Weeks prior to the reunion of the Reds and Blues, was their separation. . .

?: I repeat. We have four survivors in need of immediate assistance. Make sure the docs are ready. He really did a number on them this time.

Wash: Sarge. . .

The cause of all the problems then stepped into view. . .

Locus: He's not dead. . . Not yet.

Wash: No. . .

The former freelancer laid on his back, looking up to the sky. . .

Locus: I warned you. Agent Washington. I gave you a choice. And you. . . chose to fight. I admire that decision.

Wash: Fuck. . . You. . . Monster. . .

Locus: No, I'm not a monster. I'm a soldier. . . Like you.

Washington's consciousness faded. . . He suddenly found himself back in cobalt, and within a destroyed freelancer facility. . .

?: Well hello, Agent Washington.

Wash: Project. . . Freelancer?

?: Agent Washington.

He turned and suddenly saw. . . himself. . . speaking to the Counselor.

Wash: Huh?

Counselor: So you would say that you have overwhelming feelings of anger and a need for revenge?

Washington: More than you know.

Wash: What. . .?

A gunshot rang and he found himself at Valhalla. . . Lopez fell to the ground before Washington aimed at Donut. . .

Wash: Wait! Wait!

The trigger was pulled and the Pink Soldier fell. . .

Simmons: Why did you do that?! What's wrong with you?!

Wash: No! I was just-

Locus: I was just following orders.

Wash: I was. . . just following orders.

?: You SHOT him!

Wash: *looks up* What?

Looking back down, the Maroon Soldier was right in front of him. . .

Simmons: You shot him! You shot Donut!

Wash: No! I just. . . I did what I had to do!

Appearing behind him was the mercenary. . .

Locus: Don't we all.

Wash snapped around and put a bullet through his head. . . Only to see himself fall to the ground. . .

Locus: Agent Washington.

The cobalt body was on the ground. . . and the Freelancer was holding the Magnum.

???: Agent Washington? . . . Agent Washington!

A soldier in aqua, air assault class armor then appeared before him. . .

Jason: David.

And everything went black as a beep rang in his ears. . .

???: Oh. Oh wow. . . That was close.

*A Few Moments Later*

The two former freelancers and the two Reds were handcuffed and being guarded.

Sarge: Dirtbags! Each and every one of them! The soldiers. . . dirtbags! The medics. . . dirtbags! The good for nothing mercenary who shoots a man when he ain't even looking? You best believe he is the numero uno DIRTBAG!

South: As much as I want to tell you to shut the hell up, I agree.

The Sergeant then turned to the guard.

Sarge: And you. . . You know what you are?

Donut: Oo! Oo! Me! Pick me Sarge!

Sarge: Shut up Donut.

Donut: But I was gonna say "dirtbag!"

Sarge: What? No. No. For the love of- Now you've gone and given the answer to my rhetorical question!

Wash: I have an idea. Let's play the quiet game.

Donut: Ooooh. It. Is. On.

Sarge: Great monopoly's top hat Wash! Now is not the time for games. Now is the time for action! Come on, help me get out of these cuffs.

South: *sighs*

Sarge: *glares at the guard* There's a certain someone in this room that I feel like bludgeoning to death!

Donut: Just use your feet Sarge! If he fights back, I'll beat 'em off you!

Sarge: You're not thinking Donut! That would just alert more guards!

Donut: Well, if I can't beat off a room full of dudes, then what have I been training for this whole time?!

Wash: I would really like to play the quiet game please.

Soldier: Officer on deck!

They turned to see two men escorting said officer, who had the normal white armor but with yellow highlights. The man walked forward. . .

Officer: Agent Washington. Agent South Dakota. Franklin Donut. Sarge. I. . . am SOOO sorry!

Silence ensued.

South: The fuck?

Officer: Guard! Uncuff these four at once! And, return their weaponry for God's sake.

Guard: Yes sir!

He moved next to Sarge.

Guard: Really sorry about this sir. I'd appreciate if you decided not to bludgeon me to death.

Sarge: Uhhh. . . I supposed I could settle to near death.

Soon, the four were released of their restraints and given their weapons back.

Donut: Goodbye handcuffs! Awww. . . Wait. . . I didn't even get to use my safe word! *whispers* It's chrysanthemum.

Wash: Okay, wait. Stop. Stop!

Officer: Uh, what is it? Agent Washington?

Wash: What is it? What is it?! First, you send men to kill us, then you send men to capture us, and now that we're here you're giving us guns and saying you're sorry?!

Officer: Uuh. . . Is that a problem?

Wash: *raises Battle Rifle* Only for you if you don't-

Officer: Oh dear-

And the man fainted.

Donut: What a weenie.

They soon climbed up to the roof of the building, seeing men patrolling and moving vehicles throughout the shower outpost.

Wash: I don't understand. None of this makes sense.

South: I think we're all lost here.

Meanwhile, a medic, with purple highlighted white armor, was helping the officer.

Medic: Now just take it easy for the rest of the day and remember, you're no good to me dead! Although, I suppose I could run some experiments on your body.

Officer: Uh. . . thank you Emily. Your help is always appreciated.

Emily: Anytime General Doyle! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have limbs to amputate.

Doyle: Of. . . course.

She took her leave and the general approached the others.

Doyle: Gentlemen, gentlelady, I'm afraid I have nothing but apologies for you today. It must be the thin air up here, I-I've been doing a lot of traveling lately and my body is still adjusting to-

Wash: Doyle, right?

Doyle: Oh! Uh, well yes, very observant. General Donald Doyle of the Federal Army of Chorus at your service.

Sarge: At OUR service?

Donut: Full service.

South: I'm still lost.

Wash: Okay general, let me catch you up to speed on what the past few days have been like for me. I've got a canyon of shipwrecked survivors all trying to hail a rescue when a squad of soldiers all wearing your uniform come down and attack us with their leader, a big black suited son of a bitch who goes by the name of Locus. Then once HE leaves, I got another guy named Felix telling me you and yours have been terrorizing this planet, and to top it all off we're wanted men for crashing on it in the first place! So please! If you could do your best to convince me not to kill you this VERY second, that would really benefit the BOTH OF US!

Sarge: Uh, yeah.

South: What he said.

Doyle: *sighs* Yes, I see, none of this happened  the way that it should have. Tell me, how much do you know about the New Republic?

Sarge: They don't try and kill us for starters.

Doyle: A noteworthy quality, yes, but uh, what else do you know about them?

Wash: They're rebels, fighting to overthrow a corrupt leadership. They heard our distress call and hoped we could help.

Doyle: And you heard all this from a mercenary, hired to assist them at all costs? A bit of a biased source, don't you think?

South: God dammit, Ruby was right.

Doyle: These rebels aren't looking to free this planet, their aim is to dominate it. They were given ample opportunities to move to form their own society somewhere else on Chorus. It is a large planet, I can assure you. But no, they are determined to, uh, take back what is theirs. I'll admit, times were hard, but as a cut off planet from the rest of the galaxy, we did our best to govern the people. But it wasn't enough. Suddenly, buildings were exploding, there were- there were riots in the streets. Complete and utter panic everywhere. These were not acts of freedom, they were acts of terrorism. And we could not risk warriors of your caliber, allying with them.

Wash: So, you send men to kill us?

Doyle: Absolutely not!

Sarge: I've got a few cracked ribs that beg to differ, and a hip bone that strongly disagrees.

South: I got shot in the fucking chest!

Doyle: Again, I must apologize, the way this was handled was not at all what I had wanted. Upon hearing of your arrival on Chorus, i ordered Locus to confirm his findings and bring you to us as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it appears as though I should've been more specific in the exact method of your acquisition.

Wash: So what? This was all your mercenary's fault? You expect me to believe that the general of an army can't control his own men?

Doyle: You're mistaken in assuming I have any control over Locus whatsoever. He is a dog that has long since broken from his leash. But we need him. . . As I'm sure you've already observed, I'm not a battle worn soldier, ripe with military expertise. On the contrary, I was simply next in line to run this army should something happen to its leader.

Wash: What do you mean? Lieutenant General? Major General?

Doyle: Uh, personal secretary to the brigadier.

South/Wash: WHAT?!

Donut: Where'd all the other guys go?

Doyle: Some of them left before things took a turn for the worst, but uh. . . most of them were killed, yes definitely they were killed. Not many of these left, I'm afraid.

Sarge: But you're supposed to be the evil empire! With giant warships and floating space lasers! Not campin' out in the snow! That stuff's for rebels! And the sadly endangered polar bear.

Doyle: Well, we are doing significantly better than before. We still have multiple bases of operation and Locus has managed to acquire top notch military equipment. He even helped us strategize some of our more recent victories. Though, I would not consider your rescue to be one of them.

Wash: I also wouldn't consider it to be a rescue.

Doyle: Well, I can assure you he was punished severely for taking such drastic measures against you. I made sure he wasn't paid a single penny for the job.

Wash: How comforting.

Doyle: Gentlemen, gentlelady, I am fully aware that I may never, gain your trust. But let me be perfectly clear, we are not your enemy. The New Republic has your men, and I can promise you, they are likely recruiting into their rebellion as we speak. Now I can inform my troops not to attack them, but I cannot stop them from defending themselves. I'm also unable to promise you a safe escape from Chorus in the middle of this conflict. Most of our ships are shot down before they can escape the atmosphere.

Wash: So then what can you promise us?

Doyle: *sighs* If you can help us defeat these terrorists, it would not only save our planet, it would also save your comrades. Then, once the skies are clear, you can leave this forsaken planet, once and for all.

Sarge: Hmm, I don't like it.

South: Doesn't seem like we have a choice.

Sarge: Unless beating you unconscious would somehow work.

Doyle: *chuckles nervously* Highly doubtful.

Sarge: Drat. I guess I'm in.

Donut: No man left behind right?

Wash: I still have one question for you, general.

Doyle: Which is?

Wash: Where are our robots?

*A Few Moments Later*

Lopez: Hegakurgerk.

Mechanic: Alright, fixed up and ready to go.

They were now inside.

Sarge: Bienvenidos robo buddy! Back in the world of the livin'. Viva. . . La viva.

Lopez: (Spanish) I wasn't dead. My limbs just stopped working and they put me in the garbage. It was the most enjoyable experience I've had in years. Then you showed up.

Sarge: Heh, no need to thank us son.

Lopez: (Spanish) I made friends with a space rat.

Donut: We have got a lot of catching up to do!

Lopez: (Spanish) Fill me in later. I'm sure it's stupid and confusing.

Wash: Now, what about Freckles?

Mechanic: Uh, what's a freckles?

Unfortunately, the mercenary had arrived. . .

Locus: Agent Washington is referring to a Mantis class military assault droid and you won't find it among this wreckage.

And Wash and South had their weapons raised in an instant.

Mechanic: Heh, I'll uh, just look somewhere else then.

Lopez: Mierda.

South: Locus.

Locus: The droid was malfunctioning. It refused to surrender, it was therefore destroyed.

Donut: He's dead?!

Locus: It was a machine, it had no life to begin with.

South: You're talking to people who've had extensive experience with artificial intelligence, asshole.

Lopez: Ducha.

Sarge: You know, it takes an awful lot of nerve to come strollin' in here after what you did.

Locus: Does my presence upset you, sergeant?

Sarge: It gives me an itchy trigger finger, I can tell you that.

Wash: What do you want?

Locus: Aside from my initial examination, the men under my command were ordered to take you alive. All attacks were intended to wound, all shots were designed to intimidate.

South: *mumbles* I'll show you a damn shot meant to fucking intimidate.

Locus: Let me assure you, my raid on your base was calculated, choreographed, and designed to apprehend you. Like herding sheep to the pen. Were it not for the intervention of the mercenary and his men, I would have succeeded entirely.

Sarge: And what? That's supposed to make us feel better? Cause quite honestly it's havin' the opposite effect.

Locus: It's supposed to make you understand.

South: Oh yeah? Well, we don't give a shit about understanding.

Lopez: (Spanish) We understand that you're a douche.

Locus: Agent Washington, I am a professional, I follow orders and I complete my missions at all costs.

Wash: I don't care what you think you are. You just stay the hell away from me, and my men.

Locus: You still don't understand-

South: And like I already, we don't give a shit about understanding. Now do us a favor, and fuck off.

Locus: You-

?: Excuse me.

They turned to see the medic.

Emily: If someone tells you to leave them alone, you leave them alone.

Locus: Of course doctor. . .

The mercenary took out a small AI chip, handing it to Washington.

Locus: Here.

Wash: What is this?

Locus: Before your droid was dismantled, I had a technician remove its primary storage unit. It's heart and mind, so to speak.

Wash: Is this supposed to be some sort of apology?

Locus: Is it?

Donut: *whispers* This guy doesn't make any sense.

Lopes: (Spanish) That's because he's insane.

Locus: I. Am. Not!

Lopez: (Spanish) HOLY SHIT! HE'S BILINGUAL! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME.

Locus: You give meaning to meaningless objects and meaningless people. Then risk your lives to protect them. Where's the sense in-

South: Seriously, what the fuck do you not understand about "FUCK OFF?!" And yes, I am going to keep fucking interrupting you until you fucking fuck off.

Locus: *looks at Wash* . . . I look forward to your answer. Soldier.

The mercenary finally left. . .

Emily: Sorry about that. I promise the rest of us aren't like him. I'm Doctor Gray.

Donut: Ooh! A doctor! Thats like a medic who saves people.

Sarge: Heh, you a civilian little lady?

Emily: Civilian? *laughs* Oh, I don't think you realize how bad this planet's gotten. The only people who aren't wearing armor these days are dead! *laughs*

South: *sighs* Is anyone here fucking sane?

Wash: I know you. Your voice.

Emily: Is that so? Oh, well I performed surgery on you after they brought you here. Sorry if you find a few new scars, a shot from a concussion rifle isn't bad, but a severe injury to the back of the skull can be a little tricky. Especially if your head is already filled with pretty little wires and chips. I hope I didn't damage those neural implants.

Wash: I'm sure they're fine, thank you.

Emily: You can thank me by ending this war as soon as possible. Bullet wounds and prosthetic limbs have become so boring. So, come by my office tomorrow morning for a check up, once you're cleared, you four will be shipping off.

Sarge: Shipping off?

Donut: Where are we going?

Emily: I don't give people orders boys, I just fix them when they break! Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be back. Tomorrow morning. My office. 0800.

She took her leave as the others glanced to each other.

Sarge: Hmmm. Well, what do you fellas think?

Donut: I think she's. . . nice?

Sarge: Not the doc, Donut! The army, the general, the whole dealio! Grif, Simmons, and Ruby are out there with the Blues! Alone, confused, probably eating, complaining and back talking. God damn it Grif, just shut up already!

Wash: We do what we have to do, and we go along with it for now. . . I just hope the others aren't in too deep without us. . . .