I've never written anything for the RvB fandom before, so this is kinda just something for me to have fun with. And yes I gave Simmons a glowing robo eye because why not?

AurorasPalace , this is for you bestie ❤️💙
Hope you enjoy!
•••

Sarge had just dozed off in front of the terribly small box television in the living room—cheesy romcom still buzzing on the cracked screen—when Dogma started pounding on everyone's door.

"What the hell is going on?" He shouted in surprise, nearly tipping backwards in his leather recliner.

Grif stumbled into the room. Several pieces of his armor spilled from his arms and clattered to the floor in his haste to get dressed.

Sarge stood and shoved Grif's cuirass into his chest. "Is this another one of your goddamn pranks?!"

"No, but I wish it was!" Grif sputtered, struggling to convert his thoughts into sentences with a brain that was still half-asleep. "We're under attack!"

"Attack?" Sarge echoed. "It must be those dirty Blues, thinkin' they can catch us sleeping! Well I wont stand for it!"

"It's not the Blues!"

"What?"

Dogma raced into the room with his helmet tucked under his arm. "It's not the Blues, Sarge. There's too many out there and they're launching a coordinated attack. We have to mount a defense before—"

The power suddenly cut out, plunging them into darkness. All was quiet while Sarge wracked his brain for a response plan.

"Simmons!" He barked.

The red glow from Simmons's cybernetic eye could be seen floating through the hall as he made his way from the barracks into the living room. He brushed shoulders with Dogma as he stepped around him.

"They've cut power to the base, sir. I don't have time to restore it—not while an attack is imminent." Simmons explained.

"I forgot how creepy that fuckin' eye of yours is in the dark..." Grif muttered an attempt at a joke while fumbling with his armor.

Sarge let out a frustrated huff. "Alright. We go dark, then. Suit up and find a defendable position! We are not losing this base to a bunch of lunatics!"

Dogma pulled his helmet over his head and watched the HUD flicker to life. Thanks to his visor's built-in night vision, finding his way through the darkness wouldn't be a problem. He'd barely taken the time to check his rifle when a shrill scream made his blood run cold.

"Donut!" He shouted once the realization hit. "They've infiltrated the base!"

Shoving his way past Simmons, Dogma charged down the hall that led to the kitchen. He was promptly greeted by a flurry of bullets, which forced him to throw himself against the wall.

"Fuck! Hang on, kid!"

Dogma stepped through the doorway and opened fire, flashes of light erupting from the barrel of his assault rifle as bullets were fired. An enemy fell to the ground with a thump. His HUD picked up two more figures rapidly advancing through the darkness and he reacted accordingly, pivoting to the right to avoid their gunfire. A bullet grazed the exposed skin between his shoulder and upper arm, but he scarcely registered the pain.

One enemy dropped to floor after Dogma's rounds found their mark, but the other ducked under the line of fire and rushed him head-on with a knife. He realized it too late—distracted by the thought of finding Donut.

White hot pain erupted from his left side as the knife was driven into his flesh. A raw cry of pain escaped him and he grabbed the soldier's arm, yanking it forward to dislocate their shoulder with a sickening pop. He shoved them away and unloaded a few rounds into their gut as they staggered back, arm flopping uselessly by their side.

With three enemies dispatched, Dogma's HUD didn't pick up any other signatures. That gave him a moment's peace.

He grasped the handle of the knife, sucked in a breath, and slowly pulled it free, gritting his teeth in silent pain. Ignoring the warm, wet sensation of blood oozing into his undersuit, Dogma quickly fished an antiseptic patch out of his belt and pressed it on the wound with a low hiss.

"...W-Who's there?" A soft, quivering voice cut through the silence.

Dogma's head snapped up. "Donut?" He called.

His HUD picked up a figure huddled in the corner and he felt his heart drop. His legs acted on their own, carrying him past the dead bodies that littered the floor and over to the trembling rookie.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, trying to ignore the stab of pain in his side as he knelt down.

"I-I-I don't know..." The words fumbled out of Donut's mouth. "I-I felt something h-hit me, but—"

"Where?"

"I don't know!"

Dogma cursed under his breath and pressed the side of his helmet. A few readings pertaining to Donut's physical well-being appeared on his visor—a program he had coded into the system with the help of Simmons.

Donut had a high heart rate and his blood pressure was through the roof, but that was the least of Dogma's concerns. He needed to know if he'd been shot.

Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

"It's just a graze. You'll live." Dogma concluded, pressing the side of his helmet again to deactivate the program. When Donut didn't respond, he lifted his head and squeezed the rookie's knee. "Franklin. You hear me?"

Donut released a shaky exhale and pushed his helmet into his hands.

Poor kid's probably never seen combat like this. He's terrified. Dogma thought.

"Hey, you're alright." He reassured, giving Donut's shoulder a few pats before retrieving a pistol from the floor and offering it to him. "C'mon. We need to regroup with the others."

Donut slowly raised his head and eyed the pistol. Several seconds passed before he took it into his trembling hands and squeezed the handle.

Dogma smiled a little at that, then winced and stood back up. As he pulled Donut to his feet, another bout of gunfire erupted from somewhere in the base.

<<Sarge, what's your status?>> He asked through comms.

<<Engaging the enemy! ———ere's too many of 'em! Can't han———! Get o——th—re!>>

"Shit. There's too much interference." Dogma muttered, hitting the side of his helmet with his palm.

"What do we do?" Donut asked fearfully.

"From what I could make out of Sarge's response, we're about to be overrun. We need to get out of here."

At that moment, his HUD suddenly flashed alerts all over his visor. He looked up and saw a multitude of figures charging toward their position.

"Run!" Dogma growled, shoving Donut as he whirled around.

Donut sprinted down the hall with Dogma at his heels. Bullets whizzed past, digging into the walls as they nearly missed hitting their intended targets. Whenever he could, Dogma turned his rifle around and fired into the hoard behind them. He wasn't sure if it made a difference, but he didn't care.

As Donut rounded the corner with ease, Dogma crashed into the wall due to his momentum, which slowed him down. He cursed out loud when he felt a bullet dig into his thigh, but couldn't afford to dwell on it. His side throbbed painfully as he pushed himself harder to keep up with Donut.

Once they made it out into the warm night, Dogma somehow lost track of Donut. It was like he disappeared into thin air. There wasn't time to wonder where the hell he went. As long as he was safe, it didn't matter.

Dogma hobbled off into the night, eventually losing the soldiers in the maze of pathways that carved through Blood Gulch.

•
•
•

Tonight was the night Minnesota truly believed she would be left alone. Church had gone on patrol, Tucker hadn't moved from the couch since 4 p.m, and Caboose was still preoccupied with that coloring book she'd given him earlier.

The boys were busy, which meant a nice, quiet base. Unfortunately, trouble always finds a way.

Around 10 p.m, Minnesota's door was rudely kicked in by none other than Church. The Blue leader appeared to be absolutely fuming as he hauled in a helmetless Red by the collar of his cuirass.

"Do you fucking mind?" Minnesota seethed, swiping the edge of her knife across the sharpening stone one last time as she gave Church a blistering glare.

"Deal with this." Church spat. That was all he had to say before he slammed the door shut and stormed off.

Minnesota barely resisted the urge to chase him down for dumping this on her and nearly breaking her door. Instead, she took a deep breath and approached the situation again. It took her less than a second to identify the Red bleeding on the floor.

"Fucking hell, Wentz. You let him do a number on you." She observed with a chuckle as she stood from her bed and walked across the room to retrieve her medkit.

Dogma forced a painful laugh and lifted his head, the gush of blood from his nose painting his smile red.

"Ah, only the nose is his handiwork..." He wheezed, slipping into a coughing fit as blood tickled the back of his throat.

Minnesota grimaced upon hearing him almost hack up a lung.

"Who did that, then?" She asked, referring to the large smears of blood on the floor.

Once Dogma caught his breath, he divulged.

"We were attacked." He began slowly. "It was completely out of the blue, like they just materialized from the night itself. There were too many of them. We couldn't hold the base, so we fled."

Minnesota allowed the information to sink in while she knelt down beside him and cracked open the medkit. "Blood Gulch is in the middle of nowhere. Who would willingly come here and attack a base without being provoked?"

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense." Dogma winced as Minnesota peeled away the patch on his side and pressed a fresh pad of gauze on it. "For all I know, you guys could be next."

"Is that why you dragged yourself over here to see me?"

He smiled at her and puckered his lips.

"Maybe when you don't have blood all over your mouth." She teased him. "Although that shade of red does look lovely on you."

He shook his head and chuckled. "Just patch me up."

She leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the forehead before returning to her work.