New York, Manhattan:

April 25, 2018: 2205 hours…

Carolina, sitting on a stool beside the bar, raised her light beverage and took a tentative sip before releasing a weary sigh. With an annoyed expression, Carolina had grown an utter hatred for blaring music with a significant amount of bass — not quite enough to shake the place like an earthquake, but Carolina certainly felt like that was the case. She never remembered nightclub's being this loud...but then again, she did come from a place hundreds of years ahead of time; some aspects, however small, were bound to change. Things such as the traditional and general volume of the music and the limit of drinks one could have.

Club Reverra was the name of the establishment. Carolina cringed as soon as she saw those blinking bright neon lights spelling the name. A wave of memories suddenly came back to Carolina — memories that she'd rather keep to herself and locked up behind a vault. A pang of guilt, nostalgia, and yearning came all at once. She couldn't help it. The name just bore a striking resemblance to a certain Nightclub where she met a man. A man that would later fight beside her then...against her. If only she could see through the lies, manipulation, and deceit sooner…

The lighter. At first glance it was just a tool used to start fires, light up a cigar, or even serve as a miniature light source. But that one small insignificant tool meant the world to her. A sign — no, a reminder of a good man that was only doing the right thing.

The empty seat to her right was filled by the Red leader: Sarge. "Not one for dancin'?" Sarge waved over a bartender and requested a glass of whiskey.

"No," Carolina said, absent-mindedly watching the bartender prepare a glass for the gruff leader. She took another sip.

Sarge grunted, making it clear that he understood where she was coming from. "Right…"

Carolina needed a distraction. Something to put her mind off her past and a certain Freelancer. Her best bet was striking a pointless conversation with Sarge, she supposed. "So, you said you were an ODST?" She at least pretended to look intrigued. "That's surprising...and impressive."

"Heh, yeah," Sarge said, fondly remembering his past from the look on his face. Carolina envied him. The bartender graciously slid a glass of whiskey, skidding to halt right in front of Sarge. The Red raised it and gave a curt nod towards the bartender. "Good ol' times, too. I remember bein' all nervous and whatnot on my first drop."

"What was your mission?"

"It was an all out assault on a key rebel outpost. As you can see," Sarge gestured to himself with his free hand, "it was successful. But it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows — we lost about two...maybe three-hundred Marines. God rest their souls." Carolina never thought she'd see the Sergeant look remorseful. "Funnily enough, all that shit happened the day before the beginning of the Great War."

Usually, Carolina would come to her senses and put an end to where the conversation was going, and they were in a pretty public area and could compromise their true identity. But she was too intrigued—too invested in Sarge's tale. Just this once, she said to herself. The fact that the music was too loud for anyone else to eavesdrop put her mind at ease, confident that it would be near impossible to listen without getting in close.

Sarge continued his tale. "My first drop in the war was on Arcadia: little ol' planet that was peaceful— was dealin' with rebels earlier." At this point, Sarge slowly placed his beverage on the table, his lips forming a thin line. Carolina couldn't tell if resentment or regret that Sarge was expressing. "Even fought along with them super soldiers! Uh, what's 'er name? Sportans? Speartans?"

"Spartans," Carolina supplied, surprised with Sarge's encounter.

"Yeah, that. Anywho, there were three of 'em. I fought alongside those three for some time, but had to retreat with my squad later. Never got their names though." Sarge paused and glanced about the place. "You sure we should be talking about this here?"

Carolina's eyes flickered to almost every person, noticing their carefree postures and their attention on anything but them. "I'm pretty sure no one will care. Can't hear us over the music."

Sarge nodded, sliding back in his seat and donned a more relaxed posture. "Can't argue with that. Shall I continue with my tale?"

"Please," Carolina said, taking a small sip.

He chuckled. "Alright, then. Prepare to be incredibly impressed and amazed by my genuine military career. Where was I?"

"Arcadia."

"Oh, ahem, right," Sarge said, lazily slurping his drink. "We retreated, like I said. Nothing too particularly mind-blowing happened in that time. Long story short, we hauled ass and were rescued by a fashionable D77. Twenty more drops later after fighting tooth and nail against the nefarious aliens, I come across this one colony. Forgot its name...uhh."

Sarge rubbed the underside of his chin thoughtfully. "We were tasked with defending an important UNSC facility with a bunch of other leathernecks. Of course, we dropped from high orbit. What's the point of bein' a helljumper if ya don't go feet first?"

"I've heard dropping in those pods can mean death," Carolina said as she leaned forward, her voice ominous.

The Colonel nodded frivolously. "Oh, it does! Some aren't so lucky and hit something along the way and their pod is sent way off course. Sometimes others get blown up or burn up in their own personal coffin and believe me, it does get hot!"

Curious, she asked, "How hot, exactly?"

Carolina noticed a sliver of sweat cascading down his neck. He tugged at his shirt, acting as a wearable fan. "Y'know how hot it is in here right now?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, multiply this by about a hundred-fifty."

"That's pretty hot—"

"BOW CHICKA BOW WOW!" Tucker was suddenly behind the two, grinning like an idiot.

"What the—blue!"

"Jesus!"

Carolina had no idea that Tucker could catch her by surprise, but apparently, he did. She prided herself in being aware and prepared; no one could get the drop on her and she knew it. But, alas, it seems as if she had met her match in the form of a perverted blue idiot who's obsessed with all things sexual.

"Oh, holy shit," his voice was dripping with smugness, "I actually got the drop on you! Oh my go—"

"Tucker," she said venomously, glaring coldly at him, "you tell anyone…"

When Carolina left a sentence hanging like that Tucker knew he was stepping into territory he'd soon regret being in. "Promise!" He made a zipping gesture near his lips. "Lips sealed! But how do we know Sarge won't tell, hmm?"

Carolina faced Sarge, letting him take in the cold expression upon her face. He visibly gulped and nervously said, "Nothing happened, got it."

Tucker released a breath he was holding out of fear. "So...what are you two doing? You're missing the best night ever!"

"I was just tellin' the lady my story," Sarge extended his arm towards Carolina, "until you rudely interrupted. How did ya know though?"

"Oh, pshh," Tucker carelessly waved his hand, "I'm like Superman. I know when I'm needed. Wait, does your story have chicks in it?"

"Was about too," Sarge replied.

"Sex?"

"What the—no!"

"Bummer."

"Whatever, I'm just gonna go on and continue." Sarge directed a cautious gaze at Carolina. "You listenin'?"

Carolina merely nodded in response.

"Good. Anyway, I met this little blonde. She was a leatherneck—and no, blue, I am not romantically involved with her."

"Booooo, I don't like where this story is going!"

"Y'know, now that I think about it she reminds me of your buddy Church and that one Freelancer whose name I will not say."

Tucker squinted his eyes, appearing to form an idea of the identity of the unnamed Freelancer. "Who, Tex?"

Sarge brought a fist to his mouth and awkwardly coughed into it, confirming the identity despite his next words. "That...may or may not be who I was referring to."

"Oh, come on! It's obvious!"

Sarge raised a hand to silence the blue, unaware of Carolina's hateful look after the mention of Tex. "Corporal Church was her name."

At this, any and all miscellaneous sounds were completely drowned out and her eyes widened, not that Tucker nor Sarge noticed. Her attention was completely given to Sarge, uncertainty frequent. She chose to bite her tongue and refrain from saying anything that would raise questions.

"She's like a Silverback Gorilla on steroids out there. When the aliens attacked she attacked with the ferocity of a puma—maybe a chupacabra. I have never been so amazed and flabbergasted in my entire military career!"

"We didn't talk much earlier, but she mentioned of having a husband and a daughter."

"Why are you focused on this one chick though?"

Sarge shrugged, appearing quite confused as well. "I...don't know. She stood out from the rest of the leathernecks when I first saw her. I mean, I socialized with 'em all, but she was the only one I could remember well. Maybe your buddy Church has somethin' to do about it?"

Carolina's mind was riddled with several memories, most notably a man weeping in the bedroom while she, as a child, watched through a small hole between the door with a single eye. How the man quietly and sorrowfully repeated the name 'Allison' like a mantra. How tears would flow down her cheeks and grieve with the man. Now her eyes were getting misty along with a burning sensation. Tears wanted to be free, but she wouldn't let them.

"Y'know, I hope she made it out okay and got to go back to her family," Sarge admitted with a frown. Carolina focused on her soon-to-be empty beverage but still listening.

"Why, what happened?" Tucker asked, stepping closer to the two.

"I really don't know," Sarge admitted, clicking his tongue. "We had to retreat and our forces had to split up and become harder targets for the aliens."

Carolina fought back her emotions. She did not want to appear weak in front of two former simulation troopers. She had to maintain that credibility that they had come to associate with her. It was fortunate that the place was dimly lit besides a few neon lights flashing their way. And to think her mother met the man in front of her…

"You know, this depressing shit isn't good for a night like this," Tucker said, trailing off as he flicked his eyes over to the dance floor and admired someone – or something – from afar. "Why don't you score a hot babe, Sarge? Studies have shown that poor lighting in a club can really make you attractive, you know."

"Who conducted that experiment, I wonder," was Sarge's sarcastic response.

"Uh, scientists?" Tucker said as if the answer was obvious. "Only nerds and eggheads do that stuff."

Carolina had to give them credit. They had the talent of derailing an entire conversation. She began to wonder if their uncanny personalities allowed them to live this long. It had to be because when she first met them she thought them as a bunch of idiots with no proper military training that liked to stand around and talk. But her perception of them had drastically changed when they had come to her aid despite their ill feelings. As time went on and they witnessed the civil war on Chorus and the manipulation of the Pirates and Malcolm Hargrove, she began to see them as – it felt weird to say it – family. They were her family. They bickered as one, they fought as one and laughed as one; like a family.

And just like that, the memories she had pushed down so hard began to resurface. Her mother. Her father. Sarge's brief affiliation with her mother. Her biological family bit the dust. She was the only living Church. Not Epsilon, a memory of the Alpha who was based on her father, but her. The pang in her heart could not be ignored. Her eyes had closed and her mind worked overtime to rid of the repressed memories. No matter how hard she tried she failed.

So she excused herself. "I...I need to go." She hastily left a tip on the counter and quickly exited the Nightclub, cutting through a few people and mumbling an apology, leaving a bewildered sword-wielding blue and a shotgun-obsessed red.

"Uh...what?" Tucker blinked, staring at the path that Carolina had taken. Sarge awkwardly coughed before grasping his drink and downing the rest of its contents slowly to avoid any form of conversation. "Maybe she's on her period?" Tucker blurted before shrugging and readjusting his gaze on the pretty platinum blonde seated a few feet. She was alone, meaning she was easily approachable, unlike the other females who were latched on to their dates. Plus she was enjoying a drink and Tucker briefly entertained the possibility that her inhibitions may be low enough to persuade her into a night of blissful pleasure. But she did look familiar.

After five minutes of admiring her figure – dressed in a sleek black dress that accentuated her curves and left her smooth legs hanging out in a teasing manner – he approached her. As he stepped closer and closer, she became more distinguishable and soon he recognized her. She was that woman that he had made brief eye contact with back at that one Burger King last night. The reminder of her being taken by that brown haired guy almost made him back out.

But Tucker was no quitter. He would not give up and turn down what could've been. He would either wind up in a sweet hotel room covered in white sheets with a feminine body beside him or humiliate himself. It's also most likely possible she's currently taken. She'll either beat him up for trying to put the smooth moves on her or go along with it because maybe she's the cheating type. Well, Tucker was willing to take the risk.

Tucker was bold enough to sit across her, watching as she slowly drank the red wine – being in a glass made it fairly obvious – and eye him in what he could only assume was amusement.

"Hey there, baby, are you a cat?" Tucker began, a smirk playing on his lips, "'cause I can have you purring all night long, baby! Bow chicka bow wow!"

Tucker took notice of how his pick-up line had made her eyes go wide and a look of panic suddenly appeared. But that fearful expression had disappeared as fast as it had appeared. She shared his smirk. "Wow," she said, sounding sarcastic, "that was the best line I've heard in my entire life."

Tucker, too caught up in his fantasy of ending up in bed with the woman, did not catch her sarcasm. "Oh, holy shit it worked?"

The platinum blonde surprised him by throwing her head back and laughing like he told the most hilarious joke. Tucker frowned. She took a small sip from her glass and said, "In your dreams!" She gently placed the glass on the table and took on a curious expression, leaning forward. Tucker could not help but be hypnotized by her dazzling green colored eyes. "So, was this a dare your friends set you on? Because I have to give it to you, you have balls."

Tucker slid his hands under the cloth of the table and clenched his knee. "I came here on my own, actually. My friends are busy doing something else around here."

The attractive and teasing woman hummed. That sound had produced dirty images in Tucker's mind. "What are your friends doing?" She asked him with a teasing smirk.

Tucker flicked his eyes over to the buffet area – Grif was very adamant about this specific Nightclub – and, as expected, Grif was there chowing down on a variety of food. He nudged his head in that direction and said, "Well, Grif is over there hogging all the food at the buffet like...well, I don't know. I would say pig but that would be an understatement."

The woman across from him produced a sound of acknowledgment, seeming to understand something. "I wondered who that guy came from. I'm actually impressed and so are the others," she said, gesturing to the chanting crowd surrounding Grif like a flock of birds fighting over a piece of bread.

"Y'know I never got your name."

"Felicia," she simply said, "It's Felicia."

Tucker gave her an expectant look. "What, no last name?"

"Sorry, handsome," she drawled out in a teasing tone, "but all you're getting is a first name."

"I'm Tucker by the way."

"I didn't ask for your name," Felicia said with a snort as she tilted her head. "Is that your only friend?"

"Uh, no." Tucker shook his head before shooting his gaze at the bar where Sarge was still sitting. It looked like Simmons had joined him earlier and he seemed to be a little tipsy. "Dude sitting there," Tucker pointed at the red team leader, "is Sarge. Nerdy dude who can't even handle a cup of beer is Simmons." Tucker looked at Simmons more intently. "He's a kiss-ass," he added.

"Nice little friends you got," Felicia remarked, flashing a smirk that seemed to be seductive.

"Oh, that's not all," Tucker said, looking about the place for a moment before his eyes landed on the idiot. "We've got Caboose and he's..."

"AGH, MY ARM!" A yelp of pain managed to cut through the music.

Tucker faintly heard the innocent voice of Caboose apologizing to the man who had tried to lay a hand on him. It looked like the man was angry about something Caboose did unintentionally and was about to initiate a fight, but the strong blue idiot had managed to accidentally snap one of his arms.

Tucker facepalmed and slowly shook his head. "Well, he's doing—"

"Hi, Tucker!"

"JESUS!" Tucker had almost jumped out of his seat. Confusion settled in as he looked behind him to find Caboose standing behind him looking sheepish. "What the hell?!" Tucker glanced back to the dance floor where Caboose had been earlier. "How did you—"

"Oh, hello there." Caboose casually waved at Felicia and she responded with a look of curiosity and bewilderment.

"Caboose! What are—get out of here!"

"But I am out of your way," Caboose said with a look of confusion, prompting Tucker to facepalm.

Tucker was about to verbally off Caboose, but the smooth voice of Felicia had intervened. "Let him stay," she said, her green eyes giving the innocent man a look of empathy.

Tucker's mind had come to the conclusion that greatly disturbed him. He reasoned that she insisted on Caboose, the idiot with a gun for a friend, staying was simply because she wanted more pleasure. She probably thought of Tucker being insufficient enough to please her, so she must've invited Caboose so that there was an extra man. A threesome. With Caboose. Once that fact registered, it made him sick and greatly disturbed him. "Oh, god no!" He protested.

As if reading his perverted thoughts, Felicia was quick to put him at ease. "Relax, it's not that."

"What's not what?!"

Felicia was blunt. "A threesome."

"What's a threesome?" Caboose asked as he eased himself in the seat beside Tucker.

"Caboose, not now," Tucker said with a frustrated sigh. Caboose made a sound of disappointment, amusing Felicia.

"I have to say," Felicia began, "you're the first man to approach me tonight."

"What?" Tucker said, sounding astounded. "But you're a total babe!"

Felicia chuckled, leaning forward towards Tucker. "Yeah, this kitten gets that a lot."

"Hey, Tucker,"

Tucker began to despise his group of friends. First, it was Caboose and now Washington? It was as if the universe wanted to ruin his chances with possibly one of the hottest girls he'd ever laid eyes on.

So Tucker made his annoyance and frustration audible, "Goddammit!"

Washington looked unsure and bewildered. "Am I...interrupting something?" His foot shifted, something that Tucker noticed and concluded that Wash was preparing to leave. He would've told him off in a heartbeat, but it seems as if Felicia had other ideas

"No, no, no, no," she said with a shake of her head and gesturing towards the table with a look that Tucker couldn't figure out – was she welcoming? Intrigued? Interested – wait, that was the same thing as intrigued, Tucker thought. "Please."

Washington looked skeptical but obliged nonetheless. "Thank you, I suppose." He stepped forward and brought an empty chair from a nearby table and set it down delicately.

"So, what's your name?" Felicia asked, eyeing Washington curiously. From Tucker's perspective, it seemed as if she were admiring him which did not bode well with him. There was no way Wash was going to steal his girl—which she wasn't. But Tucker was confident that he'd wind up in bed with her. Though, those thoughts seemed to be becoming more of a fantasy rather than a reality with Caboose and Washington crowding around.

"David," Wash responded, looking a bit flustered. Tucker rolled his eyes. Wash just couldn't handle such a fine looking woman. "A-and your's?"

"Felicia. Felicia Hardy."

"Hello, Felicia Harding!" Caboose greeted her as if he had just met her just now. Tucker facepalmed while Washington looked mildly annoyed.

"No, it's Felicia Hardy," she enunciated with an apparent frown. Tucker glanced at Wash and noticed him trying his hardest not to cringe.

"Okay, got it," Caboose nodded dumbly. Felicia gave a sigh of defeat and turned to Wash.

"You don't look like the kind of person who would go clubbing," she remarked, eyeing him critically.

Wash took in a deep breath. "Well...it wasn't my choice." His eyes looked at Tucker for a brief moment before returning to meet Felicia's piercing green eyes. "They were quite...persistent."

"We would've gone to a strip club—"

"Tucker," Wash warned. His response was a furrowed brow.

"But, I guess some of us," Tucker stressed his words, giving Wash a look, "didn't want to go."

"It was just you and Grif who wanted to go. Besides, a...strip club isn't appropriate for a celebration."

"Oh, come on, man! It's the perfect celebration! We get to see nude chicks, maybe get a private dance or two! And your idea of going to McDonald's totally sucked."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Wash mumbled, casting a look over at the dance floor. Suddenly, he cleared his throat and asked, "Where's Red, by the way?"

Tucker paid no mind when Felicia took on an interesting look. Girls were always suckers for gossip, Tucker thought smugly. Shrugging, Tucker lazily replied with, "She took off. Maybe she's outside doing whatever or went back home."

Wash shook his head. "She could've gone home. We only had one ride and—"

"Simmons had a monkey in the back," Caboose interrupted, but Wash continued, brushing off the comment.

"And she couldn't have walked back."

Tucker nodded disinterestedly, staring at Felicia and mumbled a, "Yeah, sure. Yeah."

Felicia gave Tucker a flirtatious smirk, one that gone his gears going and blood rushing. Tucker liked it when a woman knew that she was irresistible.

Noticing the way Tucker was looking at Felicia, Wash deliberately coughed and said, "Maybe you should check up on her."

"I'm checking up on her alright," Tucker said perversely, licking his lips as he looked at Felicia.

"I mean check up on Red. Now," Wash said forcefully, feeling frustrated with the way that Tucker was acting. When Tucker gave no response, Wash gave the ultimate dealbreaker. "Or should I have Church delete your—"

"Fine!" Tucker threw his hands up exasperatedly, shoving himself out of the seat and began walking towards the exit. "This is so much bullshit!"

Washington kept his eye on Tucker in case he decided to pull any tricks. Wash was pleasantly surprised to see that Tucker had decided to follow his orders for once with little complaint, at least less than usual. Wash was prepared for Tucker to throw a fit, in front of Felicia, a stranger, no less. Satisfied to see Tucker disappearing from the doorway, Wash turned to face Felicia, preparing his apologies.

Laughing nervously, Wash said, "Sorry about him. He's always been that way ever since I've met him." Then memories of Chorus and Tucker's sudden improvements in behavior and training kicked in. "Well, not always. He might act like a total pervert who wants nothing but to have a good lay, but he's a good...man." Certainly a lot better than Locus and Felix, Wash thought grimly.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Wash affirmed confidently, a proud gleam in his eyes.

"This is so gay," Tucker mumbled as he passed by the line of people outside and regarded two men holding hands with a half-apologetic look as they gave him a glare, clearly hearing his comment. He didn't have a problem with people who weren't straight; he had a few friends who were gay and they were pretty solid dudes. It's that he always felt a tiny bit uncomfortable around them. So he felt even more shitty when he had unintentionally offended a couple.

Briskly moving past the line and rounding the corner leading to a fairly packed parking lot, he had no trouble locating their vehicle. Like, seriously, it's the only one of its kind, Tucker mused.

"Carolina?" Tucker called out as he approached the vehicle, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He was still pretty ticked off that he was looking for Carolina instead of trying to put the smooth moves on Felicia. Now that he thought about it Tucker questioned if this was some sort of ploy that Washington concocted so that he could get cozy with Felicia. That was highly unlikely, Tucker reasoned, but it is a possibility. A very slim and disturbing possibility.

"Red?" He called again, this time with a more gentle tone. Obviously, she wasn't in the Troop Warthog—he would've seen her vibrant red hair in one of the passenger seats—and he doubted she would've walked home or some other place. Maybe she did or maybe she went across the street to grab a meal or something. It had to be the latter since they hadn't had a proper dinner. Grif had cut in line earlier and ate almost half the entire buffet, coming close to being given the boot before Wash came to the rescue. There was barely any food left for everyone else including the Reds and Blues.

A small puff of smoke suddenly appeared out of the nearby alleyway before quickly diminishing. Tucker, his curious nature, went to investigate.

At last, Tucker had found Carolina. Tucker was certainly not expecting to find one foot propped lying flat against the wall and taking a drag out of a cigarette.

"What the fuck?" Tucker had said aloud, making Carolina stand up straight, release her cigarette, and give him a cold look. Tucker could make out the redness in her eyes and he doubted it was because she was crying. Carolina never cries, right?

"What the hell do you want?" Carolina said, looking quite peeved as she eyed him with what seemed to be disdain.

"Okay, seriously, since when do you smoke?"

Carolina's expression immediately told Tucker that he had a poor choice in words...and maybe a poor choice in conversation starters.

Tucker raised his hands defensively. "Okay, not the best way to start off. Look, I came out looking for you."

Tucker had barely noticed Carolina's expression falter, softening. It was as if Carolina seemed kind of glad which was strange to Tucker.

"Really?" She breathed out, ready to step closer, but Tucker's next words had prevented her from doing so.

"Well, not really. I was hitting on this girl then Wash came in, asked about you, and sent me to find you after I told him you bailed."

Her expression hardened, her cold expression returning in full form.

"Oh," she said as if it wasn't a big deal, shrugging. Tucker wasn't aware that inside Carolina was devastated from the fact that Tucker didn't actually seem to care. He only came looking for her just because he was told to.

Apparently, her devastation leaked through and Tucker felt worse than shit. Tucker had no idea how to describe the feeling of being worse than shit, but he didn't like it, especially when it concerned his total badass of a friend that could beat the crap out of him if she wanted to. No, wait, that didn't roll off/ the tongue right. Carolina's no friend. She's family. She's part of the family.

"Oh shit, Carolina…."

"It's fine," she replied, already moving past Tucker.

Before Carolina could fully distance herself from Tucker, the womanizer placed a gentle and calm hand on her shoulder. Carolina turned to face him.

"Hey, um, I'm sorry, okay?" Tucker didn't dare look Carolina in the eye, knowing he couldn't bear to see the damage he had done with just a few words, even if Carolina was hiding it well. "I-I..want me to make it up to you? I know I've been a dick lately because...well, I'm thinking with my y'know instead of my brain."

Carolina couldn't help but snort, a small smirk forming. "You think?"

"Let's just ditch this whole nightclub thing. Just me and you, Carolina."

Carolina raised a brow, amusement in her voice as she said, "Lavernius Tucker, are you asking me on a date?"

"W-What? No, no, no," Tucker vehemently denied. "Just two friends hanging out, right? Get to know each other a little more and stuff."

Carolina deadpanned, "That's a date."

"Well, it looked like something was bothering you when I got here, Carolina. Come on, lay it on me! I'm a great listener!"

Carolina sighed, somewhat glad that someone was able to notice her mood. "Are you sure? Don't you have other priorities like that girl in the club you mentioned?"

Tucker shrugged. "Meh, we'll still be here tomorrow, right? There's always another time. It was kind of getting stale in there anyway."

Carolina finally gave a genuine smile, pleasing Tucker. What came next surprised Carolina as Tucker held his arm out gentlemanly like, waiting for her to hook her own arm with it. "Shall we, M'lady?" Tucker said, his imitation of a British accent terrible. Carolina was reminded of Reggie and his smug voice.

And so, Carolina and Tucker exited the parking lot with the former feeling at peace and calm.

"Y'know, you looked kinda hot when you were smoking back there Carolina," Tucker commented. Carolina could tell that although he was joking, he was being completely honest.

She did the most reasonable thing she could when complimented perversely by Tucker.

"Ouch! The back of my head!"

Club Reverra:

April 25, 2018: 2220 hours…

"So you guys are from Washington?"

"Yes, we are."

"So, David, you guys traveled all the way to New York from Washington? Any particular reason why?"

"For the big apple!"

Both Felicia and Wash glanced towards Caboose. Washington felt exasperated whereas Felicia felt puzzled.

"We came here because of our job. It's only temporary."

Felicia returned her attention to Wash. "Anyway, where's your friend Tucker? He's been gone for an awfully long time."

"He should've been back already," he replied, then began taking a drink of his glass of water that he had retrieved earlier.

Felicia didn't give him enough time to savor his beverage, saying, "That's a shame. I was actually interested in getting to know him a bit more."

Wash, surprised, almost spurted out the water he had drunk. Felicia watched the scene unfold with an amused look. Wash managed to recover rather quickly, gulping down the water before clearing his throat briefly. "You can't be serious," Wash said, looking directly at Felicia.

"Hey, what can I say," Felicia shrugged, "he's kind of charming, daring, and bold. The first guy to approach me tonight actually, and what a different approach, too."

"Oh, I-I'm not judging you and your choice," Wash said. "But coming from someone who's known him for a long time and being of aware of his quirks and...hobbies, I strongly advise against going after him romantically." Wash then noticed the absence of Caboose. "Where did he—"

As if to answer his question, the two both heard a yelp of pain along with a meek and somewhat unapologetic apology from the man in question.

"Oh," was all that Wash said, slinking back into his seat.

"Mhmm," Felicia nodded, relaxing into her seat. "But, yeah. He sounds interesting enough. I've been...single for some time and, well, no one's caught my eye until tonight."

Washington could only look paralyzed and dumbstruck. He managed to hear Felicia mutter, "'ts time to move on from him." Wash was not going to delve into what is no doubt a sensitive subject. Instead, he said, "But Tucker? Really?"

Felicia sighed. "Sure, why not? I'm down for an adventure."

Wash held his gaze with Felicia before eventually groaning and rolling his eyes as he rummaged for a piece of paper and pen in one of his several pockets. "I'm gonna regret this, but…"

After writing down Tucker's number down on a piece of paper and reluctantly handing it to Felicia, who eyed the paper with a mischevious glint in her eye, Wash shuddered for a few seconds. His gut was telling him that giving the number that belonged to a man Wash barely tolerated time to time to Felicia would only result in disaster.

"Oooh, thanks." Felicia wasted no time in getting her phone out and adding the number to her contacts. Wash anxiously watched her type in each number at a time. "Might call him later."

Wash's hands met his face, questioning himself. "Dear god what I have I done…" The blasting music did little to comfort him.

A/N: A little short, but fun chapter that took way too long to release. Thought it would be nice to explore the dynamic between the Reds and Blues and the Freelancers. There will be a second part to the whole nightclub thing.