(Red vs. Blue) Project Freelancer: The Other Agents

Proof is in the Pudding

Author's Note: Just want to give a quick shout out to Spartan-L058 for being the first to comment on this story and allowing me to use a character. With that out of the way, enjoy.

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"Give it up, Vermont," New Hampshire panted. "It's as good as mine."

"As if, pal," Vermont grunted and pushed back. "I'm getting it and you know it."

"What the heck are they doing?" New Mexico whispered to Rhode Island regarding the two arm-wrestlers in the mess hall. The two made their way to the serving area but New Mexico continued to stare.

"That? They're fighting over pudding," Rhode said casually.

"Pudding!?"

"Yeah," Rhode Island cocked his head upward to greet the man behind the counter; a man in all-white ODST armor with a hair net and an apron. "Did that idiot really convince them to order another one of those stupid fruits?"

"You know it," the man sighed and shook his head.

"I figured," he turned to his friend. "You know how there's only a ridiculously small amount of people that like how Granya tastes?"

"You mean that lovechild fruit between a corpse flower and a durian?"

"Yeah, that's the one," the server confirmed. "Chef likes those things and had the bright idea to make a pudding out of one and serve it to the crew."

"Right, and somehow, out of that ridiculously small fraction that like them, we managed to get stuck with four of them," Rhode jabbed a thumb at the pair. New Hampshire started to slap the table with his free hand as Vermont used both of her arms to bring him inches from the table.

"Who's gotta give up now? Who is it?!" Vermont began to gloat.

"IT AIN'T ME!" he shouted. Two other agents entered, both with green MJOLNIR and purple accents. One had a Scanner helmet and the other with Deadeye. The server handed the friends a tray consisting of two slabs of fried meat, an assortment of vegetables, and a mound of something resembling mashed potatoes.

"Any pudding left?" the Scanner, Virginia, asked.

"I know where you'd shove my head if I didn't save you some," the server rested his elbows on the counter after setting a small metal ramekin of blue pudding on the reinforced glass. Virginia gingerly plucked it off of the counter and collected a tray. "By the way, Ham, the Director said he wants to see you on the bridge."

"Just a sec," he grunted.

"You the new guy that shot Rhodie in the d**k a bunch?" the Deadeye, West Virginia, casually asked New Mexico, leaving the new agent the only one not ignoring New Hampshire and Vermont's match.

"Yeah," he answered slowly. A loud SLAM stopped West's response.

"Whooo!" Vermont held her arms up in triumph.

"Why'd I agree to let you use both of your arms?" New Hampshire cradled his wrist. Rhode Island took off his helmet and began to eat, nudging his friend so he'd do the same. "New Mexico, right?" Hampshire asked. "I'm New Hampshire. Glad there's another New here. I'd stay and chat but the big man needs me." The agent in FOTUS armor slapped his back and left the mess hall.

"Nuh-uh, sister," Virginia snapped her fingers at Vermont, who had barely started to remove her GEN-1 Operator helmet to enjoy her spoils. "You're gonna have to deal with me first."