RED VS. BLUE THE LOST FREELANCER CHAPTER 7
Al and his team stood in the conference room with Black, Blue and Green Teams. They had been told to meet here for a special announcement and so they were now waiting for the Director and the Chairman to explain. Georgia had been taken off ship and into custody for using illegal drugs and a couple of other crimes Al didn't bother to remember; the point was Georgia was never coming back. That's when the Director walked in. The Agents saluted and stood at attention.
"At ease, Agents," the Director grunted.
That's when Al noticed for the first time since they walked onto the ship, that the Director had called them Agents, not recruits.
The other freelancers looked similarly bewildered as he continued, "The Chairman is waiting for you at the armory with new suits of combat armor for you to...choose. That will be part of what you will experience today as today is the official beginning of phase 2 of Project Freelancer. Any questions?"
York nodded and asked, "What's the difference between the armor we have and the combat armor?"
"You have so far just been using the practice armor which provides very little actual protection. The combat armor is the set that you will use on your missions with real enemies, not holograms. Not to mention the combat armor is state-of-the-art electronics and other special uses you will need."
Then North smirked. "It also may help you when the girls find out you have been peeping on them, too."
Before the recruits could even say a word, the Director said, "Dismissed!" The freelancers saluted him again and walked out of the room.
South practically zoomed down the hallway to the armory; if she had been a cartoon, there would be a dust trail behind her, Al thought. A blur of white and bronze ran by him closely pursued by a yelling green one. Carolina walked up beside him as they watched Virginia chase Wyoming and York.
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," she quoted with a smile.
Al was shocked to see her talking with him, then again he had earned some respect from beating Georgia down a peg or two; some recruits had even promised to take him out for beers one day.
"Unless there's a scorned space warrior woman."
At that, they both laughed and went on their way. Everyone else was so preoccupied with their thoughts that when CT stopped abruptly, probably due to the fact he almost ran into the armory door, the freelancers ran into each other, forming a giant pile. Carolina and Al were pushed together, in an almost intimately way, which brought blood rushing to their faces. Luckily for the two of them, they were wearing their helmets.
After they disentangled themselves (which took longer than anyone expected), they walked into the armory. The Chairman was standing beside several, different models of armor with South looking at a set labeled Mark V. Al glanced at the armor sets that were labeled "E.O.D., RECON, HAZMOP, C.Q.B., MARK V, and E.V.A."
The rest of the freelancers filed in and were looking at the armor with expressions of awe, amazement and even love. Most of the freelancers were still looking by the time he chose his piece: the RECON armor set. The main reasons? 1st was he liked how it was built to be mobile and strong; the 2nd reason was because it looked pretty cool. He could afford to be a little vain, he thought with a smile. After all, his life depended on it. The Chairman watched as he walked over to one of the areas where the armor would be placed on him with some help from the assistants. He hoped it wouldn't hurt.
It did.
Holding his helmet, Alabama watched as the rest of the freelancers filed in, wearing their new armor. For some strange reason he didn't bother to fathom, York, Wash, North, South and Wyoming were all wearing the same armor, just different colors. York, Wyoming and North chose the same colors they had worn during training but South... he had to do a double take. Pink? The all-powerful and menacing South was wearing pink...
Speaking of menacing, the giant and scary Maine was fidgeting as Virginia helped him tighten the armor. The EVA armor was the only thing big enough to fit him... plus the fishbowl helmet was kind of cool. And then there was Black Team: Nevada was brooding, in a set of gray Pilot armor; CT was in his black EOD armor, checking out some statistics on his gauntlet.
He chuckled just as a blue armored hand lightly tapped him on the shoulder. Al turned around to see Carolina in a light blue HAZMOP armor set, her helmet attached to her belt.
"How are you feeling?" she asked curiously.
He shrugged and replied, "Okay for now. I'll have to visit the training room later to catch up to you guys."
She nodded and helped him check the straps on his armor set: he had a set of dark red recon armor with a UA/HUL [3] helmet attachment, that came with a few bonuses.
Then the Chairman came in and said, "Now that you picked out your armor, please remove it and report to the classroom for final details."
At this, everyone groaned out loud in irritation.
Same Day: 'Classroom', Mother of Invention
The classroom did resemble a college classroom, ironically, and overlooked the testing room that could change into a number of training scenarios. The freelancers, now in their fatigues, sat a tables shaped into a series of giant half-circles ( like half of a peeled onion) facing a huge flat-screen. The Director stood in front of them for a few dramatic seconds and began, "Agents, this is the end of your training. All of you have been trained to the best of our capabilities. From here on out, you are official Agents of project Freelancer."
At this, the majority of the room broke into cheers and one or two freelancers even tossed up their helmet like grad. hats.
He waited a few seconds for silence before continuing, "Due to part of this experiment, each of the top four agents will be given some sort of equipment that will serve to aid the agent in the field."
The Councilor began to pass out square-like devices the size of Al's armored gauntlet out as the Director spoke, "Each of these devices is designed specially for each agent so those who decide to share or take each others, you will be court-marshaled to the fullest extent of the Navy law. Each of you that receive one will meet with me in several days to receive training in their gadgets."
With that he ended the meeting.
The freelancers poured out of the class and began looking to see who got one. Wash and Wyoming were congratulating North, who had attached his device to his belt; Carolina was getting an envious look from South before getting hugged by Virginia, barely holding onto her device; and then there was Maine who was holding his device like it may be a bomb. While York was congratulating him, Al looked at the neatly written message given to him during the meeting, along with his device.
"Agent Alabama,
Meet me in my office.
-Director Church."
21:00 Director's Office
Al stood in front of the Director's desk, fidgeting; it was the first time he had ever been here and it was more Spartan-like than he had imagined it. The Director walked in as Al immediately shot up at attention. The Director nodded at him, dismissing him, and spoke, "Agent, you are probably wondering why I called you up."
Al nodded and the Director continued, "Your scores have put you in the top four recruits, not to mention you have demonstrated great leadership in the training programs. In truth, you are respected by every freelancer and personnel on this ship... even Nevada."
Al raised an eyebrow at the thought that the Black Team's new leader was respectful of him but pushed the thought aside as the Director continued.
"Also in a couple of weeks there will be a new group of freelancer recruits to be trained in our program. Having that many new faces could cause some... conflict which is where you will come in to play."
The Director pushed a small box across his table and continued, "Agent Alabama, you are now promoted to the rank of sergeant of the first rank and the overall commanding officer of the freelancers."
Al's jaw dropped but before he could stutter out a response, the Director added, "You are the most qualified to take this position because one, you are uncomfortable with power and authority; two, you have the ability to exercise a mediating hand between any conflicts, like such as in the argument of Blue and Red Team in the co-training session. You are the only possible choice."
Al swallowed and though about the responsibility. He thought back on how he had handled the teamwork-training session and how he had reacted to Georgia... and prayed that he didn't do something completely embarrassing.
He nodded and gave a salute. "I'll make you proud, sir."
The Director returned the salute and replied, "I know you will. But before you go..."
He clicked a button on his desk and a familiar looking tiny blue figure appeared on the desk.
"You will also be partnered with one of the AI put in our care by the USNC. However I'll ask you to watch who you tell due to the fact that some may take it personally."
Al nodded and waved at the little figure who looked back before waving.
"I would like you to meet Alpha's... brother: Zeta."
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Al walked out of the office and leaned against the wall in support. He would be the official commander of the freelancers. Responsible for all the lives of his teammates and the outcomes of their future missions.
"I need a beer," he thought to himself shaking his head as he headed towards the mess hall. He paused outside the door when he heard the sounds of clinking and a strained voice saying, "Not there, THERE! You are a horrible party planner pal."
Recognizing the voice and the responding grunt, Al opened the door and walked in to see York and Maine setting up decorations around the mess hall in a festive mood. Maine waved at him... letting go of the box that York was holding, sending him to the ground with crushed fingers and a yelp of pain.
With a glare at Maine, York waved Al in and said, "I guess you saw the note on the door, huh?"
Al raised an eyebrow before checking the door: sure enough, he had missed a little post-it note saying,
Graduation Party
Freelancers only!
"Well now I have," Al responded smiling. He began to walk into the room before York shouted, "Wait!"
Al froze in mid-step and asked quietly, "You didn't place a mine down, did you?"
York shook his head and replied gleefully, "Not yet. But..-" he added at the look of Al's twitching eyebrow, "You're still dressed out in fatigues. It's a party man!"
Al then just noticed his friends were dressed in T-shirts and black pants. Chuckling, he said, "Alright, I'm going to get changed. Don't start without me!"
"While you're out there," York said running up with some notes of paper stacked in his hands. "Hand out the invitations, will ya?"
Nodding, Al took them and headed towards the dorms. He stopped by his room to change into some thing more comfortable than his fatigues, a red T-shirt and black pants. After a moment or two to take a shower, he quickly got changed and headed out. As he walked out of the dorms, he placed the corresponding letters in front of the recipient's room. Soon he was all but done with only Carolina left.
That's when his notorious bad luck occurred: just as he was putting it down next to a newspaper, Carolina opened the door, with only a towel wrapped around her. Al's eyes bulged out and he couldn't help but stare and stutter.
For a long minute, the two of them just stared at each other before Al looked away, embarrassed.
"I uh... came by to hand out your invitation. Just a little graduation celebration thing in the mess hall," he finally managed to squeak out before adding hurriedly, "Of course, if you don't want to come, I can understand-…"
"Sure I'll go," she said surprising him.
"Oh! Okay," he managed, standing back up awkwardly with small smile. "See you there!"
"See you there," Carolina replied back and with a small, barely noticeable smile, closed the door.
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By the time he had returned to the mess hall, his teammates had already finished putting up the decorations. Maine noticed the blush still on Al's face and nudged York to point it out. York glanced over and couldn't help but ask, "What's got you so red in the face?...Literally."
Startled, Al looked up before saying, "Nothing important. I'll tell you guys later."
Maine nodded, closely followed by York; they quickly began setting out some snacks from military rations (as a joke) to pieces of fruit.
The door slid open and in walked Green Team and CT, all in casual T-shirts that matched their armor colors. CT immediately headed over to the kitchen to help with preparing the food.
"Where are the girls?" Al asked North.
North shrugged and said, "South said something about sprucing up before she ran for the bathrooms."
Al raised an eyebrow: either "sprucing up" was code for something terrible or South was actually dressing up girly-wise... The first option seemed much more likely than the latter. Either way tonight would be interesting to say the least.
And just like as if on cue, the door opened once more and in walked the female freelancers. All the guys froze and Al's jaw hit the deck like a sack of potatoes.
All the girls were dressed in simple knee-high dresses, each one matching their armor. Wash stared as he walked and managed to trip over Wyoming's foot, right into the table of snacks. Nevada couldn't help but giggle before a glare from Virginia shut her up.
North moved to help but South beat him to it, pulling Wash up by the arm, then seemed to realize what she had done and backed up quickly.
"Thanks," Wash stuttered nervously.
South nodded before walking over to the drink table that had remained unscathed by some miracle and poured herself a cup of punch. With that strange moment, everyone scattered about the room and conversations began.
Al drank a bit of his cup of punch and watched as his fellow teammates made small talk around him. He sighed at the lack of actual partying being done and exchanged a glance at York. The bronze freelancer nodded and pressed a few buttons on a nearby console. Almost immediately, music began playing over the speakers as the freelancers looked on amused. Yet still no one was dancing.
Twitching his eyebrow, he looked around but was startled when Carolina suddenly said next to him, "Any ideas to promote morale, boss?"
For a moment he looked startled; how had she figured out he had been promoted? Then he realized that being the leader of Red Team made him the red "boss." After a small sigh of relief, he pondered her question and an old saying came to mind.
He put down his cup and ignoring the urge to act terrified or scared out of his wits, offered his arm to Carolina.
"May I have this dance, milady?" he asked loudly, before whispering, "Lead by example, remember?"
Carolina stared at him curiously, long enough to make Al nervous before taking his arm and they walked to the dance floor. They paused for a moment before they started to dance in a manner that was quite slow. The remainder of the freelancers watched or stared in some cases before Maine walked with Virginia onto the dance floor. South and Wash looked at each other awkwardly before South pulled him onto the dance floor unceremoniously.
And then the music changed into a more hip-hop dance-club music; Al glanced at York who just said, "I didn't make the soundtrack, pal."
He shook his head before he turned back to Carolina who had started to look a bit nervous as well. He started to slide side to side on his feet and she joined in slowly. Soon the whole gang had joined in, dancing randomly all over the room. They would party all night and would have the time of their lives because tonight, they were official agents of Project Freelancer.
