Don't Write Me A Postscript
Name: Michael Caboose
Age: 21
Service ID: Michael-210
Project Freelancer ID: California
Record Notes:
Member of Class II of the SPARTAN-II Program on loan to Project Freelancer.
Assigned to Omega Squad under Florida.
Reported MIA to SPARTAN-II Program following failed implantation of ALPHA.
Dr. Halsey provided additional information.
Noted family within the Project; designations Four-Seven-Niner and Maine. See attached files.
Leonard pursed his lips. The failure of the ALPHA implantation still rubbed him rather raw; in part because of the damage it did to California and Alpha both, and in part because he needed Halsey's help in essentially removing California from the SPARTAN-II Program. The discovery of California's relation to Maine and Four-Seven-Niner was an unprecedented surprise, and one that Leonard worked hard to hide. There was no telling how they'd react to California being their brother, given the SPARTAN Program's tendency to kidnap children and replace them with flash clones.
Name: Kaikaina Grif
Age: 24
Service ID: 00215-85769-KG
Project Freelancer ID: Kansas
Record Notes:
Fast-tracked into Freelancer due to impeccable service record.
Paired to Agent Florida for complimentary skills.
Highly trained Infiltration Specialist with additional undercover training.
Disruptive behavior noted.
Noted family within the Project; Private Dexter Grif acquired from UNSC Military after medical discharge. See attached files.
Kansas was an interesting member of Project Freelancer. Leonard frowned lightly; Florida picked her up almost instantly and practically begged Leonard to let her be a part of his little sub team of infiltration specialists. Given how Kansas could seemingly shift the type of personality she put out Leonard wasn't too hard pressed to give in to Florida's request. Her brother, on the other hand, had an impeccable service record. If only the resulting trauma from his time in the military hadn't ruined him he would've made a great agent himself.
Name: Franklin Delano Donut
Age: 28
Service ID: 08295-64381-FD
Project Freelancer ID: Hawaii
Record Notes:
Arms Specialist reassigned to Freelancer per request.
Specific training as Grenadier. Assigned to Beta Squad as rear support.
Reassigned to Omega Squad per Florida's request.
Questionable comments from Agent noted.
Counselor refuses to handle Agent.
Leonard snorted. He could remember Hawaii. He could remember the way Price left the room after Hawaii with such a constipated look on his face. Leonard found Hawaii amusing and a bit of a breath of fresh air. He'd watched the man turn heads with innuendo and how perfectly placed it was. He flipped the file and then frowned when he reached Montana.
Name: Jacob Jenkins.
Age: 27
Service ID: 97165-32850-JJ
Project Freelancer ID: Montana
Record Notes:
Infiltration Specialist assigned to Omega Squad under Florida.
Talented at information gathering.
Acquired from outside UNSC Military and Navy per request.
Prior history of criminal activity noted. See attached.
Montana, one of the KIA's on the list supposedly noted to Agent Maine. Leonard closed his eyes and flipped the page. The last name on the list was Oregon.
Name: Cornelius Thromwell Andersmith
Age: 29
Service ID: 55314-06289-CA
Project Freelancer ID: Oregon
Record Notes:
Acclaimed sniper; long range communications specialist.
Acquired from Insurrectionist movement on abandoned colony planet Chorus.
Concerning theories surrounding the loss of the Chorus colony.
Assigned to Omega Squad under Florida.
Andersmith—Oregon—wasn't even noted on the list of potentially missing or killed agents. It left Leonard curious as to why. With a sigh Leonard leaned back and folded his hands in front of his lips. The list was extensive, and almost all members at one point or another worked under Florida. Leonard had no doubt that Florida chose the "reinforcements" and "replacements" with care and purpose. Combine this ecclesiastic group of recruits with the ecclesiastic group of Sim Troopers and it made for a nice pretty picture.
It certainly fit the mimicry of the Desert Gulch troopers well, Leonard mused, but that wasn't the important part. The important part was realizing that he'd missed this Agents and no one brought it to his attention. Leonard frowned and pulled the folders up side-by-side. He swiped away Montana's—the agent was dead, there was nothing to be done there—and then swiped away California's—that man was already far too attached to Alpha as it was.
Hawaii, Leonard noted, was actually on loan to the UNSC Ambassadorial team that Lavernius Tucker was assigned. Leonard tossed that file aside as well. That left Kansas—and Leonard grimaced at the thought. Kansas was a trip and a half, and what's worse is that she'd have an attachment because her brother was on the Blood Gulch Red Team, despite her assignation to Blue Team Command. Plus Leonard couldn't quite count on how she'd react to him pulling her back into the Freelancer mess with Alpha, Maine, and Washington.
Considering Agent Maine's track record and that Kansas' brother might be placed into the line of fire with her participation, Leonard paused the thought to contact her. That left, out of everyone, Oregon. Leonard pressed his lips together. Oregon was interesting, out of the group, although everyone Florida hand picked were, at their core, interesting. Out of everything there wasn't much known about Oregon. His status as a former Insurrectionist was kept from everyone—although Florida unearthed it as Florida always did—but that wasn't even the kicker, really. The fact that Oregon supposedly came from the Chorus colony, a colony that the UNSC had long listed as abandoned and lost due to unknown factors, but he'd had interesting tales to tell about the Chorus colony.
Leonard hummed and tapped on Oregon's file.
"Xi, dear?"
Xi popped up. "Yes grandfather?"
"Contact Agent Oregon," Leonard said. "I have a job for him."
Xi flickered, and then said brightly, "Of course, grandfather!"
Leonard browsed the list again, and then mused, "And leave the surviving members as MIA. It would not due to alert any…specific parties to their true status. Or information. Use a backup of Gamma to assist you."
"I don't like Gamma," Xi pouted.
"He's a devious liar who will make the changes to their service records more believable," Leonard pointed out logically. "If it makes you feel any better he cannot leave the containment unit."
"Very well," Xi relented and disappeared.
Leonard sighed. While frustrating that V.I.C. called all of Omega Squad following the reported death of Florida—by aspirin of all things—it was ultimately understandable. Leonard doubted that the death of Florida was a mere accident. The man was more than aware of his own weaknesses and paranoid to boot; it made him the perfect partner for V.I.C. in Blood Gulch. Still, the entirety of Omega Squad…Leonard frowned.
"Should have terminated that damn program," Leonard grumbled. "Overreacting as always." There was no real heat in the words though, merely exasperation, and honestly in the end that overreaction was perhaps the one reason why Alpha survived as long as he had. Leonard couldn't' fault V.I.C. his insane paranoia, given everything. Leonard found himself fairly paranoid now, even.
"Xi, end secure," Leonard called out. He'd secluded himself away for long enough. Fairly quickly the data that Leonard viewed vanished, replaced with mundane information. F.I.L.S.S. popped back up on the screen, a waveform in the shape of an eye.
"Done, Director," F.I.L.S.S. intoned.
"Thank you, F.I.L.S.S.," Leonard sighed. "Thank you."
They landed on Rhodam with little fanfare and were supplied a jeep much to Agent Washington's consternation. Church caught something about fucking cars but decided not to press considering his own rather short fuse. He'd been strung like a wire ever since the call from the Director and prone to lash out at those around him. It reached the point that even Caboose started to avoid him if only because Church was so prickly right now.
When they finally did get into the jeep and drive away everything made sense.
"Where did you learn to drive?!" Church shrieked.
"I didn't! Taught myself!" Wash shot back, pulled the jeep around a curve way too fast and Church gripped his seat tightly. In the back Caboose hollered like he was on some sort of rollercoaster ride. Church wanted to grab him, shake him, let him know their very lives were on the line here—when the jeep rolled over and came to a rather spectacular crash with them still inside.
"SONNOVABITCH!" Church screamed. He could hear a dangerous sort of rattle, then the sound of something cracking, and then there was smoke as the jeep rolled over the edge of a cliff. "YOU FUCKIIIIING DIIIIIIICK!" They rolled over and over—and Church swore Caboose started to moan in the way that meant he was going to be sick—before they came to a sickening crunch upside down.
For a moment they hung there, upside down, and then Church flailed as the reality sunk in. "Caboose? Caboose?!" he shouted.
"Ow," Caboose said. "I think I do not like this ride, Church."
"You and me both," Church grumbled. He heard the faint sound of something like power armor scrambling for a buckle and with a start Church snapped, "Caboose don't—" and then there came a definite click and Church grimaced at the followed thunk and then Caboose's faint, "Ow."
"We're upside down, dumbass," Church grumbled. "You better not have hurt your damn head any more than it already is."
"I feel a bit sick," Caboose said plainly.
"Don't throw up!" Church shrieked, flailed, and scrambled for his own seatbelt.
"I think I smell fire, too," Caboose said just as Church got his own seatbelt unbuckled and crashed down onto the roof of the jeep. "Yes, I smell fire. Church. Is the engine supposed to be on fire?"
"What?" Church pushed himself up, and then paled at the sight of flames on the front of the jeep. "How the fuck did he—"
"Uhm, Church," Caboose continued, "I think we should leave. Soon. Fire is bad, right?"
"Right!" Church jolted into action. "Fire is very bad!" Church scrambled to get Washington unbuckled, grimaced at the sight of the man completely unmoving, and grunted when he eventually fell down onto Church.
Caboose scrambled out of the jeep, and then over to the side where he pried the door open and hauled both Church and Washington away from the wreckage with one under each arm. He ran fast, because Caboose was fast, in some random direction and only stopped when he heard the loud boom of the jeep completely, illogically, exploding. Only then did Caboose set Church down, and carefully set down Agent Washington.
"That should not have been possible," Church grumbled and yanked off his helmet. He was never more thankful that Agent Washington insisted they wear full power armor in the jeeps even if he found the idea illogical at first. "Caboose, helmet off," Church snapped out as he knelt down next to Agent Washington.
"Yes, Church," Caboose replied and carefully pried his helmet off. Church worked on removing Washington's helmet as well, and then bit back a curse when he saw the bleeding cut on the Freelancer's head.
"Head wounds bleed a lot," Church murmured consoling to himself. "They bleed a lot, he's okay." Carefully Church shifted Agent Washington to check at the neural implant interface in the back of his neck, and sighed in relief to see it fairly intact. "Probably concussion, but okay."
Caboose dropped down beside Agent Washington, and Church moved to him next. He checked the back of Caboose's neck and relaxed when he didn't see anything damaged from the drop. Then Church moved in front of Caboose and began to check his reflexes. "Follow my finger," Church said and then dragged his finger across Caboose's vision. His eyes were off, Church noted. Sluggish, slow, and pupils oddly dilated. One looked larger than the other, and Church grimaced. "Definite concussion."
"Bad?" Caboose asked.
"Yeah, Caboose, bad," Church agreed tiredly. "Stay right here, watch him, and don't fall asleep. I'm going to go and grab enough twigs to start a fire." Church glanced up at the sky. "It'll be getting dark soon." Church was just thankful that Agent Washington crashed them right into a forest.
Wash groaned and rolled his head over something rather soft. He could smell dirt and trees and his head felt like someone jammed it with a hammer or ten. He could hear Church say something, and the smell of vomit, and then Caboose really loud. Wash flinched and squeezed open his eyes. Something bright nearly blinded him and he felt his stomach rebel angrily.
"What th' fuck?" Wash rolled to his side and tried to push himself up.
"Slow down!"
Suddenly there were arms around him; they helped him up and carefully leaned him back against a tree and Wash winced. Who was—the face was blurred. He blinked and squinted and tried to parse what his brain saw.
"Dad?" Wash mumbled tiredly.
"Guess again, fuckface," dad said and Wash listed slightly to the side. "Oh my fucking god, stay still. Drink some water. Here. Slowly."
"Yer 'n ass," Wash mumbled while dad shoved a glass into his hands and helped him tip it back to drink. "Fuckin' basterd."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure your old man is a complete asshole," dad grumbled. "Follow my finger." He dragged a finger in front of Wash's face and Wash tried to follow but he couldn't quite. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."
"Is Washingchurch okay?" Caboose asked and Wash felt a smile to his face. He kind of liked Caboose. The larger man reminded him a little bit of Maine in being a large, gentle giant. Well before Sigma, at least.
"No, Caboose, he really isn't." Dad scrubbed a hand down his face. "Fuck. I'm not a goddamn medic I can't…fuck."
"Why d' ya cer?" Wash slurred. He listed to the side again, but dad grabbed him and straightened him up.
"I get it, daddy never cared for you, but fuck Washington I'm not your dad."
Wash blinked, squinted, and tried to parse just what dad said.
"Bu' ma…s'd…"
"God fuckin' dammit, Washington, you picked me up from High Ground. I'm barely twenty-two!" dad shrieked.
Wash winced and squinted and then rasped, "Private…Church?"
"Finally," Church threw his hands up into the air. "What do you remember?"
Wash grimaced and listed to the side. Church caught him with a soft curse. "Dun'…car?"
Church hissed between his teeth. "Yeah, there was a car. You were driving. We crashed. What the fuck."
Wash listed to the other side and Church quickly grabbed him again. He prompted Wash to drink and Wash did so, except he felt really tired. All of this was just too much. Dad and Church and his head hurt and he couldn't see straight and he wanted his ma something fierce. "M'sorry."
"Goddammit Wash don't you fall asleep—Wash—David! David you stay the fuck awake!"
Wash listed to the side, his eyes slipped shut, and he fell back into unconsciousness.
