Hello everyone! Sorry for the wait but I hope you will enjoy the newest chapter!
Ch. 11 RVB: The Lost Freelancer: Mission 02
The dropship had made it back to the Mother of Invention safely and without another problem. South and the rest of the Freelancers were rushed to the infirmary, the more intensive wounds received more immediate attention. The Director had arrived seconds after, talking to team leaders who were the least wounded out of all the freelancers. Al knew about Green Team and Red Team but didn't know about Blue Team yet. Carolina gave a brief synopsis of her team's experience.
Blue Team had approached the structure on foot and had arrived unharmed or unbothered. Behind it, they found the crashed remains of the dropship that would have taken them off planet and meet the cruiser. Upon securing the immediate area, they had entered and investigated the building. Inside they found the remains of the researchers, horribly disfigured and mauled from both energy weapons and teeth.
Al had barely been able to handle the sight of Carolina handing the bloody dog tags to the Director. He shoved it down back into his stomach and waited it out.
After perusing the bodies and finding out that the mainframe had been blown up by human explosives, they had prepared to leave when Nevada had heard sounds coming from the closet. They had opened it with guns aimed, only to find a young woman in the white armor and grey fatigues of a pilot. South had been the first one in due to her brashness and had nearly been brained by the young woman swinging a fire extinguisher at her head.
Despite the mood, Al barely managed to hold in a snort when he heard that but carefully retained a blank face when the other three looked at him. Unfortunately his reaction drew the wrath of the Director who carefully and efficiently tore him to shreds about his armor enhancement use.
"Agent Alabama, you were not cleared for equipment usage. You are beyond lucky that your armor did not overload. Such an event would have led to a very painful death by the heat generated by the suit."
Suffice to say, the Director was ticked. Ironically he calmed down when he heard that Zeta had managed to carefully regulate the armor system to compensate for the equipment's usage. The way it was done usually was through a specific server at command. Al was let off with a warning to all the freelancers that they needed to be granted approval by the Director to use their equipment from now on.
Three days of intensive training and reconditioning, the Director called the Freelancers together for another announcement.
All the agents were already there when Al showed up, helmet under one arm. The Director gave him a passing glare before starting, "As of five minutes ago, the project has been cleared for the second phase for the second phase of the project."
He nodded to the Counselor who quickly continued the conversation, "Two freelancers will given A.I. companions to support them into the field; also due to technical difficulties, all armor enhancements will be taken back from their assigned agents for necessary repair and improvement."
He tapped a button on the keyboard and two names with matching pictures showed up on the screen behind him: Carolina and Alabama.
"Take this time to make yourselves familiar with your new companions and gear. For now all three teams will split up to go over their new assignments and allies," the Counselor spoke quietly. With that statement, they were dismissed.
Al led members of Red Team into the cafeteria which give them privacy with their A.I. companions.
"Alright little guys, time to come out," Al ordered with a clap of his hands.
Without further question, Zeta appeared on the table before them.
Maine and York stepped back in shock, staring at the hologram with mystified reactions.
No surprise, Al though, considering the lack of overall experience with A.I. programs.
"Introduce yourself," Al added. He made sure to mirror the surprise on his face when his teammates turned to him. Zeta and he had gone over the details with the Director five hours in advance to the meeting; the fact that he had early access to the A.I. could not be revealed due to the possible issues with the other freelancers. So they were meeting for the first time officially today.
Al nodded before addressing his "new" partner", "Identify yourself."
Zeta bobbed its little head before speaking "I am the A.I. designated Zeta. I am partnered with Agent Alabama of Red Team. Agents York and Maine, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
York was the first to answer, "How about you call me just York? It's easier and quicker in on the battlefield."
Zeta nodded its approval and responded "I ran calculations but I disagree with that, Just York."
Al chuckled. Maine made a repetitive grunting sound that only their team could translate to laughter. York glared at his new partner before beginning a long conversation about just calling him "York." When they were called back two hours later, York had finally given up and Zeta had gone back to calling him Agent York.
The team had bonded with the little AI, over silly but thought-provoking questions like "Why do humans drink alcohol?" or "Why do humans need to know how to dance?"
Al couldn't help but notice but Zeta seemed to chuckle once Al had activated a private channel with his partner. Apparently A.I.s could pull jokes.
Red Team was given their first mission on their own and within the hour were on a dropship. They were headed to a dropship to an inactive outpost. A small covenant force had taken refuge at the outpost after being abandoned by their space fleet and had taken hostages. Being the nearest ship with special forces-level of training, the Freelancers had been given the mission parameters and the green light.
They had been dropped in one mile out from the outpost, weapons hot and at the ready. Their pilot was as always Agent Virginia.
"Alright good luck boys! I'll keep the bird warm for a quick exit for the hostages."
"Thanks Virginia, it would be nice to leave with warm seats for a change."
"I'll get to work on it boss," she declared with a salute through the glass before taking off.
Al noticed Maine watch the dropship take off into the distance with some happiness. The two freelancers had hung out the most out of all the teams and bets were being placed on when the first date was.
Al had won that bet by accidentally walking in on them in the bathroom.
It took them roughly fifteen minutes to make it to the base on foot. They were careful not to move too loudly in case there was a scout that Al had missed on his thermals and Red Team on their motion trackers. Zeta provided them with directions to the base that avoided any sudden drops or rises which shaved off about ten minutes of nearly killing themselves on rocks.
By the time they had arrived at base, it was clear there hadn't been any humans at this base for a long time. Old crates had been set up as makeshift couches in the courtyard and alien purple ammo containers were set up every two feet. The bloodstains that they found were brown and weeks old according to Zeta's analysis.
Al turned on the thermal visor, his world becoming shades of violet and red.
Then a large form turned the corner thirty feet from their direction.
Al moved to the side of the door. The only thing that was that large without armor was a Brute but he had forgotten just how big they could get. He held his shotgun at the ready, speaking to Zeta, "Zeta, let me know when he reaches five feet from the entrance."
"Understood. At his current gait, twenty-five seconds. His speed suggests that he is curious but currently unaware of your presence."
He signaled the team to take cover before pressing himself against the wall. There was a long quiet moment where all he heard was his breathing, the sound of distant crickets and the small thuds of armored alien metal-covered boots stepping on the inside tile floor.
"The target is within point blank range with the shotgun."
"Good!" He said before swinging around the corner, shotgun first. There was a slight click when the shotgun barrel connected with the brute mid-chest. There was a brief moment where both he and the Brute stared at the shotgun in surprise before looking at each other's faces. He pulled the trigger and a wave of metal pellets launched from the gun into the Brute's flesh and bones, cutting at the spinal cord.
As the Brute stumbled back, Al re-aimed and fired twice, this time directly into the Brute's face. The shotgun blast blew out the Brute's back, shredding his face and shooting gore out the back of his head. Given that a Brute needed its head to survive, Al considered it dead and motioned his team to move.
Momentarily relieved, he turned back to lead the way down the hallway when he heard an odd sound and turned slowly. A large form fell onto him, taking him with it and cracking the floor below. He squirmed like an eel to get free but realized it was already dead.
York and Maine helped him push the corpse off him, choosing not to comment on it. Al really needed to buy them drinks.
They quickly ran down the hallway, sighting down hallways and clearing rooms. The grunts and jackals on the ground floor were still trying to figure out what was going on when Red and Green teams opened fire, cutting them into ribbons. Room by room, they repeated the motion: grenade in, empty half the clip in every side of the room, check for survivors and move on. With the design of the building, they were able to carefully surround each room and fill it with bullets in every direction.
Not every room was filled with Covenant: some the teams found survivors from the attack, most likely as prisoners to be interrogated... or eaten possibly. Given their brutality in wartime, the freelancers made sure that each and every prisoner was freed and guided to the extraction point; likewise, there was no pity in any of them as they gunned down the aliens and executed the barely living.
It was with the last room that the mission went FUBAR: the garage for landing crafts was now home to three Phantom dropships. With those three dropships, were about twelve Covenant troops scattered around the green cargo crates and purple alien ammo pods. In that moment, Al began to move slowly to the nearest cover while considering how outnumbered the team exactly was.
Then the door slammed shut behind them, locking them in the hangar and alerting the Covenant forces.
"Cover now!" Al yelled even as the other Freelancers kneeled behind cover and fired at will.
The squads of firing aliens did not leave any room for them to respond. Unfortunately, they were also without the command of a senior officer because they quickly overheated their weapons in the first few minutes of the battle.
Al was about to speak when a blur of white of white ran past them and onto the battlefield.
"Uh Al?" York spoke up, mirroring his surprise. "I think Maine is feeling antsy."
Maine fired the shotgun in one hand as he ran, the combination of his strength and the equipment allowing him to ignore its kickback. With the other hand, he reached into his belt and pulled something out but Al couldn't tell what.
Two jackals popped out of cover to shoot at him with plasma pistols, only to fall to the ground dead. Three grunts died the same way before the shotgun clicked empty.
The last two grunts hid behind a wall, which unfortunately didn't stop Maine. He lowered his shoulder and smashed through it like glass. With both hands, he grabbed the two grunts by their necks and snapped their necks with a quick twist.
York was the first to respond, "Remind me why he didn't go first at the front?"
Al ignored the question and move out of cover with his assault rifle at the ready. "Alright, let's blow these puppies and we can get out of here. Maine open the bay doors!"
While Main double-timed it over to the bay doors, Al and York split up to take the dropships. York grabbed an explosive charge out of his satchel before throwing it to Al.
"Zeta!" York called out, looking at the dropship carefully. "Where's the best place to blow this thing to pieces?"
Al heard Zeta speak over group comms. "Two meters in front of the engines is the primary fuel tank. Attaching the charge there should create the most effective explosion."
"Sounds like my kind of pressure point!" York joked before yelling to Al. "Al you got that?"
Al slammed his charge into place before answering, "I got it!"
He typed on the control pad for five minutes before starting the timer. The explosive charges they were using could be detonated by remote but also could be set for a timer in case something happened to the remote. Al joined York at the third dropship, double-checking his work in setting the third charge. By the time the timers had passed fifteen seconds, they were joining Maine at the hangar door.
"What's wrong Maine? Why aren't the doors open by now?" Al asked, checking behind them for hostiles.
Maine gestured to the half-destroyed control panel, punctured by several human rifle shells. It had apparently been destroyed in the firefight, which meant that they couldn't open the bay door the normal way.
"Blast doors are shut in place over the other exits," York spoke up quietly, glancing to the side. Most likely at the timer counting down in the corner of his visor.
Al looked around hopelessly, first at the hangar then the control panel then the faraway blocked exit. His mind was running through the same scenarios like York but wasn't finding any paths out of the hangar. By the time he thought of one, the bombs would go off. He didn't have superhuman thinking.
But Zeta did.
"Zeta!" He called over comms. "Analyze the situation and find us a way out now!"
The A.I. flickered its acceptance before blinking out to concentrate.
"Found it," Zeta stated after half a second.
"Good now spit it out." Al practically shouted.
"Personnel door. Thirty feet to your right. It is practically invisible from the outside but it appeared when I studied the layout."
Al didn't wait for the rest of the sentence; the freelancers booked it like professional runners in a contest. They ran around bodies and ducked under the Phantom's engine before they reached it.
The personnel door was strong. It was built to stop people from breaking it down and killing the engineers off-guard. It was NOT built to stand against a freelancer with super-strength. Maine rammed it twice before the door finally gave. York followed Maine out as Al covered their backs with his rifle.
Once they were clear, he turned to rush out after them and follow to the exit-…
Something grabbed his shoulder and threw him away from the door.
Al slammed into the Phantom's engine before falling back to the ground with a thud. He rolled to his side before drawing his handgun on the location he had been. The space was clear. No one was there. Was it some new kind of fast Covie? Elites or Brutes were strong enough to throw him but they would have killed him violently instead of just throwing him-…
There. A blur in the background. He wasn't sure what it was but a small blurred shape that didn't match the rest of the background.
Something Invisible?
"Al where are you!" York called out.
Al didn't look away from the form, handgun still raised. Activating a button on his HUD with a blink, he had the external speakers deactivated, leaving him with only the team channel in his helmet. "York, Maine, get to the dropship and take off immediately. I'll call you for pick-up. Alabama out."
With one hand, he closed the channel to his own helmet, and pulled the knife out of his shoulder sheath. "Zeta, activate thermal vision."
Once more, his sight was replaced with shades of blue for the cold concrete and metal around him. The only heat signature he saw was a figure where the blur was which was a big help.
"Alright asshole," he whispered. "Let's dance."
The figure watched him before the red hues grew slightly darker to dark red, demonstrating a change in temperature.
"Al," Zeta spoke quietly in his ear.
"Not now Zeta."
"The timers are within fifteen seconds of exploding. We cannot afford a fight right now."
Al stiffened his grip and raising his pistol a little higher.
"I believe the phrase is 'live to fight another day'."
Al gritted his teeth but nodded acceptingly. "How are we going to get away from our guest?"
"Plan Z. Now."
Al crouched deeper in his put all the pressure on his front leg. Then he spun to face the door and took off at top-speed for the door. He fired the pistol over his shoulder in the figure's general direction.
"Al powerslide!"
Al dropped to the ground, turning his run into a powerslide for the last few feet to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the figure pass over him. The figure had gone for a jump-kick into Al's exposed side; with him distracted, it would have worked excellently.
The figure fell awkwardly and rolled to his feet. By then Al was already running out the door, activating his link to the team.
"Zeta, this is why humans need to know dance moves!" He yelled, leaving the doorway. "York blow the charges!"
"Not till you reach the dropship!" York yelled.
Al felt something hit the back of his knees. He landed on his hands and feet before turning to look over his shoulder. The figure was exiting the doorway, only fifteen feet away. Who had apparently thrown a concrete block at the back of his knees.
"If you don't blow it now, I won't make it. Now blow it!" Al yelled back before standing up to face his assailant.
Whatever was making the figure invisible either deactivated or was now broken because for the first time since the fight began, Al saw who his enemy was. It was a human, with armor similar to his own of a dark brown color. The figure reached behind him and pulled a M395 Designated Marksman Rifle.
The force of the explosion knocked him and Mr. Invisible into the air where they sailed for a good twenty feet before he smashed into something. The last thing he knew was a ringing collision and a single thought:
Not aga-…
When he woke up, his sight was blocked by a figure crouching down next to him. His arms immediately came up in a defensive block when the figure leaned back out of reach. Not a combat move because his hands were up by his head in the standard "arrested by the police" stance. Then his visor adjusted for the sunlight in his eyes, and the figure's armor turned a familiar shade of gold.
"Al, Al, how many fingers am I holding up?" His teammate stated loudly, holding up two fingers.
"One more than the amount I have for you,"Al said before giving him the finger.
York pulled Al to his feet and handed him his shotgun back.
"You should learn how to take it easy for once, partner." York half-joked.
"I will once you learn how to not to set off an alarm," Al shot back, finishing the joke between them. He turned his head to face Maine. "Someone attacked me, a human. Freelancer-grade gear and weapons."
The three of them quickly took stock of their surroundings only to hear the faint familiar whirring and the sight of the Pelican dropship flying towards them. Al felt relief as he spoke over the closed channel, "Virginia, we are clear for pick-up. Did the hostages arrive, over?"
There was no response, only static.
He tried again, "Agent Virginia, what is the condition of the hostages? Do you copy?"
No response but the Pelican was now a good hundred feet from them.
York and Maine had also caught on by now and tried to contact the dropship over their comms. They only received static.
Al had a sudden and disturbing thought. It was so unbelievable that he almost dismissed it but it made the most sense. He whispered quietly over the comms, "Red Team. Take cover and stay off comms."
His teammates looked at him, with most likely disbelief, but took cover as well among the few ammo crates that had survived the explosion. Once they were hidden out of sight, York signaled to Al with an open palm facing upwards in the universal sign of 'What the hell.'
Al had no time to respond as the dropship reached the landing zone... only to turn ninety degrees to face straight up. He felt confusion seeing that the ramp was down when a green shape fell out the back.
He immediately thought a bomb and was about to order his team to run when the shape turned in the air, revealing four limbs and a flash of yellow-no- blonde. Then his brain made the connection between his memories and what he was seeing.
Dear god no.
He was only five feet away when Agent Virginia's limp armored form hit the ground in front of him.