(A/N) Aaaaaaaannnnndddd it's time for our Wednesday update! Things are about to get real for the Freelancers, as they finally get a taste of what war is like for Project Freelancer. Just want to thank all of our readers, as this 'fic has just hit over 5,000 views, which, you know, is pretty cool. Thanks you guys! This chapter is brought to you by the wonderful ParabolaOfMystery, and depicts everyone's favourite red-headed freelancer. Next update will be on Saturday, and I wonder who's point-of-view it will be from?

Here's a clue: In the Simpsons episode where Marge faces her fear of planes, it was referred to as one of the freak states. ;)

Enjoy!


Chapter Twenty-Seven - Take No Bullshit

Agent Carolina

Written by ParabolaOfMystery


"Leadership is the other side of the coin of loneliness, and he who is a leader must always act alone. And acting alone, accept everything alone." – Ferdinand Marcos


Just another mission. Don't screw it up this time.

Carolina ignored the nervous lump in her throat and repeated her little mantra in her head, over and over. She couldn't afford to bomb this mission (unless it required actual bombing, of course.) It had to go over seamlessly, with no injuries or mistakes, not even scratched armour. She could pull it off. She had a flawless team (well, mostly) and the abilities herself to do it.

Then why was she so nervous?

"Dammit, look at those trees," 479er mumbled, gazing at the ground below. "Thank god I actually get to land in the city this time. Those trees would be such a pain in the ass."

The ground was entirely green; dense forest blanketed the area like some massive fuzzy carpet. Up ahead Carolina could see the start of New Delphi. She saw an orange glow coming from some of the outer edges, topped with a haze of black smoke. There were other fires inside the city itself, as if the Innies were sending out smoke signals to everyone outside: This is our city now. Get out while you still can.

"Landing time, guys. Put on your seatbelts in case I decide to go all kamikaze. Maybe then you'll have a chance of living." Carolina stared at the pilot, but 479er only laughed. "Just kidding. But seriously, put on your seatbelt. It's not going to be a fun landing." She glanced at the dashboard. "Oops. That's not good."

"What?"

"Incoming missile. Damn Innies. Hold on." 479er yanked the controls; the Pelican twisted sharply to the side, and Carolina was shaken in her seat from what seemed to be a massive explosion.

"Are we hit?!" Carolina yelled over the noise, hands clenched to her armrests. Her stomach swooped as the Pelican fell sharply. There was a heavy thud behind her and what sounded like a grunt from York. ("I'm okay!")

"Of course not, shot it down before that could happen! What do you think this is, amateur hour?"


The Pelican landed on the UNSC building with a thud that rattled Carolina's brains. Her group-Florida, Virginia, Massa, Florida, and York - were met by the New Delphi UNSC officers on the rooftop. One of them stepped forward - Colonel Eric Grant, as she recognized him from her briefings- stepped forward. "Which one of you is in charge?" he asked loudly, over the roar of the Pelican. He was in full-uniform, and looked exhausted; there were bags under his eyes, his dark hair was peppered with gray, and his uniform was wrinkled, as if it hadn't been cleaned in several days.

Carolina stepped forward, took off her helmet and stuck out her hand. Her red hair whipped in her face. "I am. Agent Carolina, of Project Freelancer. This is my team. Agents Florida, Virginia, Massachusetts, and York."

Calm. In charge. Take no bullshit.

His eyes scanned over them all. Carolina couldn't help but note his reluctance in meeting them. "Very well. Follow me." He led them inside the UNSC headquarters, where they were met with chaos. There were people running around everywhere, talking into headsets or looking at maps or barking orders at other people. Carolina couldn't help but think that it was sharply different from the Freelancer facility, and felt a small bit of pride. "I apologize for the disorganization. We are usually very organized, but, given the current circumstances, we are somewhat stressed." He stopped outside a room. "This is an officers meeting. We would prefer to have only one of you in our discussion, rather than a whole group of mercenaries."

York cleared his throat. "Freelancers, sir. Totally different." Carolina turned and gave him a death glare, and he stared at the floor. Not the time, York.

"Understood, Colonel. My team will wait outside," she agreed, turning to address her fellow Freelancers. "Try not to break anything," she said, staring at York. York smiled and raised his eyebrows.

The conference room was a long room with an equally long table. Carolina couldn't help but notice Colonel Grant had seated her at the very end. She looked down the table. These guys look more like politicians. Not the military.

A cross-looking woman with a hooked nose glared at her. "Who is this?"

Carolina glanced over at Colonel Grant, who had taken his place at the head of the table. He nodded, giving her permission to speak. She took a small breath and began in a clear, even voice. "I am Agent Carolina of Project Freelancer. I am requesting, on behalf of our Project and for the good of New Delphi and the UNSC, to take defensive control of New Delphi."

She bit her tongue as the officers around her tittered. Calm. In charge. Take no bullshit. Just another mission. Don't mess this up.

"What makes you think that you can do a better job than the UNSC?" The woman with the hooked nose asked.

"Project Freelancer has superior soldiers than the UNSC. Along with superior strategic intelligence, if I may." And better organization, and equipment, and everything else in general.

"Even if you have better soldiers and strategy, what gives you the authority?" A balding man peered at her behind thin wire glasses. "You're a Freelancer. That doesn't really seem like a legitimate military rank. What clearance do you even have?"

"She has the authority," Colonel Grant said quietly. He seemed reluctant to say it.

The woman with the hooked nose folded her hands together. "Prove it."

"She's Level Zero."

The balding man scoffed. "Level Zero? This must be some kind of joke."

Colonel Grant sighed. "Look outside. Does this seem like a time to be joking to you?"

The table fell silent.

"Now that that's settled," Colonel Grant said, shuffling through papers on the table, "does anyone wish to give her the current status of the city?"

"The entire population- military included- is running extremely low on supplies: food, water, weapons, et cetera," a younger officer, with stubble on his face, explained, also shuffling through papers. "UNSC forces have suffered heavy casualties and are mostly pushed back into the centre of the city, with exceptions to a few areas. Three to be exact."

"Which areas?" Carolina asked.

"The Business District, Centre Park, and one of the southern neighbourhoods."

Carolina bit her lip, thinking. She hadn't been learning military strategy since she was six for nothing. This wasn't even a difficult decision. "Give them up, and have those forces join us here."

Colonel Grant narrowed his eyes, suddenly hostile. "And risk being entirely surrounded by the Insurrection?"

"Yes. We are already almost entirely surrounded, if you haven't noticed. A couple areas here and there won't do much good if the heart of the city falls."

"It would give them three victories," Grant spat. "Victories would strengthen them. Give them hope. I am not giving up anything to those goddamn Innies."

Carolina swallowed, willing her voice to stay even. "Give them false hope, then. Either way, those areas are going to be taken over by the Insurrection. Would you rather have the final move there, or let them have it?"

Colonel Grant, glared at her for a moment longer then looked away, looking exhausted. "Go on."

Carolina continued. "With extra force here in the middle, we need to build up barricades, made out of anything available. Furniture, rubble, et cetera. If possible, we should try and get civilian help with the barricades instead of soldiers. The barricades should slow them down, give us more time. We also need to be fighting a defensive battle now; an offensive battle will only weaken us more. We have to put people in high places, get a higher ground. Turrets, snipers, whatever is needed."

The Colonel had been listening intently as she spoke. "Very well. I will make that happen. And what will you and your Freelancers be doing?"

Carolina couldn't help but smile a tiny bit. "Oh, you'll see."

You'll see.