Chapter 18: Situation Explanations

Almost immediately after the skull-masked commander and his soldiers had vanished, Carolina grabbed two leftover, glowing pistols from the ground, and bolted out through one of the now many holes in the walls of the bar, Maine following close behind, his new, fancy, glowing, weapon of mass destruction in tow. Washington, spying his team-mate Tex still lying on the ground, stood up from his seat and began walking down to her, using a collapsed section of the upper balcony as a ramp down to the first floor. Reaching Tex, a burst from his functioning EMP emitter was all that was needed to jolt her back to her usual, brutal self, who, after helping herself to a glowing pair of hard-light emitting weapons, light rifle in one hand, shotgun in the other, hastily dashed off to add to the pursuit.

Washington was left behind, under Carolinas orders of "Stay out of trouble and lay low until you're back to operating capacity. We can't have you covering us when both you and your equipment are in no fit state for combat."

The bar was finally still, for what seemed like the first time in months. If it weren't for the skylight that team LNCR has smashed all that time ago, the only light in the room would be emanating from the assortment of glowing orange weapons scattered around the dance floor. Instead, the entire bar was bathed in an eerie, yet somehow calming, deep blue moonlight. Illuminated by it, were the four remaining members of Team LADS and GENTs and Washington, all scattered around the dancefloor, surveying the bar around them in a mix of shock and awe. The entire building was silent, the only noise being the collective low hum of the glowing weapons, the electrical hisses and crackles from the destroyed Dj Booth, and one, creaking ceiling light, swinging back and forth lazily, occasionally spewing out a small fountain of sparks, showering the ground. No one moved, the silence deafening, until two, dismissive voices broke it with matching enamour.

"Well," Geoff sighed, finishing off his Whiskey, leaning against the Balcony railing, "That was the most fun we've had with clothes on."

"Definitely," Washington replied, turning and walking directly beneath Geoff, towards the main bar area on the floor below, acting upon the assumption that he and Geoff had sufficiently drained the bar upstairs.

Jack, who had heard their short conversation, turned to look up at Geoff, the same, confused facial expression as when the night had begun. He jerked his head back confusedly and spoke.

"Wait, what?"

Given that his team had vacated the premises, Wash turned to Jack and shrugged, watching Geoff stumble down the impromptu ramp to the first floor and join him at the bar.

"His name's LOCUS." Washington groaned, leaning back on his chair and resting his feet on a barstool.

"Huh?" Geoff retorted, grabbing for the neck of one of the many bottles of spirits scattered across shelves behind the bar.

"That's the name of the commander of whose soldiers who attacked you," Wash replied, nodding as he put down his rifle and replaced it with the comically large bottle of Bourbon Geoff handed to him.

"Ohh," Geoff nodded, twisting the cap off a near-empty bottle of what he hoped was Whiskey, "he's your commander?"

"No!" Wash exclaimed, swishing the contents of his bottle around angrily, "I meant the other soldiers. You know? The ones lookin' all shady, dressed in black?"

"Ohh," Geoff nodded again, seemingly more focused on pouring alcohol into his glass, "So just you and Tex?"

"Fuck!" Wash blurted, sweeping his legs off the chair to make his chair fall forward, using this momentum to slam his free fist down on the bar, "No! The ones you just fought!"

"Ohh!" Geoff replied, everything now making sense. He swirled his drink and gave it a sensual smell, before slamming it down on the bar and pointing at Wash, "You mean the Fucking Special Forces that you lead here? The ones who tried to kill you; and your team; and me and all my friends?"

"Yeah," Wash, said matter-of-factly, "those ones."

"Oh, ok, just checking," Geoff smiled smugly, leaning against the bar, swirling his glass once more, before downing the entire contents in one gulp. "Now that," He hummed, reaching forward to grab the bottle again, "Is some damn fine Whiskey."

Geoff began to pour himself another drink, when he, much to the surprise of Wash, suddenly stopped, and brought his glass to eye-level to examine it. The helmetless member of Team LNCR watched, as Geoff inverted the glass and shook out as much of the remaining of Whiskey as possible, before shrugging and casually tossing the glass over his shoulder, deciding to cut out the middle-man and take a swig straight from the bottle.

"His name comes from the helmet he wears," Wash explained, helping himself to another generous portion of his bottle of Bourbon, the pair making steady progress in their quest to eliminate all alcoholic hostiles in the bar area. Clearing his throat, Wash continued, "You know how it looked almost like a skull? That's a LOCUS pattern helmet."

"Isn't a Locus a Buug?" Geoff asked, sucking the last few drops from his bottle before turning around shuffling through the remaining bottles on the wall behind him, using his shirt to wipe the dust of another bottle of expensive Whiskey he had discovered.

"No, you're thinking of a Locust," Wash chuckled, noticing the large mass large mass a slight way down the bar, nudging it with the barrel of his gun, "Locus is a term used in Genetics. In this context, it's an acronym that stands for 'Light Operator Composite Unit System'."

"Light?" Geoff retorted, glancing at the lump on the bar, slowly moving towards it, "I wouldn't exactly consider that light."

"No, the 'light' refers to the weapons those mercenaries were using," Wash explained, unsure if Geoff was even listening as he examined the figure occupying the tabletop, "You know how they shot orange laser things?"

"Yeah?" Geoff strained as he lifted the Whiskey bottle above the figure. Adjusting his arm slightly, he released the bottle, dropping it right on top of the thing on the bar.

When the bottle made contact with Ryan's groin, he was lurched from his near comatose state into bellowing roars of agony, clutching his crotch, tears already welling in his eyes.

"My... Dick…" He groaned, before rolling sideways off the bar, onto the ground with a considerable thud, "Whyyy…"

"Well, technically, those weren't lasers per say," Wash continued, getting up with a groan much less pained than Ryan's, and walked the short distance over to Geoff, hooking his boot under a spare rifle on the ground as he walked. He kicked it up and caught it in his exposed hand, "These weapons emit a form of solid light. We refer to it as Hard-Light based technology. The gun projects a beam of this 'Hard-Light' at a similar speed that of a bullet." He shouldered the gun and, despite his condition, expertly shot off a row of drinks across the bar.

"Hey!" Ray yelled, part-way through helping Gavin back to his feet, subsequently making him release the brit and point angrily at the drinks Wash had just obliterated, Gavin squealing wildly as he toppled back down to the floor, "That was my fucking soda!"

Ignoring the opposition, Washington proceeded to make contemporary art out of the rest of the bottles lining the opposing wall.

"So what the hell were you guys doing here anyway?" Geoff queried as he leaned over the bar, reaching down to grab the bottle of Whiskey next to Ryan, who was rolling around in agony.

"Well," Wash smirked, waiting for Geoff's feet to meet the floor again before offering the Light-Rifle to him, "Shoot it, see for yourself."

"Uhh, okay?" Geoff said uneasily, biting his lip and squinting a little. He took the rifle from Washington's hands, aimed for a glass sitting on a nearby table, and fired. The kick was not something to make a joke about.

This weapon meant business.

"Auto-regenerating, highly advanced weapons of varying design, that operate with light that is caught in stasis by a knot in space time, and use it as a projectile," Washington nodded, accepting the rifle as Geoff handed it back to him, "So, tell me," He asked, looking Geoff dead straight in the eye, "How did a rag-tag band of mercenaries get their hands on tech like that?"

"Good point," Geoff mused, scratching his scruffy chin in thought.

"The boys back in the lab know next to nothing about this stuff," Wash sighed, looking over the rifle once again, "Theoretically, it shouldn't be able to exist at all. Up until now, we've never been able to get hold of an operational weapon. We don't know anything. Who made it? Where it came from? What company manufactures it? Hell, we don't even know if these weapons are human!"

A few moments of silence followed as the two men thought, the grunts and groans of the rest of Team LADS and GENTs beginning to seep in as they all helped each other to their feet and got themselves cleaned up as best they could.

"So," Geoff spoke, breaking the silence between the pair, "Do you think you'll catch them?"

"What do you mean?" Wash asked, shuffling in his chair.

"Well, your commander," Geoff explained as he picked up his Whiskey once again, wriggling the cork from the expensive bottle as he spoke, "The one in that greeny-blue-aquamarine-turquoise-lookin' armour, she sure took off with everyone else in a hurry."

"It's Cyan," Wash replied, smelling his Bourbon before downing most of the remaining liquor in one gulp. With a gasp of satisfaction, he continued, "Despite the boss's speed and Agent Texas and Maine's profound skill for making a joke out of one's skeletal structure, we'll probably lose them this time. Thanks to both the fight with your teams, and a small army of amped mercenaries, we're a bit worn down. Our response time wasn't as fast as we would have needed to actually pin those bastards down."

"Actually, that raises another question," Geoff implored, once again playing with his facial hair, "How the hell do you follow someone when they've just vanished without a trace?"

"It's a little complicated," Washington sighed again. He downed the remainder of his bottle, sat up in his chair, and cleared his throat, "Now, given that the devices the troops used to warp away were of identical design to that of their weapons, that means they can only be used to an extent, before having to re-charged." Geoff nodded automatically, still deciding whether he was interested or not, "Knowing those little guys don't hold much charge, having to warp an entire human, plus armour, plus weapons; it would really drain the power supply. The most beneficial part for us is that they use light energy, and anything that uses light energy, is going to leave a trace." Geoff was still unsure whether he cared or not, "So realistically, they actually can't have made it too far away, and my teammates are simply utilising this fact and making the most of this opportunity to find them before we lose them completely."

Geoff nodded politely, taking another big swig from his bottle.

The pair looked around them again, another awkward silence making its way into their conversation.

"Well," Washington groaned, placing his empty bottle on the bar and standing up, "I should probably get out of here before the real cops show up, I'd advise you and your friends did the same."

Geoff nodded, re-corking his Whiskey and grabbing his gun, Puma.

"Oh, one other thing," Wash smiled, grabbing his helmet from a nearby table and tossing it to Geoff, who managed to catch it, even with his hands full of alcohol and weaponry.

"Keep the helmet as a souvenir," Wash smiled, "I'm pretty sure it's completely broken, so I'm not too worried."

Geoff could do nothing but smile as Washington continued.

"You all have potential," He praised, slinging his new light-rifle over his shoulder, "I mean, you guys managed to, kind of hold your own against us, and that is an Achievement in itself. Now go, get out of here."

"Achievement?" Ray piped up from the other side of the room, "I got few of those!"

Geoff chuckled, but as he did, he felt the helmet he had been given start to slip. He turned to face the bar, dumping all three annoyingly large items on the table. Turning back to face Washington, he was met by a bright flash, and was surprised to find the space Wash had been occupying surprisingly empty, along with the rest of the bar being devoid of light weapons.

Suddenly, Geoff heard a voice, from the hole in the wall which Michael had originally created.

"Good luck," the voice wished, Geoff quickly turning to see who had said it, but once again; finding no one.

Sighing, he turned back to the bar, looking at his three items, knowing he'd have to decide which was the most important to him.

"Hey Ryan," Geoff said over his shoulder, playing with his moustache,

"How do you feel about carrying something for me?"

After a few seconds of silence, a deep voice from the ground behind him groaned out an answer.

"Fuck off."

It took about ten minutes, but eventually, all the members of Team LADS and GENTs were conscious and ready to leave, weapons collected, wounds bandaged as well as a bunch of idiots could do.

"Alright!" Jack announced, rubbing his hands together, "Everyone alright to leave?"

His reply came in the form of a wave of sluggish "Yeah's" and "I guess so's."

"Great," Geoff commented, Helmet in one hand, Whiskey and Weapon in Gavin's, "Let's move, people."

As the group stood up and began making their way to the front doors, they were suddenly kicked open by a sole police officer, wearing aviators, a white shirt, and a black tie with matching suspenders.

"FREEZE!" The curly-haired cop bellowed, aiming a regular pistol at the group, toothpick sticking out of his mouth, "The buck stop he-"

"How's it goin' Headmaster Burns?" Michael butted in as the group wandered past their headmaster, not even slightly intimidated by his non-glowing weapon, "You're a terrible cop, by the way."

"Excuse me?" Headmaster Burns retorted, stuttering as he watched the two Teams walking away, "I am a, a member of the Secret, Secret-"

Headmaster Burns holstered his weapon, obvious that he had not intimidated his foes in the slightest.

"Oh, Son of a Bitch," He sighed, looking despondently down at his shiny, black dress shoes.

"I hate you all."

Authors Note:

Welp!

That was cool!

Hey guys! Journey here, I just want to thank you all, once again, for sticking around for as long as you all have.

Speaking of which, this month has been huge! For both me and the story!

For starters, we're ONE YEAR OLD!

This little dream of mine has been in existence for more than a year now, and that's only due to the amazing fans you all are, I wouldn't be here without you all.

I love hearing from you guys, so tell me, for this special post-anniversary celebration.

What do you guys want to see from this story?

I'm open to any and all suggestions, so feel free to leave a review in the section below, telling me what you think!

I'd like to that Sabre Allicia once again, for helping me write the dialogue for team LNCR, if you want to check out his awesome work, there is a link in my bio.

Alright! I think there was some other stuff I wanted to say, but all you guys need to know is that you're all awesome!

Tell me what you think of this latest chapter, and I'll see you all next month!