Soldier Boy
Description: In which Wyoming is kinda old and irritated, and David is just another kid who accidentally pisses him off. Also in which the Director does not stand for any backtalk, the other Agents are amused, Wyoming is so done, Florida is a wonder child of pure indifference, and David is pretty impressive... for a rookie of course.
Prompt: (By renegadeaatl on Tumblr) Had an interesting writing idea, no idea if you'd like it but here ya are anyway; one of the freelancer's makes a remark about how the 'greenies' or the soldiers in training aboard the MoI, are incredibly irritating and the Director teaches the agent a lesson by forcing that agent to take over the morning drills for a couple days. Queue someone putting a bunch of idiots through their paces as the rest of the freelancers watch on. Not sure if it's your thing, but I thought it could be funny.
A/N: I am a sucker for prompts.
"Director, I need to see you at once!" Wyoming busted past any soldier in his way, bellowing at the top of his lungs for his employer.
The Director didn't even flinch as Wyoming entered the observing deck, where he'd been watching Agent Carolina and Agent New York spar in the gym (Carolina was going easy on York, he had noted). He turned slightly, giving the angry agent before him a raised eyebrow for his troubles, as if the agent couldn't kill him in less than a minute. Wyoming, still holding strong, stomped right up to the Director, holding up the offending object. It was an empty can of silly string, one that had sprayed him no less than twenty minutes ago.
It had been a regular morning on the MOI. Carolina and York had been chatting about sparing over breakfast, Maine had added a few of his own suggestions over his cup of sugary coffee, Florida had been having a 'Playful Knife-Fight' with Connie, the twins had been arguing over the last bowl of Fruit Loops on the ship (Agent North Dakota was looking for blood that morning), and Wyoming had been reading a digital copy of England's daily newspaper online, happily downing his own coffee, not nearly as sweetened as Maine's. And that's when it'd happened.
They'd made almost no noise unil it was too late, three of them, young special agents who'd been recently upgraded to work on the MOI. They'd been horsing around, shooting lines of silly string at each other while jumping on top of tables, a few almost hitting the surrounding Freelancers. Carolina had threatened to shoot back with actual bullets, and Wyoming had thought it would be the end of that, however, he was sorely mistaken. The youngest of the agents, the newest on the team, had gotten his hands on a slightly bigger can of the junk, and had opened fire on his friends. This would've been fine, save for, the fact, most of that string got all over Wyoming...
Leading to Wyoming angrily seeking out the Director, the poor rookie left to wait with his friends in the commons like a bunch of misbehaved high school boys. Wyoming, again, shook the can in his hand, glaring daggers at the Director. "Sir, I demand immediate action be taken with these... these... neanderthals!" He yelled, face a light red from his anger. No kid messed with Wyoming and got away with it, no sir.
"Very well, Agent Wyoming," The Director responded all too calmly, waving towards the hallway behind Wyoming. "Show me to them and I'll come up with a proper punishment for this behavior."
Wyoming seemed pleased at that, happily leading the Director to the cafeteria. Upon entering, all three men were still seated where Wyoming had left them, the two oldest looking a bit braver, while the youngest seemed... remorseful, ashamed even, helmeted face facing the ground. Well good, Wyoming hoped the damn kid might learn a thing or two! Once the Director was through with the lot, surely it would set an example, and then there wouldn't be anymore rough housing between the damn rookies. Aw, that would be nice... Wyoming smiled at the thought.
"Agents," The Director greeted, making them all shoot up, standing at attention. "I must say, I'm very disappointed in how all of you have acted this morning, and I'm sure your time alone has given you plenty of time to remorse your actions. However, to ensure this never happens again, Agents Hills and McGee will both be on clean-up for the next three months. In addition, Agent... Church will be trained by Agent Wyoming for the next week, as to strengthen the relationship between our faculty and Freelancers."
If Wyoming hadn't been freaking out over that last bit, he probably would've noticed how uncomfortable the Director had looked after addressing the youngest boy. "Um, sir?" He began, looking extremely confused. "Did you say for me to train Agent Church?"
"Affirmative." The Director replied, almost grinning at the unhappy Freelancer. "You seem unimpressed with how I solve problems on this ship, so how about you try and be the Director for just one agent?"
"But I have my own training!" Wyoming tried to argue. The Director was arming them for a war and they knew it, maybe if he reminded him of that, he'd come to his senses on the outrageous matter? "I can't risk falling behind."
"Agent Wyoming, I'm going to tell you something I've been told several times in my own life-" The Director promised, clearing his throat. "-Fucking deal." With that, he walked off, Hills and McGee running off as well to get to work, before anything else could go wrong.
All alone now, Agent Church stared at Wyoming, still standing at attention. "Uh... sir?" He spoke up, still looking incredibly nervous. "When do we begin training?"
Wyoming sighed deeply, shaking his head, eyes on the floor. "Tomorrow morning. I expect you up and ready to work by six hundred... dismissed." However, as Church started to run off, Wyoming stopped him. "Soldier, what was it that the Director called you again?"
"Agent Church, sir." The rookie answered, swallowing hard, as if he was just as uncomfortable with it as the Director had been. "Is something wrong with it, sir?"
"No, just... the Director shares your name. Strange coincidence." Wyoming lied, like he did when he'd figured out it was Carolina's last name too. "What's your first name?"
"David, sir." The soldier provided, chinning up more with that title.
"Well then," Wyoming announced, straightening as he patted the boy's shoulder. "I think I'll just be addressing you as David from now on, lad. Now get going!" He ushered him off, watching the young agent go.
Even after he was gone, Wyoming still felt that itchy feeling, somewhere in the back of his mind, like the feeling you get when someone's watching you, or when a cat kneads your back and every nerve in you demands you shiver at the touch. Wyoming shivered. He didn't believe in coincidences.
"Leave." Was the first word of Wyoming's mouth the next morning, dark brown eyes bearing into the other Freelancer with agitation.
"Aw, come on, Wyoming." York begged, pouting at the older Freelancer. He had gathered along with the other Freelancers to watch Wyoming train the rookie. "We just wanna watch."
"No. Leave." Wyoming repeated, pointing at the large, steel doors not ten feet away. He was too tired to deal with this shit. "Do not make me ask a third time, chap."
"Don't get your panties in a knot," South suggested, her left arm around the latest member of the Freelancers, Agent Connecticut. "We just wanna watch you tear this bitch a new one is all."
"South," North's tone was stern, but he looked just as curious in watching the training as everyone else. "We'll be quiet while you train him, Wyoming. Don't worry."
Arriving late, Florida stepped in, a huge bag over one shoulder, a boombox over the other. He grinned at his teammates, ignoring York's giggling at the sight of his Hawaiian flower T-shirt. "Heya, buddy!" The blue Freelancer greeted, teeth painfully white. "I brought a few things you might need!"
Wyoming opened the bag as soon as Florida set it down, eyes squinting to get a better view at the shadow covered items inside. "Let's see here... a CD case, two packed lunches, matching sweatbands, a book on team building, and water-bottles... are you bloody serious, old chap?"
Florida nodded enthusiastically. "Yep! These outta keep you both energized, well organized, and perfectly capable of completing a hard day's worth of training!"
"Florida, that shit looks like the bullcrap they give Elementary School gym teachers." Connie proudly pointed out. She'd long since grown out of her 'Nervous Rookie' stage. "I think they'll be just fine without that stuff."
"Nonsense!" Florida blew her off, pulling out a CD labeled 'Good Vibes' and popping it into his boombox. "This outta keep things rolling! Nothing like sweet, calming music to fill you both with enthusiasm!"
On cue, the loud, heavy metal rock music blasted through the room. "YOU! I WANNA TAKE YOU TO A GAY BAR! I WANNA TAKE YOU TO A GAY BAR! I WANNA TAKE YOU TO A GAY BAR, GAY BAR, GAY BAR!"
"Doesn't it just light you up with positive energy?" Florida asked, by some miracle heard over the loud, explosive music.
Everyone's reactions were different. South was grinning like a mad woman as she screamed along with it, North had his head ducked while covering his ears, York and Carolina were both too shocked to react properly, Maine was surprisingly neutral besides his foot tapping to the beat, Wyoming was attempting to choke an all too gleeful Florida, and Connie sang along at a lower volume with South. Just as the song reached it's second verse, the rookie walked in, dressed in yellow gym shorts and a light grey T-shirt. He stared at the Freelancers, then stared at the boombox, a surprised look on his freckled face.
"LET'S START A WAR, START A NUCLEAR WAR! AT THE GAY BAR, GAY BAR, GAY BAR! WOW! AT THE GAY BAR!" Not even a ten second pause. "NOW TELL ME DO YA, A DO YA HAVE ANY MONEY? I WANNA SPEND ALL YOUR MONEY! AT THE GAY BAR, GAY BAR, GAY BAR!"
"Wow, I love this song." David muttered, smiling at the team happily. "I'm ready to train, sir!" He stood at attention, back straight, arms behind his back, and chin upward.
"Alrighty then... Florida, turn that garbage off!" Wyoming ordered, glaring at the other agent, who seemed distraught at the loss of his freedom to release extreme metal music into the atmosphere of the training room. "Now bugger off to the bleachers! Any of you so much as chuckle, your arse is out!"
South rolled her eyes, unimpressed by the Brit's explosive reaction to their presence. "Yeah yeah, Gramps. We'll be good little fetus nuggets!"
Before anyone could comprehend what slander had escaped South's pie-hole, FILSS tuned in, voice cheerier than most intelligences of any kind in the morning. "Good morning, Agents. Shall I start the tutorial program for the training room for the newest Freelancer?"
"Freelancer?" Connie repeated, raising an eyebrow at the nearest monitor. "FILSS, I've been in here a million times. I'm not new here."
"By my calculations, there are nine lifeforms in this training hall, and as any lower rank soldiers are not allowed in this room and there are eight recorded Freelancers on the MoI, I am expected to believe another Freelancer has joined the team." FILSS explained, with as much logic as a seemingly sometimes clueless AI could.
"Now wait just a bloody minute!" Wyoming spoke up, stomping up to the nearest monitor. "Do you really think a damned lad like David is a Freelancer!?"
"I am sorry, Agent Wyoming. But if the new Freelancer is not indeed a Freelancer, I am required by protocol to have them removed by security at once." FILSS stated, looking ready to speed dial security at any second.
"Just... um... oh, yeah, David is definitely a Freelancer!" York chirped, ignoring everyone's confused looks.
"Oh," FILSS replied, sounding more hopeful now. "May I ask for the Freelancer's name then? I'm afraid no one on-board has recorded their arrival yet in my data-files."
York swallowed, looking very, very nervous. It wasn't any secret that York was a bad liar when under alot of pressure. "Yeah, he's... Agent Washington!"
"I see... I will record this in my files then. Carry on." FILSS then left them in peace, a unanimous sigh of relief bubbling into the air.
David, meanwhile, was utterly confused. "But I'm not a Freelancer." He pointed out, looking a bit scared to disobey protocol.
Carolina sighed deeply, shaking her head. "Well congratulations, David. According to FILSS, you're now Agent Washington."
"Got it, sis- Agent Carolina!" David replied, stuttering midway through his sentence. This was not unnoticed by Wyoming.
"Now then," Wyoming started, circling David, if only to break off the unwanted topic he had rolling through his brain. "Let's get down to business-"
"To defeat. THE HUNS!" Florida added last minute, slamming on his boombox like Jesus Christ was birthing from the fiery pits of Hell.
"You get back here, you blueberry colored git!" Wyoming screamed, charging after the much shorter Freelancer, who was off with his boombox over his head in mere seconds, Wyoming hot on his tail.
"I'VE GOT SOMETHING TO PUT IN YOU, I'VE GOT SOMETHING TO PUT IN YOU, I'VE GOT SOMETHING TO PUT IN YOU! AT THE GAY BAR, GAY BAR, GAY BAR! WOW!"
Everyone simple watched, staring after the very mature adult figures of Project Freelancer's top military team. "And to your left, children, you'll see Mr. Charge-Like-A-Bull Agent Wyoming, accompanied by Mr. Light-On-His-Feet Agent Florida. No flash photography please." North muttered, his eyes either shut in denial, disappointment, or a mix of both.
David also watched, a concerned look entering his greyish blue eyes. "Um... is this part of my training, sir?"
"Why yes it is, David! Your job is to- SON OF A BITCH- capture Agent Florida, rip his itty bitty pixie lungs out, shove those lungs up his arse, and smash his damned boombox!" Wyoming explained, forgetting to breathe as he pounded after the smaller man.
"I think at least 75% of that is against protocol, sir." David pointed out. Upon not being answered, he grew for the first time agitated in front of the Freelancers.
The rookie waited patiently, eyes locked onto Florida as the Freelancer bounded his way, already seeing that he'd likely swish around him at his left. Sticking his foot at just the right time, David not only tripped Florida, but he cracked his foot directly into his windpipe and sent the other flying. Florida crashed after skidding, smacking his back into a metal rack of basketballs, the sports toys bouncing everywhere as Florida struggled terribly to regain his breath. Amazingly, his boombox was unharmed and still splurting out unnecessarilly loud music. The Freelancers all stared at David, not knowing exactly what to say. No one had ever tripped Florida, except Carolina, and that was just once!
A few seconds later, Florida got to his feet, eyes impossibly wide as he stared at the young rookie. "Well... aren't you a little rascal, huh?"
South stopped her single moment of being impressed by another human being to glare at Florida. "You know he's, like, twenty-four, right?"
"Twenty-five actually." Carolina pointed out, looking nervous when everyone began staring at her. "What? I do my research on the people on-board."
"Yeah, but, why-" York cut himself off, eyes wide as he saw the blood on Florida's shirt. "Shit, man! Florida, you okay, dude?"
"Hm?" Florida glanced down, smiled, then giggled at the sight of his own blood. "Oh my, seems I've gone ahead and cut something, huh? Well, nothing a few cups of tea won't fix up!"
"You literally have a ginormous gash in your gut, Florida. I think you need more than herbal tea and hippy music." Connie explained, earning a soft grunt of agreement from Maine.
"Well, if I can't survive a little paper-cut, what good am I? I can just walk it off, really kids, I'm just fine!" Something seemed almost off in Florida's voice, enough to raise concern.
"I'm so sorry, sir!" David apologized, looking honest to God terrified that he'd seriously injured the Freelancer. "I'll make it up to you, I swear!"
"Oh, don't worry yourself, kiddo!" Florida ordered, patting David on the back after managing to make his way over to him, a noticeable limp showing. "I've had worse."
Before anyone else could object, Wyoming spoke up. "Oh, don't keep nagging the fool! He's afraid of doctors is all!"
Florida went white as a sheet, making the other Freelancers want to grin. It had always been Florida scaring them... ah, how the tables had turned. "T-That's not true! Wyoming, buddy, you know that's not true, right? It's just a silly old rumor!"
"Rumor, huh? I thought you loved gossip, Florida?" Connie asked, a sly grin on her face. "Feeling a little under the weather?"
"Um... I have to go!" Florida took off, boombox turned off as he left the gym in quite a hurry. "Wyoming is a liar, kids! Don't trust him!"
"Well... that was weird." North mumbled, standing up. "I think I've seen enough bullshit for one day. You coming to spar, South?"
"Yeah, yeah..." South muttered childishly, making it clear that she'd wanted to stay and watch Wyoming be even more humiliated. "Later, rookie! Try not to die!"
York stood up too, offering a hand to Carolina. "You coming? I have bets on the sparing match and I need to make sure North wins."
"Sure," Carolina agreed, allowing the man to help her to her feet. "I'm pretty sure South will win though. We all know she's much better at hand-to-hand than North."
"We'll see about that!" York yelled, running off after the twins. "North, her weak spot is under her knees!"
Carolina's eyes widened, soon squinting into a nasty glare as she took off after her love interest and the twins. "South, his weak spot is his dick! It's hard to miss!"
Connie smiled, looking to Maine. "Wanna go watch the twins spar? Pretty sure it'll just end with 'Lina and York wrestling and the Director yelling at them."
Maine shrugged, nodding. "Sure." He replied in a gravelly voice, standing up and waving at David as he and Connie made for the door. "Good luck."
"He'll need it." Wyoming promised, turning back to his student now that his annoying teammates were gone. "Now then, let's actually get something done, alright?"
"Yes, sir!" David responded, grinning a bit at the Freelancer. It seemed like the Freelancers weren't nearly as stuck-up and hardy as the Director... he had a good feeling about this.
"I see that Agent Church has improved in his training since he was assigned to you, Agent Wyoming. Job well done." The Counselor praised, smiling almost too warmly at all of the gathered Freelancers.
It had been three months exactly since that fateful day, when David had been assigned to Wyoming for training, and since then, his skills had improved dramatically. Not only was his shooting twice as better, but he'd begun dwelling in far more advanced weaponry. Meanwhile, the Freelancers had all grown attached to the rookie, and found it hard to see him go. It was official now; more than half of the crewmen on-board were being replaced in a week, and they all suspected David to be on that list. Wyoming smiled proudly at the Counselor, patting David on the back as the two stood before him and the Director.
"I must agree with the Counselor... stunning job, Agent Wyoming. I'm glad to see that this experiment went so well." The Director praised, scribbling something down on a data-pad.
"Wait... experiment?" Carolina sounded confused, giving the Director a raised eyebrow. "What're you talking about? I thought Wyoming was being punished for back-talking!"
"I can assure you he was, but that was not the original plan." The Director explaining, opening his data-pad to show a large screen. "You see, I was originally planning on assigning Agent McGee to be privately trained by Carolina, however, when Wyoming reported McGee and his friend's misbehavior, I took my chance. I assigned Agent Church to you to be trained instead, and by my calculations, the experiment was a complete success."
"Okay... but what was the experiment, sir?" York asked, still looking confused, just like everyone else. Even David was lost!
"The experiment was to see how well a special ops agent would improve under a Freelancers training, and it appears my hypothesis was correct; Agent Church's training accelerated at an amazing rate, far more than our expectations. As of now, Agent Church will now be assigned to the Freelancers. Congratulations, team." The Director nodded at the Freelancers, eyes glued to David and Carolina. "I believe FILSS has assigned you the state of Washington, Agent Church?"
"Oh, um, yes sir!" David replied, standing at attention. He'd started slouching when South had given him a noggie for being upgraded to the team. "I believe so!"
"No point changing it then... good luck, Agents. You're dismissed." The Director said, before leaving the room, the Counselor hot on his tail.
"So... guess I'm in, huh?" David muttered, eyes wide in amazement, shock still clear on his face. "Didn't see that coming."
"I did." And that's the only explanation Connie gave them, no secrets she'd had, no plot=points that'd led her to the conclusion early. Nothing.
On cue, Florida pulled out his boombox, raising it into the air with a huge grin. "I think it's time for a sing-a-long!" He cheered, ready to start the loudest, most offensive sing-a-long God had ever witnessed.
"Not today!" Wyoming screamed, taking chase after Florida. "I'm not having a repeat from that Vegas Quadrant fiasco!"
As Florida took off, his boombox playing 'Wrecking Ball' by Miley Cyrus, Carolina walked up to Washington and patted him on the back. "Good job there, Wash. I think you'll do just fine."
"Thanks, sis." David whispered it quietly enough that no one but Carolina could've heard it. "Hey... do you think Dad assigned me instead of McGee on purpose?"
"Maybe..." Carolina mumbled, watching Wyoming slam Florida into the ground while choking him, the boombox forgotten as it toppled over, only spitting out music louder. South and York were laughing uncontrollably at the sight. It was home. "We'll just have to wait and see."
A/N: There you go, renegadeaatl! Hope it was up to par! Please R&R, I'd love it!
~CabooseHeart.