(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about the slight delay with this one, just needed to edit some scenes for plot consistency, etc! Actually, this leads me nicely into a point that I would like to broach, which is that we, and by that I mean, the Freelancer Collaboration, are looking for an editor, or possibly editors, to go through submitted DocXs and basically just polish them up before publication, a job that I've done up to now but with Christmas examinations coming up, I really need to offload some work. So basically, I'm looking for some help, from people either already part of the collaboration or even others not, as of yet, involved. If anyone is interested, just PM me and I'll send you further information about what is involved. Of course, there's got to be some sort of selection process, so I'll have to take stock of your editing abilities, through some sort of test.
For further incentive (cos I really need some help here guys, this will come with moderator status. Basically, access to the Collab account, a say on who we pick when we're looking for new writers, etc).
By the way, did I mention that we'll be looking for new writers soon? (Am fully aware that I have) That's right guys, on the 25th of November, less than a week away, we'll be opening up our forum for applications for OCs, 479er, the Counselor and Agent Washington!
Also, we have a new blog set up, at thefreelancercollaboration dot blogspot dot com (obviously the "dot" should be . and remove the spaces). Headed by the amazing ann1795, it'll feature articles from members of the Freelancer Collaboration and its roleplay forum, concerning both the collab itself and their own fields of interest! Check it out! (A link can also be found on our profile for those having trouble finding it).
Anyways, back to the chapter at hand, featuring the first appearance of our new writer for Agent Carolina, replacing ParabolaOfMystery, RocketTortoise! He'll be taking on the character from here on out, so expect to see a lot more from him in the future!
Enjoy! (Phew, that was a long Author's note!)
Chapter Nine – Message for Carolina
Agent Carolina
Written by RocketTortoise
"Letting go doesn't mean that you don't care about someone anymore. It's just realizing that the only person you really have control over is yourself." ― Deborah Reber, Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul
Carolina had decided that she didn't like Grifball.
To be honest, she had been fairly indifferent to the sport itself, as, to her, it had always seemed like high-paced and adrenaline fuelled acts of random violence. However, she had quickly noticed the almost warlike tactics used by the Runners and the Defenders when the bomb was in their possession, and couldn't help but feel excitement whenever either team got close to scoring. Indeed, when Rampancy's Tank had hit Maverick's Hybrid so hard with his gravity hammer that the guy actually left a dent in the durasteel wall, Carolina had sat up and taken notice.
I've got to get my hands on one of those one day, she had mused, eyeing the Tank's gravity hammer with a new sense of respect toward the athletes.
What had really tipped Grifball over into the dislike-section had been the squad of Insurrectionist soldiers, publicly executed a man on the court, while Carolina and the rest of the Freelancers had been forced to stay in their seats, impotent without their weapons and armour, surrounded by armed enemies.
Outgunned and unarmoured, charging in to save the man would have been suicide, so the only thing the seven former Freelancers could do was watch, as Arkansas, their former teammate, now enemy, explained that the UNSC official, Dr Simon Eisenberg, had been in charge of creating a biological weapon aimed at killing the Covenant while leaving human soldiers unharmed. Of course, that hadn't been the reason why Ark had dragged him out there, revealing that the scientist's experiments had resulted in the deaths of over a million human settlers after a "containment leak", or, more correctly, UNSC approved weapons testing.
The Freelancer-turned-traitor had then killed Dr Eisenberg, much to the shock of the audience who had just come to watch some Grifball. And then, just to make the night that little bit more memorable, Pennsylvania had dared to show his face as well, after abandoning Project Freelancer and murdering a fellow agent.
As the pool of blood spread around Dr Eisenberg, Carolina's fists had clenched so tightly and she had ground her teeth with so much force that for a brief moment she had been worried that she would burst a blood vessel. There had been moments, before the execution, when she had appraised the nearest Innie, waiting for a moment to strike, but one look from York had gotten her to back down. How could he be worried about her after everything that had just happened, after everything they had been forced to witness?
Now she had to sit through countless paramedics checking her over for shock, which soon proved to be pointless, a waste of both their time and her own. She had been top of the Leaderboard at Project Freelancer. She didn't go into shock, full stop. That had been bred out of her as a child. When she had finally been deemed to need no further attention by the paramedics, she had been taken aside and interviewed by local UNSC forces, which soon proved to be just as tiresome. Firstly, the soldiers whom she had to deal with were incomprehensibly incompetent. They weren't far above the level of the red and blue simulation troopers the Freelancers had used for training, and that, admittedly, was the reason why these soldiers were kept away from the front lines. They were asking all the wrong questions and Carolina, kicking into autopilot, began to advise them, helping them fill in the gaps that they hadn't even noticed were present, pointing out the things that they should be looking for, all with the slightly weary air of a woman addressing a group of people far beneath her.
She had gotten the sense that they hadn't liked her all that much.
Carolina told the UNSC soldiers exactly what what had happened when the soldiers had invaded the Grifball stadium and executed Dr Simon Eisenberg, sparing none of the details, other than the identities of the three ringleaders, knowing full-well that it just would have spawned more questions into her background, and she simply did not have that kind of time. Carolina sighed to herself, shaking her head. How had she ended up on the same side as these morons? If these were the kind of people tasked with finding Penn, Ark and the rest of their organisation, then the chances of stopping them were swiftly fading to zero.
Carolina could feel the frustration rising within her again. She should be the one tracking Ark's new Insurrection, not these idiots. The morons couldn't find a bowl of milk if they were sitting in it. Unfortunately, she and the rest of her team were to remain side-lined while the UNSC's worst investigators stumbled around playing Sherlock Holmes.
Eventually Detective Inspector Moron Number One let Carolina return to the rest of her team, telling her to be careful and asking her, on the off chance that she might later remember anything that could help them with their investigation, to call the authorities. He gave her a card displaying the number for the investigation's hotline, and when she flipped it over she realised that a second, handwritten number had been scrawled on the back. She looked up and the soldier gave her a sleazy smile and she literally felt vomit start rising from her stomach. She issued a death glare in his direction and left, rendezvousing with the rest of her team, throwing the card into a bin without a second thought.
All six of them had apparently already been released from their own interviews and turned to her when she approached. "Your interview took a while," North Dakota stated to Carolina, his voice tinged with curiosity. "They call you out first and yet you were last to come out."
"Were they giving you are hard time?" Florida asked sympathetically, his slightly bloodshot eyes and trembling fingers betraying how much he was craving another drink.
York just laughed. "Please, the Covenant and the Insurrection combined couldn't give our fearless leader reason to blink, let alone some dumb-ass mall cop who's finally been giving something interesting to do!"
"It was kind of weird though," Georgia muttered a little quietly, clearly troubled, and Carolina was pretty sure she knew why. Idiot still held out hopes that Ark could come back, as if the Director would even allow within a dozen miles of the MoI, well, at least while he was breathing.
Carolina noticed that California and South Dakota hung back, silent and grim-looking. Neither looked especially calm at the moment, and Carolina couldn't blame them; she wasn't in the best of moods either. "Let's just get out of here." It had been a long night and Carolina just wanted to put all this crap behind her. So much for York's idea that the game would provide the break they all needed…
As they walked through the streets towards their apartment block, Carolina scanned the faces of the others, trying to gauge their moods. Florida was, surprisingly, grim and quiet, a far cry from the cheerful, happy-go-lucky agent that she remembered from their time in Project Freelancer. Carolina had long wondered if that had really been how Florida actually felt or if the uncompromising cheerfulness was all just part of a façade for the sake of the others. Now, it seems, she had her answer.
If Florida looked worried, he couldn't hold a patch on North. The blond kept glancing back at his twin sister, who trailed behind with California, neither of them speaking or looking at each other. Georgia was unsurprisingly affected from the encounter with Arkansas. The two had been roommates aboard the Mother of Invention, and after spending so much time with a person, and becoming as close as Ark and Georgia had been, Carolina couldn't imagine the pain that Georgia had felt at Ark's betrayal, knowing that he, of all people, should have seen it coming. Tonight, looking on helpless as that person executed a UNSC scientist in front of innocent civilians, Carolina had little doubt that all of Georgia's old doubts and self-disgust would be rising up once more. She would have to keep her eye on him.
South looked gloomy, a change from her normal mixture of petulance and anger, Carolina suspected that the same thoughts that were running through her own head were also going through South's. South was probably wishing that she could be in the field, chasing after Ark and Pennsylvania, just as Carolina was, as neither of them were suited to the life of a citizen, not in any shape or form. However, if South looked gloomy then California looked positively murderous.
The scarred man hadn't spoken a word since the threats he had issued against Ark after the execution, and when Florida had tried to cheer him up California had snapped off some choice insults, knowing exactly where to strike to make the older man wince and leave him be. Carolina didn't approve, but couldn't really blame him. California had grown especially close to Agent Michigan on the Mother of Invention and Arkansas had killed her. It had been all that she and York could do to keep him from leaping to his feet and charging towards Ark once he appeared, an action that would have resulted in certain death, both for him, and for the rest of the group.
Personally, if she had the chance, Carolina would hang Ark and Pennsylvania to the aft of the Mother of Invention by their intestines, as it jumped into slipspace. She couldn't really attribute the hate she felt towards Ark and Penn to personal reasons. While she had been roommates with Michigan on the Mother of Invention, the two hadn't become all that close, certainly nothing like Ark and Georgia had been, and while Carolina didn't doubt that Massachusetts genuinely cared about her teammates, including Carolina herself, she hadn't tried to get to know Massachusetts very well, apart from her skills and her contribution to the team. However, the two had been members of her team, and Carolina had been their leader. As the leader, she had been responsible for the well-being of her team and in that regard she had failed miserably. Carolina would not let the deaths of two of her teammates go unavenged. Ark and Pennsylvania wouldn't – couldn't – be allowed to get away with it.
Carolina growled to herself. How could she declare that Ark and Pennsylvania will be brought to justice when here she was, stuck on the side-lines while the UNSC's "finest" let the two run laps around them, and seemed no closer to catching them than they had been when Project Freelancer was shut down months back? She could feel the rage and frustration boiling away inside her in a way that she hadn't felt since the collapse of the project. Ever since that day, Carolina had been drifting along without a clear purpose, apart from looking after her team. There was nothing that she could do about Ark and Penn for the time being. Without Project Freelancer's resources, she was in no position to chase them across the galaxy, but that didn't stop her from wanting to, with every fibre of her being.
Really, Carolina didn't know what she would have done if she didn't have the others with her. She probably would have simply collapsed under the pressure of making some sense of her new life, a life without purpose or goals, a life without Project Freelancer. And that made her mad. She didn't like relying on the others to keep her sane. She didn't like needing the others to hold her up to prevent her legs collapsing under the pressure. That wasn't what a leader did. A leader inspires others to become stronger, to better themselves. And to inspire, a leader must be command the respect of her team, therefore she must be strong. And Carolina didn't feel all that strong at the moment.
She felt helpless.
She bit down the urge to scream, her fists clenching as the group made their way silently through the streets. She could feel the Insurrection mocking her for being unable to stop them. Mocking her for allowing high-level morons to be the ones tasked with bringing them to justice, and avenging Mich and Massa's deaths. Mocking her for having fallen so low and feebly stirring in the pool of her own weakness. Mocking her for dragging her team down with her.
But how could she become strong again? How could she rise from this pit of pathetic self-pity she had sunk into, and regain the strength to be the best again? How had the Director not seen this coming?
"Home, sweet home," York muttered quietly by her shoulder. Carolina was shaken out of her self-pitying inner monologue and she looked up at their apartment building with a conflicting mixture of resentment and relief. York stopped at the front door and turned towards them, trying to smile, but failing. "Look at us. Someone needs to organise an orchestra of the galaxy's smallest violins and play depressing ballads while we cry ourselves to sleep! Bit of a step down for us, eh?"
Unsurprisingly, everyone in the group ignored him, barring Florida and North, the former giving York a pat on the back and the latter nodding his head in acknowledgement, but no one said anything in return.
The apartment building they stayed in wasn't exactly the flashiest. As York had once said, "Apparently going through hell and coming out the other side doesn't get you a decent paycheck." As soon as they reached the apartment, the seven men and women headed to their respective rooms, to get some rest after what had begun as a pleasant (perhaps not the best term to describe Grifball) night, but had descended into their collective worst nightmare by its end. So much for York's plans.
Carolina, unsurprisingly, ended up being unable to sleep. It was almost like the night still had one final sucker punch to deliver that it didn't want Carolina to miss out on. What was next? Perhaps a giant beast from deep underground will rise and lay waste to the city? Why not? It wouldn't be the most surprising thing to happen to her today.
She stared up into the darkness and listened to the silence, waiting for something to happen, feeling like she expected a squad of Covenant Elites to come storming out of the darkness and fill the silence with plasma fire and roars of war that deafened the ears. When she was met with nothing but the heavy breathing from Georgia, Carolina quickly decided that she needed some air.
Carolina rose from her bed silently and left the room. She exited the apartment and climbed the stairs to the roof, feeling tense and alert, adrenaline pumping through her veins for reasons that she couldn't identify. She hadn't wanted to take the elevator to the top floor, she needed to move around and feel her muscles work. When she reached her top she was suddenly assaulted by the chilling bite of the cold air. Carolina staggered to the rail at the edge of the rooftop, and clasped her hands around its cold metal surface. As the cold slowly took the edge away from her frustration, Carolina took several deep breaths then screamed out at the city, screamed out at the incompetent UNSC forces stumbling about after two of the most dangerous men in the galaxy, screamed out at the Insurrection and finally screamed at herself, for letting it get this far. Carolina didn't know what she could and should have done, but she was damn sure that she could have done more than she had.
Her mind flashed to Arkansas that day in the training room on the Mother of Invention, when he had revealed to Carolina that he knew who she had been before Project Freelancer. It then flashed to the training fight that Carolina competed in against Pennsylvania, before the battle at Byzantium, in order to decide who would be Project Freelancer's Number One, and she remembered the agony when Pennsylvania cracked her spine over his knee. She could remember the pain of her vertebrae almost splitting under his brute strength. She remembered Arkansas screaming at the Director after he had fired the MoI's MAC on the city of Triestina. How different would the Director be in Ark's eyes to Dr Eisenberg? Would the Director be Ark's next target?
Carolina slid to the ground, exhaling heavily after that emotional out-pour. "Well that was attractive," a familiar voice stated, a slight smirk evident in the tone. Carolina looked up and saw York walking up to her. "I thought you'd come up here eventually. I've been waiting since everyone went into their rooms. Didn't think I'd be able to sleep."
Carolina didn't respond to York, not trusting her voice not to break after her recent bout of shouting. York gave up waiting for a reply, and sat down next to Carolina, leaning back against the rail. After a brief pause, he continued, "I don't know what you think of us, Carolina, or how you see us, but you're more than just a leader to us, all of us. You're a friend," York hesitated before adding, "Well, maybe we should exclude South from that, but anyway, you should that we're here for you. We're not your subordinates anymore, you don't have to prove yourself to us. There isn't any Director to look down on you, no Leaderboard to rank us, we aren't Freelancers anymore. None of us are at the top of our game at the moment, not even Florida. What we don't need is a cold, emotionally dead machine standing apart from us. We need you back, as a friend, and a leader too. That is the only way we're ever going to get over this whole mess. You don't have to worry about Harper or Ark or Penn. There are other people out there more than capable of dealing with them. We've served our time. It's over for us."
Carolina scowled. From York's point of view, she knew that everything he had just said made perfect sense. Unfortunately, they were very different people. She couldn't just let things go like he could. "You don't get it, York. I was raised to be a soldier. I was raised to fight and kill and die, as a soldier. I don't know how to live a quiet life, get a normal job and settle down somewhere in the suburbs with two-point-four kids, a nice house and a 401k." She saw him open his mouth, about to interrupt, but she cut him off. "I've always been the best at everything. It's who I am. No matter what I do, I can't escape that. I'm a soldier, and not just a good one, but the very best. I can't say goodbye to that. It's all I've ever known."
"Carolina, you're wrong. No one is born to die as a soldier. Everyone has a chance to make their own choices in life, to choose the path they want to take. Look at me! Do you think I was raised to be a Freelancer? Just because your parents raised you to be a soldier, doesn't mean you have to die as one. There are a bunch of people downstairs who believe differently, who see something more in you than just a stone-cold killer," York paused, thinking momentarily. "Look at us right now. We gave up everything for that program, and how were we rewarded? We were pitted against each other, lied to, and eventually, look at what happened to Mich and Massa. That wasn't – isn't – fighting for something meaningful. That's collateral damage."
"So you're just going to let Michigan and Massachusetts die in vain?" Carolina felt her temper rise again.
"Yes, if it gives us a way out and a chance to do something meaningful with our lives. Do you think I like saying that? Do you really think that I don't want to see Ark and Penn dead? But I'm not going to see us die chasing after them, Carolina! I'm not going to see you die!"
"Enough, York," Carolina snapped, not willing to enter this area again, not after their last conversation. "You don't know what it feels like for me to watch someone die because I failed. Michigan and Massachusetts died because I failed. It was my job to protect the members of my team! And. I. Failed. Then I have to watch as the UNSC stumbles after their murderers and I can't do anything about it. It was our job to protect humanity! How can you watch a man die, and only worry about me?"
York stared at her for a long time, eyes blazing defiantly, "Because I…"
Carolina finally snapped. She didn't know what it was whether it was denial reacting with the emotions she had bottled up for so many years, or the emotions she had been steeling herself against all night. After everything that had happened, whatever her feelings for York were, they didn't mix well in that cocktail and she exploded, "SHUT UP!"
That single sentence stopped York in his tracks. His eyes opened wide, like a deer caught in headlights. She saw the pain behind those eyes, the doubt, the uncertainty, and above all, the unconditional love he felt for her, and she knew he always would. She couldn't stand it and broke eye contact, looking down at her feet. She rose, unsteadily, and fled from the rooftop before York could stop her. That is, if York tried to stop her. Carolina raced down the stairs with her room in mind as her destination, but only made it to the front door.
When she walked up to the door it opened from the inside, swinging away form her. Florida was standing there and almost bumped into Carolina. His mood seemed tired and sombre but when he saw Carolina he offered her a weak smile, his eyes regaining some of his old spark. How did he really feel?
"Oh there you are, Carolina! I was about to go looking for you since you weren't in your room. There's a call waiting for you," Florida's eyes fluttered subconsciously. "You'll never guess who it is."
Florida stepped back inside. Carolina was in too much of a state to make any deductions as to who the mystery caller could be, so she simply followed her older teammate inside. When he turned to enter his room, Carolina broke off and headed towards the video phone, which was fixed to the wall. She attempted to check the number of the caller but the caller I.D. had been hidden. She pressed the green button on the screen, accepting the call, and the screen sparked into life, revealing the last person that Carolina had expected to see, however tragic that might sound.
"Good evening, Agent Carolina," the former Director of Project Freelancer greeted in his southern accent. "It has been a while."
Carolina only nodded. Why was he calling? To catch up? Her birthday had been months back, and he had actually remembered it for once, so it couldn't have been that… The Director continued, "You should know that I am making this call from the Mother of Invention, and that this is not a social call," If the Director was back on the Mother of Invention then… "The UNSC have finally reinstated Project Freelancer in light of recent events, one of which I have heard that you were present at, and I have been reinstated as its Director." Perhaps the former Director of Project Freelancer wasn't as 'former' as Carolina thought, with a wry smile. Apart from that though, Carolina didn't know how to react to the news. Her mind was still a little jumbled. "Prepare your team, agent. A Pelican is on route to your current location to pick you up. Welcome back to Project Freelancer"
Carolina felt her spirits lift and mind clear as new purpose filled her body and mind, with the chance to bring justice to Michigan and Massachusetts suddenly becoming possible once more. "Yes, sir." she replied, snapping off a crisp salute. The call ended and Carolina set off to wake the others and inform them of what was going on, a wide grin on her face for the first time in months.
York watched her, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed and his face a picture of sorrow, softly murmuring, "I hope you know I'll always follow you…"