Thanks to Private Tucker for Beta-ing and TeamKillingFTard for looking over it~

The State of Georgia

Chapter 3: Introductions

Previously:

"OK. So, now that we're are all here..." the new guy began, seriousness returning

"...let's begin."

Tucker stood vigilant behind the new Commander, surveying the shadowed cave for any sign of something out of the ordinary.

Finding nothing of immediate threat, he settled back against the rock wall behind him with arms folded protectively across his upper chest.

"First order of business, guys. What're your names?" the Commander said, turning towards the orange soldier that had just arrived.

"Private Dexter Grif, sir," the red said, coming to perfect attention and saluting.

Kiss ass, Tucker thought.

The Commander seemed to have the same idea.

"Maybe we should lay down some rules," he started haughtily, "First rule, no saluting."

Grif's hand snapped back to his side with an audible clank.

"And second, if you ever call me "sir" again, I may actually have kill you. And don't think I won't; I can just as easily blame it on that mental Sergeant of yours," he continued, sounding annoyed.

Tucker snorted.

"Same goes for you, buster," the Commander said, turning his head to look at Tucker.

He scoffed. "Yeah right. You can't blame something like that on Flowers. The damn man's a hippy; he wouldn't hurt a fly, even if it was trying to kill him. Good try, though," he said smugly, readjusting his position against the hard stone.

The Commander stared at him oddly, helmet tilted a little to the right.

For a second, Tucker was afraid that he was going to go off his rocker and start yelling.

"What's your name?" he calmly asked, his tone weirdly lighter than it had been.

"Tucker,' he replied, shifting nervously to try and avoid the intense gaze that the Commander was giving him.

Oh man, he had better not be gay. Flowers is bad enough.

"Your full-name, jackass," Private Grif supplied, his words dripping with snark.

"Oh, right. Private First Class Lavernius Tucker, reporting for duty. Nice to meet you, and all that shit," he said, his hand flopping around in a half-hearted wave.

Grif and the Commander exchanged looks quickly.

An awkward silence descended, seeming to last several minutes, but in reality was only several seconds.

"What?" he asked, when the tension reached its paramount and he couldn't take anymore.

"It's just, well…" Grif began, rubbing behind his neck as if the words he was searching for were hiding there. "Ah, hell. I may as well just come out and say it; what kind of name is Lavernius?"

"Well, at least that started off promising," the Commander muttered.

Tucker barely heard him above the dull rage which was pounding in his ears and demanding blood.

He managed to keep his cool, breathing deeply before replying.

"It's my frickin' name. So shut up."

"Ooh, good comeback. "Shut up", that's original," Grif replied, a smirk clearly evident in his voice.

"Guys! Can we try not to resort to violence?" the Commander intervened, stepping between the two, "I'd rather not have to call a medic in on my first day. Do you know how embarrassing that would be?"

"No violence? Who are you, Captain Flowers?" Just the thought of his CO sent a shiver down Tucker's spine.

"Hey, who are you anyway?" Grif asked bluntly.

"Sorry?"

"I mean, we told you our names, but you haven't told us yours," Grif continued, chucking a glance at Tucker for support.

"He's right," he added shrugging his shoulders.

"Fine. Fair's fair, I guess. You can call me G," G said, calmly, his arms returning to his side. "And I must say, it's good to know I'm not going to be alone in this stupid canyon."

"Yeah, great to meet you too," Tucker said slightly sarcastically, returning to his post against the wall.

He may as well get comfortable if they had only just finished introductions, god knows how long the actual meeting would last.

"G? What the hell does "G" stand for? And what's your rank?" Grif inquired.

"I'm a Freelancer," G stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"A what-a-er?" Tucker said, frowning.

"A Freelancer, dumbass. It's a secret program or something," Grif declared, smug at knowing more than Tucker.

"Right. I am Freelancer Georgia, g'day and all that. Now, let's get on with this meeting, boys."

Yup. He's gay.

Damnit!

"Dude, did he just call us boys?" Grif asked, facing Tucker with disgust evident in his voice.

Georgia scoffed, "Did you just call me he?"

With that, G lifted his gloved hands to his neck and found the clamp that tightly held his helmet in place. With a strong yank, it came free, and the helmet was lifted away to reveal-

Tucker felt his jaw drop to a level even with his belly-button.

Well, at least he's not gay, he thought, partly relieved and partly in shock.

Several feet away, Grif was having a similar reaction, but by the sounds of it with more choking noises.

"Stupid Voice Filter. Don't even know why Command even gave it to me. No use for it in a bloody canyon in the middle of frickin' nowhere," G said, voice softer than before.

Beneath a crop of evidently freshly cut dark hair, Agent Georgia smiled briefly at Tucker who was fighting for words.

"Wait, but… you… you're a-a girl!" he exclaimed as if such a thing were unheard of.

Maybe this whole thing won't be so bad after all. Bow chicka bow wow.

"Oh, gee, I hadn't noticed. Thanks for pointing that out," she replied with a small laugh.

One of the first things he noticed was that the laugh, short and seemingly forced, didn't quite reach her eyes.

In fact, the eyes themselves seemed dull and lifeless, as if all the energy had been sucked out.

It was then he noticed other things: the remnants of deep purple circles under her eyes, feebly hidden with a scant layer of poorly applied make-up.

The brief smile that had appeared with the laugh, and faded far too quickly to be genuine, left the bottom part of her thin face doing the impression of an upside-down quarter-full moon.

He found pre-mature wrinkles, once again inadequately hidden, and he could swear he spied wisps of grey hair sticking out amongst the black mass.

He frowned, turning away before Georgia noticed his staring.

He wasn't quite quick enough though, and she gazed at him suspiciously before replacing her helmet, removing a slotted chip from the back before re-clamping the helmet in place.

Grif hadn't seemed to notice any of that, instead staring, inconspicuous, at Georgia's chest area, probably wishing he had x-ray vision.

"OK, so, now that everyone's been introduced, and we all understand each other, we should probably get on with this thing," G said, almost casually as if nothing had happened.

"Officially, we have been assigned to Outpost 1A, also known as Blood Gulch, with orders to assist Command in controlling the actions of the inhabitants of Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha and Blood Gulch Outpost Number One. Of course, unofficially, we all know we're here for baby-sitting duty."

Grif and Tucker nodded, glancing at each other.

"You know our orders, gentlemen. So let's get to it. Are there any questions?"

"Yeah, I have one. Do you know exactly what's going to happen? I mean, I know Command has this whole thing planned out, but the report I received was a bit… vague. On details, I mean," Grif explained.

"What like the hinted time-travel?" Georgia replied casually.

Tucker intervened, "Yeah, exactly. Is time-travel even physically possible? Because if it did, I don't think they'd waste it on this stupid Canyon."

"Exactly," Grif agreed.

"I've been ordered not to say a word, guys. I don't see why, though. I know about the same as you guys, maybe a tiny bit more," G said thoughtfully, "The time-travel problem, however, I'm pretty sure I know how they're going to it," she said.

"How?" Tucker asked.

"Are there any more questions?" Georgia said, ignoring him and waiting several seconds before continuing, "No? Okay. Return to your bases, guys. Otherwise the others will wonder where you've got to. And we can't have that, can we?"

Georgia waved them off, turning and entering a tunnel to her left, shutting the rock door behind her with a sharp click.

Astonished at the abrupt ending, Tucker stayed where he was for several minutes, mouth opened a little.

"Wait, what?" he said under his breath.

Grif sighed. "I guess I better go," he said, glancing at the giant television before continuing, "If Sarge finds out I snuck out, he'll make me do laps of the base. Again," he added, muttering as he turned and trudged back up the steep path to the surface.

Tucker followed slowly behind, his mind mentally examining the meeting from the minute he had arrived, to the unexpected ending.

He lingered on Georgia's exposed face, the unhealed pain sticking out like Flower's homosexuality.

He'd seen that expression once before, albeit on a less extreme scale. It was the look of defeat, with plenty of desperation mixed in.

He'd seen it in his mother when he was twelve, right after his father had slammed the door behind him for the last time, not even bothering to look back.

It had only gotten worse from there, with his mom turning to Jack Daniels to drown out her sorrows. Tucker would often return home from school to find her drunkenly passed out on the couch. It climaxed from drinking at home to public, crashing their only car while in a drunken binge. That particular incident had almost cost Tucker his home; child services very nearly putting him in a foster care system.

He'd never seen his mother so defeated and helpless than he had during that tough time.

That was exactly what he saw in his new Commander's eyes. Something had happened, maybe even several things, each of them wearing her down until she became a desperate wreck.

All he knew, as he slipped through the stone doorway and into the entrance cave, was that whatever it was was behind her.

He only hoped that she knew that.