'Pray' Trailer

Episode no.


Release Date

November 11, 2013

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Killed in Action

"Are you up for a fight?"

"Are you?"

"Without a doubt."

- Agent York to Agent Carolina

The 'Pray' trailer was released on the 11th of Novermber 2013. It shows the events that took place when Agents York and Carolina met at Club Errera. It featured on website 'FanFiction' before anywhere else here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9837816/1/Red-vs-Blue-The-Freelancer-Archives-Season-One.

This acts as a preview and not an official episode of 'The Freelancer Archives' series.


Project Freelancer


  • Club Errera DJ
  • Club Errera Bartender
  • Club Errera Bald Member


The episode begins with the Director of Project Freelancer reflecting on his failures and trying to think of why the branch of military failed so chaotically.

The scene then cuts to several years earlier. A mysterious girl, who will one day become Agent Carolina, arrives at Club Errera on Reach. She immediately recognises the song being played as 'Pray.' After seating herself at the bar she begins to converse to the character who will one day become Agent York.

Eventually their conversation is interupted by one of the club's members who eventually threatens to rape Carolina. York then proceeds to protect her initiating a fight between the members of the club. Almost immediately the fight gets out of hand and results in the deaths of two of the club members before the two successfuly flee the situation.


Director Leonard Church looked down at the Magnum in his hand. He knew what was right and what he had to do, but he wondered how it had come to this and why. His vision blurred as he looked around the room. It's darkness in contrast with the bright lights of the recording in front of him had begun messing with his sight.

He cocked the handgun trying to remember if there was something he missed, if there was something he could have done so that it worked.

It was obsession, that led to the failures. It was obsession that slowly tore his memory of her apart until she nothing more than a shadow. He loved her, but it was not enough. All he could remember of Allison was that she died, that she was a failure. Now he could finally be together with her again, together in paradise.

…Many years earlier

She leant forward over the seat and paid the cab driver thirty dollars. He gave a quick nod before looking back at the map on the shuttle dashboard. Politely she turned towards the back seat door and exited. For the first time in years she noticed the height of the tower as the blood rushed to her head.

Club Errera was situated atop one of the tallest towers in Reach's capital New Alexandria. She heard the song Pray playing within the club. It reminded her of the sparring she used to do with her father when she was younger.

I ain't tricking the narrative.

Behind her flowed blue tassels off and over her black skirt. A sleeveless white corset wrapped around her upper body as she approached the club entrance. The muffled music vibrated the floor beneath her boot high-heels. As the door opened the loud music filled her ears.

People say its suicide or its arrogance.

This hadn't been her first time inside the club. In the past her and her friends had gone there to pick up. But she was always disinterested. Today she felt different though, tonight she was angry and tonight she was ready. She had tied her long red hair into a ponytail behind her head as she entered the club.

Crucify me as heretic. Parascend to embarrassment.

The club was dark, with the exception of the flashing neon lights. Arrays of reds, blues, greens and yellows lit the room dramatically. The blinding white of strobe lights encouraging the dancers to lose their minds.

Heralding under marriages. Pocketed in its garishness.

Dance like this is your last night on Earth. It was an old saying she used to hear, she figured it was old because she hadn't been to Earth in years. She'd left her father there a few months earlier and moving out decided to live in the city. Moving to the paradise world of Reach was the best decision she'd ever made.

Murders splurges is fervently. Gather me its inheritance.

She pushed through the crowds, not happy nor sad. She'd start by the bar. A woman with a drink in their hand would likely be approached in an instant by a determined guy. If a girl was in her twenties, which she was, it was supposedly impossible to not hook up at Errera.

Kill the messenger.

As she weaved through the scores of people she looked up, the floor above held the VIPs and officials of the club. There the DJ played his beats to the best of his ability. She recognized him from the last time she'd been to Errera. They called him 'The Animal' or something just as stupid. She looked at him and nodded, half expecting him to nod back.

Knock em' down.

She tugged on the leather glove on her right hand. She was nervous, in the past she'd never tried to find a guy. She'd entered the club excited but unaware of whether or not she was looking for a man to settle down with or a boy to spend a night with.

And blow across a blessed verse.

Reach was once hit by the aliens during the first Covenant war. Club Errera was one of the buildings to be destroyed. Since the second Covenant war, Reach had not been hit. Reach was one of the heaviest protected planets under the UNSC defence committee. There was never any fear that the colony world would fall again.

Massacre the hours till the power aches and seconds hurts.

Stepping out of the dancing crowds she saw the bar. It was almost completely empty with the exception of one guy, about her age, sitting alone. He wore a short sleeved straight black shirt. For a moment she considered socializing but panicked upon considering that she might not actually be appropriately dressed.

Fate is half a mistress. But the rest of hers a passenger.

By this stage her friends would have awkwardly pushed her into the guy's arms in order to introduce them. This would, in theory, stop her from chickening out. It didn't. Her friends weren't here anymore. She stared at him a moment longer, he was definitely alone.

She is tragedy to those whose death defines and makes her work.

She strode over towards the bar, eyeing the seat. She next wondered whether it would be someone she knew. Then again, there were two reasons why that was a load of crap. One, she didn't know anyone on Reach. Two, she didn't know any boys…anywhere.

I don't believe in time. Stick a knife into my spine.

She seated herself on the bar stool and patiently waited for the bartender to make his way to her. She saw that the boy next to her was sipping lightly on a reddish drink, similar in appearance to what she liked to order.

Watch the shadow bleed me dry. Then take my eyes and leave me blind.

The bartender was a tall bald man, similar to what you'd expect a bouncer to look like. He approached her, wiping the bar with a dry towel as he dead.

'What can I getcha?' he asked.

'Scotch with raspberry.' She replied.

'Ah, so a Ballet Breakup.'

'You know that drink?' she asked, surprised.

'They don't call Reach the paradise planet for nothing now, so they.' He smiled before turning to the taps behind him

He poured a bottle of scotch into a small glass before squirting a tube of red fluid from a bar hose into the drink. A short few seconds later she received her drink. He slid it across the bar a few centimeters and she caught it, just like it happened in the old Western movies.

Heaven's hell is no surprise. I'm just here to scrutinize the euthanized.

'Enjoy.' He said before turning away.

She looked down at the drink. As appealing as it looked, it wasn't as perfect as she had seen on other worlds. Out of her peripheral vision she saw the boy, he was staring at her. Embarrassed and confronted she turned to him.

'Can I help you?' she confronted him.

'Yeah. Would it be cheesy of me to offer that to go on my tab?' he asked.

Despite the sacrifice. But never eulogize.

The boy was charming, she could give him that. He was wearing denim jeans and leather shoes. He seemed a lot more broad shouldered than she had seen from behind. From the front she recognized that he had short brown hair, spiked at the fringe.

'Not in the slightest.' She replied.

We waved to the barman casually before pointing at both the girl's drink and then to him. The barman then gave an understanding nod. She was flattered, usually she would be quite aggressive and try to scare the first guy off. This was different.

I swore to elegance decantently in sentences.

'So I notice you're drinking a scotch and raspberry.' He began.

'Why yes I am.'

'So am I.' he said, smiling cheekily.

'So?' she asked, playing him for a better response.

Maybe I'm just a veteran. Running out of his medicine.

He was silent, desperately trying to search for words to say, but none came to him. His tongue slipped out of his mouth and licked his lower lip before biting on it. He was lost. She had played him and won.

'Shit.' He said suddenly, defeated.

'Nice attempt at a pick up line.' She joked to him before looking back at her drink.

She sipped the 'ballet breakup' once and then again. The scotch burned the back of her throat, but cleared away her sins all the same.

Maybe a definite epitaph would have been generous.

The boy said nothing, he was defeated and sulking in his chair. He was hunched and it was clear to see that she'd bothered him. She thought for a moment and wondered whether she would apologize. But she didn't, why should she?

But all I get's a whisper. Yo, where the fuck are the terrorists?

'You wouldn't happen to have a lighter on you, would you?' he spoke, finally.

As a matter of fact she did. She reached into her corset and pulled out a lighter. It was one branded 'Club Errera' which she'd received on her first visit. She showed it to him and his eyes lit up like a child discovering Christmas for the first time.

'Oh, cheers.' He said excitedly.

Pray for the day the lies don't find you.

He held out his hand for her, hoping she would place the lighter in it. She didn't. Instead she was distracted by spectacle behind her. It was 'rain o'clock' in the club. For an hour every weekend the fire sprinklers on the roof would release water onto the dance floor. This was that hour.

Behind them guys and girls lost themselves in the adrenaline of passion. As they dance the rapid strobe lights reflected off the sweat soaked bodies of the clubbers. As they moved the droplets from the roof bounced off floor, with each stamp of a foot puddles splashed about the room. The lower level roof over the bar stopped the water from hitting the patrons, and small holes the size of skin pores were supposedly layered in the floors to drain the water during the day when the club was closed down.

She turned to the boy at her left. He was looking at her, and she realised she'd forgotten to give him the Club Errera branded lighter. She flicked the thing to him and he caught it with ease. He pulled out a cigarette from his denim pants pocket and began to light it up.

Pray that the end is right behind you.

'Hey you!' the bartender called. 'You're not allowed to smoke in here.'

He was confused, as if the bartender was speaking another language. After a good long ten seconds he put the cigarette back into the box in his pocket and flicked it back at her.

'Thanks' he said to her, despite not being able to use it.

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be, it's not your fault THE BARTENDER'S AN ASS!' he raised his voice.

The Bartender ignored him.

'So what brings you to Reach?' he asked her.

'What makes you say I'm not local?'

'Well you're dressed up and you're carrying around an Errera lighter.'

'So wouldn't that mean I've been here before?' she asked, confused.

'Yes, but not all the time. If you were here all the time you wouldn't be carrying a tourist lighter on yourself.'

'Maybe so.' She smiled. 'But if I was here all the time I would know that smoking isn't allowed.'

'I don't smoke.' The boy replied.

She was confused. Not seconds earlier she had seen him pull out a cigarette to light with her lighter.

'But you—'

'I don't smoke much.' He corrected.

She rolled her eyes. The two were getting along quite well. She was actually quite surprised, he was quite charming. He actually had looked like quite a jerk when she moved towards the bar before.

'You didn't answer my question.' He said.

'Sorry, what was that?'

'What brings you to Reach?' he reminded her.

'Trying to escape an utterly shit life.' She laughed. He did too. 'You here with anyone?'

'Me? Nope. I'm a bit of a loner. Most of my friends have gone to fight in the war.'

'Too scared?' she provoked.

'No, but the aliens should be when they see me coming. I have signed up but I'm waiting for them to approve my forms.' He looked down at his drink.

'You look worried.'

'Nah, just…' he took a swig of the scotch. 'It doesn't look likely that I'll get in. I've got a criminal history. I own an apartment but no keys to it. So I lockpick.'

She laughed, predicting where the story was going to go.

'I got arrested for breaking into my own home.' He concluded. 'They let me out, but it's still on my official record.'

The bartender walked past the two again and refilled both of their drinks before winking at her. She felt slightly disgusted, before she probably would have been flattered but something was different now. When she turned to the guy she could see pure jealousy. He parted his hair briefly with his hand as he stared at the bartender.

'So what music do you like?' she asked, desperate to make conversation.

'This.' He said, pointing up to an invisible spot above him.

'Pray? Oh god, I love this song.'

'Same, it's freaking beautiful.'

Sure, beautiful is a word for it.'

He leant forward and looked toward the upper levels of the club, hoping to catch the lyrics of the song. She sat back and closing her eyes, did the same.

Yo, listen, yo.

The beats bounced across the building's walls and reverberated through all the patrons. Reverberating through her chest it became as familiar as her own heartbeat. It made sense, because her heart was racing. The beats and music were lyrical in time with the lighting display.

She turned to her new found friend who was not even paying attention to what was going on behind him. Either he really was a local, or he was a zombie.

So pick your poison. Shotgun shell to the face?

'Evening, ma'am.' Came a voice from behind her.

She turned to see who it was but found no one. She looked back at her friend only to find that the man who had spoken to her had wedged himself between the two. He was a pig, bald (like the bartender) with an overgrown moustache.


'Whatcha drinking?' he asked.

'Scotch and raspberry.'

After a few seconds he snorted and burst out laughing. That's when she realised that the man had two other friends that were behind her. They too were laughing aloud.

'What's so funny?' she asked, slightly pissed off.

'Scotch? Ain't that a bit strong for a lady?'

'Excuse me?' she said, offended. 'What the hell do you know about ladies?'

'Enough to get me laid. So, you up for it?'

'No!' she spat. 'Never, not with you!'

She sat forward and continued drinking her drink. She could almost imagine that the man was pissed off, looking at the table in shock. Instead she heard laughter from past him, from the guy she had been talking to.

'What's so funny?' the man said turning towards him.

'Oh, nothing.' He said, pretending to hold in the laughter before bursting out again.

'I said, what's funny?'

'It's just- it's just the thought of a dickhead, such as yourself, thinking you have a chance with such a girl as this.'


'Didn't hear me? Or are you deaf as well as stupid.' He chuckled.

The man bashed his fist against the bar as the bartender turned away. She jumped at the sound of the thud.

'Now I'm going to pretend you're just gonna shut your face. I also suggest that you fuck off…'

Or pull this sidearm from my waist?

Again the bald man turned his attention to her. He sniffed, the snot dribbling from his nostrils being sucked back up as he did.

'Now, listen lady. I'm gonna give you one chance to open your legs before I force you too.' He said, angrily.

She turned to him, fists clenched. She would have hit him too if it weren't for the interruption. Her friend stood up and pulled on the man's shoulders. He quickly turned and swung his right fist launching it straight at the guy's jaw.

Her friend fell down out of sight before the man reached out at her. So next she delivered a blow. It was a punch that shattered his jaw, some of the combat she'd gained had begun to surface. He fell to his knees but collapsed on a stool, using it to pull himself to his feet.

'You're gonna regret that, you son of a bi—'

Her friend had stood up, his glass of scotch now shattered over the man's head. Scotch and blood combined and swirled around the shards of glass slicing into his head.

You'll ruin the whole scene.

In a second the man's two friends were onto her protector (not that she needed a protector). One held him back, pinning his arms behind him. The other swinging a punch.

The flashing of the lights in time with the music provided the perfect cover. In an instance of darkness her friend ducked. The blow landed into his suppressor's temple. Two men were collapsed on the ground, the final was then knocked down when she kicked him. The heel of her leather shoe crushing a small section of his spine. All three were on the ground.

Her friend wiped away the blood. The two of them standing and looking at their downed attackers. She stood fists at the ready to throw another devastating punch. He cracked his knuckles but stopped suddenly when he turned around.

Around them the music was still playing, but the patron's had stopped. All the staff, and many of the dancers stood at the ready to attack.

And I ain't comin from a civilized place.

They were all members of the club, as was the man that the two had just beaten. Now, all stood at the ready to attack the two; to kill the two.

'Well this is gonna be fun.' Said her friend sarcastically.

'You up for a fight?'

'Are you?'

'Without a doubt.'

As the music reached a crescendo the two ran towards the crowd in the direction of the door. They were halted, she was forced to throw a blow in the first person in front of her. Luckily the patron she had just knocked unconscious was one of the members, one of her attackers.

As the boy in the black shirt turned both briefly glimpsed the bartender. He threw a baseball bat at one of the three first people that they had beat down. Two more bats going to the others.

Their attackers charged waving the baseball bats above their heads. At least they aren't Grifball hammers, she thought to herself. The first of the men with a baseball bat swung at her head but she lunged at him tackling him to the ground. As he fell back the bat slipped from her fingers, as he hit the ground he lost his breath.

'Move!' she heard a voice behind her call.

So doing as was asked of her, she rolled over. In a split second she witnessed the boy's boot stomp on the man's face. As he lifted it she saw that the attacker's nose was flattened and he was left unconscious.

Where violence is preferred to sittin and saying grace.

She slid her foot under the bat and flicked it up. The bat was thrown in the air and she caught it, quickly spinning around to knock down one of the unarmed members. As he fell to the ground behind her she noticed that the two were being circled. From over the bar another of the unarmed attackers smashed the bottle of scotch that she had seen not long before.

Slowly some of her attackers rolled in, some charging. One of the attackers with the baseball bat (not the one who had abused her but one the 'cronies') moved in and swung the bat at her friend.

He blocked the blow with he arms, but the impact still knocked him to the ground. So she dropped to the ground and spinning on the floor kicked the man's feet out from underneath him. He slipped on his back and splashed in the puddles that were forming on the floor.

The young warlocks ain't got patience or respect.

'Pick it up!' she said to him pointing to the bat.

He shook his head.

'Are you kidding? I fight better without.' He replied.

The next of the members charged at her but instead of attacking she merely threw the baseball bat at him. The bat crashed into his head and immediately knocked him out, his arms falling limp at his sides and body twitching as it fell to the ground.

Cos the animal within don't even speak that dialect.

She felt a hand grasp at her ankle and pull her down. It belonged to the man with the now shattered nose. His eyes were now bloodshot and he was frothing at the mouth. In retaliation she knelt down and elbowed him in the spot where his nose had once been. He released his grip in pain.

She wasn't through with him yet and proceeded to knee him brutally into his lower jaw. The sound of the crunch signaled he was finally out cold. She stood and spat on him before preparing for the next of her attackers.

And all they know is war.

She dove forward, rolling before standing up beside her partner. They were facing the same direction when she heard footsteps. From behind a man was approaching, so she ducked, spun and delivered an uppercut right into the member's groin. He collapsed and a split second later she realised it had been the bartender with the smashed scotch bottle.

So you better come correct.

'Be right back.' Said her partner.

She turned to see him sprinting towards a gap in their attackers' circle. He was headed straight for a staircase leading up towards the upper levels of the club. She was deserted but guessed he had a plan up his sleeve.

Alone she took on one attacker at a time, holding her ground. First a roundhouse kick to the chest then a left handed uppercut to the jaw. Then another kick on a third person's back before stomping on them with the right boot.

They'll catch a bullet to the head.

'Hey assholes!' her partner called.

For a split second all the members of the club, all the patrons, and ever her; they all looked towards him waving at the top of the stairs. In a split second she pulled out initiative and pushed through the distracted crowd. Some of the members whom she pushed through noticed and tried to follow her – but she was too quick.

Just for dramatic effect.

'What's the plan?' she asked him as she reached the top of the stairs.

'Plan? There's supposed to be a plan?' he replied, concerned.

Suddenly most of the members began sprinting towards the stairs. Others remained below and searched for things to use as weapons. She knew it wouldn't be long before someone found a gun.

These savages is mean and only understand gunfire.

One by one the members fell. First they'd run up the stairs and one of the two would push them back down. The top floor was completely emptied and she had assumed that they'd evacuated the club owner as to protect him.

She searched the upstairs VIP level for a way out, they couldn't keep fighting on the stairs. She saw the back room, ones that they used for private dancers and paying members. She tugged on her partner's sleeve and got his attention before pointing at the exit.

He threw one last punch to know a guy, one of the biggest, onto his knees. She then initiated a 'jump-kick' that pushed him downstairs, knocking down the others like a snowball effect.

The two ran as fast as they could into the private rooms and he locked the room behind them. There was a moment of peace before she looked out the room's window. Below she saw the lower levels where they had only just escaped from.

There were no civilians. The place had been evacuated. All that remained were the members who were fighting.

'There's gonna be police!' she panicked.

'Nah, they know they started it. If the police came they'd arrest all the members as well as us. We're fine.' He reassured her.

Don't get caught slippin up in the jungle squire.

The two pushed down the door on the other side of the room which took them up to another evacuated area of the upper level. Perched over one of the balconies was the DJ's sound desk. The DJ had escaped but the music was still playing.

She wanted to take a moment to soak in the vibrations from the beats and the sound from the speakers – but knew that doing so could cause them to get surrounded and caught.

Her listening was interrupted by a crash. The two turned around and saw that the members had broken down the door that her friend had locked. He pulled on her shoulder and pointed to the VIP bar before running. She followed.

The two vaulted over the bar and ducked into cover behind it.

'They'll know we're here.' She whispered.

'Then let's fight!'

They both stood up to find members charging at them. She picked up the first thing she could, a bottle, and threw it at one of the attackers. The next few moments were a flurry of attacks, the two throwing multiple objects and the members. They threw bottles, glasses, taps, and even the desk phone.

As they were running out of things to throw they were saved by the liquids that had pooled on the other side of the bar. Their attackers continued to run towards them but kept slipping in the puddles of alcohol.

They want your armor.

He grabbed an umbrella from the 'lost and found' bucket beside the bar. It was yellow in color she could see that he could use it as a club or something. He lightly punched her arm as to get her attention.

'Let's go!' he said to her.

'Lead the way.'

So believe in one simple fact.

The two circled around their stunned attackers (who had slipped over into an odd mess). Some stood up and attacked. Four men in particular, and a woman began throwing their bottles at him. So he opened his umbrella and used it as a shield.

The opened shield of the umbrella deflected most of the drinks and managed to defend them as the two pushed towards a small staff elevator. She only hoped that they could get inside, that it would move to the bottom floor quick enough so that they could escape.

As two more attackers stood up from the alcohol soaked piles of bodies he collapsed the umbrella and used it as a bat. Knocking down the two oncoming members they continued to circle around to the lift which was situated beside the door to the private dancer's room.

Just for that they'll take your face off.

From the doorway pushed through two of the thugs. The two thugs that had started this fight. The pig man with the shards of glass in his head spat and was the first to point out the their position. They charged, both armed with baseball bats.

The ugliest, the first one that caused the trouble was in front. He swung the bat down on her friend, but he ducked to the side and the baseball bat missed. He then pushed the umbrella forward past the man's right ear before opening it and pulling it – this pulled the man in closer to both her and her partner.

Now closer to her than he had been before the man looked grizzly. Again, her friend saved the day. He threw the umbrella at point blanc as if it were a spear. The umbrella was forced into the eye of the bald man impaling it.

A squelch sound was heard as a clear liquid squirted from the man's tear ducts. Following this blackish red blood began to ooze from where the umbrella was jutting out, perfectly in his right eye.

The man let out a loud scream of pain before collapsing. In a split moment her partner tried to pull the umbrella from the man's eye socket but it wouldn't come free.

Just like that.

They were within five or so meters to the lift now. York only a little stunned at what he had just done. The second of the two lead attackers now swung his bat at her, but she ducked and kicked up above her head into the man's neck. She swung her foot around, bringing his head along with it until the man was pushed against the balcony overlooking the ground floor.

He slipped on the puddle of spirits at his feet, and having been kicked by her fell. He fell down off the level and hit the floor. The man landed on his head and his body collapsed, hunched over his head. He was dead. York was stunned too, wide eyed and somewhat frightened.

'Come on, there's no time!' she exclaimed as she looked back at the members who were quickly untangling themselves from the mess back at the bar.

Lies and deceit. Disguise and critique.

She desperately pressed on the call lift button as the people regained themselves and made their way towards both her and her unnamed male ally. Finally the doors to the lift burst open, and a man inside lunged at her friend with a shattered glass bottle. The neck was swung at her before jutted towards her friend's general direction.

She grabbed the man's attacking arm and elbowed his elbow so that it snapped. In pain the man twisted and lunged back towards her. She sidestepped and the bartender's glass bottle stabbed one of the member's necks.

She pushed her partner into the lift and pressed the ground floor button. As the doors shut she looked out through the glass and saw that the bartender had stabbed the DJ in the neck with the bottle. Blood squirted out of the cuts as the boy desperately tried to pick himself up, grasping at the balcony rails but slipping as his blood soaked fingers let go.

The O's and P's and Q's with everybody you meet.

He could live, she reassured herself. The lift propelled downwards with quick speed before coming to a halt on the bottom level. The exit was unguarded but the members were desperately running down the stairs to get to them. There was only a split second of time they could jump at; a split second was all they could allow themselves to get to the exit.

And trust is a weakness on this side of the fleet.

A cold and bloodied blade pressed against her throat and halted her movement. Her friend had been ahead of her but now stopped to see what had caused her to stop running.

She looked up and saw a man with a broken face, a bald man drooling blood. His eye socket spitting up a reddish black fluid. How did he beat her down there? She asked herself, but the knife tightened in against her neck. She could feel the knife about to slice open her neck. If even a small incision was made, his blood already on the knife would mix with hers and she'd probably die from that.

She stepped back with her right foot, stepping into his. It didn't disarm him and instead pulled him into. The knife stung like a snake's bite. She was willing to embrace death if she had too, but she wouldn't. This was a 'hostage situation' yes, but it wasn't a deadly one. If he had to he would kill her without a doubt, but—

A gunshot was heard and interrupted her train of thought. She adapted, rolling forward as it happened. The pig faced man was still wrapped around her, but being rolled over the top of her received a bullet to the leg.

Cos they'll fake showing love.

The two sprinted for the door glancing to see if the man was dead, he wasn't. The music was still playing and now she began to finally appreciate the beats. The doors to the exit opened wide and a cold gust of wind chilled her. She shivered.

And leave you bleedin in the street.

The doors were closing, as they did the two stared back. Their attackers didn't follow. They knew they had lost. A million thoughts rushed through her head. What had started as a simple bar brawl turned into a gunfight within minutes. With the doors shut the music muffled and she felt the vibrations only through the floor now.

And that's real.

She had noticed that she was panting. Cardio, it was her strength and weakness. She was deadly fast, but struggled to keep sprinting with a stable stamina. She turned to her right, the boy who had fought alongside her was leaning against the wall. He too was panting.

She looked outwards and saw all the patrons that had been evacuated. They were all staring at the two, she gave a nervous smile and they all seemed to smile back.

Pray for the day the lies don't find you.

By the time the two had regained their breaths many of the patrons had taken cabs off the premises. No one had followed the two out, they knew that if the police were involved it would be all the club's members that would take the fall.

'So, that cigarette?' he asked her.

She pulled the lighter out again and set up the flame. The wind blew it back down again. The boy awkwardly held out his hand again, chewing on the end of his cigarette. Instead she approached him and covered the cigarette with her left hand, lighting it with her right. She fell flustered at how close she was to him.

Once the cigarette was alight she turned away.

Pray that the end is right behind you.

'I only live a short distance away.' He offered.


'I own like a paradise apartment, glass walls overlooking the city. Tonight you could be a lucky guest who gets to spent at least one night inside.'

She giggled. When she realised how foolish she sounded she coughed. Girls are giggly, you're a lady, she reminded herself.

'So, where is this paradise apartment?' she asked him.

He pointed over the edge of the club and up to a skyscraper not far off. He pointed to the apartment, which was not much higher than where the club was situated. The apartment did overlook the club, it would be a spectacular view. It began to rain, so he stood around her so she was close to the wall. Like a gentleman he protected her from the rain.

'So, you got a name?' he asked…

Red vs. Blue: The Freelancer Archives

Season One

He was still waiting for an answer as he lit another cigarette. He blew a puff into the air and it swirled in the wind. As soon as he'd lit it he flicked the cigarette away.

She replied, '…it's Church. And you can keep the lighter.'

'Got a first name, Church?'



  • The Club Errera scene originally featured in Red vs. Blue Season 10 in an easter egg after the credits
  • The name of the drink the bartender serves both Carolina and York is called 'Ballet Breakup', this is a reference to the song that plays during their fight scene in Red vs. Blue Season 10
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