I'm actually on fall break during this update and staying at my parents' house so my apologies for any confusion here with the uploads! : )
Special thanks to secretlystephaniebrown, meirelle, and Yin for the feedback on AO3 and on tumblr!
Recovery None
Recovery Two II: A Game of Risk
North looked around the room - it was decent enough size for the makeup of one room, but was bare as hell. There was one box spring mattress on the floor in the far corner and a decrepit fan seeming to turn more on habit than for any functional logic.
He leaned back, really eyeing the place, as Theta appeared over his shoulder.
"We made it!" Theta exclaimed.
"Yes, Theta, but to where?" North asked critically, folding his arms. "This is beyond minimalist, buddy."
Theta's head cocked to the side and he shifted to North's other shoulder. "It's where Delta said he and York were staying all the time they were here, North. That makes it safe! And it's close to several places we can go for supplies-"
"I find it hard to believe that York stayed here for more than a few hours," North said, beginning to walk more toward the room's center.
He scowled a bit at all the marking and tell-tale signs that there had been some kind of movement within the loft recently.
North put his hands on his hips and shook his head. He couldn't imagine staying in such an inadequate space for so long.
"Just what the hell is York doing with his life?" he asked mostly to himself.
Still, Theta appeared, shrinking in concern. "I think he's looking for the others..."
"No, that's what he tells himself he's doing," North explained to Theta tiredly. "Well... maybe he is, to an extent. But... it's more than that, Theta. York's hurting and I think he believes grabbing onto something from when he wasn't is going to transport him to some time when things were better."
"Oh," Theta responded, curling his knees into his chest. "Things don't work that way, do they, North?"
"No, they don't," North responded with a sigh. "The stuff we've been through... it's not right. Don't ever think that it is. But... the only way to move forward is to let the past go. And try to make things better for tomorrow."
He shook a finger at Theta as he crossed the room, dropping their supply bag. "Remember that, Theta. It's a good life lesson."
"Got it," Theta saluted.
The little AI hovered by his partner as North achingly sat down on the box spring mattress and let out a long moan when he laid back into it fully.
"Are you going to rest, North? You walked a long way."
"Eventually," North hummed in return. "But we're not staying here permanently, so don't get too comfortable."
Visibly deflating, Theta let out a groan. "Aw."
"It's not a good place, and I need somewhere with height and lots of window access, Theta, you know the drill," North reminded Theta as he threw an arm over his eyes.
"Not every hideout has to be a sniper's nest, North," Theta countered.
"Every sniper's hideout has to be a sniper's nest, Theta," North shot back with a smirk.
"Oh, touché," Theta chuckled.
Silence fell between them again and North achingly threw his feet up onto the bed, stretching out to full length and cursing York's height when his boots still dangled off the long edge.
Theta's projected glow fell across North's face again and the former Freelancer let out a small sigh.
"Yes, Theta?"
"I was thinking," Theta drawled out, "about how we're letting the past go and moving forward and stuff?"
"Mmhmm?"
The AI curled more into himself. "But isn't going after South kind of the opposite? If York is supposed to let go of Carolina and Washington, shouldn't we let go of South?"
"No," North said softly back.
"Why not?"
He turned his head, looking carefully at the AI and let out a small smile. "Ah, Theta. It's different. We're not doing this because we can't let go of South."
Theta turned his head. "Then why are we doing it?"
"We're doing it because South can't let go of the past, we're going to help her do that," North said, turning his gaze up to the lone, ancient ceiling fan. "We're doing it so South can let go of her anger."
"She shouldn't be angry?"
"No, she has a right to be mad as hell - we all do," North continued. "But she's been angry for so long at so many people... She's going to make some dumb decisions because she's angry."
Theta hummed. "How do you know that, North?"
"Because I'd do the same thing."
The waiting game was not one of South's specialties.
Command having a lack of trust in her motivations never seemed to take her too far from their call list because, as she liked to remind them, the results of her missions were what they really had to be concerned about. And those she gave them plenty of.
At least, that had always been the rationale between them all before.
After the last mission, South had been treated to petty radio silence from her "friends" at Command.
The normal workings of the relationship were that South had to be sent out, had to recover things, had to be proactive. She wasn't there for investigation work, she wasn't there for paper work. She was there to be told where to go, what to get, and make good on it.
And it didn't take long to figure out why Command would have such an investment in keeping her out of the main infrastructure either - they had to keep her and Wash separate, after all.
It had been a week since her return from the fragment recovery and South was still staring at wallpaper, though.
Growling, she leaped off her cot and approached the vid screen of her quarters. FILSS turned on almost automatically at the movement, which was an annoyance to address another day.
"Greetings, Recovery Two-"
"FILSS, what news do they have for me?" South cut the AI short, putting her hands on her hips.
After a moment of checking her records, FILSS let out a small hum. "There are no new assignments for you, Recovery Two."
"You have to be fucking kidding me!" she snarled, hitting the wall hard enough she could already feel her knuckles bruising. "I was so close..."
"Close to what objective, Recovery Two? My records show that you were completely successful in your latest acquisition of Project Freelancer property-"
Flaring her nostrils as she stared at her reddened knuckles, South shook her head. "I was, FILSS. Don't worry about it."
Sighing in frustration, South began to rub at her face, wondering why she even bothered to get up so early, and then dropped her hands to her sides, glaring at the minimalist training equipment kept for her in her quarters. It was something to do.
"How long until the training room's free, FILSS?" South asked as she walked toward the equipment.
"The training room is currently unoccupied."
South stopped, looked to her clock. It was a little later in the morning, but nowhere near the time Wash usually called it quits from his bizarre, ritualistic morning routine. She narrowed her eyes.
"For how long is it unoccupied?" she asked darkly.
"For at least the next three days by my calculations," FILSS responded sweetly. "Would you wish for me to reserve any training hours during that time-"
"No, hold on just a fucking second," South growled, stomping back toward FILSS' screen. "Where's Washington?"
"Out on assignment."
She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of assignment? He's just supposed to be going around doing clean up and collecting junk. Filling out our little investigative reports. Last I checked, there wasn't anything for him to clean up."
"Recovery One is currently out on a Level Two Recovery assignment," FILSS explained.
"That's bullshit!" South snapped, throwing a thumb toward herself. "I handle Level Two's. That's the whole point of this fucking system you guys signed me up for. I'm here, sitting on my thumbs, waiting for you fuckers to give me something to do, and you send him on one of my missions?"
Almost without hesitation, the AI answered, "That is correct."
South let out a roar, grabbing at her hair. "I can't fucking believe it. He's actually trying to punish me. Trying to ground me like a goddamn tween. That son of a bitch, who does he think I am?" South dropped her arms, shoulders quivering in anger.
"I am sorry that you are not pleased with the assignments, Recovery Two," FILSS said, almost sounding genuine. "Do you wish to file an official complaint to be sent to-"
"Yeah, you know what, why not?" South snarked, throwing her head back. "Dear Counselor: I fucking see you, prick. Sincerely, this asshole."
FILSS released a low hum before replaying a recording of South's message exactly.
"Wait, you were taking me seriously?" South asked, narrowing her eyes at the computer. "I... What the hell, you know what? Send it. I like the way you think, FILSS."
As FILSS began to complete the task, South grabbed for her armor and started toward the door exiting her personal quarters.
"Are you wanting to reserve the training room, Recovery Two?" FILSS called after her.
"What's it matter if I do? The only other Recovery Agent is offsite, right?" South reminded the AI. "I've got free range, might as well as enjoy doing things off schedules for once."
With that, she headed out, adjusting her helmet still as she entered the halls and took to a light stroll.
Training wasn't a priority in her mind at that time. Part of the fun of the training room was getting FILSS to reserve it knowing that it was locking someone else out. Sometimes she liked to imagine it was her way of letting the former rookie know that something more than he realized was going on with the program. Most of the time she was honest with herself and could acknowledge that it was her way of testing Wash's waters.
There had been something off with him from the second she had watched him enter the Recovery Unit. She was certain of it.
South just wondered if the superiors of Recovery Command were capable of realizing that their true loose cannon on the facilities wasn't the one wearing orchid armor.
Without Wash at Command, South's attention shifted toward the grounds themselves. Whenever she wasn't alone on the base, wandering the grounds were strictly prohibited in fear of an accidental run-in.
Given that Command was already radioing her on her stroll, South had to assume they still weren't exactly fans of her wandering.
"What?" she snapped as she answered the radio.
"Recovery Two, we need your immediate return to your quarters or other private sanctioned areas," Command said firmly.
"Why?" South asked.
"Because it's an order, Recovery Two."
Rolling her eyes, South stood in the hall unmoving. "Hey, as far as I can tell, you put me on vacation. I don't have to follow orders when I'm on my off time."
"Agent South, we have an inspection from the UNSC Oversight Committee and your presence would be an anomaly with the records."
South snorted. "That sounds like a personal problem. Oh, hey. You know what might've straightened that out? If I was out in the field and your Recovery Unit poster child was knocking his own head against the walls in the training room. Y'know. The way things usually are."
"Recovery Two, you cannot be seen."
"And I won't be," South snapped before looking to the rafters. "I'm good at what I do." She couldn't help but smirk at the frustrated noises over the radio as she turned her connection off.
...
Once, back when Freelancer made sense, and even before it when the excellent performance of top marines got them on the battlefield and not stuck in an endless cycle of personal conflicts, South was the expert in stealth. And she was good at it.
She no longer had her eyes in the sky from her brother, but in some ways that made it easier.
When she was alone, South had no choice but to be the best.
She propped herself up in the rafters of the complex, considered setting her trackers, but instead started off toward the heart of Command's facility. She doubted that whatever inspection this was they were going to show off the more personalized areas of the Recovery operatives.
From there, it didn't take long for South to see a group of men in suits sticking out like sore thumbs among the battle armored Freelancer personnel.
And among them was one of South's "favorite" people.
She narrowed her eyes at the Counselor, nose curled. "Prick," she hissed under her breath before she further secured her footing and leaned in.
"As you can see, our facilities are functioning at minimal capacity at the moment," the Counselor said with a small wave around the area.
The bald man at the center of the group didn't seem too pleased, one hand behind his back as the other straightened a scarf. He stepped toward one of the windows looking in toward the labs, scowl setting of ripples on his leathery face.
"What a looker," South muttered to herself.
"I suppose I am to take this information to mean that recovery of your loaned equipment is such a low priority at this time that your Director is continuing his experimentation elsewhere."
South couldn't help but grit her teeth at mention of the Director. She had assumed as much from the beginning, having not seen any sign of the Director since the actual crash of the Mother of Invention herself.
"Not at all," the Counselor responded smoothly. "This unit was designed specifically due to the concern of recovering the UNSC equipment, and it has been very successful at doing so. It is simply that those responsible for its disappearance are a small group themselves. Removing resources from other parts of the program would be unwise in light of that."
Releasing a huff was all South could do to keep from laughing.
"If so, then how is it that they have continued to elude capture, Counselor?" the man asked pointedly, turning fully to face the Counselor head on. "And how is it that these 'other forces' have kept your leader from complying with the most basic of requests from the Oversight Subcommittee?"
"We are used to a certain amount of respect and privacy for our operations," the Counselor returned stiffly. "The previous Chairman was a good friend of the Director and understood that the sensitivity of our studies required assurances that our methodology and results needed a shroud of silence. So as to avoid leakage to and replication by other parties. Particularly those not under the advisement of the UNSC."
South watched as the older man dropped his hand from his scarf, giving her full view at last of the pendant on his lapel.
Her eyes widened. She knew that symbol.
"Charon Industries," she muttered to herself. She brought a hand to her chin and teetered forward. "But... if they were Insurrectionists... why would they be inspecting Project Freelancer? Why would they be involved with the UNSC unless..."
Squaring her jaw, South lowered on her haunches, shook her head.
Everything about the goddamn program was a lie.
She glared back at the man. "Are you the guy contacting me?"
"I believe that was an accusation, Counselor. I am surprised to hear it from you rather than our more vocal and temperamental friend," he said with a huff. "Though I suppose when the master is away, the dogs may come off their chains."
For perhaps the first time since South had joined the program, she saw the Counselor narrow his eyes.
"Your comments are rather unnecessary," the Counselor said. "I suppose we should move on to the rest of the facility."
"We should," the Chairman returned stiffly.
South watched carefully as they headed toward the labs, waiting before dropping down. She didn't like the looks of any of this, but she very much didn't like how things were looking for Project Freelancer.
Rather, she liked how they might go for Freelancer, but not while she was a part of it.
From her belt, she grabbed the business card from before and a pen.
Looking to make sure things where clear, she huddled in a corner and wrote a message of her own.
I'LL CONTACT YOU. MEET AT -4.260115,35.175476 BEFORE YOU GO.
Feeling satisfied with herself, South climbed back to her spot and laid in wait the full forty-five minutes it took for the group of men to come back around from the labs and head toward the armory. She smirked as she dropped the card, perfectly hitting the Chairman's feet.
He paused, at first unnoticed by the progressing group, and knelt down to pick up the card.
South watched the flicker of recognition in his eyes as he read over the message, then how he looked around before slipping the card into his breast pocket.
He continued forward, South headed toward the garage.
Theta apparently took North's instructions to heart. They spent the next three days surveying the various hideouts across the city Theta mapped as being best to meet their needs, and the AI seemed more than eager to move forward with their plans.
"You're such a go-getter lately," North chuckled to the AI as he tested out the visuals through his scope from the newest tower. He surveyed in a slow, arching sweep, noting all the visible landmarks and feeling the familiar hum in his mind as Theta marked them down on their map.
"Just trying to do my best, North," Theta replied cheerfully.
"And I, for one, appreciate that," North smirked, hesitating on a dark ledge across from town. "Mark down that it's a bit too busy on our seven from this spot. Could be easy for us to miss something from the turn ramp there. Not good given the traffic."
"Got it!"
North sat back, rubbing at his eyes after what felt like hours of peering through his scope and yawned. His feet kicked up onto the ledge as he rested his gun back on his shoulder.
"Everything okay, North?"
"Oh, yeah," he said with a nod. "Tired s'all. I'd say, minus that crowding at the bypass, this is the best spot we've found so far, wouldn't you?"
"I love it."
"I figured you did," North chuckled. "What will you name this one?"
"Hmm," Theta rocked back and forth on his heels. "How about 'New Nest'?"
"It does have alliteration," North responded, looking out over the city. He hesitated, a certain glimmer was in the distance. "Theta, are you picking up anything on our trackers?"
"No?" Theta responded. "What's wrong, North?"
"I'm not sure," the sniper replied, getting back into position and looking down his scope to the area of the glimmer. "Might've just seen something catch the sun wrong..." He scanned the area from top to bottom, but suspiciously saw nothing that would have even been refractive. "There's just something not adding up here."
"Wait, North! I'm picking up a frequency. But no motion on our trackers!" Theta exclaimed.
"Can you hail it without turning on our end?" North asked.
"Negative," Theta responded. "But I can trace it!"
North narrowed his eyes. "A signal you can follow but not answer without giving out our location?"
"Sounds bad, huh?" Theta murmured.
"It doesn't sound like anything I like, but we'll give it a shot," North responded, putting his rifle back. "Last time it was York, after all. Let's just be sure to not to be tracked ourselves. Sound like a plan to you?"
"Kind of," Theta replied. "I don't like it that much."
"Neither do I," North sighed. "Let's be quick and keep a good distance."
"Starting trace now!" Theta exclaimed before disappearing from North's shoulder.
North released a long sigh and began the climb down from the tower. "And here I thought today would be boring apartment shopping."
...
If he hadn't already been suspicious of the entire setup, North would have certainly been put on edge by the lack of activity on location.
He kept them two rooftops away, silently observing, keeping a good radius between them and the signal that Theta was tracing, but it still didn't seem like quite enough.
North gritted his teeth as they came to a stop and stared straight ahead to the source of the signal.
"Something wants us over there, and I don't like it," he said firmly.
"I'm still not picking up anything on our trackers, North," Theta said nervously, he appeared in a burst over North's shoulder.
"Don't do that right now, Theta, we need to keep low," North chided calmly. "It might be something from Freelancer."
Theta flickered out. "Sorry," he echoed.
"Don't worry too much about it for now," North said, standing up and looking over the area. He shook his head. "Doesn't look like we have much to go on for now. I say we head back to the New Nest and hold up for a day or two just in case. Don't want to accidentally spur attention before we're ready for it-"
"NORTH!" Theta screamed. "Trackers!"
Immediately turning on his heels, North aimed his gun toward the right just in time to see the white blur barreling toward them.
"Goddamn!" he yelled out, taking an immediate shot dead center only for the shot to meet nothing.
The image flickered in place, giving North and Theta a good look at it. The visage made North's veins run cold.
"Maine?" he said, almost in disbelief before the image disappeared all together. "I don't understand," he muttered to himself. "What's going on?"
"North! Movement further back!" Theta exclaimed.
North's eyes flickered up and he could see that through the distraction and gunfire, their location had been compromised. He cursed as he saw a large body moving - faster, more unkempt - right for them.
"I fucked up, Theta, I'm sorry!" North called out as he shot a warning shot at the figure and then turned heel to keep their distance. "I went with what I saw instead of with your coordinates, buddy. This one's on me."
"It's okay, North! Let's just run, I don't like this readout," Theta almost whimpered. "He's creepy."
"Yeah he is," North concurred just before Theta pulled up the bubble shield. North almost smacked into the projection before he heard the deflection of a bullet from behind him. He let out a breath of relief as he looked to Theta. "Thanks, Theta. But we don't have the energy to keep this thing up for long-"
"North, it's him! It's him - it's Maine!" Theta began to cry out in a panic.
"What?" North asked before facing the attacker in the distance. He swore under his breath and dropped to his knee, steadying his sniper rifle against his shoulder. "Okay, Theta," he called to the AI over the sound of shots being deflected, "On my mark, you're going to drop the front paneling to let my shot through. Sync?"
"Sync."
"Firing," North alerted before taking his shot.
As usual, Theta performed beautifully, and there was a satisfying crunch as the bullet met its mark, sending Maine reeling back a few feet and stopping him.
"Drop it now, Theta, we're leaving!" North called out before racing back the way they came.
"Doing it!" Theta cried out long after they had already been set in motion.
"If we cut things off through the next alley, how good are our chances that we can make a clean break?" North asked as he kept straight ahead, not daring to look back and see how much ground they had gained, trusting Theta to keep him alerted.
"Excellent," Theta responded. "Do you want numbers?"
"No, I trust you," North responded, swerving left the moment his feet hit the pavement below. "Scan ahead, give me the best hiding spot you can find."
There was a hum in the back of his mind as he kept his legs moving. Theta's exuberance flowed throughout him. "There's a building on the right ahead. Door unlocked. Two windows. Former shop. Lots of clutter to hide behind."
"Thatta boy, Theta," North smirked before rushing straight for it. "We've got this."
"Yeah we do!"
North easily found the building in question, grabbed the door and nearly pulled the handle off as he rushed inside. It was dark, more than a bit dank, but the clutter was excellent for sliding behind. He backed into a crevice formed by two collapsed shelves, lowered to his stomach, and aimed his rifle toward the two, dusty old windows.
Then they laid in wait.
In truth, North almost wasn't expecting to even see anything, but in only five minutes, a hulking form stalked into view through the windows.
If the figure itself wasn't familiar, the bladed weapon in its arms was.
The sniper tried to convince himself that it meant nothing, that Maine's pattern after them was a coincidence, but the former Freelancer came to a slow stop just by the door of the shop.
"Fuck," North breathed, tightening his grip on the trigger of his rifle.
With a flinch, North began to feel the aching in the back of his head, the rapid progression of waves - panic, growing terror, and a sense of dread that felt like an inevitability as he stared at Maine.
"What are you doing?" he whispered to Theta.
N-North, he wants me. N-North, 'm s-s-scared.
"Calm down, he can't see us," North whispered back. His eyes widened as Maine's domed helmet turned to face the door head on. "Shit."
The waves grew faster, stronger - like a heart beating right against his brainstem. It was beginning to feel like a drill against his skull and North screwed his eyes shut. "Theta."
Maine began to open the door, North felt his body grow numb. Theta was crying right inside his ears.
In the moment, terrified beyond anything he had felt before, North reached back to his helmet, unhitched the back, and reached for his implants.
North!? Theta cried out.
"I'm so sorry," North whispered. He ejected the chip, nearly going cross eyed with the red hot pain that overcame him as a result, and dropped his head. He was shaking - it had been countless months since Theta was out of his mind, and it felt like he was half empty the moment the AI was gone.
Body shaking, North looked back up, waiting anxiously to watch for Maine's reaction.
The man stopped, looked around seeming almost lost, then knocked over a decaying stand on his way out.
North released a long, heralding sigh, resting his head on the ground and letting his eyes slide shut.
It was Theta. Theta was sending out signals again.
And that was going to get them killed if they didn't stop it.
...
It took a while to orient himself. There was still a hollow buzzing in his head as he checked his perimeters, as he set more motion trackers at all entry points, and even more so as he climbed the tower and reassured himself that everything was clear as far as he was able to see.
Operating without Theta at that point felt like he couldn't get his head screwed on straight, and while that worried him to certain degrees - that dependence was not what he was expecting when he pulled his AI - he found himself even more worried about the little guy.
Everything secure, North at last pulled the chip with Theta's insignia out from his pocket, sat at the center of the room, and coolly took a breath as he inserted Theta's chip back in.
There was an electrified tingling that spread across his implants, branching out into his nerves, curling around the back of his skull.
There was a dull flicker of light over his shoulder that quickly extinguished.
Theta didn't come out.
"I'm sorry, Theta," North said, feeling his guts turn inside and out. "I know how much you're scared of being alone."
You pulled me, Theta whispered in his mind.
"I know," North admitted, feeling his head hang further. "I know, and I know how much that scares you."
There was a sniffling.
"Theta, please," North cooed softly. "I know you don't like it, but I had to protect you."
You didn't ask.
"I didn't have time," North reiterated clearly. "Theta, did you realize he was tracking us through you?"
"No!" the AI's voice boomed from the suit. Then, once more inside North's mind, No. I'm so so so so so so so so so SOOOOO sorry, North.
"It's okay... it's going to be okay," North muttered, rubbing his face. "We've just got to figure this out, right?"
Are you going to always pull me? Theta asked, almost hysterical.
"No, Theta, I only did that because I had to," North assured him. "You trust me, don't you? You know even if I pull you, I won't leave you alone. I'll implant you again once the danger's gone, right?"
Theta didn't answer.
North collapsed back on the floor, shaking his head.
A year - more than a year's worth of progress between them almost immediately gone.
"What did they do to you, Theta?" North sighed. "What did they do to make a fragment of trust not trust anyone?"
Theta cried the entire night.
She had expected to be waiting longer. She knew that Command's facilities were many miles long and deep, so it wouldn't have been unreasonable to expect her meeting to not even get started until well past twenty hundred hours.
But a jeep approached her in the never ending sunlight at twenty almost exactly, leading to South leaning forward on the Warthog she had taken for herself.
"Must've been pretty eager," she decided with a toss of her head.
South didn't make any moves to greet the men as they approached her location. Rather she sat back and mused at the sight of a bunch of men in nice suits stepping out of a military standard vehicle.
The bald Chairman approached her the quickest. She could see the veins bulging from his face.
"You don't seem so happy to have the shoe put on the other foot, Chairman," South said with a smirk. "Now you know why I didn't appreciate your little stunt last week so much."
"You believe I have business with you, young woman?" he demanded haughtily.
"I believe you need me," she replied quickly. "That is the reason you sent me your little card, isn't it?"
He narrowed his eyes. "I can't be entirely sure what you're talking about."
"Playing dumb isn't becoming of you, Chairman of the UNSC Oversight Subcommittee," she returned, scowl setting on her face. "And I'm getting a little sick and tired of dealing with liars and cheats. So if you do need me, and believe me, you need me no matter what it is that you need on Project Freelancer, then we need to start this little meeting of ours on more equal grounds."
He stared at her expectantly but said nothing.
South nodded. "Good. My name is Agent South Dakota. My current code name is Recovery Two."
"There is only one Recovery Agent listed among the Recovery Unit," he said.
"And we both know that's not true," South said with a point of her finger toward his lapel. "Anything else you want to say, Chairman, before I decide to blow out of here and forget this ever happened?"
Keeping his dark eyes on her, the Chairman reached into his jacket and produced the business card. "Yes, I suppose there is," he responded carefully. "I am Malcolm Hargrove, currently elected Chairman of the UNSC Oversight Subcommittee. I am also known as the CEO of Charon Industries."
South huffed. "Then we have some history, don't we, Chairman?"
"I believe we do," he responded darkly. "You realize that, should you help me, you will be indicted for quite a number of criminal acts."
Shaking her head, South snorted. "You realize that, should I help you, I'll be expecting a few benefits in return."
"Such as?"
Turning her head slightly, she looked meaningfully at the Chairman. "I need assurance that my assistance will pardon me of any unknowingly committed criminal acts," she said firstly. "I'll need equipment and certain allowances to make sure that my use of equipment on the field and any contact with you cannot be traced by Command."
"We can see to it," Hargrove responded stiffly. "Is there anything else?"
"Yeah, there is," South said, eyes flickering. "I want you to help me find my brother."
