This fic was written for a prompt-"Introduction, Carolina & South" on Tumblr. I'm eponymous-rose over there if you'd like to come say hi.

Carolina straightens as the door opens, peering at the potential new recruit with interest. This is the first time she's been sent in the Director's stead—the Project's been picking up steam rapidly enough that he can no longer leave the Mother of Invention for any extended period of time. On this visit, her opinion is the final call.

PFC Smith is young, pretty, and judging by the small holes in her ears and nose that haven't healed over yet, she's recently sacrificed a number of piercings to the demands of military regulations. What looks like a very old scar runs a ridge of keloid tissue across her left cheek. Her white-blond hair is darker in places, still plastered to her forehead with sweat. One of her arms is clenched tight against her ribs, but Carolina knows the spray of blood across the front of her fatigues isn't hers. She's chewing gum, glowering suspiciously.

"I'm sorry to hear about your brother," Carolina says, taking a seat and motioning for the young woman to sit down across the table from her. They've borrowed her CO's office, which is starting to feel weird now that Carolina's noticed the pictures of what are presumably his smiling children. She already feels like enough of an intruder. "But I understand he's expected to make a full recovery."

Smith sits down stiffly, then slouches in her chair with a visible effort. She snaps her gum. "My brother's a fucking asshole," she says. "Keeps forgetting snipers are supposed to stay, y'know. Far away."

"I've seen the preliminary mission report," Carolina says. "I understand the two of you managed to clear out an entire base of Covies. Just the two of you."

Smith grins. "Yeah," she says. "That was pretty awesome. You here to give us a medal or something?"

"Do you want a medal?"

"What I want," Smith says, "is a shitload of tequila and all the pussy I can eat. You gonna deliver?"

Carolina's been around too many marines to react to half-hearted attempts at crudeness. She leans back in her chair, mirroring Smith's posture. "Do you realize who I am, Private?"

Smith leans forward, picking up the nameplate on the desk. "Why, Captain Zhang, you have changed!"

The stack of disciplinary measures in Smith's file is beginning to add up. "Have you heard of Project Freelancer?"

Smith blinks. She drops the nameplate and straightens a little in her chair, furrowing her brows. "Yeah," she says. "Experimental stuff. Supposed to run like hell if you come calling."

Carolina swivels slowly in her chair. "You're not running."

"I assume you've read my file. You've probably figured out I'm not so good at doing what I'm supposed to. You pulling us in?"

"PFL has a high casualty rate. Volunteer only."

Smith scratches her nose. "This is some high-end fuckery," she says, thoughtfully. "You got a pamphlet or something?"

"Didn't figure you for the type to demand reading material."

Smith snorts. "Yeah, sure. What else do you know about me?"

Carolina shrugs. "You and your brother are operating under pseudonyms. Your arrival at the UNSC recruiting offices with suspiciously well-forged documents coincides with the disappearance of a low-ranked member of a petty street gang and the more publicized disappearance of a model UNSC cadet from a wealthy family. And yet you're medically, provably, twins. There are… discrepancies, in your histories. It's been difficult unraveling them."

Smith has stopped smiling. She swallows her gum, drags the hair out of her eyes. "Who the fuck did you say you were?"

"I'm Agent Carolina. This is a one-time offer. The shuttle leaves tonight. Whether you and your brother are on it is up to you."

"Package deal, huh?" Smith says.

Carolina thinks she's angling for a solo offer, but she's seen the reports, the surviving helmet-cam footage, of the methodical and tactical demolition of the Covenant base. "You work better as a team," she says.

Smith chews her gum for a moment, then stands and says, "Yeah, whatever, sign us up. Lemme go talk to Tweedle-dum back at the infirmary. I'll get him on board."

Carolina blinks; she'd been expecting a tougher sell. "Okay," she says, and extends her hand. Smith shakes it with a firm grip. "And Private? For whatever it's worth, after looking at the files, I'm pretty sure you'd have been running that gang inside a year."

Smith snorts. "Inside a month, more like." But as she turns away, Carolina's pretty sure she's smiling.