$#, you should have told us!"
"I just did."
"But we didn't find anything!"
"Tex counts as nothing?"
"Maybe not to you. Bow-chicka-bow-wow."
"Shut up, or I will kill you."
"Wow, it's good to be back on land," Sarge said, stretching on the dock where they had landed, "Simmons! Help me find a bar! It's time to get drunk."
"Amen to that," Grif said, grinning and striding forward, "but first, I'm going to find a hotel where we could stay."
"Take my cell phone," Simmons called, tossing it to Grif, who caught it, and flicked it open, "I'm pretty sure that they'res a hotel around here."
"Roger." Grif began heading toward the mainland.
"Allright," Tucker said, eyeing the females surrounding the road the Blues where on, "time to rate some butts. You joining me, Church?"
"Why, this used to be your favorite gaaaa,, oh. That's cool."
He had quailed under the look Church was giving him. Tucker tried to mend the gab by saying, "So, where are we staying this week?"
"You know, the usual place," Church said. Tucker groaned. "Blood Gulch Suites again, huh."
Sarge downed his 50th shot, causing cheers to split the air around him.
"Ah," he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, "hit me again, Andy."
Andy, the bartender, grinned and reached behind the counter. "Sure, thing, Sarge. Don't want to drive away my favorite customer."
Simmons came bursting in right as Sarge downed his 51st, stopping to worm his way through the crowd. "Sir, Grif found a place to stay. We've got to go."
"Simmons! Great to see you!" Sarge beamed. "Andy, get Simmons some of that Irish crap you have the sale on."
"But, Sarge, I-"
"Relax, Simmons, relax."
"Sigh. Fine, let's go."
"Okay," Church said, going through the keys the owner of the hotel had given him, "we got three rooms, so Tucker gets one, Caboose gets one, I get one, and who's gonna room with Tex?"
Unsirprisngly, no one raised their hand. Church sighed. "Well, I guess it's going to be me. Again. You guys could try contributing. You know, like help."
"You look like you have it under control," Tucker responded, smirking, "Good Night, and all that. Bow-chicka-ow@@#!"
Tex had punched him in the gut.
When Grif looked up in the four-bed hotel room, he saw Donut carrying Simmons and Sarge up the stairs, or rather, helping them.
"The f-f-first -t-t-t-time I k-k-killed a man," Sarge stuttered, clearly drunk, "h-hhe studdied and fffffelll ovvverrrrrr."
"A (hiccup!) good job, you did (hiccup!) sir!" mumbled Simmons, who was clearly the more sober one of the group. As for Donut, he seemed perfectly sober, which suprised Grif. When they went to shore, it was a contest between Donut and Sarge who could get the most drunk.
"I got there just in time," Donut explained, "Simmons was about to go all out."
"How many drinks did he have?"
"Seven when I got there."
Grif sighed. "Okay," he said, "help me get them on their beds. We can laugh at their hangovers tommorow."
"Awesome! It will be just like a sleepover."
"Shut up, no one cares."
He was moving quickly, almost flying over the ground. His heart was pounding, sweat beaded his face. He was heading toward... a warehouse. Yes, it was coming over the distance. But he continued to run, passing it. He felt fear, dispair, and did not know why.
Someone on his team was in trouble. They weren't on his team, but, he knew them. He continued to run, heading toward the docks.
And then he saw it. A greyish-brown ship, with the word Zanzibar on it's side. His heart gave a lurch. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't.
Suddenly he was on the ship. Numbly, he opened the door, looked through the cabins. His and Tex's where empty. O'Malley's was empty. He started toward the hull.
Then he saw him. Black, stringy hair like his. Slightly paler skin. Blue eyes. It could only be one person. As Church watched, he saw a white armored hand, reach up, holding a gun, and pull the trigger in front of the other person's face.
Church shot up in bed, panicing. He looked around wildly, slowly calming down. There was Tex beside him, they were still in the hotel, and Eddie wasn't even near this port.
He laid down, slightly stretched. If he had any right, he'd pray.
Grif woke up in the middle of the night, and something felt different. Like someone was on top of him... ah, well, he probably had all the covers on that end of the bed or something... yawn.
"Bro!" came a small little whisper right next to him.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHHHHHHH!" he yelled, lunging forward, trying to swat was on top of him. Sister jumped neatly back, grinning.
The light's came on, everyone looking around wildly. Several bullets from Sarge's shotgun peppered the walls above Sister's head.
"Grif?" Simmons asked, looking around and rubbing his head, "what- oh, hey Sister!"
"What's up?" she asked, grinning and looking around.
"Wait a minute," Sarge said, looking confused, "who is this?"
"My sister!" Grif yelled, "how the heck did you get into the room?! Donut locked it.... Donut, did you lock it?"
"I don't remember" Donut said, going red in the face.
Grif groaned, while Sarge was thinking.
"You know," he mused, rubbing his chin, "I always thought there was a genetic possibility that Grif would have siblings, but I always hoped that he was the dreadful result of some lab expierament."
"Go. Home." Grif said, glaring and pulling the covers up.
"Why?" Sister asked, "I've got a job here. Some boat under RvB Boating, I think."
Grif and Sarge slowly turned to Simmons.
"Who did you hire the other day?" Sarge asked.
Simmons turned around, silently laughing.
Church stared at the coffee in his hands, still shaking from the nightmare. The rest of the night had finally passed, and here he was, still shaking because of some dream.
But it was more than a dream. Man, that sounded gay. Still, Church was still worried. At the very least, he wanted to check up on Eddie, see if he was okay. And, thankfully, he lived near here.
Church stood up, stretched, and started to head toward the car.
"Sister! You hired Sister!"
"I don't even see what the problem is!" Simmons said, staring Grif straight in the face as his friend screamed at him.
"THE PROBLEM?! THE PROBLEM?! I'll tell you what's the crappin' problem! YOU!" Grif yelled, and pointed outside, "I don't want to see you again! Go join the Blues!"
"What?!" Simmons gasped, "you don't really mean that?!"
"The heck I don't! GO, or I will tell Sarge about your secret stash of gummy bears!"
Tucker yawned and walked over to the door as a knock sounded. Simmons was standing in front of him.
"What do you want?"
"Well," Simmons muttered, clearly nervous. "You see, ahh, I got kicked off the Red Boat, so I was wondering... aah."
Tucker looked at him, brow furrowed. "You want to join up?"
"Well, umn... I guess that's the only way to put it."
Tucker sighed. Vic didn't have a policy about switching boats, so...
"You made Simmons do WHAT?!"
Grif flinched at the verbal onslaught launched at him by his superior. Sarge's voice was high-pitched, and rage etched every syllable. He slowly raised his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Calm down," he said, his voice indicating that that wasn't going to happen, "I'm sure he'll come back."
"Oh, I am too. But image what secrets the dirty Blues will torture out of him by the time he manages to escape!"
"I'm not sure it will be that bad."
"The heck it won't. I'm tempted to make you go and join up, but we're short on men thanks to your stupidity. So, get your sister familiarized with the rules and regulations!"
"Umm," Sister said, scratching her head, "this may be a bad time to mention this, but... aren't you supposed to be dead?"
Sarge turned slowly. "What?" he asked.
Church walked up slowly towards the house that Eddie owned at the docks. He wasn't sure what he'd find their, but he still wanted to check, just to be sure.
He reached the door, and knocked once. No answer. He knocked again. Finally the door opened. A young man about Church's age popped out. He looked exactly like him, except with paler skin, and green eyes.
"Yo, bro!" Eddie said, grinning. Church grinned back. "Man, you're back already? Seems like the last time we met you where three years younger? How's Tex?"
"You're telling me."
"Let me get this straight," Sarge said slowly, trying to make sence of the senceless. "I'm dead?"
"Yep." Sister replied, "asprin overdose, or whatever that means. I didn't even know that was possible, and believe me, I tried."
"Yeah!" Grif said, then, "wait, what?"
"So.... you're telling me all this is true," Eddie said, looking over the small glass of wine he held in his hand. Church mutely nodded.
"Man," Eddie said, "O'Malley must have been a real butt."
"It's funny," Church replied, "it's just... we never saw it coming. It just... happened."
"It's always like that. You can't spot the crazies. They just pop up."
Church smiled reufelly, took a sip from his own cup. "Man," he said, "this is good. Buisness doing well?"
"You know it. Have this new partner, name's Wyoming. He's actually coming over today. You mind staying for a visit?"
"Well, there's no point trying to avoid it," Sarge said with a resigned sigh, "I've died."
"Sir, that doesn't make sense!" Grif said, marvelling at himself. He was worried about Sarge? To weird. "You know, you were right, you're dead."
"Unless... Command must have made a mistake!" Sarge said, brightening.
"I thought Command was never wrong!" Grif said with mock surprise, "and... what if Command was wrong about other things! Like the Blues! Maybe they don't suck! Maybe... maybe the Blues are awesome!"
Sarge's face was twisted into a strange grimace. "That can't be! I did die!"
The car dropped Wyoming off in front of Edward Church's house. Smiling gently, the assassin strode up the stone path. If O'Malley's intel was correct, Leonard was in the same house.
Pitty he didn't bring Tex, Wyoming thought, a double capture would have made the boss even more happy. Ah, well, what's a chap to do?
He reached up, hit the doorbell. He hung his jacket on his shoulder. Americans had such odd customs. Smiling, he watched as the door slid open.
Church stood in the doorway, and his eyes bugged out. He quickly slammed the door. Wyoming sighed, pulling a Desert Eagle out his pocket, and shooting the lock. This was going to be difficult.
Eddie relaxed, waiting for Church to come back with the guest. Suddenly, Church leaped into the room, grabbed Eddie, and pushed him out just as a gunshot sounded.
"What the-" Eddie stammered. Church shushed him, then threw him into the hallway.
"What's going on?!" Eddie yelled as Church slammed the door.
"Sorry," Church gasped, "but your associate was one of the people with O'Malley who tried to kill me. I guess he isn't interested in buisness."
Suddenly a bullet slammed into the lock, sending it spinning away. Church cursed.
"Desert Eagle," he said, "I'm surprised he didn't bring the Sniper Rifle. Eddie, do you have any weaponry?"
Eddie nodded, pointed to a closet. Church ran over, pulled out a shotgun. "You keep a shotgun in your house?" he asked incrediculously, "is that even legal?"
"I don't always work in... legal ventures."
Simmons stared mutely at the door of the Reds' hotel room. He pushed out the muck in his head and turned to his. Blue Team. Guess he could get used to the fact.
Things had been going so well. He had a job he kinda liked, he had a superior officer who cared about him, he had a lazy roomate who made up for lack of labor with sheer food devoration.... what had gone wrong?
Simmons walked back into Blue Team's hotel room.
Wyoming shot through the hallway's lock, then pushed the door back. He heard a gun being cocked, slid smoothly into the bathroom as a shotgun shell smashed into the wall behind were he had been standing.
Reloading his Desert Eagle, he slid out of the hallway, firing his own shot while ducking into the room across the way. It missed. It had to be old age. He could have killed Church using the bullet from the lock. Slowed reactions.
He popped back out, firing two shots from the hip. One zipped past the group, slamming into the wall beside them. The other hit Church's shoulder. He went down with a cry. Eddie snatched up the shotgun.
Oh no you don't Wyoming thought before shooting another round into Eddie's shoulder. Both men went into unconsiousness. Wyoming strode up, kicked them once, then pulled out a cell phone. He dialed.
"Yes? I took care of them. Head to the hotel? Take Tex? On it, chap. Wish me luck."
RvB On a Boat
|RvB On a Boat|
|Sarge (RvB On a Boat) · Grif (RvB On a Boat) · Simmons (RvB On a Boat) · Donut (RvB On a Boat)|
|Church (RvB On A Boat) · Tucker (RvB On a Boat) ·Caboose (RvB On a Boat)|