Mission log. This is Freelancer Agent York reporting in on the events of my- no, no, no. This is a story, York, not a debriefing.
Ladies and gentlemen! This is Agent York. Ready to hear a… haha, good grief, never mind.
Well, by now I've introduced myself twice and you know my name. I'm Agent York, but you can just call me James. Unless Carolina or the Director's around, they like their codenames. I'm a fearless Freelancer, a master lock-picker, a bona fide badass and the life of literally every party, even the ones I'm not attending. Oh- hold on a sec. Yeah, D, I know. I can't be the life of a party I'm not at. It's a figure of speech. Or a metaphor. Or something. Anyway- this is how every great movie begins, right?- this is my story.
A story of- no. I'm not doing that.
A lot has happened lately… by lately I mean over the past several years… so much that I'm gonna have to catch you guys up on pretty much everything that's ever happened in my life, starting with when I met the woman who changed everything.
So, here we go. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.
Chapter One: Carolina
There she is again.
Same girl, same crazy-bright red hair… and same mean case of what I call the ol' RBF. She'd been coming here for weeks, and I'd fought the urge to go up and say hi every night I'd seen her. Not that I'd been watching her for weeks…
Anyway, almost every guy in the bar avoided her. There were always a select few girls around her- sort of a random batch every once in a while, but they weren't near as hostile as she was. Problem is, they weren't ever as beautiful as she was either.
I guess I've got a thing for redheads.
Anyway, that particular night, I was… very, very drunk. It was that weird place right between just barely knowing what's going on and being so hammered you'd be trying to figure out why you've walked around the whole house and haven't found your legs in the morning. My buddies had ditched me, and I was just sitting at the counter, messing with my lighter, when it happened.
Being that drunk was probably what kept me from losing it when that amazing-looking redhead just strolled up, grabbed my lighter out of my hand and said to me… dang it. Is it possible-? Come on, York. Think. Oh, yeah- "Stop it. You're driving me nuts." Those green eyes locked onto me like laser sights on a pair of snipers.
"Sorry," I remember saying groggily, "it's about all I've got to do. Spent all the money I brought, my buddies are gone-"
She rolled her eyes. "And you built that sad story to pick up any random girl crazy enough to sit by you."
"Y'know, that would be a possibility, but I'm not clever enough for that," I replied with a grin. "Plus," I added, "I've had one too many drinks for that to be made up. I'm James, by the way." I really wanted to use a pickup line- I had a few good ones in mind- but I stopped myself. She seemed like the type of girl who'd break my skull if I pissed her off.
"Carolina."
"North or South?" I asked.
"Just… Carolina," she snarled.
"Right. Sorry."
She rolled her eyes. Seemed like she had some practice with that.
"Hey, uh…" I said groggily, "are you as drunk as I am?"
"No," said Carolina. "I'm the designated driver for those girls over there." She pointed over to her more rowdy companions. "Now if you talked to one of them- the answer would be 'oh, so much more drunker.'"
"Gotcha. Well, if I'm being honest- can I be honest?"
She glanced at me and tilted her head. "That'd be nice. Honesty is a rare quality in bar rats."
I grimaced. "Ouch." Doesn't even need to throw a punch to leave a scar. "If I'm being honest, I wouldn't bother with them. The prettiest one in the bunch is standing right in front of me, and Iwaswonderingholdup-!" Carolina's fist was in the air. "You said I could be honest!"
"Never said what the consequences would be," the redhead growled.
"Look, I'm gonna have one heck of a headache in the morning as it is," I told her, "without you giving me a third eye. By the way you're acting, I could've just called you a slut. It was a compliment, Carolina."
Her eyes flicked away from me briefly, then back to me. "I know what men like you give out compliments for."
"As a lead up to be dropped off safely at my place?" I quipped. "All I need is a ride home. My car's here, but no way am I driving myself."
Her mouth opened briefly; her fist was still in the air. It was at that moment that I saw someone behind her.
"Mind letting your hand down, beautiful?" asked a big-bearded, biker-gang type of guy I'd hung out with before. He and two other guys were walking up behind Carolina. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't have to deal with somebody who upsets you. Come on over and sit by me, would you?"
Carolina's entire face darkened. I'd seen people get pissed before, but not like that. Her eyes darkened, narrowing until all I saw were green pinpricks of wrath. Her nostrils flared, and little wrinkles appeared all the way from her eyebrows to the bridge of her nose. Huh. That's actually kinda cute. I saw the muscles in her jaw widen as she clenched her teeth. To my fascination, her whole body seemed to join in the transformation. The hand holding my lighter clenched into a fist; I almost reminded her she had a sharp piece of metal in her hand. I saw her shoulders tighten; her chest expanded as she took in a deep breath.
Suddenly, Carolina pulled a trick I'd never forget.
With a yell, she brought her right leg up and around, pulling her entire body into a jump. Turning her body until it was almost horizontal, she spun in the air and planted her right heel in the biker's jaw. Completing her spin as the biker screamed and fell to the floor, she landed in a three-point stance with my lighter in her outstretched hand.
"No. I don't think I will." Carolina's voice was dripping with menace.
Holy crap.
The other two bikers took several drunken steps back. One of them swore at her, the other one moved to help his friend.
Carolina slowly stood up. "Sure, James," she said, "You can ride home with us. Just don't pull anything. And I mean… anything."
"Yes, ma'am."
About five minutes later- took me longer than I'll admit to actually get out the door- Carolina, her three super-drunk companions and I approached the most ridiculously fancy sports car I'd ever seen. Carolina told me to take shotgun; I complied. I'd had military training, but… nothing like what I'd just seen this girl do.
She drove to various places in the city, dropping each of the drunken girls off at their homes. Most of them lived in pretty luxurious-looking joints, gates and all. Had me wondering just what kind of crowd I was mixing in with.
When the last girl, a short blonde, got out of the car and slammed the door, an awkward silence fell between Carolina and I.
"James Brown. Ex-military, correct?" asked Carolina suddenly.
I jumped in my seat; I hadn't told her my last name… or my history.
"Don't answer." Carolina put the car, a super-fancy sports car with a name I couldn't even pronounce if I wasn't drunk, into drive and we drove down the road.
"Ah, how did you-"
"I haven't been at that bar for weeks for enjoyment," snapped Carolina, "I've been watching you."
"You're into brunettes, huh?" I quipped.
"I will break your neck if you say something like that again," Carolina snarled.
"Sorry."
Carolina ignored me. "I've read your record. Watched the service clips of you in action. You were… fairly impressive to study."
"'Kay, if this is how you make friends-"
"I'm not looking for a friend."
Oookay. "What are you looking for, then?"
"We're getting close to your apartment," Carolina told me.
"You're looking for a 'we're getting closer to your apartment?'"
"I'm looking for a soldier," Carolina said.
"What kind of soldier?" I pressed.
"The best of the best. I'm working for someone who's putting together a team of elite soldiers. He wants you to join it."
"A team of elite soldiers? What is it, then, some kinda-"
"Say Suicide Squad and I will kill you."
"Understood." I grimaced.
"We're here." Carolina brought the car to a quick, smooth stop.
"You guys do have a team name, right?" I asked.
"It's not a corny, movie ripoff name, if that's what you're getting at," Carolina said smoothly. Handing me a card, she said, "call this number within 24 hours if you're willing to join, and a Pelican will be at the roof of your apartment within the hour of you calling."
"A Pelican?" I asked, "as in, the UNSC spec-ops dropship?! What the heck am I getting myself into?"
"Read the card," Carolina exclaimed, practically kicking me out of her car.
I jumped out of the car, and Carolina stepped on the gas, flying down the road away from me.
"Crazy woman," I muttered. Quickly, I took a glance at the card. On one side was the number I was supposed to call. Flipping it over, I read one word that would change my life forever.
Freelancer.
