GATE: Red vs Blue

Disclaimer: I don't own Red VS Blue or GATE

Aboard a UNSC Pelican Dropship.

"Okay, we got five minutes until we hit surface. Any questions?" A soldier in ODST armor with black stripes asked, standing amongst a small group of other soldiers as they readied their gear and weapons.

"Yeah, why the hell are the twelve of us the only ones going down to check out an invasion?" another inquired in bewilderment, his own armor green accented. "Seriously, Zimmerman, what good are a dozen more meat bags going to do against a Covenant invasion?"

"I'm glad you asked, Velimir," Zimmerman answered without missing a beat. "All our sensors are indicating that there are no detectable Covenant fleets in orbit or any of their forces on the surface.."

"So, what, did we get called out to the wrong coordinates or did someone butt-dial the invasion alarm?" Velimir questioned, clearly surprised by the development.

"Ha! Anyway, we're going down to secure the base and figure out just what is going on. If an invasion did happen, it must have been a blitzkrieg to be gone already, so we're mainly the rescue party in that case. And if the enemy are down there in smaller numbers, Captain sends in the cavalry," Zimmerman explained confidently. "Any other questions?"

"Just one: What is this place for? I don't recall us having much of a presence around here," Velimir posed with a head tilt.

"Training bases for the Freelancer Project," Zimmerman answered with a smirk to his voice.

"Really? Wow, we might get to see some infamous badasses in the making," Velimir remarked.

"Alert: One minute until touch down. All hands ready for combat," The auto-piloted pelican instructed.

"Or we might save their bad-asses. Everyone, get your shit together and brace!" Zimmerman called out, activating the magnets in his boots.


A pelican takes an extra two seconds to land if it's not dropping straight down, but they were already rushing out the door by the first, weapons up and ready for almost anything.

"Okay, sweep out and check...for...hostiles," Zimmerman's instructions died in his throat as they took in the sight of the...battlefield, using the word lightly.

It was a scene straight out of Dante's Inferno or the Book of Revelations. A canyon, soaked in blood and covered in bodies. Not all of them human, but in such a mangled sea of gore and death was hard to make out specifics.

"Oh my god," One of the soldiers whispered as he pulled off his helmet and began to vomit. "Oh, fuck, the smell! I can taste the shit in the air!" he cursed again, pulling the headgear back on while shivering in his armor.

"The...The Freelancers must have sent backup. Or had marines on standby near here," Zimmerman said, trying to make sense of this. "Or something."

"I know the aliens are brutal, but this...?" Velimir murmured numbly.

"Sir, the...the blood. Its...its all red," one of the others noted in a far-away voice.

"I'm very aware of that, Private," Zimmerman acknowledged with a shallow breath.

They weren't strangers to war, and all of them knew that almost none of the usual Covenant races they fought possessed crimson blood; Which meant, logically, these corpses were primarily human.

"What should we do, Corporal?" Velimir prompted, tempted to suggest they just get back on the ship and fast as humanly possible.

"There are two bases, one on each side of the canyon. Check for survivors and if we meet enemies, we rendezvous here. We're in between the cliff sides, so that'll give us some cov-"

"Does anyone else hear polka music?" one of the soldiers interrupted suddenly in utter confusion.

"Gooooooodaaaaaammnnnn muuuuuudblooooood!"


All of them ducked for cover behind rocks as a vehicle skidded by the pass in front of them, slamming side-first into boulders before coming to a stop.

"OH FUCK THIS SHIT!" Grif yelled as he jumped out of the warthog, repeatedly kicking one of the bloody tires in annoyance. "How the hell is the ground still wet after a day on a planet with no night!" he complained before sagging with a deep sigh. "Eh, fuck it," he decided, all his care and frustrations evaporating into apathy. "Hmm?" he hummed as he looked to the side...only to see a ship with a dozen soldiers taking cover around it, all pointing guns at him.

"Oh right, this shit," Grif murmured in annoyance. "Who, exactly, are you?"

"Umm...we're here in response to the Invasion alarm?" Velimir offered awkwardly. In his experience, when someone seems unafraid of being outgunned and outnumbered, it often didn't bode well for those with said guns and numbers.

"Seriously? You're it? For a fucking invasion?" Grif questioned, unimpressed.

"That's what I said," Velimir muttered to himself.

"We're just the rescue force, since we couldn't detect any hostile fleet or forces," Zimmerman answered clearly, eyeing the surrounding for...anything.

"..." Grif didn't say anything before holding a hand up to his helmet. "You get all that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard. Everyone, the Asshats are with us, don't shoot!" Church answered over the comms.

"...What was that?" Velimir asked slowly, looking between Zimmerman and the orange soldier.

"Obviously, First Private, their leader just decided NOT to light us up like a roman candle," Zimmerman deduced knowingly.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

All heads and several cocked guns turned to see two more figures sitting on top of the large boulders nearby. One was green with an elite's energy sword, to their surprise, and the speaker was a pink armored male tossing a grenade up and down in his hand.

"Hey, hey, don't shoot me!" Tucker requested urgently before motioning to Donut. "He's fine, he wants more holes!"

"We were half expecting you to be pirates with our string of luck," The, surprisingly, male trooper remarked in cheerful apology. "Although..."

"You make one joke about booty and plundering, I will push you off your rock," Tucker warned.

"Mean," Donut pouted.

"Given...what I'm seeing, I can't fault you and your commander for being paranoid and cautious," Zimmerman remarked, getting some amused noises from the strange troopers. "Now, do you have any injured that need evac?"

"Injured? No, none of ours," Grif answered before looking to Tucker. "Unless you want a check up, "Tuck?"" Grif offered with an audible smirk.

"This will cut through your armor, Dude," Tucker remarked in warning, holding up his sword.

"But will it light a cigarette?" Grif asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"...Huh, good question?" Tucker remarked thoughtfully as he looked at his sword like it was the first time he had ever seen it.

The assembly of soldiers just stared. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you guys?" Velimir asked in bewilderment. In response, Grif pointed over his shoulder at the field of blood and bodies. "I retract the question."

"I'm Corporal Zimmerman. What's the situation? Who's in charge?" Zimmerman inquired in a commanding tone.

"Grif, Private if you're that much a tightass," the orange one introduced lazily.

"Private Tucker, yo," The aqua one introduced, saluting his energy-sword dangerously close to cutting his own helmet. "So, any of you chicks under that helmet?" he inquired lecherously.

Everyone of the extraction team shared odd looks at that.

"And I'm Private Donut!" The pink one introduced with a too-cheery tone as he swung his legs back and forth. "I was the guy sent to get you all nice and sticky if you turned out to be some bad boys."

The squad all suddenly felt more comfortable with the green pervert than the pink one.

"Yeah...maybe don't tell them that? Or word it like that? Better yet, just stop talking." Tucker suggested uneasily before continuing. "And the situation is waaaay past fucking over, if you bother to look around," Tucker remarked, glancing out over the canyon.

"And we're suppose to, ahem, 'Take you to our leaders!'" Donut answered with spooky voice.

"Dude, what is with you? I thought Simmons was the nerd?" Tucker asked in exasperation.

"Oh, he is, but haven't you always wanted to say something like that since coming to space?" Donut asked giddily.

"...What is wrong with these guys?" Velimir asked in a whisper, a bit unnerved now.

"Well, you know what they say about the eccentric ones," Zimmerman commented, scowling to himself.

"Anyway, yeah, Church and Sarge want to talk to you both, cause we're going to need help with the prisoners and bodies," Tucker informed before jumping off his boulder, wincing loudly upon landing. "Yeah, yeah, still not over that yet," he hissed as Donut slid down his boulder.

"Prisoners?" Some of Zimmerman's men repeated amongst themselves. It wasn't too often Covenant forces were captured, not in the amount a whole base would have trouble with at least.

"You sure about this, Zim?" Velimir asked warily.

"You want to tell Dave we just high tailed it out without meeting the officer in charge?" Zimmerman offered, getting a grunt of acceptance. "Everyone, stay here and watch the pelican in case we need extraction. Velimir, you're with me."

"Where else?" Velimir retorted wryly.

"Don't get any ideas or say anything," Tucker warned to Donut, who sagged in disappointment. "Alright, come on, before we have to shoot someone," Tucker instructed, deactivating his sword and motioning them to follow with a halfhearted wave.

"...Was that a threat?" Velimir questioned as they followed.

"I don't know which answer is worse," Zimmerman mused, wondering just what was going on at this outpost. With that in mind, he activated his radio. "Captain? Yeah, its Zimmer. We're here, but something is strange...No, no hostile threats yet, but we're meeting with the soldiers here. You're...really not going to believe what's down here. Over."

"I'd drive you, but probably safer on foot," Grif grumbled as he glared down at the soggy ground before looking to the other soldiers. "Any of you got a smoke?"

"Well, this should be a fun story for later," Velimir murmured as they followed the two, getting a better look at the canyon as a whole.

It was even worse than they imagined.

The sea of broken bodies was inescapable. The best traction they could step on was on a hand or leg covered in dry blood. At worst, they were stepping IN the guts or even brains of some poor soul. Flies and maggots were everywhere, desiring to feed on the dead. If the planet had birds, they would be here feasting as well.

Off to one side of the canyon was a small base covered in blood and corpses, the masses of flesh and blood appearing to have literally poured out of it like some twisted and gory decorations. Off to the other side was another, identical base. It wasn't as bad, but there was practically a wall of bodies circling the base of it with a Scorpion tank nearby.

As they followed the two local troops, they realized they were being led to some...ancient structure, by the looks of it. Alien, perhaps, but it looked distinctly human in architecture. A number of soldiers were standing near it. A meeting, perhaps? Or a welcoming party.

But that wasn't what captured their attention, and alarm.

"Privates," Zimmerman spoke up, looking over the features of the fallen near him. "These are all human. All."

"Most of them, yeah. Few...other things mixed in," Tucker answered vaguely.

"What do you mean "other things?"" Velimir questioned, sounding a bit irate. "Where are all the Elites and Covenant forces?"

"Oh, don't be silly!" Donut spoke up cheerfully. "The aliens weren't here."

"What?! You're saying you were invaded by an Unknown HUMAN force?" Zimmerman demanded in shock. If there was some kind of rebel movement in the UNSC, or worse, some completely rouge space-based criminal organization, and were acting on a scale of...this? That didn't bode well for anyone.


"Fuuucktastic, the cavalry finally arrive," Church remarked dryly. "We'd so be dead if it had been aliens."

"Does anything make you happy?" York asked curiously.

"I reckon you'd be better off asking his peach on that," Sarge suggested with a chuckle.

"I am still in shock that anyone calls Tex peach," York commented, being complete honest on that front.

"Yes, enough about my badass bitch of a girlfriend," Church waved off as the trio stood near the gate. "So, how goes the interrogations?"

"Considering none of the prisoners are dead, I'd say as good as a shotgun in a pistol fight," Sarge answered proudly.

"I mean the information part of the interrogations, not the torture part," Church corrected bluntly.

"Oh, right, that," Sarge remembered.

"I'm disturbed that needed clarifying." York remarked flatly.

"...He did try to get information out of them with Andy, right?" Church directed to York.

" did that bomb decipher an unknown language in a few hours?" York inquired, a bit alarmed by that.

"I am more inclined to question how an explosive device possesses an AI to begin with," Delta commented. "And to answer the Captain's question, yes, we did obtain data from the prisoners."

"Oh really? Anything on how and why they came here?" Church asked curiously.

"From what we can tell, this...Gate opens on its own," York answered, nodding to the large structure. "Every hundred or so years, it just opens their world to another. Supposedly the Gods open it, but, you know," York said with a shrug.

"What Sir Blasphemous over here is getting at is that the damn thing is probably rolling dice on where to go and they just blame their bibles on it," Sarge elaborated with a shrug.

"Figures. Our luck is terrible enough that I'd fucking buy that," Church murmured with a sigh. "And they came here why? Cause if their world is dying, I think they're better off where they are."

"Ummm...far as we can tell?" York started hesitantly. "Kill, conquer, pillage, rape, enslave, and various other nasty things people do when they invade another land?"

"..." Church said nothing, but it was not a nice nothing. Delta took a few steps back, almost hiding behind York's head. "Well, there goes the last of any potential sympathy I might have had for these fucksters."

"Really? Ya had some to begin with, Blue?" Sarge asked in amused disbelief.

"Well yeah! I thought some of them were just unlucky assholes with retarded bosses, but now? Nope, just fuck them all and roast them in hell by their-," Church stopped his rant, seeing that they had company approaching. "And its about time to meet our suppose backup and explain this shitshow," he muttered, rubbing his helmet.

"Captain Church," Delta spoke up. "May I have a moment?"

"Well, by the way they're tiptoeing over bodies and getting grossed out, I'd say you got five. So, what did you want, Einstein?" Church instructed with a shrug as York looked between the blue leader and his AI oddly.

"Is that a joke at my intelligence or to imply I am like a light bulb?" Delta inquired with a head tilt.

"Pick your fucking poison," Church answered, clearly bored with the intelligence unit.

"I believe having intercourse with hazardous materials would be ill-advised," Delta retorted.

"You've obviously never went to a college party," Church jabbed with a smirk.

"I will concede that point," Delta allowed.

"This...might just be the most entertaining conversation I've ever seen with D," York mused, a bit impressed with how this foulmouthed simtrooper rolled with Delta's overly analytical lines.

"York was conversing with your fellow troopers and I have archived several comments indicating that, despite your performance during the invasion, you normally display sub-par skill in marksmanship?" Delta inquired for clarification.

"I have no idea what happened, do not ask me glowstick," Church answered in irritation with a flat tone.

"I find that very hard to believe, Mr Triple-Headshot-With-One-Bullet," York remarked with a smirk.

"I deduced as much. I, however, have a hypothesis on why this would be the case," Delta informed.

"...Okay, Data, you have my utmost attention: Go, now, run with it," Church prompted after a moment's pause, very eager to hear why the hell he sucked at aiming.

"Delta, and very well. Please confirm: Your...current body is entirely robotic, correct?" Delta asked.

"Yeeeeeeah?" Church asked slowly, not sure if he liked where this was going..

"Is it possible that the friendly fire is on?" Delta inquired.

"Eh?" York and Sarge commented in confusion.

"...What?" Church asked with a dead tone.

"If my theory is correct, your friendly fire protocols may very well be set to recognize all MJOLNIR armor as friendly units, forcing you to miss even against the Reds designated as your enemies," Delta elaborated.

Church didn't answer, just staring straight at the miniature man of a hologram. The moment stretched on for a small eternity before even Delta started to feel uncomfortable.

"That was a seriously dick move, Sarge," Church spat out with a glare to the red leader.

"Umm...sorry, must have forgotten about that," Sarge said awkwardly. "Maybe it came pre-installed or whatever the kids call it?"

Church let out a long, suffering groan. "Can you turn it off?" he asked with a glare that was definitely felt through the helmet.

"I have copied the necessary data, I will determine how to do so as soon as possible," Delta assured, his voice a bit quicker than it would normally be.

"Good," Church murmured in a cold, dry tone.

"What?! You're saying you were invaded by an Unknown HUMAN force?" a completely unknown voice to him called, drawing their attention to the approaching group of Tucker, Donut, and two strangers.

"You got that fucking right, Asshats!" Church yelled to get their attention.

"Who the hell...?" Velimir asked in surprise as they saw a blue trooper standing with a sniper rifle...that was on fire.

"Hey, Church, look who finally showed up!" Tucker called back in amusement.

"Oh, I see them," Church retorted coldly, glaring daggers through his mask at the brown and red troopers with him. "This conversation is not over," he swore, clearly pissed about something before turning to the pink and teal troopers. "Tucker, Donut, please return to monstersitting the abomination of nature," he instructed offhandedly.

"Come on dude, he has a name," Tucker reprimanded before shivering. "Damn paternal instincts!"

"Think about where you left him when you say that shit," Church reminded evenly.

"Oh don't be like that Church. Junior and Ghidora the Explorer get along great!" Donut assured cheerfully as they headed off.

"How have neither of those things eaten each other yet?" Church grumbled as he directed his full attention and displeasure onto the newcomers. "You know, I was more pissed off when I saw how fucking tiny a crew they sent in response to a real shit-fucking invasion alarm," he ranted coldly.

"I take it you're the man in charge?" Zimmerman questioned neutrally.

Church snorted. "Fine, intro-cuntsucking-ductions first. I'm Captain Church, the asshole in charge of Blue Base," he paused, nodding his head towards the red soldier with a shotgun. "That's Sarge, he's the boss of the reds."

"Howdy," the gruff greeting came from the red leader. "The varmint makes a good point. Bit underwhelming cavalry if this had been worse than it was, sons."

"And this is Agent New York of Project Freelancer," Church introduced offhandedly.

"Hi," York greeted with a nod of polite respect. "Welcome to the madhouse, Sirs."

Zimmerman considered addressing the freelancer, but it was obvious who was in charge here.

'Reds? Blues?' Velimir wondered mentally, before passing it off as some training groups. "No offense...Captain...but what the fuck happened here?"

"Private First Class!" Zimmerman scolded, more for his friend's benefit than protocol. Last thing Velimir needed was an asshole Captain reporting him for a minor offense.

"No, no, that is the single damn most intellegent ass question he could have said," Church dismissed with a wry tone. "Still, unless you want me calling you two Assmunch and Corpy, can I get some damn names here?"

"Corporal Vasko Zimmerman," Zimmerman introduced professionally.

"Can I just be called Asshole?" Velimir requested bluntly.


"No, that's reserved for Bluebrains here," Sarge retorted without missing a beat.

"Ugh, fine, I'm Private First Class Alfirin Velimir," Velimir introduced reluctantly.

"...What kind of Elf-shit name is that?" Church asked after a moment's pause.

"I thought it sounded like something Simmons would like," Sarge agreed with a sigh.

"I know, blame my parents," Velimir retorted in resignation.

"I've heard worse," York commented with a shrug.

"...Want to be Elmer Fudd?" Church offered with a smirk.

Velimir stared at him for a moment before answering, slowly. "Tempting, but all the same, I think I should just say: Fuck you," he counter offered.

"Whatever you say, Tolkien," Church returned with amusement.

"Regretting that decision already," Velimir noted dryly.

"I'm pretty sure you were screwed either way," York offered sympathetically.

Zimmerman just watched the exchange, very clearly getting the idea this was a very informal unit.

"Good, now, Corporal?" Church recaptured his attention. "I know this is one hell of a place to process right now, but have you noticed anything odd about the bodies?" Church directed.

"Odd? You mean besides there being a sea...of...humans?" Velimir snarked as he looked down, trailing off uncertainly.

"Vel?" Zimmerman asked in concern, looking to the first private before looking down himself for anything odd.

"Captain Church, why do these bodies look like they died in a Roman War reenactment or something?" Velimir summed up their shared thoughts.

"Yeah, you might want to look at this thing," York suggested, waving them over to the large archway.

"Yeah, what the hell is with this thing? It doesn't look alien," Velimir commented in bewilderment.

"Is it a tunnel out of the canyon?" Zimmerman guessed with a head tilt.

"If only it were that simple, Fuckcakes," Church lamented as he walked to the side of it and motioned for them to look on the other side from where they were.

The two confused UNSC troopers shared a look as they followed the swear-happy simtrooper. "What, something on the-" Velimir started, only to blink as he realized that there was only air on the other side of the gate. "Wall?"

Zimmerman moved back and froo side slightly, looking at the clearly light-less tunnel through the gate and the empty air behind it. "This is..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"Give it time," York suggested in an almost comforting tone. "Your sanity will only die a little bit at first."

"What Harry Potter crap is going on here?" Velimir asked bluntly.

"Not sure on the details, Tolkien," Church admitted with a shrug. "Piece of shit just popped up in the morning and next thing I know, we're base-deep in roman fantasy fuckoffs, complete with dragons and trolls."

"You killed dragons..." Zimmerman repeated slowly.

"Oh yeah, we even barbecued a few of those puppies!" Sarge said with a chuckle as he look to Church's weapon. "Hehe, good thing that Hellspitter came with a flamethrower mode! Deep fried flying iguana, mmm!"

"I hate that I love that name," Church admitted with a sigh.

"Wait, that ISN'T a flamethrower?" Velimir asked in shock, staring at the obviously flame based weapon.

"Oh no, dude, its a fucking Flame Sniper," Church answered with a grin audible through his helmet.

Velimir looked between Church and the weapon repeatedly before asking the most obvious question. "Where can I get something like that?"

"Sorry, all Mad Doc weapons are Blood Gulch exclusives," Sarge informed proudly.

"Can we please focus here!" Zimmerman yelled in frustration, taking a deep breath. "What is this about prisoners?"

"Take a chill-pill up the ass, motherfucker," Church instructed helpfully. "And I wanted some goddamn answers, so I made sure we cut off some of the fucktards from retreating when they FINALLY gave up," Church informed.

"How many, exactly?" Zimmerman asked, feeling a headache forming.

"Oh, I don't know. I'd say about six, maybe seven," Church explained with a shrug.

"That...doesn't sound too bad," Velimir commented, not sure what the issue was.

Zimmerman paused before looking to York, the only sane one as far as he could tell. "He means five or six hundred, sir. None of them speak any known language and several of them are not human...including one dragon we are, I can't believe I'm saying this, trying to saddle up," York explained sympathetically.

"In fairness, it technically came with a saddle," Church reminded.

"Oh boy. Dave is not going to believe any of this," Zimmerman said in disbelief.

"Yeah, well, you better make him believe pretty fast, cause I can barely feed these morons, let alone a few hundred more," Church informed.

"Is he always like this or is there a reason he's so pissy?" Velimir whispered to York, who just sighed and shook his head, declining to answer rather than risk the various symptoms of eating too many flaming bullets.

End of Chapter

Sorry for the long delay, lot of shit happened over the holiday.