(Red vs. Blue) Project Freelancer: The Other Agents

Fury of the Broken Spear

*!!!CONTENT WARNING!!!*

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS THEMES THAT MAY BE DISTRESSING FOR SOME READERS!

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Following their suppression of the insurrectionist threat, the men and women of Project Freelancer were placed under the command of what was left of the UNSC Army. However, as days began to blur and grand, defensive battles devolved into short, desperate skirmishes for survival, it became clear to them Reach's fate. A once strong and proud military presence reduced to little more than dwindling pockets of resistance with no goals other than escape or taking as many Covenant combatants with them as they could. Freelancer's personnel eventually found themselves in one such final fleeting bastion. They had been lucky enough to be assigned to the "point of least resistance" to create a kill zone in the city. While the majority of the concrete jungle's perimeter lay lined with an impressive array of Scorpions, SAMs, Scythes, and other defensive weapons with many more automatic turrets scattered throughout the city's interior, their section only contained one Scorpion assisted by a pair of Scythe anti-air turrets.

If any silver lining could be gleaned from their current situation, they were able to enjoy a rare period of relative quiet. New Mexico made final preparations to their defensive line after inspecting the equipment left at their disposal. Pleased with the placement of ammunition crates and SPNKR's behind their barricades, he returned to his comrades amongst the urban environment. He found Rhode Island reloading several shotguns within a nearby building.

"Need a hand?" he asked from a safe distance. His friend looked up and racked a shell before handing him the next one in line. New Mexico sat next to him as he moved the box of shells between them.

"I'm surprised you're sitting with me," Rhode Island said. "Mary's right upstairs."

New Mexico shrugged and joked, "Meh, I found you first. May as well spend some quality time. Besides, it'd be a shame if one of these were to have a backwards shell."

"F**k off," his friend snickered. "That was one time."

"Still enough for Sarge to never let it go."

"Or you, apparently."

"D***it, Prophet!" Frederick began mimicking their former Sergeant. "That has got to be the worst reload ever!"

"Of all time," Vincent finished the memory. They both gave a quick, tired chuckle before sighing. "Good ol' Sergeant Isaiah."

"Sarge would have a cow," he motioned to the array of shotguns leaning against a nearby wall.

"Hey, they're the one who told us about that old wartime proverb," Jerry defended his actions. "'Switching to your secondary is faster than reloading'. This is just taking those wise words to the next level. I guarantee you I'll make this choke point last." New Mexico saw Rhode Island tighten his grip on the shotgun and resolutely swear, "One way or another, I'm killing as many as I can before I leave Reach." Fred stopped reloading and just stared at his friend.

It wasn't that the thought of their demise hadn't crossed his mind, in fact it had always been present since they learned of the Covenant's presence, but it was there in that staircase on Reach where someone else had finally mentioned it out loud. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of dying on Reach, however... There's worse places to die

"Looks like we'll make them remember us," he finally said.

"Us?" Rhode Island asked.

"Can't let you have all the fun. I at least want a song about me," New Mexico grinned. "Of course, at least one of us has to make it to tell the other's story."