A Worm in the Gulch (Worm/Red vs. Blue)

SkyRig · Nov 27, 2020

"Roses are red, and violets are blue
One day we'll cruise down Blood Gulch avenue
It's Red versus Red, and Blue versus Blue
It's I against I and Me against You"

SkyRig proudly present,

"A Worm in the Gulch"
alternatively known as
"Taylor Gets Isekai'd Into The Space-Ass End In The Middle Of Bum-Fuck-Egypt"

Shut up and enjoy the fanfic, you cockbiting fucktards
Love, The Writer

#1: Trigger Warning AKA Taylor Does A Thing

You ever had "the worst day of your life?"

It varies from person to person. For some people, it's breaking up with someone you thought was going to be your future husband or wife. For others, it's the loss of someone very dear to you. Up until today, the worst day of my life was the day I watched my mother lower into a hole and be buried in dirt.

What changed? Simple, really.

I got shoved inside my own fucking locker that was filled with god knows what and I was having a panic attack.

Quick recap for you all. My name is Taylor Hebert. I'm your average 15, going on 16-year-old teenage girl at gang-infested high school in a city that is unanimously agreed to be the worst place to live. I won't bore you with all the juicy details of my life, so let's skip to the good stuff.

Around over a year ago, my best friend, Emma Barnes, for reasons I could not begin to fathom, decided to become a back-stabbing bitch and broke off whatever friendship we had in favor of becoming the BFF of Winslow's Track Star, one Sophia Hess and Queen Bitch. Ever since then, for reasons I don't know, they did everything they possibly could to bully my ass around to hell and back. And the teachers didn't do a fucking thing, even when I told them. I didn't tell my Dad, partially because I felt as though he would be just like my teachers, either refusing to believe me or unable to do anything about the situation.

Flash forward to this day, the start of the new school year, and my tormentors, plus one hanger-on by the name of Madison Clements, decided to one-up themselves.

Let me tell you, being trapped inside your own locker, filled with things found only in a waste bin from the girls bathroom is not a fun experience. The smell was god-awful, I could barely move in there, and I swore there were bugs crawling all over my skin. It was by far the most traumatic thing I've had to endure.

It also left me a severe case of claustrophobia.

I couldn't tell you how long I screamed, cried and begged for someone to let me out of that locker. I banged my back against the door, trying to push it open, but I couldn't get it to budge. There wasn't enough space for me to get some real momentum going, much less enough room for me to find leverage. The smell got worse and worse by the second. I honestly felt like I was going to die in there, and no one would care. Not the teachers, not my classmates, no one.

The only thing that made me struggle, to continue fighting and attempt to get out of that fucking locker, was the thought of seeing my Dad again.

"Let me out!" I remember hearing the animalistic cries that came out from me. "Let me out! LET ME OUT!"

I remember giving one last push against the locker door…before it happened.

The last thing I remember, right as I felt the world give way right from under me, was the starry abyss that engulfed me.

As you're reading this, you're probably thinking to yourself, "This sounds like the beginning to some angsty teenage drama hero story." Well, you're not wrong. It kind of does.

…but, it isn't.

When I triggered, my life turned into a straight up otherworldly comedy show. And you have a front row seat.

So, introductions.

My name is Taylor Hebert.

And this is my story. The story of how I met some of the most lovable, idiotic and wonderful people that I would proudly come to call my friends.

Fair warning. They're all fucking mental.

The moment my body hit the ground, I dumped the contents of my stomach across the floor. My head was spinning, I couldn't tell left to right to up to down, and my body was burning. Every part of me felt like it was breaking into teeny-tiny pieces. Tears and mucus were running down my face.

I must have been puking for what felt like a good hour or so before I stopped. My throat was on fire. It was only now that I was noticing that I didn't have my glasses on my face and that my surroundings were not what they should have been. Instead of being inside my locker, I was inside what looked like a cave system. The ground beneath me was rocky, covered in a thin layer of dust with bits of gravel stuck to my jeans and palms.

"W-what…?" I wiped the tears out from my eyes and rose to my feet, albeit unsteadily. My knees were knocking together and I felt like I was about to bowl over any second. God, I feel so sick right now. "Wh-where am I?"

I should be glad that I was not inside my locker, but the fact that I was in a cave of all places was enough to unsettle me.

"H-hello?" I yelled out, only to choke and cough, my throat still sore from all that vomiting. "Is-is anyone here?"

My voice echoed across the cavern walls. Aside from that, all I heard was water dripping from the ceiling.

What was going on? How did I end up in this place? Was I dreaming? I gave myself a quick pinch and winced. This was not a dream, which only made my worries worse. If this wasn't a dream, where was I? Was this someplace near Winslow? Was it below ground? How did I even get here? Possibilities ran through my head, ranging from this being yet another of the Trio's pranks to cape bullshit, and neither prospect sounded wonderful.

…sitting around here doing nothing wasn't going to help me.

In any case, I need to find a way out of this place and get back to Dad.

I looked down at my clothes and grimaced, finding the lower half of my clothes covered in the shit from the locker. I don't think there are enough showers in the world to get this off me. I felt so sick just looking at it.

I ignored the smell from both my pool of vomit and the shit on my clothes and started walking, I entered the mouth of a cavern and prayed that wherever I was going would lead me out of this place.

After ten minutes of walking and navigating the winding paths of rock and tunnels, I found myself staring at something impossible. The panic and fear that I was feeling before returned with a vengeance, seizing me tight and refusing to let go of me. I expected to see something, like civilization or familiar landmarks, but instead all I saw was rock. As far as the eye could see, stretching out into a wide canyon down below the cliff I was standing on. Dead trees with nary a leaf and tumbleweeds were scarce with little patches of grassland anywhere to be found. I saw what looked like two metal structures with colored banners; red on the far left side of the canyon and blue on the far right. In the distance, something resembling a strip rose into the air, curving higher and higher until it arched all the way to where it was barely visible and looping back around to the other side. I had half a mind to think that this canyon was located inside a giant ring, but that sounded crazy right?

And yet, here I am.

I was going crazy. That had to be it. I was going insane or I was having a near death experience. I was probably still in the locker. That's the only explanation.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, falling flat on my ass and staring at the ground below me.

What do I do now…?

"Yo, Church! Come check this out!"

A scowl formed underneath Church's helmet. Well, he assumed he was. His new meatsuit was entirely robotic in nature so he didn't have lips anymore. Which of course meant no more eating. On the one hand, that meant no more having to taste this god-awful monthly supply drop rations. On the other hand, that meant no more booze.

Ah, oh well. He could ponder how he might be able to consume alcohol like this another time. For now, he had to deal with this shit.

"What is it, Tucker?" Church demanded angrily as he stomped up behind his aqua-armored colleague. "If this about Caboose, I thought we already agreed this week was your turn to deal with his ass."

Tucker shook his head. "Nah, something else. Check it out! Over there, by the cliffs."

He handed him a pair of binoculars. Church took them and peered through the lenses. Tucker pointed to the cliffs and he saw what the guy had been looking at.

"…the fuck? Who the hell is that?"

"Hell if I know. A new soldier from the Reds? I mean, we did kind of take their robot."

"Then why aren't they in armor? They're wearing civvie clothes."

"Again, hell if I know." Tucker shrugged. "So, what do we do? Investigate? Do some recon shit? I mean, we haven't had to deal with the Reds in, what, a few weeks now?"

Church grumbled beneath his breath before handing the binoculars to Tucker. "Yeah yeah, whatever. Tell you what, take the rookie and go find out who that is. As for me, I'm going back to my room." As he made his way back inside, a thought occurred to him and made him pause. "…wait. Why the hell do you have binoculars?"

"Because I never get the fucking sniper rifle, that's why!"

"Okay, but I mean how do you even have those?"

"These are something I've had with me since high school. Me and my college buddies always had one of these puppies with us when we went out into town."

Having a good idea as to why they needed binoculars, Church shook his head and returned to Blue Base, content to let the idiots sort this out among themselves.

He didn't get paid enough for this shit.

I said this was coming, didn't I?

Leave your sanity at the door, Tay Tay. You won't be needing it~

Oh, and before anyone asks, Taylor doesn't have the Queen Administrator in this fanfic. She actually triggered with one of Abaddon's shards. Specifically the one that allows the user to "step between worlds."

Which begs the question: Who has QA?

An answer, I'm afraid, you'll be waiting for a veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery long time. Taylor's got some work to do, dealing with all this shit~

Devil Trigger will update sometime later this week. For now, enjoy the insanity.

SkyRig · Dec 5, 2020

While I'm happy to answer any questions you guys have, please stay on topic.

Also, @Dragon Bone Z, to be fair, you WERE kind of asking for it. While I did read the follow-up post to the message that got you in trouble, did you not see how the hell you worded it?

SkyRig · Dec 8, 2020

#2: First Contact
(AKA Taylor Meets The Locals)

I don't know how long I sat there, crying myself and having my own personal pity party. I pretty much shut down when I realized my situation and where I was. There was no place like this on Earth Bet, so one of two things happened: Either I'm undergoing some sort of death-death hallucination or its cape power bullshit. Neither option sounded appealing.

The only thing worse than my surroundings and situation was the god-awful smell lingering on my clothes. Even though I wasn't in the locker anymore, the filth clung to my clothes. I probably couldn't wear these anymore once I discarded them.

I eventually got over my depressed state, realizing that simply sitting here wouldn't do me any favors. I need to form a plan. The first thing to do was find out where I was and if there was any way I could find a way back home. This meant I had to talk to the locals. I was hoping they would be pleasant and understanding of my situation.

They were, but they weren't without their issues…

"Freeze, intruder! Stop your intruding right there!"

I jumped and scrambled back, slipping on my feet and landing harshly on the ground. Ignoring the stinging pain of rocks digging into my butt, I stared in shock and horror at the red-armored man standing in front of me, shotgun leveled in front of my face. In the darkness that laid inside the barrel, I could clearly the see the casing of the shell waiting inside, waiting to blow my head off.

Just when I finally chose to stop crying about my situation and started making my way towards the nearest structure, that being the one with the red banners, this guy suddenly showed up and aimed a gun at my face. Sweat poured down my face. I couldn't move, too terrified by the fact that one false move would end me in an instant.

"Wait, what the fuck? Sarge, hold on a second!"

The armored man paused for a moment, then lowered his gun. Though I couldn't see through the visor of his helmet, I could feel his confusion.

"What in the…? What in Sam Hill is a civilian doing here?"

"Ugh, what is that smell?! It smells worse than Grif in the showers!"

Behind the red-armored man were two others, both clad in similar armor dyed in differing colors. One was wearing maroon while the other was in orange, though his stomach had a noticeable bulge, almost as though the armor was straining to contain his gut.

Who in the heck were these people? Were they natives? Part of some special military unit? I didn't know what to think, other than that I might be staring at the people that were going to kill me.

"Hey, I don't smell that bad," the orange soldier complained before looking at me. "As for what's causing it, I can think of a few guesses. Jesus Christ, kid, were you dumpster diving or something? You got shit all over you."

I promptly winced at the reminder. It also hit me that this canyon was becoming unbearably warm. Was the smell getting worse?

"What is she even doing here?" the maroon soldier asked. "She doesn't have any weapons, she's not wearing any military uniform, so I'm guessing she's not some new recruit." He looked to his shotgun wielding companion for answers. "Sarge, what do we do?"

'Sarge' grunted. "Isn't it obvious? We bring her with us! Take her back to Red Base for debrief! She could be a spy for the Blues!"

"The Blues? Sarge, no offense, but I don't think they're smart enough to send a spy. Also, she doesn't even look like one!"

As the soldiers bickered, going back and forth about who I was and what they would do with me, I slowly inched away. They were the first intelligent people I've met so far, but I didn't want to trust someone who just aimed a freaking shotgun to my face. I glanced around, hoping to find some escape route. To my chagrin, the only place I could escape to was behind me, further along the Cliffside trial, all the way back to the cave entrance from earlier.

Speaking of, I saw two colorful armored heads peering out from behind a small boulder near the cliff's edge, one aqua and the other deep blue.

Fuck, who were they? Was this some sort of trap?

"Hey!"

I jumped, whirling to face the soldiers in front of me. The maroon one was in front of me. I pulled back, putting distance between us.

"Hey, hey! It's okay!" The maroon soldier placed the gun over his shoulder. The rifle somehow affixed itself to his backside. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, showing he didn't have any weapons anywhere else. "It's okay! We aren't going to hurt you."

"W-why should I trust you?" I asked back. "I don't know you. I don't even know where I am!"

"You're in Blood Gulch—a box canyon in the middle of fucking nowhere," the orange soldier told me, making me frown. It didn't sound familiar. Seeing that I was still hostile, he sighed and followed his maroon comrade's example. "Okay, look, just calm down. I get that we're asking for a lot, I promise, we're not going to hurt you."

"What's your name?"

I stared at the two for a moment, weighing my options. I was still wary of them, but…

"…Taylor. Taylor Hebert."

"Okay, Taylor. My name is Dick Simmons," the maroon soldier introduced himself before gesturing to the orange one. "This is Grif. The guy with the shotgun is our CO, Sarge." Sarge gave a nod of affirmation. "Can you tell us how you got here?"

"I…"

I opened my mouth to speak. It was a long shot, and there was the possibility that these guys wouldn't believe me, but what did I have to lose? It was better to try something than to do nothing.

Before I could tell them, I heard someone shout frantically behind me. "Caboose, don't!"

In the next second, gunfire started soaring through the air.

God dammit, O'Malley...

SkyRig · Dec 13, 2020

#3: Stockholm Syndrome
(Aka Taylor Gets The Blues)

So, Blue Team. Dear god, where do I even start?

Well, let's just say they're probably some of the most dysfunctional people I've met, and trust me, that's coming from a Brocktonite. Unlike the Reds, who are maybe a lot less weird but have their own set of troubles, the Blues have a so-called ladies man, a man child, and a grumpy asshole who reminds me way too much of Dad. Oh, and then there's Tex, who I really want to introduce to the Trio.

As far as first impressions go, it really could have gone a lot better. But it wasn't Michael's fault he got a psycho AI in his head!

At least, I think that was the AI. I didn't realize it at the time, but there had been a reason why Church called him a "team-killing fucktard."

The first spray of bullets missed me and the red-colored soldiers completely. By the time the second round came about, I was already on the ground, not trusting myself to get back up.

"What the fuck!" Simmons cried out as he scrambled for cover. "Who's firing at us!"

"Tucker did it!"

An outcry of rage followed after that statement, "Like hell I did! You shot first, you fucking asshole! What is wrong with you!"

"Damn dirty Blues!" Sarge roared as he pumped his shotgun and began returning fire. "First you kidnap our robot, and now you try to kill a civilian?! Does your treachery know no bounds?!"

This was not happening. This cannot be happening. It felt like I was sitting in the middle of a gang war, only this time the gangs were heavily armed soldiers. I didn't dare lift my head up out of fear of being shot. I had to get out of here, but how?! Do-do I crawl my way over to the Simmons and Grif?

Making a decision, I slowly pulled myself towards them.

"I swear, Caboose, if we make it out of this alive, I am going to fucking kill you!"

"Tucker did it!" a childish-sounding voice replied.

"I'm Tucker you idiot!"

Caboose and Tucker. Okay, at least now I know the names of the assholes that started shooting at me.

"Taylor, this way!" Simmons called out. "Come on!"

"It's a misunderstanding!" Tucker shouted from behind his cover. "I didn't even shoot!"

A stray bullet fired close to me, making me flinch. If I crawled, I was definitely going to get shot. But if I stood up, the chance was even higher? Did I even want to risk it?

…ah, fuck it!

I scrambled up to my feet, ready to sprint towards Grif and Simmons. I made it three steps when something beneath my feet gave way. The ground under my right foot crumbled, throwing me off balance. My body fell over the edge, and I saw just how far up we were. The dead trees on the ground seemed like tiny sticks. I wasn't ashamed to say that I screamed when I realized what was about to happen.

Another second later, and I felt someone grab onto my wrist. I winced in pain, feeling as though the jolt and the grip on my wrist tore my arm from my socket. I stared at the ground for a moment, still dazed and horrified before I shook my head and looked up, surprised to find that the person who grabbed me was a soldier in similar armor as Grif, Simmons and Sarge, only in dark blue.

"Um, really sorry about earlier!" the soldier, who I assumed was either Tucker or Caboose, said. "I really am! Try to hold on! I-I'll pull you-!"

The ground beneath him cracked, making me pale. The blue soldier groaned.

"Aw, crap sticks."

I screamed and found myself being pulled down to the ground.

So, this is it. This is how I die. What the fuck, God?

Thud!

"Owwwwwwwwwwwie… Augh, my back… Um, miss, you okay? Miss? Hello?"

A black void, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Lights twinkled across the expanse, almost like stars.

No, not a void… It's a thing—a "worm" that slithers its way in front of me, crawling through space as it slowly makes its way to the next destination.

I stared at it in wonder, unsure what it was or if I was dreaming before I saw something glitter across its body. Small specks of light, dazzling as bright as stars.

A streak of white shifts near its head, glowing like fire, gazes upon me.

And suddenly, my brain starts to burn.

"Aw, look, she's gonna cry!"

"Poor little Hebert, she probably misses her mommy~"

"So sad~"

"What a loser~"

Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up!

I don't understand, where am I? What's going on?

Dad? Dad, where are you?! I-I don't like it here!

Let me out! Let me out!

YOU WISH TO RUN.

YOU WISH TO FLEE.

YOU WISH TO ESCAPE.

BUT NONE CAN EVER TRULY ESCAPE THE CONFLICTS THAT WAITS AT THE END OF THE ROAD.

NO MATTER HOW FAST YOU ARE, YOU CANNOT ESCAPE.

LET ME SHOW YOU HOW YOU CAN EVADE YOUR PREDATORS, SO YOU CAN FIGHT ANOTHER DAY.

LET ME SHOW YOU HOW TO "STEP."

LET ME OUT!

My body rips out from its confines, lungs gasping and gulping for air. My skin felt disgustingly warm, beads of sweat rolling down my face. My chest was tight like I could barely breath.

Of all the things I could have dreamed about, it had to be the fucking locker and the motherfucking Trio.

I ran my hand down my face, only to stop when I realized something. I don't know how I didn't realize it, but somehow, I wasn't wearing my dirty old clothes anymore. Instead, I was wearing armor—the same armor worn by Simmons, Grif and the people who starting shooting. It was pacific blue in color, and surprisingly light in spite of how it looked. It took me another hot moment to realize that I was lying atop a bed. To be more precise, a bunk with another bed above my head. I was in a room surrounded by metal gray walls, one side littered with posters showing girls in scandalous clothes that covered very little of their bodies. If I didn't know any better, I could swear this belonged inside somebody's college dorm room.

"Where the hell…?"

I gave myself a quick pinch on the cheek and winced. Okay, so this wasn't a dream and I was still alive. I'll go under the assumption that this is a room inside one of the military bases, but what I would really like to know is how I'm even here. I remember falling off the edge of the cliff and heading straight down towards solid ground. The fact that the only pain I was feeling was my backside didn't clear my confusion. The only alternative was that something cushioned my fall, but the only thing that could have done that was the solider that tried to pull me up.

My stomach dropped when I remembered that fact. Oh, god. Had I-?

"Oh, you're awake! Thank goodness…"

I stared, gobsmacked, at the doorway. There stood the dark-blue soldier from before, holding what looked like a juice pack. His armor was slightly scuffed with dirt, but aside from that, he looked perfectly fine from what I could see.

"Y-you… How?"

"I was really worried you weren't going to wake up," the soldier admitted sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm glad you're okay, though. So, um, how are you?"

"I-what?" I gaped at him. What in the hell was this? He was definitely one of the people who was shooting at me and the red soldiers, and yet here he is, worried about me? I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel at this moment, except total confusion. "I'm…okay, I guess?"

"Great!" Even with a helmet over his face, I could tell he was beaming. "So, um, my name's Caboose. What's yours?"

"Er… Taylor."

"Nice to meet you, Taylor." After introducing ourselves, Caboose fidgeted slightly. "So, um, Church wanted me to bring you to him. I'm not really sure why, though."

Church? Was that the name of the guy in charge of this place? He wanted to meet with me? Why?

…well, I guess it doesn't matter either way. As it is now, I'm trapped and at these guy's mercy. At the very least, I can maybe try to salvage what I can out of this whole thing and figure out how I got here, much less what's going on. Who knows? Maybe they'll even let me go and put me on my way back home?

…yeah, right. Like that'll happen.

A girl can dream, can't she?

This chapter was delayed for two reasons. First is probably the most common one: Procrastination. I was not in any mood to write anything and just wanted to be a couch potato. Reason numero dos was trying to help out the process of getting my aunt and uncle settled in the garage, which is a lot of work since we have to donate the shit we have in there and throw out anything that's either not usable anymore or just flat-out garbage.

Like, holy shit, before there was only a small walkway leading from the steps from the garage door in the house to the garage door in the driveway with how cluttered it was. Now it's just all kinds of fucking empty. We pretty much moved over ninety percent of what was inside.

…well, okay, there was a third reason. I'm happy to announce that myself and @TheStranger are working on a joint project that will be published sometime next year (hopefully). A recursive fanfic of the DanMachi/Fate crossover "Heroic Myth," but instead Bell finding the Holy Grail, he finds something else: the only gun to exist in all of Fire Emblem that summons heroes.

DanMachi: Hero's Emblem is in production as we speak. Right now we're just ironing out the details and whatnot, such as what characters from FE Bell will summon, how those characters will interact with the cast of Orario, etc.

It's been a long time since I've watched DanMachi, and I haven't touched the light novels. Which, of course, plays into why you won't see it published anytime soon.

Either way, keep an eye out for it! Reminder that it is being written and posted by @TheStranger, also called TheStrangerThatCameFromNowhere on Fanfiction.net and TheStrangerOfNowhere on Spacebattles. I'm just the co-writer in this case.

With that out of the way, I'll be taking a break from writing as the holidays are coming up very quickly, and because, well, I'll soon be playing Cyberpunk 2077.

…well, I will be once I get my PS4 Pro in the mail sometime this century. I know the game has its problems, but I intend to enjoy it nonetheless.

That's enough for now. In the meantime, stew on the fact that I'm leaving this on a cliffhanger and Taylor's first meeting with the guy who can't shoot a sniper rifle to save his life.

SkyRig · May 8, 2022

Hey everyone. SkyRig...or rather T.J. Howard here, as you'll soon find out. This is...holy freaking shit, this is amazing.

So, as some of you may know, I went totally radio-silent except to give you updates, like announcing a fanfic was going on hiatus or was being removed or it was still in the works, but I also reminded you guys that I was also writing my very own book.

Well, I am proud to say that, yes, I am now a legit author.

"Chase Ryder and the City of Lost Memories - Part 1: War" is my first entry in the Chase Ryder book series, and my very first book. I am currently self-published on Amazon, which I found to be the easiest way to go (and also the most stressful. Formatting cover art on that place is a goddamn nightmare and I was having so many troubles...just, for the love of god). While I cannot say the book will be to everyone's taste as it is entirely original content, I am hoping I at least score a hundred readers and buyers. Currently, only the kindle version of the book is available (it is currently up for pre-order and will be released on May 20), but a paperback and hardcover versions are also available. When those versions will be released, I do not know. The kindle version is up for pre-order and costs 8.99. The paperback and hardcover versions will rock you 12.99 and 26.99 respectively. In regards to the ridiculous hardcover price...yeeeaaah, minimum was apparently 26.08, when I wanted to go for a more feasible but still slightly expensive 15.99.

Amazon, you suck.

I'd be happy if you bought the hardcover version, but if you feel the price is too much, please stick to paperback. Or hell, just buy the kindle version.

I realize this sounds like shameless advertisement, but I want to make something clear here. I'm not looking to make this into a best-seller or anything. Or hell, anything that would warrant it getting into, say, the New York Times. All I want is to make books and provide a steady source of income for myself and my family, and this, I feel, is the best way for me to do so. Especially since our financial situation as of recently is looking heavily uncertain for reasons I will not disclose. Private matters, you understand.

That's it for now. To assauge some fears some of you might have, no, just because I'm a legit author does not mean I will be abandoning writing fanfiction. I will still do my best to get content out to you guys, maybe post a new story when I've made decent progress and finished a story or two, but I will likely still devote my time to writing other books. I'm already working on Part 2 of Chase Ryder, as well as a trilogy series that, in my opinion, you guys may enjoy more.

Who doesn't love medieval fantasy?

Before I cap this off, I want to give two huge, massive thank yous and shout-outs to TheStrangerThatCameFromNowhere, who commissioned DeviantArtist Alex-kellar to create the cover art illustration you'll see soon enough, and to Alex-kellar himself who created the wonderful piece you'll all will be seeing eventually enough. Speaking of, Alex, if you see this and the cover art, I apologize in advance. I wanted to use the other version of the cover art you sent me, but Amazon kept fucking it up so I had to stick with the version you made for kindle. Which sucks because I really liked the one you came up with.

Of course, the ones who deserve the biggest thanks is YOU GUYS. Yes, you, the guy or girl sitting behind your computer screen or phone who gave me support and feedback and continued to give me the push I needed to pursue this career. For someone like me, who started off writing stories based off manga, anime, TV shows, and video games, people like you guys are the ones who made this possible for me.

Thank you all so much.

Cheers.

SkyRig · Sep 26, 2022

#4: Workplace Difficulties
(AKA Taylor Hates Her Job)

Have you ever hated someone? I don't mean 'hate' as in "oh god that person is a bitch I hate her fucking guts". I mean hate as in total, blinding, massive rage towards someone where you want to hurt them so, so bad in unimaginable ways.

I didn't feel that way about the Trio…okay, that's a lie. I did have the occasional thoughts about how satisfying it would feel to break Sophia's nose or give Emma a swirlie.

But, my point stands. I didn't hate the Trio that way. If I did, I found someone who eclipsed my rage.

Specifically, the raging jackass who, for some ungodly reason, I came to see as my second father. Who also shanghaied me into working for Blue Team.

Did I mention Church's a fucking asshole?

Thirty days.

That was how long it had been since I found myself in this position. Thirty days of what can only be described as menial and boring labor despite the absurdity and confusion of my being here. To make a long story short, I was not in lala land or someplace like that. Oh no, it was worse. It turns out I was on an alternate Earth.

Well, I say Earth, but really, I'm living the George Lucas life under duress.

Leonard L. Church, or simply Church, was the apparent man in charge of Blue Base here in Blood Gulch. He was rude, and most importantly, the biggest fucking jackass in the short time I've been in this canyon. I tried to make my case with him, I really did. I told him I wasn't from here, may possibly have been kidnapped, and wanted to go home. He told me he'd try to rig up a plan or something along those lines, get in contact with Command, and get me on a shuttle back to home.

In the meantime, however… I was to work here on Blue Base.

I never thought I could hate someone more than I did the Trio, but here we are.

"Uh, you okay, dude?"

I sighed. "I'm fine, Vic. Just…give me the test results, will you?"

"Your wish is my command, dudette. Let's see, let's see…" The Smiling Guy, or Vic as he introduced himself to me when we became acquainted not long after my 'assignment' here, moved his hands along a keyboard or something as I heard rapid clicking. "Huh. Well, I'll be damned. You score a 92/100."

I practically melted in my seat with relief. After spending a week trying to sort through so much information about this world, including how to handle things like broken arms, gunshot wounds, and so on. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention you can actually apply for a medical license even if you never went to medical school? Yeah, weird.

"So, I did good?"

"Better than your co-workers, that's all I can say," Vic said. "Not bad, dude. Not bad at all. Congrats, Ensign Hebert. You are now eligible for the advanced class courses. Let me know when you're ready to hit it up and I'll send you the deets."

"Thanks, Vic."

"Anytime, dude. Anytime."

Before Vic could leave, I asked a question that had been nagging on me for the last two days. "Um, hey. Any word on… you know?"

Vic's smile dimmed somewhat. "Ah, right. That. Well, turns out there's about twenty-five thousand different Taylor Heberts scattered across the universe. Five hundred of 'em live on the floatilas and Earth back home, the rest on colony planets, including Planet Florida."

"Wait, Florida's a planet here?"

"Named after the state when it sank, actually."

I blinked. He stared. "…okaaay," I said slowly, wisely moving on. "So, then… No luck?"

"Well, unless you and every other person named Taylor Hebert are related by way of a great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather… Yeah, sorry, no luck here. We'll, uh, we'll keep trying, though. Just sit tight. Oh, and try not to kill anyone on your team, alright? Your last talk kinda worried me, you know. Especially the part about how you were gonna shove Church's sniper rifle up his—"

"Good talking to you, Vic."

I scrambled to end the vid-call, hoping no one overheard. Sadly, someone did. "Wow. Anger issues much?" I sighed and looked over my shoulder. Thankfully, the one who overheard the tail-end of the call was Tucker, who was staring at me with what I assume was a smirk under that helmet. "I mean, not that I don't blame you. Church is an asshole."

Lavernius Tucker was more or less Church's second-in-command and self-proclaimed ladies man. He was actually one of the first people I met back when I ran into Red Team, as in one of the people who shot me. He made it a point to apologize to me and pin the blame on Caboose…who, I came to learn, was not the brightest tool in the shed. To say the least.

While Church more or less left me alone to my devices except when he decided to actually act like a commander and tell me to do some chores around the base, Tucker was more understanding and helped me adjust to life here at Blue Base. He gave me some warnings about Caboose's mood swings and increasingly frequent "team-killing incidents". Admittedly, I was more than a little concerned when Church told me Tucker fancied himself a ladies man, but at the same time, I doubted he'd ever make a move on me. There was nothing remotely attractive about me, after all.

Unsurprisingly, Tucker made no such moves on me. Instead, he acted like a worrywart, or a big brother, or something along those lines.

"So, how'd it go?"

I managed to smile as I stood up and grabbed my helmet, fastening it over my head. "Good. I'll be taking advanced courses pretty soon."

"Nice. I'll tell Church we can actually get treated for wounds and shit instead of slapping on some duct-tape and calling it a day."

…I had so many things to say to that. So many things.

When I wasn't busy working on getting a medical license so I could actually be useful and not be a glorified secretary, I did basic chores around the base. As to be expected from a military encampment, it had basic utilities like showers and toilets. Lockers contained equipment and there were at least six rooms with bunk beds going unused. That part always confused me since, as far as I knew, there was only me, Church, Caboose, and Tucker here. There should have been more people if there were that many beds, but the place was barely staffed. Tucker mentioned it was the same over by Red Base, which more or less had the same amount of soldiers there until I came along.

It made me curious, wondering if Blue Team was maybe some kind of skeleton crew. I was equally curious about the flag, but I barely paid any attention to that.

At any rate, since there wasn't very many people, cleaning the place wasn't too difficult. Except when Caboose was helping.

"Oh for—how?!" I demanded as I grabbed the blue-colored soldier by the waist and pulled, grinding my feet against the wall for leverage. "Come! On!"

"Um, Miss Taylor? I think my helmet spring a leak. The water tastes really gross."

"Don't swallow it! Why did you even stick your head in the toilet bowl?!"

Believe it or not, this was one of the tamer incidents involving Caboose. The other day, he nearly caused the entire armory to explode when he somehow managed to unpin not one, not two, but all the grenades. It was unanimous that we were not going to be storing grenades in cardboard boxes anymore, even though we got lucky and disposed of all the grenades at once before they could go off.

"Did Caboose get his head stuck in the toilet again?" Tucker asked blandly. I poignantly ignored the word 'again'.

"Come here and help me before he drowns, please?!"

"Why would I do that?"

"Tucker!"

"Sheesh, okay, fine…"

Aside from stuff involving Caboose and his tendency to somehow get stuck almost everywhere, my other chores involved cleaning the base. Which turned out to be a task in of itself, given A) Blood Gulch was a dustbowl, and B) these boys had no sense of hygiene. Seriously, if you think the bathroom was bad…

Anyway, one of my daily routines saw me cleaning the outside of the base. To reiterate, Blood Gulch was a dustbin in the middle of galactic nowhere as far as I know, so the walls are caked with dust and grime no matter how hard I scrub or wash. I was actually fairly used to it and often let the dirt build up for a few days since it never got really heinous. Sometimes though, like today…

"…children," I bit out. "This place is filled with juvenile children in the body of space marines."

I glared at the red graffiti spray painted on the side of Blue Base. Actually, calling it graffiti was being generous. It was more like a children's doodle. As for what it said… Well, I'd rather not get the author flagged for this, thank you very much.

"Wait, what?"

On the rare occasion I was not around Blue Base to do menial tasks, I was asked with perhaps, according to Church, the most important job in the base.

Babysitting Caboose.

…it's harder than it sounds, to be frank.

"Tucker, have you seen Caboose?" I asked, poking my head into the aqua-colored soldier's room.

Tucker looked up from the book he was reading. "Babysitting duty?"

"Babysitting duty," I affirmed. "Church said he was by the mess hall, but I couldn't find him."

"If he's not there, he's probably over by Sheila."

"Sheila?"

"You don't—" Tucker caught himself and shook his head. "Right, forgot, civvie. Sheila's our tank. She got blown up a couple months back, and the only guy who might be able to fix her up is the robot Church's possessing, but…"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Long story," he shrugged. "Anyway, he should be where Sheila is. You can't miss her. Just, ah, be ready for waterworks. Me and Church think he miiight have developed a crush on it for some reason."

I stared at Tucker, sorely wishing I misheard what he said. "A crush."

"Yep."

"On a tank."

"Yeeep."

I stared a little harder before sighing, shaking my head. Given the city I used to live in – don't think about it, Taylor, you know how things get when you think about it – I really shouldn't have been so surprised to hear something so outrageous. Actually, thinking about it now, these people would fit right in with Uber and Leet.

I left Blue Base behind and went searching for Caboose. True to Tucker's word, I found the tank easy enough by heading up top. I did end up having to walk a little ways further into the canyon, which made me nervous. I hadn't forgotten Sarge's accusations that I might be a spy for Blue Team during our first meeting, and given how much of a hair trigger he had, I was almost certain he'd shoot me the second he saw me again. Or maybe he'd shoot me anyway regardless. I still had no idea whether I could trust anyone in this place.

Tucker was pleasant enough, Caboose was…special, and Church was an asshole, but it didn't change the fact that they were soldiers clad in highly advanced armor. Soldiers who, according to Church, were at war with Red Team. Which meant that fighting could start at any moment. Life in Brockton Bay was tough, but normal once you got used to hearing gunshots and explosions and gang members walking around in broad daylight.

This was not my home. This was a canyon with dimwitted, idiotic soldiers. Idiotic soldiers with armor and guns.

The realization of my situation sunk in just then. My feet came to a stop, rooted in place as a cold, sinking feeling formed in my stomach. I wanted to cry, scream, shout about how unfair this was. Part of me wondered if I was still dreaming and trapped in that damn locker. This prank was right up Sophia's alley.

But, that's all just wishful thinking. I could deny it all I want, but the reality wasn't going to change at all.

"…so fucking unfair," I bit out.

"What is?"

I yelped and whipped around, nearly falling flat on my ass. At some point without me noticing, Caboose had shown up out of nowhere. "What—how did—"

"Were you looking for me? Ooh, was Church asking for me?" Caboose asked excitedly.

I glared at him for a moment longer before sighing. "N-no, but it's my turn to make sure you don't go and blow yourself up, no matter how much Church might like that. So, what are you doing out here?"

"Oh, I was trying to fix Sheila!" Caboose said happily. "It's slow going, to be honest. I, um, don't know how to fix machines and stuff. Plus, I'm running out of duct-tape."

"…Caboose," I said slowly. "Duct-tape isn't the solution to everything. You have got to stop following Church and Tucker's examples."

"You think so?" The blue-colored soldier looked up at the sky thoughtfully. "I mean, Tucker's advice is kinda lame, but Church means well."

I resisted the urge to sigh. I had no idea why Caboose thought so highly of Church or why he hung on to his every word, and to be honest, I was too tired to care. Honestly, dealing with Caboose was like trying to take care of a child with…special needs. I don't hate Caboose, but he could be so difficult at times. Not helped by his mood swings.

"Your soul is a cavern of lies," Caboose growled.

I glared and dope-slapped the back of his helmet. "Stop that."

"Sorry, mom."

"And don't call me that!"

"Okay, mom!"

The madness continues!

On a side note, the timeskip was somewhat intentional? I did originally plan on having Taylor have a proper talk with Church, but I couldn't figure out how to make it go. So the scene was instead replaced by the timeskip, which has Taylor showing how she's acclimated to Blue Base.

Which is to say…mixed.

SkyRig · Sep 27, 2022

#5: Workplace Violence
(AKA Taylor Really Hates Her Job)

Church stared at me incredulously. "…I'm sorry, run that by me again. I'm pretty sure I misheard you."

"No, you heard me correctly," I said flatly. "Don't ask me how, but Caboose not only somehow managed to blow up the armory, he also did it stark naked since you made it blatantly clear he's not allowed to go anywhere near it with a ten foot pole, with only a hairpin. And he did all of this…with a role of scotch tape."

"And where in the ever-loving fuck did he find scotch tape?"

"How am I supposed to know?!"

"You're his babysitter!"

I threw up my hands. "What part of, I can't look after him 24/7, do you not understand? Oh, that's right, you can't because you're so busy PMSing!"

"Wow," Tucker commented to the side. "Barely been a month and she finally cracked. Should I bring the divorce papers now or later?"

"Shut up, Tucker!" Church and I shout in unison, not sparing the aqua-colored cassanova a second glance.

The worst part I could say about all of this is that this was how my morning started. I woke needing to use the bathroom, and the second I leave the room, Blue Base shook. I smelled the smoke almost immediately. Any plans to use the restroom went out the window almost immediately when I heard Caboose screaming, "Tucker did it!" throughout the whole base.

It took us two hours to put out the fire. For some ungodly reason nobody thought to install a sprinkler system in this place or leave a fire extinguisher if something like this happened. We actually had to pick up handfuls of dirt and for Tucker to…ugh, do his business…to put out the fire.

I felt like I understood why Dad chugged so much coffee in the morning before he went off to work. It was too early for this shit, and there wasn't a lick of coffee to be found here.

"As fun as it is watching you two bitch at each other," Tucker said without missing a beat. "Shouldn't you go looking for Caboose? I couldn't find him after we put out the fire."

"What the f—he was just here!" Church exclaimed. "Tucker, go look for him."

"What?! Why me?!"

"Just do it!"

"Ugh, fine." Tucker clicked his tongue and walked away, yelling over his shoulder. "Hey, Taylor! Try not to kill Church, no matter how tempting it is, okay?!"

No promises, I wanted to say.

If the robot had hair, Church would have torn it all out in frustration by this point. Three months ago, all he had to deal with was Tucker bemoaning the fact that there weren't any chicks in Blood Gulch and the Reds, who he honestly couldn't muster the energy to care or think about. After Captain Flowers' unexpected passing, Command saw it fit to send them back up. Church was expecting someone like the captain, and instead they got a rookie who hadn't even been to a battlefield! He didn't even know how to handle a gun! Hell, he never even finished basic training!

That was just the start of his growing headache. It only got worse when Caboose, the colossal idiot, gave their flag to the enemy, which then led to his subsequent death, and later Tex's. As if that wasn't bad enough, the universe decided to dump a civvie who got kidnapped or something. The decision to shanghai her was spur of the moment since he expected to have her for a few days, maybe a week at best before Command got back to him. Instead, she'd been here for a month now and Comman had yet to give him any updates.

It'll take time, they said. It's a temporary arrangement, they said. It's been a month, you assholes! Oh, how he wished he could have said that to whoever that Price prick was to his face, but as volatile as he was, even Church knew mouthing off to Command was a quick way to get court-marshaled and stare down a firing squad. Still, he could dream and think about it.

Taylor was…okay, let's be honest. Church thought she was an annoyance. Sure, she was stuck in a bad situation that was in no way her fault and he pitied her for it, but that did not change the fact that she was making things worse for him. He now had an extra mouth to feed, she was a civilian with no formal training whatsoever, and she was stuck in Blood Gulch. The middle of fucking nowhere, or he liked to call it, Bum-Fuck-Egypt. She was useful when keeping track of Caboose, which he was immensely thankful for when Caboose started calling her "mom".

Better her than him.

At any rate, as the days went on, it was quickly becoming apparent that Taylor's impromptu stay was looking to be permanent. On the one hand, he'd have a Caboose babysitter on hand, but on the other hand, she was just as likely to whine and be miserable about not being able to go home. He already had to deal with Caboose, and he was not about to deal with an angsty teenage brat who was liable to get worse during shark week.

"Look," Church started, trying very hard not to raise his voice. "Look, I get it. You don't want to be here. And I don't want to deal with another headache. You don't like me, that's fine. I'm an asshole. It's my job and profession, and I'm not gonna change it because somebody can't handle it. But for one freaking second, could you not try and bite my goddamn head off?!"

Taylor glowered at him. She was getting the hang of expressing herself even with a helmet on. "Maybe as soon as you stop screaming at me for the littlest of things! I can't be looking after Caboose all day, every day. Why didn't you ask Tucker to help with Caboose?!"

"…Tucker."

"That's what I just said."

"Tucker," Church said again. "You want Tucker to deal with Caboose. When Caboose has almost killed us within this past week alone more times than I care to count, and always puts the blame on him?"

He imagined the teen girl opening her mouth to say something, only to close it and turn to the side with an awkward cough. Church sighed. "If you want Tucker to help you, fine. Just don't blame me when he gets a bullet lodged in his stomach and we have to waste what little duct tape we have."

"And I keep telling you people, duct tape is not a substitute for bandages or band-aids!"

"Hey, it works wonders for me!" Church defended.

"Because you're apparently mostly bolts and wires!" Taylor rebuked. "And my point still stands!"

Before he could go onto the wonders of duct tape and how useful it was, especially in tight situations, Tucker chose at that moment to return with Caboose in tow. "As funny as it is watching you two bicker like an old married couple…"

Taylor and Church gagged, the former moreso.

"…we have a problem."

The latter felt the onset of a headache starting to form in the back of his head. "Please tell me you didn't let him run around with scissors again."

"First off, that was your fault for leaving them out in the open," Tucker snapped. "And secondly, no. He's doing that weird mood swing thing again!"

"Don't ever be alone."

"See what I mean?"

Church groaned. "For the last time, Tucker. I am not your mother, so don't go coming to me to complain about whatever the hell it is you think happened." He nudged his head towards Taylor. "If you wanna bitch, take it up with her."

"Fuck you too, asshole."

"No thanks, bitch."

Tucker sighed. "I'm being serious here. Earlier he threatened to cut off my head and give it to you as a birthday present!"

"No, I didn't!" Caboose denied. "You're taking it out of context!"

"What context?!"

Church slapped a hand against his helmet's visor. Why the hell did I sign up for this job…?

As Church continued to bicker with Tucker and Caboose, seemingly forgetting my existence in the meantime, I turned to head back into base. Since I was wide awake, I might as well get back into studying for my medical license and maybe teach these idiots how to properly heal a wound. I barely made it ten steps before I noticed a new face approaching Blue Base. It was a soldier, or so I assumed since they were the same power armor as everyone else in the canyon, but their armor was painted purple.

I felt a pit form in my stomach, wondering if they were enemy or friend. My hand slowly reached for the sidearm attached to my thigh. I wasn't planning on shooting them, just a warning shot. Even so, the idea of doing such a thing made my palms sweaty.

"Excuse me," the soldier said as he walked up to me. "Is this Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha?"

"It is," I replied warily. "Who are you?"

"I'm Medical Officer DuFresne."

I blinked underneath my helmet. "Medical Officer…?" I glanced back over at Church. What was a medical officer doing here? Did Church contact him or something? "What exactly do you want? Is somebody sick?"

"We received a message from a soldier here, Private Tucker. Something about a wounded Freelancer?"

Freelancer? Oh, right, Tucker mentioned that. They were mercenaries or something. Blue Team hired one three months ago to help them take back their flag, but she ended up dying when she launched an assault on Red Base.

…Wait, hang on, that doesn't sound right. Texas died three months ago, so why was a medical officer here now? I eyed DuFresne with renewed suspicion. "One second," I said as I walked back over to Church. "Hey, Church."

"Seriously, you idiots. This whole competition to get my attention has got to stop."

"Church!" I called out again.

Blue Base' resident asshole huffed, looking back at me. "What is it, Taylor?"

"There's a guy here named DuFresne. He says he's a medical officer. He also says he's here about the message Tucker sent about your friend Texas."

"What?" Tucker said. "That was three freaking months ago! What, did he crawl all the way here?"

"Why don't you ask him?" I pointed a thumb over my shoulder. "He's right over there."

Church and Tucker looked at each other, then walked on over to DuFresne. Predicably, I was left with Caboose, who looked like he was…pouting? "Something wrong, Caboose?"

"Church got angry with me again…" he moped. "Tucker takes things the wrong way. I wasn't being serious about…whatever it is I was saying."

"No offense, Caboose, but you tend to say the weirdest things without meaning to," I said gently. I didn't get his weird mood swings, but I assumed it was because he was maybe screwed in the head or had special needs. Thinking about it now, Caboose reminded me of Lennie from Of Mice and Men. Simple-minded if a bit challenged, but well-meaning and childish. Now whether he had the strength to match was something I didn't want to know.

Caboose tilted his head to the side. "I do?"

"Yeah. Whenever you go…how did Church put it? O'Malley? Speaking of, what's up with that? Is that your first name?"

"Nope! I'm Caboose!"

I sighed. Okay, let's try that again. "What's your full name?"

"Michael Caboose."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you want to be called O'Malley?"

"Cuz that's what the mean person said."

"Mean person? Who are you—"

BLAM!

I jumped at least five feet in the air when the obnoxiously loud gunshot pierced through the air. Church screamed not a moment sooner. "Scatter!" I followed the rest and made a mad dash for the rocks near Blue Base, all the while avoiding the gunshots sailing overhead.

"Hike up your knickers, fellas!" My blood froze when I heard that familiar, southern voice barking out orders. "Let's go get 'em!"

Oh you have got to be fucking kidding…

And here…we…go.

Question for you guys. Do you prefer short chapters, or would you prefer average chapter length like 6k words?

SkyRig · Sep 30, 2022

#6: Duck and Cover
(AKA Taylor Realizes She's Arthur Dent)

"Holy sh—"

I ducked under the rock, barely dodging a bullet that would've scuffed my helmet if not break it. DuFresne sat behind me, occasionally poking his head out to see what was going on. A ways away from us was Caboose, who was somehow not being shot at while his head poked out from atop the rock he hid behind.

"Tucker!" Church yelled. "Back up Caboose and provide covering fire!"

"What?!" Tucker cried. "Oh hell no! Do you see what's happening?! I'm not getting shot today, thank you!"

DuFresne snapped his head back, barely avoiding a bullet that whizzed past and struck the base behind us. "You know," he muttered despondently. "This isn't what I had in mind when I came here."

"Join the club," I said acidly.

This was exactly why I wanted to get out of this place. Even with highly advanced armor that'd make a tinker salivate, I did not want to test how well it held up to futuristic guns of equal measure. Worse, it looked like all of Red Team was here. Sarge, Simmons, and Griff were present with a fourth member wearing pink. Grif and Simmons fired continuously with auto-rifles whereas Sarge just fired blankly with his shotgun, even though his range was nowhere close enough to be effective. The pink soldier, meanwhile, hung back and fired with a sniper rifle.

"God dammit, how'd they even sneak up on us?" Church demanded angrily. "Doc, get over to Caboose and help him out!"

"I told you, I'm a medical officer. I'm not a doctor, much less a fighter!" DuFresne told him. "Also, my name isn't Doc."

"What the hell's the difference between a medical officer and a doctor?" Tucker yelled. "They're the same thing!"

"Doctors treat wounds and save people's lives. A medical officer just makes you comfortable while you die."

I swear, I heard the gunfire go silent for just a few seconds. I stared at DuFresne with a twitching eyebrow.

"So, basically," I began slowly. "You're useless."

"Note to self," Tucker groaned. "Don't get shot until Taylor gets her medical license."

"What-ever! Just go over there and make sure Caboose holds that position!" Church ordered.

"Again, I. Am. A. Pacifist," the medic reiterated exasperatedly. "Also, I'm not supposed to get involved unless someone gets hurt!"

"…huh. I see." Church slowly looked over to Caboose and raised his gun.

"Pull that trigger, Leonard, and you'll be the one the good doctor here will have to comfort," I warned, finger hovering over the trigger of my handgun. Next to me, I heard Tucker muttering something under his breathe.

"That's right! Suck it, blue!"

Grif repeated after Simmons, less because he was thrilled to be doing something and more because he couldn't think of anything cool to really say. He'd much rather be in his bunk eating some bacon-flavored chips that came with this week's supply drop, but Sarge was adamant and made the usual threat.

They caught the Blues on an off-day, it seemed. They were all huddled up in front, talking to a purple-armored soldier when they began the attack. He did notice they had an extra member, but that was more than likely Lopez with his armor repainted. Sarge mentioned it was possible the Blues reprogrammed him, hence the urgency of their rescue mission.

Having said that, the armor type was a little on the feminine side, and last he checked, the only female in the canyon was…

"Damn, I'm out!" Simmons cursed and looked at Grif. "Pass me a mag."

"Uh, what now?"

"Magazine. You brought some, right?"

"Why would I bring a magazine with me to a fight?" Grif asked in genuine confusion. "Also, what magazines would I bring? Shouldn't you be asking Donut that?"

"I mean gun magazines, you idiot! Ammo!"

Grif blinked. "…oh, that's what you mean. Sorry, got nothing. I've got one bullet left."

"What!" Simmons yelled in disbelief. "How?! You're supposed to bring all the extra ammunition!"

"Since when?"

"Since the last staff meeting!"

"We actually talk in those stupid meetings? I just thought it was another way to say naptime."

"Oh, for the love of…"

"Hey, guys?" Donut yelled from behind his cover. "I'm outta bullets here! Anybody got some extra rounds? Specifically some red, hot ones?"

Remind me, why did I sign up for this shit? Grif sighed. Sarge chose at that time to show up, demanding extra ammunition. The orange-armored man wondered if now was as good a time as any to use that last bullet. Sarge was a pain in the ass as it was, and he really didn't him ranting about a lack of slug shells for his favored weapon.

"Hey, did they stop firing?"

I dared to peek over the cover we hid behind. None of the Reds were shooting at us. In fact, I saw Sarge grilling into Grif about something. I couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, but if Grif's body language was any indication, it was not anything good. At least for him, anyway.

"Maybe they finally ran out of ammo?" I offered.

Church grunted. "In that case, let's get some payback. Tucker?"

"Oh, hell yeah!"

"W-wait."

The word tumbled from my mouth before I realized it. As…chaotic as our first meeting was, I remembered how Simmons and Grif acted when they met me. Although I still knew nothing about them and worried they were every bit the dangerous soldiers I thought they were, I didn't want to see them dead. I wanted to believe they were good people. At least, better than…them.

Church paused, briefly glancing in my direction when Sarge bellowed out. "Attention, Blue Team! We are giving you a chance to surrender!"

"Surrender?" Tucker said. "Seriously?"

Blue Team's resident asshole scoffed. "Yeah, right. They're bluffing. They are so out of ammo."

"So? Let's take 'em out!"

Church looked at me again. I couldn't find it in me to raise my voice like last time. Words I wanted to say were lodged in my throat, refusing to budge. I felt him staring at me, gaze reminiscent of the teachers back in Winslow. Judging. It made my skin crawl.

"…hold that thought," Church said and stowed away his gun, walking out of cover to our surprise. He raised his voice, calling back to the Reds. "What are your terms?!"

Wait, what?!

"What?!" Tucker hissed next to me. "Church, what are you doing?!"

"Play along, cockbite!" Church snapped.

I stared in disbelief. Church was all set to start shooting back in retaliation. If they were out of ammo, and chances are they were with how trigger-happy they were seconds ago, they were sitting ducks. Why was Church going along with their bluff? He was a lot of things, a raging jackass most of all, but he never gave the impression of being stupid.

"First of all," Sarge started after some deliberation with his soldiers. "We want your flag to stay where it is. Keep it!"

"The flag?" I asked in confusion, looking Tucker for an answer.

He shrugged. "They stole it a while back, but Tex managed to snag it back for us." He paused and looked up at the sky thoughtfully. "You know, come to think of it…isn't this whole war just us playing a fucked up game of capture the flag? Y'know, with armor and guns and explosions and all that shit?"

"It could be worse," DuFresne offered. "You guys could be playing Grifball."

"We do, however, want our android back!"

"Ah, crap," Tucker said suddenly.

Android? Did Blue Team steal an android from them? When? And where was it? Why hadn't I seen it wandering around the base?

"Preferably in one piece, with all the limbs and nuts and bolts attached, if you wouldn't mind!"

"Like hell I'm giving up my body!" Church growled. "Do they have any idea what kind of trouble I went through to get it?!"

"I'm sorry, but what the hell is going on?"

Tucker chuckled. "Funny story 'bout that…"

"Yeah…" What the—when did Caboose get here? I didn't hear him coming at all! "See, Church got killed by Sheila a while back when she was having an, um, episode…"

"More like by the idiot driving it," Tucker chimed in, giving a pointed glare at Caboose.

The blue-soldier continued without missing a beat. "Oh, yeah, and Church came back as this really, really mean ghost and took over a Mexican robot's body. And, oh, right, then we had to, um, spray paint his body to make him blue again. So now he is alive again, and he is a biotic man." A pause. "Who is blue."

I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. My brain finally registered, decoded, and understood the meaning of Caboose's words. When it did, I could only sigh deeply, resisting the urge to face-palm as I was wearing a helmet. "…Caboose. I love you dearly. As a friend, I mean. Just a friend."

"Okay."

"And I'm very patient with you because you can be a bit…slow…"

Tucker coughed to the side. "Understatement of the fuckin' century."

He wisely shut up when I glared at him. "But, here's the thing. Ghosts don't exist."

"Really? But Church came back as a ghost. He was white and angry."

"You do realize you just described everybody in Cops, right?"

"Tucker!" I snarled.

"He's not here anymore!" Church yelled at Sarge, pointedly ignoring our conversation. "He just left one morning! Sorry! Better luck next time!" He paused, glanced back at our group, then looked back to the front. "How about a hostage, instead? You guys need a medic? We got one right here!"

I balked. "Church, what the fuck!"

"It's fine," DuFresne interjected, holding his hands up in a placating manner to stall my anger. "I'm supposed to go over there anyway. I'm on loan to both armies. Besides…" He gave Church and Tucker a weird glance. "No offense, but I don't think I'm going to be much use over here."

"Alright, we got a deal!" Sarge said.

"So, what do we get?!" Church demanded impatiently.

Simmons wheezed incredulously. "You're surrendering! You don't get anything except humiliating defeat and ridicule!"

"We've got plenty of that!" Tucker hollered. "What else do you have?!"

"…what do you want?" Sarge asked warily.

I choked.

"How about if you admit the Red Team sucks?!" Church asked smugly, folding his arms.

They cannot be serious, I thought. There's no way they are this stupid.

Red Team went quiet and huddled together in deliberation for a few minutes before breaking up. Sarge called out. "What if we admit one of us sucks?"

I stared incredulously at Red Team. Then I stared incredulously at Blue Team. My brain struggled to reconcile what was happening before my eyes, at the absurdity and madness happening in front of me. It was not until Grif was forced to step in front of his fellows and give a humiliating speech in line with Blue Team's demands that, yes, this was indeed happening.

Screw George Lucas, I was living in a madhouse concocted by Douglas fucking Adams. Worse, I'm all but certain I was Arthur Dent in this case.

I fell onto my rear and held my head in my hands, groaning miserably while questioning my luck. Moments ago I was fearing for my life, and now I was bearing witness to a monumental act of idiocy even Greg Veder wouldn't stoop to. Actually, on second thought, this was exactly the sort of idiocy he'd go for.

"What even is my life right now?" I asked myself.

Once Grif finished his humiliation, DuFresne was sent over to Red Team. It wouldn't be long before we saw him again, however, as barely even a few hours after the medic left Blue Base, another incident occurred and I was once again treated to the insanity of this place.

…I really want to go home, now. Nothing in this place makes any sense anymore.

Chapter 6, done and dusted.

I'm kind of surprised people prefer shorter chapters, but I suppose it also works out for me. It also helps that YouTube is also a thing and I can rewatch the series so long as my internet connection is good.

Poor Taylor. She thinks its bad now? Wait until the later seasons! On the subject of that, I should mention that while I'm mostly playing this by ear, seasons such as the Recollection and Chorus trilogies are being planned out. That'll also probably when the chapters get longer.

Regarding the stuff about Taylor being possessed by Omega, Church mentions in the Blood Gulch Chronicles that their armors have A.I. slots. While the Chorus trilogy retcons this by Washington saying they have implants, it's worth mentioning that Church says in Season 6 they upgraded armors, so maybe the A.I. slots were removed? I'm just trying to bring up some relevant info.

At any rate, with that said, yes, it is possible for Omega to possess Taylor. He'd have little success because of her passenger, but the backlash is wholly dependent on which passenger she has. Remember, Taylor has one of Abaddon's shards in this fanfic, not Queen Administrator.

SkyRig · Oct 6, 2022

#7: Learning Curve
(AKA Taylor Sees Pigs Flying)

"So, let me get this straight," I started slowly, trying my hardest to remain calm. "Caboose really did accidentally kill you because Sheila's friendly fire setting was off. And you came back as a ghost."

"Yep," Church said with a pop.

"And your ex-girlfriend was some badass supersoldier with an artificial intelligence that made her an absolute bitch."

"Actually, Tex is a natural bitch," Tucker chimed in. "Her A.I. just made her an even bigger bitch. You sure know how to pick 'em, huh Church?"

"Up yours, cocksucker."

"And to try and stall your girlfriend from leaving so you could find a way to get the A.I. out of her head, you possessed the robot on Red Team, who for some reason they programmed to only speak in Spanish."

"Uh-huh!" Caboose nodded. "It took a while for him to learn English again."

"At least we turned off his Spanish settings!" Tucker groaned. "God, that was freaking annoying."

CLICK. "No está completamente apagado, pendejo."

Tucker and I stared at Church with varying reactions. The former sighed. "I'll go get the Spanish-to-English dictionary."

"Moving on," I bit out with growing annoyance at the sheer absurdity of what was going on. "That pink-armored girl from the Red Team destroyed Sheila and killed Texas, so you've been in control of…Lopez's body this whole time."

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Church said. "Honestly, as far as bodies go, it's kinda swanky. Don't get tired or anything."

"But you still can't aim for shit!" Tucker snickered. The cyan-colored jackass flipped him the bird in response.

I stared at Church a minute longer before sighing, ignoring the fact I wore a helmet and facepalmed. "You guys can't be serious. You really expect me to believe that you turned into a ghost and possessed a robot body."

"What's so hard to believe about that?"

"Everything!" I threw my hands up exasperatedly. "Ghosts don't exist!"

Honestly, it sounded outlandish, and with everything I've seen up to this point, I was half-convinced they were on crack. I wouldn't be surprised if they were. I was also willing to chalk it up to parahuman bullshit; maybe Church had superpowers that allowed him to possess people or machinery, but failed to realize it.

"Yeah, well, you're looking at a ghost," Church huffed. "Not my problem if you don't believe me." He looked to the side and glowered in the direction of Red Base. "What is my problem is the Reds. We gotta get Sheila back online."

"How?" Tucker asked. "Tex is dead, and you're possessing the only guy who can fix her."

"What if you tried using the Reds' mecha buddy to help?" Caboose asked. Church and Tucker both stared at him incredulously.

I wanted to get back to the topic of Church supposedly being a ghost, but for now, that could wait. As much as I hate to admit it, he had a point. The Reds hadn't attacked in the month I've been here up until now, so something must have changed. Thankfully none of them seemed to realize I was with them, though I was still concerned. Sarge didn't seem to be the most…understanding.

"Caboose has a good point," I said thoughtfully, ignoring the disbelieving looks they were sending me. "Lopez is supposed to be a robot, right? So, maybe it knows how to fix machinery? Like a maintenance routine or something."

"…you know, they've got a point," Tucker said quietly.

Church slowly nodded. "Yeah, they kinda do."

"And it was Caboose's idea."

"…yeah, it was."

Tucker was silent for a moment. He and Church stared at each other for a few seconds and—

THWACK!

"OW! Motherfucker! What the hell was that for, jackass?!"

"Aren't you supposed to hit somebody to make sure you're not dreaming?"

"You're supposed to hit yourself, numbnuts!"

I moaned miserably.

The next few hours or so was a…unique learning experience, to say the least. Church took mine and Caboose's idea to heart and tried to see if Lopez had some kind of maintenance routine installed in him. I was still wholly unconvinced of Church being a ghost, but I was willing to concede that he was somehow possessing a robot. Alternate universe or no, I was willing to bet that Church was a parahuman. Earth Aleph had them, so why not here?

Church's efforts turned out to be mixed. While he failed to find any sort of routine or program in Lopez, he and Tucker did discover some kind of switch. The switch did nothing other than cause Church to belt out an obnoxiously loud beeping noise. It was tolerable for a few minutes, but after the fifteen minute mark, Tucker and I lost our patience. We managed to get the beeping noise to stop by tearing out the wires sticking out of Church's body, but it had an unfortunate side effect.

"Well, this is just fucking great!" Church yelled angrily. "What the hell am I supposed to do about this?!"

"Calm down you big baby," Tucker dismissed his friend's anger. "It's not like you use your legs all that much anyway."

In hindsight, ripping out the wires all at once was a bad idea. The end result was not as bad as I was expecting, though. So far the only problem we had was Church losing all motor functions in his legs.

"It could be worse," I offered my two cents. "You could, you know, not be moving at all."

"Fuck, it would have been an improvement if you ask me."

"Tucker, I will ram my sniper rifle up your goddamn ass if you don't fix this," Church glowered. "Seriously, the hell are we gonna do if the Reds come by while I'm like this?! And where the hell is Caboose?!"

"I have him bringing a tool kit up here," I said. "At the very least, I can see if we can't fix the wires."

Tucker suddenly looked panicked. "Wait, you mean he's coming up with stuff right now?"

"Yeah," I nodded before frowning. "Why? What's—"

I heard a crash behind me. Something whizzed past me and buried itself in Church's shoulder, causing him to swear so colorfully and violently I think Skidmark would be impressed.

"Tucker did it!" Caboose yelped.

"I'm standing right here, you idiot!" Tucker snapped.

I blinked, looking at Caboose one moment and Church the next before sighing, walking over to the Blue Team leader and yanking out the screwdriver somehow lodged in Lopez's chasis.

"I take it this has happened before?" I asked despite knowing the answer.

"There's a reason why we haven't let him anywhere near Sheila with any tools," Church bit out, trying very hard not to scream or curse out of frustration.

I shook my head and looked at the tools scattered across the floor. "Okay," I said with trepidation as I made a call from my helmet. Nifty little feature, though it took some getting used to. "Let's see how badly we screw this up."

By the time I collected the tools and beckoned Tucker to help me, Vic was on the line.

"So, what's the plan here?" Grif asked as he, Simmons, and Doc walked towards Blue Base. "What makes you think the Blues will take back the hostage?"

"Because he's a medic?" Simmons shrugged. "Either way, I speak for all of us when I say he's way too dangerous to have at Outpost Number 1."

And wasn't that an understatement? Within five hours of becoming their hostage, Doc had somehow managed to get kidnapped by their runaway jeep after the Blues somehow managed to crack the passcode to operate it remotely. And after that, he proceeded to ram Sarge into the side of Red Base at least twice after the Blues lost control over the vehicle somehow. Despite his status as a medic, he could do very little for Sarge other than tell him to rub some aloe vera on his stomach.

Worst medical advice ever. Of all time.

"If we're lucky, they've got no idea how crappy he is," Simmons continued. "By the way, Grif…"

"Mmyeah, what's up?"

"Did you notice Blue Team has a fourth member now?"

"Wow, Simmons. Congratulations. You finally learned how to count," Grif mocked lightly.

Simmons punched him in the shoulder. "Shut up, idiot. I'm being serious here. What if that soldier is actually Lopez? What if Sarge was right and they did manage to reprogram him?"

"If that's the case, then maybe they remodeled him."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, unless I'm going to crazy, and believe me, I'm pretty sure we're well past that point since we got to this fucking place, I distinctly remember Lopez having more muscle."

"Why would they remodel Lopez, then? Camouflage?"

"What are you guys talking about?" Doc asked curiously, butting in on their conversation.

Although annoyed with the quack medic, Grif answered nonetheless. "Long story short, we think the Blues might have taken Sarge's robot and reprogrammed him."

"All the more reason to get Lopez back as soon as possible!" Simmons stressed. "He's the only one who knows how to repair the Warthog—"

"You mean the Puma."

"—shut up, Grif!" the maroon soldier chided before continuing. "Lopez is the only one who cam repair the Warthog. I wouldn't be surprised if they reprogrammed him to fix their tank."

"Which one's Lopez?" Doc asked curiously.

"The light blue one," Grif answered. "The other light blue one. The teal guy, what's his name again? Tucker or something?"

Doc was confused. "I thought you said Lopez is a guy?"

"He is," Simmons nodded. He paused, then looked up at the sky thoughtfully. "Or, well, I think so? Sarge says he's male, but who knows?"

"Huh, then the Blues must've changed his settings or something, because last I remember, that soldier was a girl."

Grif stopped in his tracks as did Simmons. The latter, ever so slowly, looked over his shoulder. "…what did you just say?"

"My scanner read she's female and organic, so unless Lopez is secretly a cyborg or something, that soldier's not the one you're looking for."

Grif felt a cold dread settle over him. "There's no way," Simmons said quickly, shaking his head in denial. "The Blues were shooting at her when we first met. Why would she…" He gasped in horror. "Y-you don't think they tortured and brainwashed her, do you?!"

"…Simmons," Grif sighed. "That has got to be the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard, and exactly the stupid crap Sarge would say." If anything, it was more likely the leader of the Blues, the cyan jackass who couldn't shoot for shit, forcibly recruited her to help even the numbers. She didn't shoot at all during the assault earlier.

Of course, it was equally as possible she joined out of preservation. She was just a civvie who got the bad end of the stick, after all. Virtually stuck in a place she knew nothing about. Torn away from home.

Grif found himself thinking about Kakaina, the little brat. She would be out of college and into the workforce by now. When was the last time they talked, now that he thought about it? Maybe he could send her a letter or something. See how she and their mom was doing.

…on second thought, that sounded like way too much work. Maybe a call would do.

"But…"

"Look, we'll find out soon enough," Grif groaned. Blue Base was coming into view. "Why don't we go see if its her. Worse case, it's that Freelancer bitch back from the dead."

At the thought of that black-armored terror somehow coming back for more, the two soldiers shuddered in horror. Grif felt his balls ache in pain. He had no idea what he did to earn the Freelancer's ire, but she seemed quite intent on ensuring he was never going to have kids for a long time, if ever.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Blue Base. "Hey!" Simmons called out. "We gotta talk—what the hell are you guys doing?!"

Sorry about the wait. Between feeling like shit and my head taking a beating, I was in the process of changing rooms with my sister. It's still a work in progress at the moment, but so far so good.

At any rate, I'll probs keep going until I finish the events of Season 2. After that, I'll be shifting focus again. I'll be updating Invincible Girl from Another World and Of Crystal Shards and Dust [Royal Revisions] with Daemon of Wrath, and maybe update Demon Slayer: Grimm Chronicles if I can ever muster the will to dip my feet back into it. My enthusiasm for that fanfic has dwindled for a while. Once those have been updated some, I'll focus on Phantom, which is in dire need of substantial updates…aaaaaand lucky for me, my enthusiasm for Persona 5 will be invigorated by then. Why? Because Persona 5 Royal is coming to Xbox, PC, and Switch. What a time to be alive.

Anyways, updates will be slow going for a while, so please be patient.

Cheers, everyone.

SkyRig · Oct 10, 2022

#8: Reunion
(AKA Taylor Meets the Reds. Again.)

Simmons' incredulous shout was not without merit, thinking back on it. I mean, really, how else would you react to seeing three soldiers gathered around a fourth soldier, all staring and fiddling with his lower half?

"Who the hell?" Church tried to look over his shoulder and see who was talking, only to curse when he realized his lower half wouldn't move with him. "Tucker, who's that?"

"The Reds," Tucker said simply.

"What?! Caboose, why didn't you say anything?!"

I get the feeling I was going to sigh a lot while I was here. "Because you wouldn't let him, you idiot."

"W-whatever! One of you turn me around!"

"What do you guys want?!" Tucker called out. "We're, uh, kind of the middle of something here!"

"No shit, we can tell." I got the distinct impression Grif was rolling his eyes under his helmet. "Are you guys seriously this desperate?"

"Fuck you! At least you have a girl that you can actually bang!" He paused, then turned to me. "Uh, no offense, kid. I mean, don't get me wrong, your cute and all, but I'd rather not go to jail for touching a girl ten years younger than me, you know?"

I waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it." It took me a second to realize what he just said. "Wait, did you just—"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Simmons asked out of genuine confusion.

"Oh, they mean the pink lady who blew up Sheila!" Caboose chimed in helpfully. His voice turned dark a second later. "She'll be the first to die."

"You mean Donut?"

…please tell me that's an alias and not their actual name.

"Donut." Church said. "The pink chick who blew up our tank and killed my ex is named Donut. Wow. I don't know whether to be impressed or laugh my ass off."

"For the record, Donut is a guy," Grif corrected. "A really touchy-feely, sensitive guy, but trust me, they're a guy."

"Okay, fine, the pink chick is actually a pink guy!" Church huffed. "So, what do you assholes want?"

"How about you turn around and actually talk to us face-to-face?"

"Uh…"

"He's shy!" Caboose told them.

"What are you guys back here for anyway?" Tucker asked. "We already surrendered and gave you the medic, didn't we?"

"Uh, yeah, about that…" Grif sighed. "We want to give him back!"

That made me confused. For about ten seconds. DuFresne admitted he wasn't a proper medic, because I refuse to believe that 'making you comfortable as you die' was the only job you had.

"Uh, hello?" Vic said from my helmet's earpiece. "Everything okay over there, dude?"

"Sorry, Vic. I'll call you again. Something just came up. Thanks for finding that manual, though." It was a shot in the dark for the most part, hoping Command would somehow have a manual for repairing robots. To my surprise, Vic managed to find one. Surprisingly comprehensive, if maybe a little nonsensical at times.

Vic chuckled. "No problemo, dude. Feel free to call again anytime."

"What?" Tucker was confused. "He's a prisoner. You can't just give prisoners back!"

"Yeah, we, uh, don't want him anymore. Got another prisoner?"

"Nope!" Church said. "Fresh out! You take what you get, Red! Now beat it!"

"Wanna say that to my face, punk?" Grif challenged, raising his gun just a little higher. Church was silent. The orange-armored man grunted smugly. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Bitch."

Evidently, that was the one thing Church wouldn't let slide. "Private Hebert," he bit out. "Shoot them."

"Can't. Not officially part of the Blue Army, remember?"

At the foot of the base, the red-armored soldiers sputtered. "Wait, Taylor?!" Simmons called out in shock. "That's really you up there?! Y-you're with the Blues?"

"Not willingly!" I called out. "This jackass shanghaied me and said Command would find me a way back home. Been here a month, and still no word!"

"I coulda told you they're incompetent," Tucker said. "They sent us Caboose."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Caboose asked. I swore he was pouting under that helmet.

"What do you think it means, moron?"

"…wooow," Grif said after getting over his shock. "You know, I thought you guys were doing alright after losing your big scary freelancer chick, but you must be really desperate if you roped in a civvie of all people."

"Up yours, Red! At least I didn't aim a shotgun in her first when I first met her!"

"WE never shot at her!" Simmons shot back.

Tucker growled. "That was because of fucking Caboose and his damn trigger finger!"

"Tucker did it!"

"Okay, you know what? That's it." Finally reaching the breaking point, Tucker leaped at Caboose and knocked him off Blue Base. The sounds of a struggle and cries of pain, mostly Tucker's by the sounds of it, followed afterwards as dust flew about everywhere.

Church and I sighed in unison.

"Do you ever feel like you just wanna burn down the whole fucking world?" the sniper asked me.

"Ever second of every minute of every day since I got here and the world stopped making sense."

The Reds eventually up and left. DuFresne did try to return on his own, but Church wasn't having it. I protested, of course. As…questionable as his 'profession' was, I wanted to believe he had some level of medical expertise that might help me. That, and that scanner thing could prove useful later down the line. Unfortunately, my objections were ignored.

I called Vic back and resumed progress on getting Church's legs to work. It was going well…at first. I made the mistake of taking a break and asking Caboose to make small talk with Church, my way of getting vengeance on him. When I got back, Church's groin area was a mess of wires, Tucker was laughing his ass off, and Caboose was sulking.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Church roared with such intensity I swore the air shook. "HOW?! How can you fuck this up?!"

"Oh, for—what happened now?!" I asked.

"C-Caboose thought he saw a loose wire, so-so he tried to shove it back in," Tucker wheezed between laughs. "T-then he tried yanking it, and everything just… Whoo! Oh, man. Oooooh, I needed that."

"I-I was just trying to help…" Caboose moped.

I let my helmet fall into my hands. I shouldn't be surprised by this, I really shouldn't, but here we are. God I fucking hate this place.

"What?!"

Simmons winced, his CO's shout somehow ringing across Blood Gulch.

Learning Taylor was indeed part of the Blues was something a sore spot for him. It shouldn't have mattered since they only met once, but he couldn't forget the look in her eyes. Scared, frightened, terrified out of her mind. Not to mention the state of her clothes. Whoever dumped her in the canyon really wanted her gone badly, if not dead. Worst of all, she was just a kid. Barely even in high school assuming he was not mistaken.

Despite his…problems…with women in general, Simmons was wholly willing to put those problems aside. He wanted to help her in any way he could.

…well, he supposed it could be worse. She seemed fine, at least.

"You mean to tell me the Blues forcibly recruited that civilian from last month?!" Sarge bellowed. "Those darn, dirty, backstabbing Blues…! Monsters! All of them!"

"Backstabbing?" Grif muttered. "How is that backstabbing? That'd actually mean we were working with them at some point, right?"

"Wait, you mean there's a civilian here in Blood Gulch?" Why was Donut so—oh, right, duh, he was guarding the base when Sarge took them to the cliffs for recon. "Like the girl you guys found a couple weeks ago?"

"Same girl, actually," Grif said. "Said her name was Taylor. Blues must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel if they recruited a civvie."

"Grif…"

"Yeah, I know, okay? But seriously, what're we supposed to do?" Simmons' partner asked pointedly. "It's not like we're gonna just load up and—"

Sarge pumped his shotgun. "Saddle up, boys! We're going on a rescue mission!"

"—going on a rescue mission and… wait, huh?" Grif and Simmons did a double-take and stared at Sarge in shock. "What? Sarge, are you nuts?!"

"Of course not! Don't you see, Grif? They've brainwashed the poor girl! Right now, they got her doing manual field labor! Sprucing up the place! Maintaining equipment! But what if she starts learning how to use guns?! Training her to be an assassin?! As a member of the glorious Red Army, it's our civic duty to save that poor girl from the clutches of the cerulean devils!"

"Uh-huh…"

Simmons grimaced under his helmet. "Um, sir, as good as that sounds… You do remember you aimed a shotgun in her face when we first met and accused her of being a spy, right? I don't think Taylor would appreciate a rescue mission from the people who aimed a gun at her face."

"You mean Sarge," Grif pointed out. "We actually tried to talk to her like civilized people."

"Simmons," Sarge grunted. "Remind to tell you to poison Grif's next meal."

"Consider it done, sir!" Ever one to butter up his superior in the hopes of acknowledgement (and more), Simmons saluted.

"Gee, thanks for reminding me you're still a kissass, Simmons."

"At least I won't be shitting out blood for the next week, cockbite."

"Can the pillow talk, you two!" Sarge ordered. "Grif, you and Donut stay here! Simmons, load up the turret! It's time to commence Operation Red Saves The Day!"

I tried. I tried very, very hard not to scream in frustration or punch something. Despite what TV and novels tell you, they don't work. Trust me, I've tried. Sophia disabused me of all those notions.

"Look, can't you just come with me?" I pleaded for the umpteenth time. "I promise, I'm not going to do anything to you. I just want to fix your legs."

"¿Por qué debería escuchar un azul sucio?" Lopez said.

To give a brief recap, I was taking a break and talking to Vic about the next tests for my medical license when Caboose mentioned Church should de-possess his body so Lopez could possibly fix himself, and then fix Sheila. It sounded like a good plan, and it would have given me a chance to determine for myself what in the hell Church was. Unfortunately, I came back just in time to see Church—or more specifically Lopez making a getaway, with Blue team none the wiser.

I naturally chased after him and tried to talk to the robot. Key word "tried"; I don't know if he was designed that way or if Church messed with his internal settings or Caboose did something, but for some reason, Lopez only spoke in Spanish.

"…translation, Vic?" I sighed.

The spokesperson of Blue Command chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, dude. Don't know a lick of Spanish."

"D-don't you people have a translating system, or-or google translate or something?"

"We, uh, don't have that. Or at least I don't. And nobody's used google for, like, eight or nine centuries, dude."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me…"

Perfect. Fan-fucking-tastic. How incompetent do you have to be to not have a translator or something?! You people have POWER ARMOR for fuck's sake! Futuristic tech that'd make Tinkers green with envy! How do you not have something as basic as translators?!

Lopez stared at me oddly. "Eres... una persona muy enfadada."

"Taylor, duck!"

Tucker's shout brought out from my rage-induced thoughts. I saw a flashing glint atop Blue Base and—shit! I threw myself to the ground, just in time for a sniper round to fly past me and Lopez. The robot cried out in alarm and ran away.

"Tucker!" I cried into the radio. "The hell was that for?!"

"Sorry 'bout that," he apologized. "But we've got a plan! We're gonna try and push the guy towards the teleporter!"

"The what?" Teleporter? Okay, this just reinforced my point. Advanced tech, and still no translators!

"Just trust us! Small green-looking thing north of the base! Can't miss it!"

"Can you just explain for…" The radio feed cut out.

I tried. I tried really hard. I took a deep shuddering breathe and…

"Uh, sir?" Simmons called out nervously from the turret seat. "W-what was that?"

"That, Simmons, was the sound of a girl screaming in pain and agony! Time to double-time it, otherwise we'll be too late!"

From his command station, Vic listened to every word being screamed out in Taylor Hebert's helmet. Due to the rules of Sufficient Velocity, and even Fanfiction.net, what Taylor said into the radio cannot be transcribed here. Not that it mattered, since Vic's station was automatically equipped with a BLEEP censor in case of Agent South.

"Huh," he said simply. "Looks like Agent South's no longer the most foul-mouthed chick this side of space."

And another new chapter! A bit later than I intended, though.

Nothing new to say here, other than trying my best to make slight changes than just "Taylor lives through Blood Gulch Chronicles".

Also, google translate for Lopez all the way.

A Worm in the Gulch (Worm/Red vs. Blue)

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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Wake the f#ck up, samurai.

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