Disclaimer: Red vs Blue is the property of Rooster Teeth. Halo was created by Bungie and is property of Microsoft.

The fearsome red war machine was in motion, focused on the stronghold of their enemy. Cold steel and hot lead would be their means of announcing their arrival to their insidious rivals. Nothing could stop their righteous forces from claiming victory over their despicable opponents.

At least, that's what Sarge kept ranting on about. Grif had tuned him out a while ago, trying to focus on the polka emanating from the radio of the Warthog. As they kept on, Grif kept his eyes on the radio; it was already at its max volume, but Grif wondered if there was any sort of trick that'd make it louder.

"Hey! Watch where you're driving!" Simmons growled from the gun turret in back. Grif looked up in time to see one of the rocky walls of the canyon. The Reds lurched to the side as Grif turned sharply, narrowly avoiding plowing into it. Simmons shrieked like a little girl as he almost fell out.

"Confound it, Simmons! Just keep yer grip on that cannon and try not to fall out!" Sarge ordered.

"Hey, 'keep a grip on that cannon' reminds me of that one time, in college…" Donut chimed in. Since there were only two seats and the turret on the Warthog, the fourth soldier had to awkwardly wrap his arms around Simmons and hold on tight. Well, it was only awkward for Simmons. Donut didn't really mind.

"No stories now, please." Simmons cringed.

The Warthog screeched to a halt outside of Blue Base, the quartet of soldiers taking up positions. In obedience to Sarge's plan, they barreled down the center, making a beeline towards the base. Typically, Church served as sentry; given his accuracy, the Reds had no problem forsaking cover as they approached. Plus, Grif thought to himself, there's less walking involved if we just head right for their base.

Guns raised, they checked the area; nothing. They went through the base, it looked ravaged; nobody was inside, and it looked like someone had hastily removed everything from the building. It was almost creepy as they walked the halls. Simmons and Grif were worried about what would've caused the sudden evacuation of the Blues, and if they should follow their enemies lead and bug out. Sarge was upset that they seemed to finally achieve victory. Without bloodshed. How could they achieve bloodshed without the Blues dying? Or Grif? Donut was in despair, because Blue Base really could've used some sprucing up.

"Aw, come on. Don't tell me we came here for nothing!" Grif whined.

"Oh, shut up. Don't tell me you were looking forward to fighting today." Simmons snapped.

"I wasn't. But seriously, we come all this way, search the place up and down, and nobody's home! I could've stayed home today."

"I hate to say this but…" Sarge said, solemnly, gulping before he continued "…I agree with you, Grif."

"Really sir? About staying at our Base?" the Red trooper said, bewildered.

"No, you jackass, about there not being any Blues!" Sarge burst out, triumphant that he got to reprimand Grif. His tone dropped again. "That means there's no chance of you dying today."

"I'm sorry, sir." Simmons said, in mock pity, which he knew Sarge would take at face value.

"Oh… is he sad? Maybe we should make balloon animals…" A cheerful voice chimed from the doorway. "…but then you would have to have the balloons… because I don't have any."

"Caboose?" Donut asked, grinning under his helmet. Out of all the Blues, Donut found Caboose to be the most agreeable.

"Captain Croissant!" Caboose excitedly waved.

"Blue guy!" Sarged snarled, cocking his shotgun for effect. "If you tell us where you're teammates are, you might live a little longer!"

"Oh… they took Doc and left. It's just been me here. Alone." Caboose said, his voice dropping to a note of sadness and isolation that would've moved anyone to sympathy; barring the cynical and oblivious members of Red team. He perked up when he added "They gave me a really important mission! They told me to watch the base!"

"Who ransacked the place?" Grif said, unsurprised that Caboose's turn as guard would end badly.

"Oh, they had to leave fast… and they went and hid all their stuff so that it wouldn't... get broken."

"By you?"

"I did not say that!" Caboose growled petulantly, adding "I did a good job guarding the base…"

"Tell us the whole story, and I'll consider sparing you." Sarge growled, slightly miffed. That line deserves a dramatic gun cock… but I already did that…

"Okay… once upon a time…"

Two Days Ago…

"Yello, yello. Come in, Blue guys. Hey dudes, what's up?" Vic said over the radio, in that voice of his which managed to be both seemingly impassive and smug as Hell. "Guess who's got a new assignment for you dudes."

"Damnit Vic, not now!" Private Leonard Church growled back. "I don't have time for your crap right now!"

"Dude, simmer down. No need to be a dick, dude. What's going on, are the Reds attacking?

"No… it's just…"

"That Freelancer chick PMSing?"

"Jesus Christ no, if it was that I'd be hiding in the hills. I dated her, trust me, she's even more violent than usual when it's her time of the month…"

"I heard that." Came the irritated female voice from across the base.

"SHIT!" Church shouted, ducking a thrown brick.

"Dude, bad call there." Vic said in mock sympathy. "By the way, dude… where'd she get the brick?"

"I have no fucking clue!" Church muttered, turning towards Tex he asked "Where did you get the brick?"

"Does it matter?" The black-clad freelancer said in a menacing tone.

"Ah. Hey lady, take a chill pill there."

"Go fuck yourself, Vic!"

"So dude, if it's not the chick, and it's not the Reds, what's the matter?"

"Caboose and Tucker are acting like fucking infants!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Both of you, shut the fuck up!" Church yelled angrily.

"Anyways dude, how would you guys like to go to go on an all expenses paid trip?"

"What's the catch, Vic?" Church muttered under his breath.

"Well by 'how would you guys like to' I mean you guys are ordered to, and by 'all expenses paid trip', I mean team building seminar."

"Fuck, I knew it. Christ… what the fuck kind of things are we supposed to be doing at this seminar?"

"Oh, y'know, the usual stuff they have at these seminars. Trust falls, ropes courses, live fire exercises and all that stuff."

"Is it alright if we leave Caboose behind on this one?" Church asked. To the blue leader, 'trust', 'live fire', and 'Caboose' did not belong in the same train of thought, let alone the same sentence.

"Sorry dude… orders say four of you have to show up."

"GODDAMNIT!" Church growled.

"Hey, orders are orders. You guys could've avoided all of this if you had just taken my advice and sucked less. Anyhoo, a shuttle will arrive to transport you to New New Mombasa in an hour. Laters." Vic said, hastily signing off.

"Okay." Church said, pacing. Tensely, he started spouting commands "Okay, Tucker just hide everything. Tex, help me find Doc."

"What are you thinking?" Tex asked, slightly ticked that he was barking orders.

"Command wants four people to go to a team-building seminar. They never said they'd be keeping track of which four people."

"Ooh, ooh, Church! What can I do?"

"Um, Caboose, you're going to have a really important job. We're going to be leaving."

"Oh… like on a trip? Where to? Venice? Florida? Venice then Florida? I've always wanted to go to Florida!"

"Um… Caboose… no. We're going to New New Mombasa. And you have to stay here." Church explained. Hearing a sniffling sound emanate beneath Caboose's helmet, Church rolled his eyes. In a sympathetic tone, he added "Look. Somebody's going to need to stay here and watch the base. And right now, you're the only person I can abandon-er, trust. Think of it as a mission."

"So…" Donut said, interrupting "You're buddies are in New Mombasa."

"No they are not. They are in New New Mombasa." Caboose said, slightly indignant.

"Wait… what? How can there be a New New Mombasa?"

"Well, the original New Mombasa was destroyed during the war." Sarge chimed in, adding "That was my first combat experience…"

"Ooh, story time!" Caboose said, clapping.

Years Ago…

The Rookie checked over his gun. The mission was going both terribly and great at the same time. Granted, most of his fellow soldiers burned up in orbit before they could even put their boots on their ground. Granted, he had been separated on his squad and knocked out upon landing. Granted, he had a wicked case of laryngitis, preventing him from speaking. But there were so many aliens to fight. It was perfect.

Anyways, after an eventful night of trying to find his missing squadmates (unsuccessfully) and fighting a bunch of aliens (very successfully), he found that Naval Intelligence officer lady that was supposed to be working with his squad. And she told him that there was a particular kind of alien he wasn't supposed to be shooting. That was news to the Rookie.

So now, while Miss Naval Intelligence and his squad leader, Sergeant Edward Buck, argued and rehashed their romantic history, the Rookie was left to babysit the fourth member of their quartet. A floating, pink-and-blue, tentacly… thing.

Currently, the little lady just decked Buck for abandoning the mission. Rookie hated to admit it, but she had a point there. Or did she? He had stopped trying to think about tactics and stuff the second he managed to find a shotgun.

He rolled his eyes and Buck and Naval Intelligence lady kissed. A curious half-purring, half-grinding noise emanated from next to the Rookie. He whipped around, looking eye-to-eye with Tendrils McGee (The Rookie found it was easier to suppress his desire to shoot the alien by giving it a funny nickname). Beneath his helmet, the Rookie blinked, in unison with the critter's six eyes. He glanced back at his superior officer and the missus, and then back at the alien. You… don't want to try that, do ya, McGee? I don't mean to offend, fella, er, ma'am, er, whatever…the Rookie thought… but I'm pretty sure I don't swing that way.

"That was a great story…" Caboose nodded approvingly. "…could've used a dragon, though."

"Wow, saving a city from alien forces… with laryngitis. That is impressive, sir." Simmons chimed in.

"The city wasn't saved, it was obliterated." Grif said, exasperated. "Then they built a new one over the wreckage…"

"So… the Blues have gone to dig their graves at the sight of my first victory? Aha!" Sarge exclaimed, triumphantly. "Donut, get the Warthog. We're heading for New New Mombasa."

"How? It's back on Earth!" Grif whined.

"Oh… you'll see… you'll see…" Sarge said.

"Guys? Can I come too? It's kind of lonely here."

"Why, sure, Caboose! I wouldn't dream of crushing Blue team without you present!" Sarge said, stomping towards the jeep. He had planning to do.

He had to figure out how to get to the Blues.

He had to plan how to finally destroy the Blues.

And, most importantly at the moment, he had to figure out how to fit five people in the Warthog.

Author's Note: Yeah, this first chapter was mostly introduction, so no space zombies yet. Sorry about that.