Explosive Enthusiasm
Peaceful. Probably a word that few people would use to describe his surroundings. The large chamber in which he sat rang loud with the sound of gunfire, as all six lanes of the firing range were occupied by other Freelancers. Yet peaceful is exactly how the green and blue armored man felt as he sat at a gun cleaning bench situated about ten feet behind the shooters. At the moment he wasn't using it to clean a gun. He was taking part in a hobby he had taken up further back than he could properly remember.
He was building bombs.
He looked over at the pile of ordinance he had assembled over the last five hours. Three incendiary grenade launcher rounds, a smoke grenade launcher round, a clip of high-explosive rounds for Tess (his favored fuel rod gun), and he was putting the finishing touches on a remote charge made up of a canister of ball bearings pressed into a sheet of plastic explosives and rolled up into a cylinder about the size of a tallboy. Not a bad haul for a day's work.
Curtis suddenly became aware of the visor looking at him from across the table. He wrapped his latest creation in a large piece of foil, placed it with the others, and looked up to address it. Curtis had just gotten to the point where he had begun to memorize the names of some of the freelancers he wasn't in constant contact with. He recognized the man in the purple helmet with a green stripe as agent North Dakota. One of the top ten agents, if he remembered right.
"You know, some people would probably think that spending all your free time playing with explosives was unhealthy." North offered warmly.
Curtis chuckled. "Yeah, says the guy who sits across from a total stranger, as said stranger plays with explosives."
"Touché."
"Say, got anything to eat?" Curtis asked absentmindedly. His stomach was growling. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. He'd been too engrossed in his work.
An unfamiliar voice chimed in from over at the firing lanes. "Yeah, because everybody packs lunch with them to target practice." The two looked over to see a woman in a suit quite like North's at one of the firing lanes. She hadn't even turned around.
I think I'll go out on a limb and say that one's South Dakota, Curtis thought to himself.
"Aw come on South, play nice."
Called it.
"Well, if that's a no, then I think I'll be heading over to the mess hall," Curtis lazily announced. He gathered the day's work into his satchel. "Have a good one, North."
North nodded to him as he walked away. "You too, um, I didn't catch a name?"
"It's Kentucky." He replied blithely as he headed to the doorway. He turned to one of the marine guards and handed them the satchel. "Could you do me a favor, and have somebody run that down to the armory? Preferably one of the heavy ordinance containers?"
"Yessir."
"Cool. Be careful with that now. We don't want a repeat of last Thursday." Kentucky hollered as he rushed to the mess hall. The marine suddenly froze up and looked at the satchel like it was about to pull a gun on him. He looked over at his partner...
"Hell no. I saw what happened last Thursday."
Kentucky was just about to get to the mess hall when he heard F.I.L.S.S.'s sterile voice over the ship's loudspeakers: "Calling agent Kentucky, calling agent Kentucky. Please report to the briefing room immediately." The ravenous agent looked over at the double doors, then up at the loudspeakers. Then he puffed out a sigh of frustration and turned away, heading towards the briefing room.
Now that I think about it, I just skipped lunch so I could make a burrito out of C4 and ball bearings. Maybe I have gone a little nuts. Well, at least I'm not alone. Let's see: We've got the yin-yang twins, the Brit sniper with the epic handlebars, the obsessively over-trained chameleon, the bomb nut (me), that terrifying mute in the fishbowl... and that's only a tenth of us. And that's not even touching on how we've got color coded armies fighting a war pretty much because it makes a nice playground. He chuckled to himself. Yup. That's us. "Project Freelancer: fifty different states of crazy!"
It wasn't long before he arrived at the briefing room. As he walked in and saw the Director standing at the controls of the hologram projector, he was surprised to see that he was the only agent in the room.
"Wait, let me guess: you're here to apologize because everyone forgot my birthday, right?" Kentucky jibed playfully. The Director, unflappable as always, remained precise and businesslike.
"… Agent. I understand that you are a relatively new addition to this project. That said, I would suggest for the good of your career that you to take this briefing a little more seriously. F.I.L.L.S., would you be so kind as to bring up the presentation?" The lights in the room dimmed, and a blue hologram filled the area over the central table. "I am of the opinion that you've finally shown enough ability to be able to handle a solitary assignment." The hologram gained resolution as the Director spoke, and took on the shape of an icy box canyon.
Great. Another box canyon in the middle of nowhere.
Two sections of the cliff-faces at opposing ends of the canyon lit up on the model. "This is the training facility designated Icebox. The resident Red and Blue army forces have been in a stalemate for about a year. Recently, the Blue army has acquired selective automated anti-aircraft turrets, and has been using them to deprive the Red army of any and all supply drops. They are your primary objective." Several points at the top of one of the cliffs lit up red. "Your secondary objective is to ensure that both of the armies have an equal number of living soldiers at the end of your mission." A roster of names backed by either red or blue flashed first over the hologram, and then onto Kentucky's HUD. "You are to be deployed in 12 hours. Do you have any questions?"
Kentucky jumped up and down excitedly. "Ooh! Ooh! If I win can I have a T-bone steak?"
The Director let the comment hang in the air for a few moments.
"F.I.L.L.S. Mark down Kentucky for one week sanitation detail, starting as soon as he returns. That will be all, agent." The Director stated as he shut down the projector and walked out of the room.
Nobody has a sense of humor here.
Kentucky was sitting down, waiting for deployment. But he wasn't sitting in a pelican. Apparently the turrets were making it too hazardous to fly one to the canyon. So, he was currently situated in a drop pod. He could feel the marine attendants moving the pod, and heard rolling wheels. He could tell by the harness fudged onto the seat that the fall wasn't going to kill him. At least, not by itself.
This is for that birthday comment, I just know it.
"Hey Kent, how you doing in there?" One of the marines attending the launcher tapped the outside of the pod.
"How about you get your ugly ass in here and find out?" Kentucky spat with considerable venom.
"Nope, never in a million years. Have a nice trip, see you nex-"
"I swear to God if you finish that sentence, your quarters will become a smoking ruin!" As he shouted this last part, he sincerely hoped that the marine screwing with him wasn't the targeting guy. Thankfully F.I.L.L.S. interrupted before he could stick his foot any further into his mouth.
"Drop pod loaded. Please enter drop destination coordinates." Kentucky heard something metal latch onto the outside of the drop pod. His stomach did a somersault at the thought of what was about to happen. He grabbed onto the harness again, and it suddenly felt woefully inadequate. "Coordinates accepted. Launch sequence initiated. Firing drop pods in 3, 2, 1..."
And suddenly Kentucky was on a roller coaster ride from hell. He could feel himself falling, falling, falling downwards. He could hear the wind shrieking against the walls of the pod as he plummeted to the ground below. Then he realized the shrieking was partially his. He heard the drag-flaps open on the top of the pod. They would slow down the pod just enough to make sure that he landed with a few bumps and bruises instead of as a pile of jelly wearing armor. With no windows in the pod he could only pray that his trip would end soon.
And then with a bone-jarring impact and a deafening WHUMP his trial was over. Kentucky sat in the drop pod for a minute, trying to regain his composure.
Okey dokey Curtis, calm yourself. You are not a squealing little boy stuck in freefall, you are agent Kentucky. Freelancer agent Kentucky. The Boombringer! Professional badass! "Yeah!" Kentucky exclaimed as he undid his harness, stood up, and reached for the hatch release on the opposite side of the drop pod. He opened it up, and was immediately greeted by a gust of wind frigid enough to knock him off his barely-recovered legs. He fell flat on his visor into the snow, and looked up just in time to see a red armor-clad figure rushing towards him. Well, there goes that plan. He stood up and brushed the snow off his armor.
The red figure spoke up as he approached Kentucky. "I take it that makes you the freelancer that command hired for us?"
"The one and only!" Kentucky piped before taking a sweeping bow. "So, I've heard you're having some supply issues."
"I'd call it more of an utter breakdown. We've been eating snow for about five days." Kentucky could tell: by army standards, this poor sod looked positively emaciated. "It's about damn time you got here. I lost a good man last night to starvation. Starvation!"
"Yes, I'm aware. Private-" Kentucky's voice faltered as he brought up the roster on his HUD "Rodriguez will be sorely missed." He finished this sentence just as a second drop pod WHUMP-edinto the ground near his own. "Ah! That must be the toys!" Kentucky quipped cheerfully. Then he hopped over to the pod's hatch and popped it open. Inside was about as much of Kentucky's personal collection as he could carry. The Director hadn't trusted that they wouldn't detonate on impact, and so had sent them on a separate pod. Kentucky set about the task of placing all of the grenades, rockets, and demo charges into their proper places on his armor.
While he was preoccupied, the red soldier walked up to him. "I've got about six men plus myself still combat-capable. We're ready to move out at your command," he summarized.
"Huh?" Kentucky looked up from the remote charges he was placing in a compartment on his hip. "Move... out?" he looked confusedly at the soldier. Then he started to laugh. "Heh. Heheheh, Ahahahah, BWAHAHAHAHAAAAAA-oh God, that is just precious." he squeaked out this last word in a falsetto, and had put his hands on his knees, trying desperately not to fall over again. "You grunts think you're people." he looked at the red solder, stood up straight, and forced down the laughter. "Ahem. Thank you for the offer but it's alright, I got this. Just do yourselves a favor, and go back in your base like good little cannon fodder, 'kay?" The red soldier stood shocked for about five seconds. "Oh, you will? Spiffy! Thanks, pumkin'." And the freelancer in the green armor with blue details set back about prepping for his offensive.
The red soldier stood flabbergasted for a while, and then quietly went back into the base when he noticed just how many explosives this stranger had brought with him.
Kentucky pulled up the running inventory of ordinance he had with him. Fuel rod gun(Tess) x1, grenade launcher x1, simulation Tess clips x3, armor piercing Tess clips x1, grenade launcher smoke rounds x1, grenade launcher flash-bangs x 3, Sim-frag grenades x 2, precision det-charges x3, "Burrito Bomb" x1. In other words, it listed everything Kentucky could want or need for the task at hand.
I love my job. "Now." Kentucky pulled up the diagram of the red base. "Where's my ride?"
"Said it once, I'll say it again: I LOVE MY JOB!" Kentucky cried out as he drove the commandeered red mongoose across the canyon floor. He had the petal to the metal, and was dead set on leaving a permanent impression on his superiors. Director: eat your cold, dead heart out.
As he approached the opposite side of the canyon, he saw several blue forms lining up around the entrance to the Blue base's cliff-side complex. That complex housed an elevator shaft that led right to the top of the cliffs, and the AA turrets. And Kentucky was barreling straight for it.
He heard a voice crackle through his radio. "Attention, Red-... Green asshole! Turn around and head back to your base or we will kick your sorry ass!"
That is just adorable.
Kentucky was moving forty miles per hour and was about a hundred feet away from the line of soldiers when he bailed off of the mongoose, and rolled to a stop on his stomach. He waited until it was practically on top of the blues, and hit the detonator in his hand. The mongoose went up with an impressive blast, and took two or three blues with it. Wasting no time, Kentucky pulled out his grenade launcher and took some cover. By the time he ducked behind a cement barrier, the five remaining blues had recovered from the shock and were returning fire with a vengeance.
Kentucky loaded a flash-bang into his grenade launcher and ducked from behind cover just long enough to launch the round towards the hostiles. He held down the trigger and kept his eyes on the launcher's counter. x1, x3, x4. He could see the blues approaching on his motion tracker, even as multiple rounds spanked off of the barrier. x5.
BOOM!
Kentucky hopped over the barrier and swapped out Tess. The poor blues all either had their arms over their visors or were tripping over their friends thanks to the flash-bang. Fish in a barrel. Kentucky unloaded the gold-plated monstrosity on his shoulder at the unfortunate grunts, locking up their armor and sending them flying. Not as satisfying as an end as actually gibbing them, but it'd have to do.
"Well. That takes care of that then." Kentucky chuckled as he surveyed his handiwork. He strolled over to the doors to the complex. They were a huge, heavily fortified affair that was probably completely unnecessary for any purpose except keeping a particularly well-armed bomb nut out.
And I'll bet this is for last Thursday.
Kentucky paced around the fortifications for several minutes, during which he pondered the doorway, ate an orphaned ham sandwich he found in a knapsack, and wasted several demo charges trying to get the door open. As the smoke cleared after this latest exploit, the doors started opening of their own accord. "Ha! That's right, door! You know better than to try and sto-" Kentucky fell silent as he saw what was on the other side of the door. It was nothing less than an M808 Scorpion Main Battle Tank.
I stand corrected. This is for last Thursday.
FWOOOM!
The tank fired at Kentucky, and the round flew over his head. Either luck decided to save him yet again, or the tank's operator was a terrible shot. He decided it was the probably the latter option, and ran like hell, strafing the tank.
FWOOOM!
The shot flew behind Kentucky, and hit the ground about fifteen yards away. He hastily slammed his clip of armor piercing rounds into Tess and took aim at the connection under the tank's turret. Pchoom-pchoom-pchoom, BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! As the smoke cleared from the blasts, Kent looked on with pride: the turret on the scorpion had several hilariously large chunks missing beneath the main gun, which now dangled from its connections like a hand does from a shattered wrist. The tank began to backpedal away from the freelancer.
"Oh, no you don't." Kentucky fired a round into both of the tracks facing him, and when the cogwheels ran out of track the tank ground to a halt. The Boombringer pulled out a grenade and advanced on the now immobile mass before him. The canopy of the tank slid open and a blue soldier rose from it, aiming a pistol. "Bitch, really?" He threw the grenade at the soldier, who's first three shots took chunks out of Kentucky's shield. The grenade bounced off of the soldier's chest. Shot four never came. Damn I kick ass. Kentucky pulled up Tess's kill counter on his HUD and added a scorpion to it. Then he turned towards where the elevator was and continued onwards.
High-ho, high-ho, to bomb some guns we go. Kentucky stepped inside the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. Its lots of fun with a fuel rod gun high-ho, high-ho high-ho high-
"Drop your weapons, put up your hands, and turn around." Kentucky froze. It was an unfamiliar voice, and it was right behind him.
Are you fucking kidding me? He heard several weapons racking behind him. You are not. Kentucky complied as the elevator rose, and as he turned he was greeted with the sight of three blues, weapons pointed directly at him. The one in the middle had a shotgun trained right at the emerald-clad intruder's face. This blue spoke up. "Alright cock-bite, you get on your knees and nobody else has to die today." He said as he edged closer.
Kentucky smiled. Among freelancers, he wasn't the best at hand-to hand. But he could bet what training he had was still hand over fist better than anything these mooks had. And shotgun supreme here had just edged within arm's reach. True, they were supposed to leave the sim-troopers alive, but to be honest…
Better them than me.
Kentucky pushed up on the bottom of the gun's barrel with his right hand, and it fired harmlessly over his head. Then he grabbed the blue's shoulder with his left hand and spun him into a classic human shield setup: Kentucky's left arm across the blue's upper torso, and both facing the other blues.
"Now, I know every muscle in your bodies is probably screaming 'shoot! Shoot that handsome green devil!' but, you see, it'd be pretty bad if you hit your friend here. Hell, it'd be even worse if you hit me." Kentucky lifted up his right hand to show the blues a detonator. Then he depressed the button on the top. "This is a dead man trigger, rigged to a pound of C4 wrapped in this bit of foil here." He nodded to a silver cylinder attached to the right side of his collar. "There's also a metric shit-ton of ball bearings in there so if I go, we all go. And hell," he gestured to the edges of the elevator shaft, which they were still ascending. "Then we'd probably all go down too. Think it over. Take your time."
"Do what he says!" the shotgun blue pleaded with his companions. "This guy's fucking nuts!"
"Hey, it's not that obvious. You haven't even hung out with me yet." Kentucky said in a faux-dejected tone as the elevator reached the top of the cliffs. "Oops, sorry guys." He started dragging his hostage towards the exit to the elevator, a chuckle sneaking into his voice. "This is my floor!" he kicked his weapons onto the ice outside of the elevator, and their momentum slid them away. Duly noted.
He grabbed the silver cylinder from his collar, and stuffed it under the blue's chest-plate. Then he kicked the blue into his two compatriots, leaped out of the elevator, and tossed the detonator away as he slid off on the ice. The BurritoBomb went off with surprising force, and the concussive blast shredded through Kentucky's shield. One of the ball bearings even cracked his visor, barely glancing off instead of punching through. But he fared much better than the poor sods still in the elevator car. One thing was certain: they did go down. Hard.
"Well, it looks like somebody's not getting an open casket!" Kentucky cackled when he heard the car hit the ground. "WHOOHOOHOOHOO!... Oh... I'm a bad person." He mumbled. Then he turned on his radio. "This is freelancer agent Kentucky to Mother of Invention. Send one of the pelicans, I'm about to have the skies over Icebox crystal clear." He said this last part as he primed some det-charges.
"Good to hear Kent. How'd you fair on the secondary objective?"
"Secondary... objective?" Kentucky felt his blood run cold. He quickly pulled up the roster on his HUD. Every single name backed with blue was labeled KIA.
"Kent? Agent Kentucky? Hello?"
Kentucky turned his radio off.
... Well that's just fucking great.