Disclaimer: I don't own Red Vs. Blue. Or Halo. Or Naruto. Or... a lot of things.

Warnings: OOCness. That is all.

Episode 1: Agents Black and Orange

Marlene White was a doctor. She was an excellent doctor, an army doctor. She was arguably the best battlefield surgeon on the planet Sargino. Dr. White had a burning passion. A passion for medicine and helping others. At a frozen base, far from all she had known, Dr. Marlene White was killed in a hail of bullets and needler shots.

/*/

Agent Oregon was soldier. Agent Oregon was an excellent soldier. Mission after mission she ran, only rarely losing a member of her team. She was one of the first soldiers of Project Freelancer, and was assigned to The Valiant. Over the three years she spent on The Valiant, other Agents would surpass Agent Oregon, The Mother of Invention would overtake The Valiant on the grand leader board, but Agent Oregon didn't mind that at all. She did well enough in the field that she wasn't booted out of the Project but not so well that she drew the attention of the Director. Something was off about him, she could just feel it! Despite her apparently lackluster skills, Oregon was well liked by the Agents that passed through The Valiant's halls. It came as a great shock to everyone when she vanished, her armor going completely off the grid. She was declared MIA after a week and considered KIA after a year, though York swore she had sent him a message during his match with Texas, not that it helped much, he had still been in the blast radius after all, but it was a sign that maybe she wasn't as gone as the Director thought.

/*/

Agent Black is a ghost. A phantom on the edge of sight. The blur on your visor that no matter what you try, you can't seem to pin down. The name 'Black' came from it's armor, the 'Agent' part came from the theories surrounding the Freelancer Hunter's origin. Anyone who heard of Agent Black shivered in fear at the name, and they had every right to. The trail of broken and bloody bodies of the dead or dying left by the Hunter was chilling. However, Agent Black had specific targets, specific criteria for her corpses. She made her other 'victims' into phantoms. For every phantom that she made, however; she felt just a little more strained. A little more alone. Those other phantoms were tired, so tired, of all the pointless fighting, of being test subjects for a sad, twisted man's experiments. Most just wanted out, and for those who didn't... they didn't find her path all that appealing. For every suit of Freelancer armor that got blasted, another phantom fled into the cold, dark, void of space, hiding from anything and everything. And everyone.

/*/

It was a slow day in Blood Gulch. A perfect day in Private Dexter Grif's opinion. Or, at least, it was until this crazy woman in black armor showed up, yelled, 'Yoink!' and dragged him onto her ship. Now, for most men, that wouldn't be such a big deal, but this was Private Dexter Grif, Professional Slacker. Being dragged, literally, out of a nap wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. That involved a lot more food and a lot less noise. "Man, don't you run maintenance on this thing at all?" he asked over the roar of the engines. The woman flying the ship laughed before coming back into the 'seating' area of the Pelican and taking the seat opposite him. He took the time to take in her armor. It was looked more or less standard, if a bit more streamlined, except for her helmet. It was rounder, with no visor, and a larger HUD. Everything was black, except for her visor, which glowed the familiar orange.

"You offering to work on my ship, Private Grif?" she asked, tilting her helmet in that special way that put you in mind of a teasing friend or playful aunt and drawing him back to the situation at hand. Grif noted dimly that she had a deep, rolling kind of voice, the kind you attribute to a radio DJ rather than a soldier. "Alright, enough playing. Private Grif, you joined the military because of a one-man draft, right?" she asked, suddenly serious. He nodded back, responding in kind.

"That's right Ma'am," he said. It was a little odd, how this woman was effecting him. Almost like when other kids' mothers would tell them to do something. He didn't know where this was going, why this crazy lady had picked him, of all people, but she was asking questions. He could handle questions. Most of the time. Math was for Simmons.

"Well, consider this the follow up to that draft, Private Grif," the woman said in clipped tones. She pushed a button and a holograph showed up. "I need help on a special mission, and someone I hold in the same regards as myself suggested you. I sure hope you're as good as she said, otherwise... you just might die." 'WHOA! Wait a minute,' Grif's mind yelled, grinding to a halt and repeating those last four words.

"DIE!?" he shrieked. Yeah, that's right. He shrieked. He felt no shame admitting it. This was some serious stuff, and he felt completely justified in his response. The woman nodded and Grif realized, he didn't know her name. "Let's get this straight lady, I'm not taking orders from someone who won't even give me the curtsey of a name," he said, sitting back with crossed arms. It wasn't the best rebuttal, but hey, he was strapped for time. Grif thought she smirked, but that was just speculation. She still had her helmet on after all.

"My name... well. I have a few. But you might, might, know me as Agent Black," she said. Grif blinked, wondering why that name seemed familiar, when suddenly he felt like Sarge had just punched him in the gut as stories from Basic returned to him. Stories about a Freelancer Hunter in black armor. Popular opinion was this Hunter was so good at what he did because he was a failed super solider. That was why he was also referred to as Agent Black.

"The Freelancer Hunter?" he asked. That black – how had he not put it together?! – helmet tilted in the way Grif interpreted as a quirked eyebrow.

"The Freelancer Hunter? Huh. I didn't know they added to my name. Still, it's not completely wrong. I do go after Freelancers, but it's not to kill them, even if some do end up dead. I go after Freelancers in an attempt to save them. Some are beyond redemption, but others are just... stuck. Or scared. I try to help, to turn their energies toward something a little more productive. Which brings me back to the reason I came and picked you up. I need back up for a mission, and like I said, you were recommended. So here we are," she said. Grif blinked at the big ol' speech she'd just given him, but one thing really stuck out.

"Who recommended me? And why? I've only been out of basic for a month!" he protested. Agent Black chuckled.

"Well... that's where it gets complicated," she said. "And classified," she added when he leaned forward expectantly. He pouted behind his helmet, glad it hid his face. He was pretty sure Agent Black would break his nose if she could see him. He had a feeling she was smirking at him, so he slumped back, sulking. She sighed. "Pri... Dexter," she began, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and drawing his attention "I know it's confusing, but know this:" she said, her visor suddenly turning clear so he could see her face and her intensely focused eyes as they stared into his visor, "I wouldn't have acted on that recommendation if I didn't believe you could handle this mission," she finished. She was so serious, so sincere, in her belief that Grif felt like someone had grabbed his heart and squeezed, then shoved an Oreo down his throat. No-one had ever looked at him like that. No-one had ever trusted him to such an extent. It was getting hard to breath. His helmet felt too heavy, too close... it was too much. He ripped his helmet off, dropping it to the floor with a loud clang.

/*/

Marlene hadn't known what she was expecting when Grif ripped his helmet off, but she was pretty sure it wasn't this. Grif was young. Not super young, but it was obvious he had just gotten out of basic. If Marlene had to guess, she'd say he was either nineteen or twenty. He was clean shaven, darkly tanned, and had eyes that turned up naturally a little at the corner. He was Hawaiian, she was sure of it, but probably not purely Hawaiian. Probably about three fourths. His father was probably half Hawaiian half... something a good bit more northern. His nose wasn't as wide and his hair was more brown than black. All this was taken in in a moment, and then she sighed and laid her hand on his back, rubbing what she hoped were calming circles on the small portion of under-suit she could reach. "Dex... look at me Dex," she said, soft and gentle, hoping to draw him out of what looked like a panic attack. She understood getting a panic attack from what she had asked of him... but the declaration that he might very well die hadn't been what set him off. It was when she had expressed complete faith in him. This troubled her... but it also was rather encouraging. She wondered if she'd just found her ideal motivator. Recognition, acceptance, and trust. Thinking over what she knew of the man, it was quite possible he'd been starved for positive reinforcement all his life.

"How can you have such faith in me?" the Private asked, head still down, eyes still screwed shut. Marlene sighed, drawing him into an embrace. So, she was right. Part of his attitude came from being constantly put down, possibly even since childhood.

"Because, I knew a Grif once. He was a good man. Lazy, rude, and a total slob, but a good man. A good captain. He helped end a civil war, giving hope and strength to young, inexperienced soldiers. And I know... you have the potential to be just as awesome as Captain Grif. You just need a bit of a push," she said, manipulating the truth a bit. It wouldn't do for her to tip her hand just yet. One didn't live through Freelancer without learning the strength, power, and value of secrets. The orange armored soldier gave a shaky laugh, bringing her out of her musings.

"Yeah. Sorry to disappoint, Agent Black," he said. Marlene shook her head.

"You don't have to be amazing all the time, Dex. When I drop you off back at Blood Gulch, you can go back to being the lazy, disorganized, slacker of the team. I don't care what you do there. Consider it your shore leave. But when you're with me... I expect your very best," she said, standing up and blanking our her visor once more.

"Prepare to be underwhelmed, Agent Black," Grif said, unmoving. Marlene shook her head, already heading back to the cockpit.

"On this ship, call me Marley," she said, smiling to herself.

"Uh, okay... Marley. Then you can... keep calling me Dex," Grif said awkwardly, as though he was unused to giving permission for people to use his first name. She turned around fully, clearing her visor once more and smiling at the young man, more of a boy really.

"Wonderful! But in the field, call me either Agent Black or just Black," she said, holding out a hand. "Welcome to The Ghost, Dex." He nodded and accepted her hand.

"What's my field name, Marley?" he asked once he was back on his feet. She grinned at him in a vaguely evil manner.

"Agent Orange of course," she said. He started at her, blinked, then shocked her by jumping for joy shouting,

"Finally! Someone finally sees that it's orange not yellow!" Marlene shook her head. She had picked up a crazy one, that was for sure. A grin tugged at her lips. He was crazy, but he was her crazy. For the time being anyway.

"Now, I do have a few rules," she said, interrupting his jumping. Grif pouted at her, but stilled and listened intently. "Try to refrain from cursing on my ship. Unless you're blooding from a gunshot wound. Then you can scream bloody murder until I tell you to shut up. You do as I say, when I say it, and not a moment later, got it?" she said, staring the man down. He nodded quickly, sitting back down, and Marlene nodded. "And now, the mission," she said, settling back as well.

/*/

Grif found himself revising his opinion of the day after the mission briefing. It wasn't the best, but it wasn't all that bad. Sure Marley had scared him, probably scarred him for life, and was now dragging him on a mission to blow up an alien base that could easily result in him dying, but she was pretty cool. And hot. There was just no way around it. She was one beautiful lady, even if she had to be at least twice his age. She had ear length auburn hair, blue-green eyes like the ocean, and skin the color of fine sand. And he should know. He lived by the beach after all. Or, he had, before he was drafted and shipped off planet. Still. Marley saw his armor was orange, knew and remembered his name, and actually thought he could amount to something. If he had been just a little more simple, he would have already labeled her as his best friend. But Dex wasn't simple, not really. He just didn't test well. Or care. He had been drafted after all, it hadn't been his choice. So, while he knew he'd probably hate Agent Black by the time he got back to Blood Gulch, he couldn't help feeling a little grateful that she'd gotten him out of there. He sighed and looked over his equipment one more time, idly wishing he had paid more attention in class. "We should be entering the landing zone in half an hour Dex. Need any help?" Marley asked, dropping down next to him. He shook his head, still trying to make sure everything was good. Marley shook her head and took the pack from his hands. "Dude, stop. Whoever taught you how to do this failed. Miserably," she said, and then proceeded to give him a thirty minute crash course in weapons maintenance. The ship touched down and the two soldiers, Agents, geared up.

"Thanks. For helping me," Agent Orange said as they made their way off the ship. Agent Black chuckled.

"No problem, Agent Orange. As a wise man once said, 'those who break the rules are trash, but those who abandon their friends are worse than trash,'" she said. Dex blinked, then grinned behind his visor.

"Good words to live by, Black," he said. She chuckled and clapped him on the back.

"Ready to blow some junk up and kill some aliens?" she asked. Dex, Agent Orange, chuckled back and raised his assault rifle.

"Heck yeah," he said. Nodding, Agent Black faded out of view and the mission was under way.

/*/

Agent Black laughed with wild abandon as she mowed her way through the advancing hoard, cutting a path toward the aliens' base. "AH! Hahahaha~! Eat some, eat some! Ah! Hahahaha!" she screamed between evil cackles. Her partner, Agent Orange, screamed in terror as he shot wildly.

"I don't want to die!" he screamed, shooting a grunt dead center in the forehead. Black, somehow seeing the shot, whistled.

"Nice shot there Orange! We'll make an Agent out of you yet!" she called happily, noting that Orange was actually pretty good with his gun even if he hadn't put much effort into learning how to use and care for it.

"You're insane!" the man yelled at her, landing another amazing shot. The Jackal he'd hit squawked and ran toward him while he was engaging a grunt.

"On your six!" Black informed him, kicking a Skirmisher in the face as she ran up him before flipping and shooting at a knot of Grunts behind her.

"What is that thing?!" Orange yelled, pointing his gun at a large craft coming toward them. It clearly wasn't of human craftsmanship, so Black gave the obvious answer.

"I don't know! Shoot it!" Orange followed the order, but the ship still disgorged a battalion of Sanghelli Elites. Black was fairly sure there were a few brutes and Hunters in the mix as well. She grinned and picked up a plasma rifle, absentmindedly checking the clip. More than half full. She smirked. "This'll be fun," she remarked before running up a nearby rock formation and 'sniping' the enemy.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! I HATE YOU BLACK!" Orange wailed as he found himself alone in a valley full of angry aliens with really big guns. Black smirked under her helmet.

"You'll thank me later! Now shoot that purple thingy in the sky! Make it go boom!" she ordered, pointing out a Banshee.

"You're truly insane!" Orange yelled back, shooting at a shield bearing enemy.

"Less yelly more shooty!" Black sang back, shooting more or less indiscriminately into the fray, forcing Orange to dodge her blasts.

"Those aren't even real words!" he contested, voice beginning to show signs of stress. Black rolled her eyes and put the rifle away, shifting to her mid range weapon, and jumped back down to the valley floor. Once she hit, she rolled to come up at Orange's back. The fighting was thick and fierce, but Black noticed that Orange's aim was actually getting better. Sure he'd made some nice head shots before, but that was about every two out of ten. Now, he was getting four head shots out of ten. That was when she made the mistake of shooting a Grunt point blank.

"Ugh! Alien slime! In my gun!" she sneered. Orange chuckled, actually chuckled, at her.

"Karma's a bitch!" he shouted breathlessly, beginning to tire. Black smirked viciously. Her secondary mission objective appeared to have been accomplished. Seemed a high-stakes mission was just what Orange needed to get his blood pumping.

/*/

"I*pantpant*hate*wheezegasp*you*gasppant*BLACK*coughwheezepant*!" Agent Orange complained, sprawled out on the cold floor of The Ghost. Agent Black chuckled at her press-ganged partner. He'd done well, even got more than a few head shots in. To be honest, he'd surprised her. While in no way skilled, he had some talent, if not a lot. She had a feeling, with a bit of a push, he could be greater than he was ever portrayed in the visions.

"Ah come on Orange! It wasn't that bad, was it?" she asked, getting to to fetch her special med kit. Agent Orange brought shaking hands up to pry his helmet off. Dex glared after his kidnapper.

"Yes. It was," he said. Agent Black chuckled.

"Aw~! Look at that! That was a full sentence! And you didn't gasp or wheeze once! You're feeling better already!" she said, far too cheerful. Dex continued to glare.

"No. I'm not. Short sentence, easier," he said. Agent Black laughed, still rummaging around for her kit.

"Oh, I think you are. You're fresh out of basic right? This should have been a breeze for you! Aha!" she said, finally locating the large red tool box that held her medical supplies.

"You... are... a sadist," Dex moaned, his head falling back to rest on the cold metal once again. Black took off her helmet and pulled out the disinfectant.

"Now, now. I find that to be highly exaggerated. I'm a soldier, not a torturer. Oh and, kindly remove your chest plate, Dex. I'd like to take care of what injuries you may have acquired over the course of this mission," she said. Dex muttered darkly, Marley was sure she heard 'may,' 'who,' 'torturer,' 'dalmatian,' and 'my foot,' in there somewhere. She steadfastly ignored him. Once the armor was out of the way, Dex was quickly patched up while his armor seemingly vanished. Not much later, Dex was passed out and Marley was feeling rather accomplished. It was a low priority mission, but Dex had done really well for such a raw recruit. She didn't really want to return him, but she knew she had to. Blood Gulch needed him, and she wasn't going to be the one to deprive them of their Grif. When his armor was fully repaired, she lined it up neatly by his cot for him to don when he woke.

/*/

When he woke up, Dex saw the perfectly repaired and re-painted armor and smiled. "I guess I can forgive you, Marley," he said quietly as he put it back on.

"Coming up on Blood Gulch Outpost One, Dex. You ready to return to your official post?" Marley called from the cockpit. Dex shook his head and made his way to the co-pilot seat.

"Do you have cybernetic implants in your ears or something?" he asked, sinking into the seat. Marley chuckled.

"Nah. Just highly trained in picking up the lightest of sounds. Helps a lot in the secret agent business, especially if you want to stay secret," she said. Grif watched as her hands flew over the controls of the ship. He didn't even know what kind of ship it was, but he knew it was a lot more complicated than any jeep he'd ever driven. "I could teach you some other time, if you'd like," Marley said, noticing his attention on her hands. Dex had forgone his helmet. He smiled up at her.

"I'd like that. Never know when you're gonna need to fly a ship, am I right?" he asked. Marley beamed.

"Just got to say, I like it when men get proactive. Don't get me wrong, kicking back and being lazy is all well and good but... soldiers on duty need to be active, not passive. Get my drift?" she said. Dex thought it over.

"Yeah. I think... I think I like myself better this way, to be honest." Marley chuckled.

"Good for you. Just remember, you can rest in Blood Gulch." Dex gave her a lazy half salute and put his helmet on.

"But of course!" he said, allowing himself a cocky grin in her direction. With the helmet on, she wouldn't be able to tell. Then again, she had an uncanny ability to know what expression you were wearing, or what you were thinking. He had a feeling it would get rather annoying after a while.

"Take care Dex. See you... when I see you," Marley said, opening the back door. Dex nodded.

"Take care yourself, you're the one living in space," he said and hopped out before Marley could say anything back. Landing back in Blood Gulch, Dex felt as though he were jumping back into his old life. But even if he was, one thing was for sure, a part of him would always be Dex. He watched Marley fly away, one hand raised in good bye, until her ship flickered out of sight and he returned to his shady napping spot. As he sank down to the ground, he sighed. 'Base sweet base,' he thought, relaxing like he hadn't back on The Ghost. He closed his eyes and didn't think about anything, just for a moment, before his mind went back to the thirty minute lesson Marley had given him. With a slight jolt, he realized he hadn't cleaned his gun after the mission. He sat up and crossed his legs, pulling out his... spotlessly clean rifle? He chuckled and shook his head before checking the clip. It was full. He shook his head again before leaning against the tree and running back over that thirty minute lesson. He had no idea when Agent Orange might be needed again, but when he was, he was going to be ready.

/?/

A/N: Sooo... yeah. Grif now has an alter ego. And secretly isn't lazy. And he... is only the beginning.

A/N 2: This chapter has been edited for continuity and pacing purposes. I'm actually a little embarrassed that I posted it the way it was before. It was all over the place! Ugh. That's what you get for writing and then leaving a chapter until just before you want to post it and not going back over it twenty times with a fine toothed comb.