(A/N) Ok, this is going up a bit late again, as FF decided last night that, no, it would not let me into my profile to upload this chapter. But anyway, it's time for our latest chapter, and it's another from the POV of Agent California, only this chapter presents a very different side to Cal than we have seen before. Written, once again, by the fabulous BrambleStar14, I think you're all going to enjoy this one. At the very least, it's going to shock you.
Enjoy!
Chapter Forty-Eight – Hidden Demons
Agent California
Written by BrambleStar14
"Insanity is often the logic of an accurate mind overtasked." - Oliver Wendell Holmes
California half ran, half stomped through the corridors of the Mother of Invention, his armour giving his footfalls a metallic clanging sound to them that reverberated through the corridors ahead, clearly telling everyone to stay out of his way and keep their noses out of his business, unless they wanted said noses removed from their faces.
Cal's every step shook with fury and his entire body tensed, taught with the rage that flooded through his very blood. He ripped the helmet that was currently concealing his face off of his head and examined it, still walking. He hesitated, before throwing it as hard as he could down the corridor, watching with dark satisfaction as it stuck in the opposite wall, leaving a deep dent. He continued past it, not even caring.
He knew that he must look like a psycho, demented to the crew members of the ship. His eyes were wide and mad and every muscle in his face screamed his pure hate for all to see. He hadn't felt this mad for a long time, but now the familiar feelings were returning to him, giving him a dangerous, slightly insane edge. He knew that the others would be concerned, would be debating what had caused him to storm away from them after Wyoming let slip the nature of their mission. Let them talk, he grinned darkly as he turned another hairpin bend.
"The Innies have made a death threat against some UNSC General, old chap. Then the local traffic cams picked up an Innie lieutenant, Ian Harper, entering the city. Local forces couldn't catch him, and he disappeared into the city, so the Director's sending us in for some bodyguard work. Everything ok there, Cal? Cal?"
Harper. Ian Harper. The Insurrectionist Lieutenant. One of the most wanted men in the whole damned UNSC. He knew precisely what the Director was doing here. He knew exactly what it would cost Cal not to go on the mission. Cal couldn't believe it. This was his chance. He had thought that part of the whole reason he was considered for Freelancer, aside from his, ah, lack of job at that time, was his extensive background regarding this branch of the Insurrection, the United Revolutionary Front. He was requested due to his past with both the splinter group and in particular, with Ian Harper.
He would accept any mission as long as his and Ian's paths crossed again. And now, his chance had come, and the damned Director was throwing it all away! For the sake of what!? His top agentswere going! Those original agents, who hadn't encountered Harper before! They didn't bloody know what he was capable of! They didn't know what he could do! He was about as predictable as a snake, right before it struck, not to mention the fact that he was partially insane! He wouldn't care who he killed!
Cal winced as memories flooded his head, long repressed memories, memories he wouldn't share with anyone. His past was partially the reason he was considered for freelancer and now he wasn't getting his chance at, at what? He paused and considered. He hesitated, before allowing the memories to flood through his head once more, for the first time since he had originally experienced them.
He saw again the burning truck, the soldiers hauling them from the van. He saw Mark-
Don't think the name!
He remembered every moment shared with Ian, every single thing he taught him, every single second Ian had spent with him, and he snarled.
He remembered the gun flashing. He remembered the agony he had experienced. He remembered Mark-
Don't think the name!
He remembered the explosion and the pain and the blood. He remembered the fear as he was chased, yet again. How could he forget? He remembered it unwillingly in his dreams often enough.
He remembered the pain in his chest, the exit trail of the bullet. He remembered the psychotic grin, the petrol and the fire. He especially remembered the grin. The madness dancing in the eyes. It was the same madness he sometimes saw in himself, dancing on the verge of his mind, threatening to take over. Like it just had. He had lost it.
The fire licked his skin once more as he screamed in his head over and over, as part of his mind had never stopped screaming since it had happened. Subconsciously, his hand reached up and touched the burn scar running along the edge of his face as he was overwhelmed with memories again. He remembered the deaths, the screaming of men as they were gunned down in his earpiece.
He remembered everything.
He turned and walked into the combat arena. He needed to fight something. He needed to kill something really, really, really badly. The others may think they knew him. They didn't. They only knew part of him, the part that was mostly around. But now, he had let his other half out and he wasn't sure he would control it. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
He picked up the machetes that lay ahead on the bench, gleaming wickedly. Cal reached down, picked them up and turned to the arena. He surveyed the dummies that lay along the side of the room. Not good enough. He needed something that could fight back. He barely registered the words behind him.
"You alright mate? You look like you're missing something," it was the British one, Wyoming. The idiot who was going to be sent on this mission, while Cal remained behind. An original, a voice snarled in his head. He looked down and saw Wyoming held Cal's slightly dented helmet in his hands. Cal snatched it back, holding loosely at his side.
"Thanks," he grunted, before turning to the arena. Wyoming was apparently unfazed by his anger.
"You sure you're alright? You look like you need to talk to someone or you'll kill something!" His voice was slightly nervous as Cal turned to him.
"Killing something is the general idea by this point," Cal snarled, before clapping, slow and sarcastic, reached his ears.
"Brilliant stuff there California, absolutely top notch!" The clapping continued, slow and mocking, grinding against Cal's eardrums. Struggling to control his rage, he slowly turned to face the person who had decided that they could try and push him around.
Arkansas stood there, a sneer on his face as he regarded Cal. He steeped forwards, his face suddenly furious.
"What do you think you're playing at, eh? Storming out of rooms, stomping around the corridors like an idiot, acting demented! You're crazy. You always have been! It just took this to prove it. You've clearly got some grudge against the Insurrection and against Harper, but there is no goddamn reason why you should act like this. Harper won't get taken down by you anyway now, what the hell is the big dea- UGH!" His next words were cut off as Cal violently slammed into him, knocking him head over heels until he found himself pinned to the wall with an arm constricting his windpipe. Before he could respond, he saw Cal's insane face inches from his, contorted, inhuman.
"What is the big deal, huh?" Cal practically hissed, causing Arkansas's breathing to just become that little bit more laboured, giving away his fear. "The big deal is every single fucking thing that's ever happened to me as a result of him! As a result of them all! They made me who I am today and to be honest, I really fucking wish they hadn't! You have no right to judge me! None of you do! Not until you've suffered, like I have suffered." With that, he threw Arkansas from him bodily, hurling him into one of the pillars that was still activated from the last training match.
"So, if you think it's no big deal," Cal spoke loudly, unaware of Wyoming slowly backing out of the room to find the others. "Come on then! I could use a good laugh!" Arkansas grunted as he lifted himself from the floor, wincing slightly.
"I thought you'd never ask," he replied eventually. He walked over to the weapons bench, picking up a long combat knife and a shotgun. "I've been hoping to take you down a peg or two. It's about damn time someone did."
Cal slid the machetes onto his back as he slowly picked up his SMG's, checking the barrel before loading some ammo left out on the table. 'It was quite strange really,' said a small part of his brain, 'that ammo was conveniently left out on the table.' He loaded the clip with a snap!and flicked the small switch on the side to single-fire mode and walked outwards, facing across the floor, to Ark, who placed his helmet on his head without any emotion.
Cal grinned, before slowly placing his helmet over his head, the HUD activating instantly. He waited for Ark to make his move, his hands hovering over the SMG's on his belt.
Any second now.
Ark dived and so did Cal, both of them rolled behind the cover of the pillars that were still online here and there. Cal slowly peered around the corner, hoping to catch sight of Ark. As long as he could kick his ass first, he didn't care about going down. He was completely lost in the anger he was experiencing.
He slowly moved to the next pillar, only partially noticing the gathering audience his and Ark's impromptu fight had called forth from the various depths of the ship. As he moved, he thought he saw Ark's head poke out, but by the time his gun was raised, he saw nothing. Ark had vanished without trace.
As he stepped out of cover, he saw Ark running to another piece of cover in an attempt to sneak closer to Cal. He didn't hesitate. The SMG fired, causing the pillar Ark was running towards to explode slightly as the sound of a gunshot reverberated through the entire room. The scene froze. Ark froze where he stood and slowly turned to Cal, before staring down at his own weapon. The watching crowd cried out and one or two looked like they were going to step forwards, but were restrained by their colleagues. Cal slowly turned his face towards his own smoking weapon.
Live rounds.
The Director had left them live magazines.
Cal didn't hesitate. He was too far gone into his rage to care, raising his weapon and loosing off several more shots, causing Ark to curse as the bullets flew around him. He clearly realised that cover was no longer an option, as he turned and sprinted towards Cal, raising his shotgun. Cal dropped to the floor as the shotgun discharged right where he had been standing. He fell forwards and rolled up, grabbing the shotgun and wrenching it to the side as Ark let go of it and swung for a punch.
Cal let him connect and used the momentum from the hit to roll backwards, firing several more shots as Ark dived again, grabbing his shotgun and attempting to blow Cal's head off. The two men were showing no restraint. Each of them was aiming to kill. Cal was losing himself. He was stuck in memories as Harper taught him another trick.
"See mate, the trick is," he told Cal, brandishing the handgun, "you gotta shoot 'em in the gut. The shock makes them drop the gun. You gotta make 'em drop the gun. So you can kill them." He held the handgun towards Cal, gesturing at the prisoner chained to the opposite wall. Cal very slowly took the gun and watched as Harper threw a gun to the captive. The captive quickly turned the gun towards Cal, apparently desperate to escape. He didn't hesitate. The gun fired and the prisoner fell.
"And when he's down, ya finish him!" Ian said excitedly, gesturing at the moaning man. Cal aimed the gun and, wincing slightly, fired.
The memory stirred another burst of rage within Cal, and he fired the gun again and again, until a stray bullet caught Ark in the gut, making him drop the shotgun with a cry of pain. Next moment, he had tackled Cal to the floor, riding the pain as he hammered his fists on Cal's visor. With a crack, the faceplate protecting Cal's face cracked, deactivating the HUD as he gasped. Ark, sensing victory, pulled his knife from its holster and made ready to stab down. Cal took no chances and grabbed his machete hilt, swinging it over his head and smashing it into Ark's face, knocking his helmet flying and momentarily blinding him. Cal's kick caught him in the gut and sent him sprawling.
Cal slowly stood up, before he removed the useless helmet and spat blood from the corner of his mouth, watching as Ark also stood up and gestured with the knife. There was a moment of calm, before they both charged. Cal ducked Ark's swing and caught him in the stomach with a solid punch. Ark stumbled, but recovered his footing, swinging a roundhouse kick that Cal barely dodged before following up with a forward thrust with the knife. Cal dived to the side, lashing out with the machete, but failed to land a solid hit, only managing to scrape the edge of Ark's chestplate.
He was the better hand-to-hand specialist and Ark knew it. He knew he was out of his depth. Cal slowly, teasingly pulled out his other machete and sprinted at Ark, knocking his blade aside with one blade and moving to stab with the other. Ark rolled to the side and kicked Cal's right hand, knocking the blade from his hand. Cal's left hand swung around in retaliation and connected with Ark's knife as the two struggled for dominance, sparks flying from the connecting blades.
"You're over the top Cal!" Ark shouted over the screeching of metal. "You're too emotional. You need to calm down, you wear your heart on your sleeve!" Cal simply kicked out, connecting with Ark's unprotected side and Ark fell back with a grunt, before Cal was on him again.
"And you're out of your bloody depth!" Cal spat, slashing again and again as Ark struggled to parry his blows. "You can't keep up! Probably shouldn't have challenged a hand-to-hand specialist in hand-to-hand combat!" He was using everything Ian taught him now, trying to trip Ark up.
Ark swung a little too much on his next swing of the blade, aimed at Cal's eyes this time, and Cal stepped under the swing, stepping inside Ark's defences and jabbing hard into his bullet wound. Ark gasped, trying to remove Cal. Cal took a punch to the face, spinning away, before turning with a series of stabs and jabs that left Ark reeling, before punching him in the face. Ark grunted and his defences lowered. Cal stepped forwards and punched him again, winding him as he dropped the machete with his left hand, grabbing onto Ark's hand with it instead. His left hand, the one pulling back from the punches, grabbed the falling machete, swinging it around and onto Ark's knife, ripping it from his fingers and across the floor. Instantly, Ark's hands were on the machete as they struggled for control.
Ark was pushing Cal backwards, bending the knife back. Cal could see it approaching. He fell backwards and could feel it slash along his face as he fell to the side to avoid having an eye removed. As Ark overbalanced, Cal sprung upwards, smashing a knee into Ark's solar plexus. Ark fell to his knees as Cal kicked him, hard, in the face. He rolled backwards, apparently completely drained.
Cal didn't trust him. He walked forwards, picked Ark up and threw him into the nearest pillar, before lifting him again and slamming him repeatedly against the unforgiving stone. Ark's face was a mess; he had what looked to be a black eye forming as well as the multiple bruises and cuts that Cal had inflicted. Not that Cal was much better. He could feel the blood dripping down the left side of his face.
He however, didn't have a gunshot wound. He supposed that was what had drained Ark in the end. He smashed Ark in the nose with the hilt of his blade, getting his attention.
"Taken down a peg, Ark?" Cal jeered quietly, as Ark groaned at the force being placed on his wound. "Not really your smartest move." He raised the machete. The rage filled him now. Damn Harper. Damn the Director. And damn Arkansas.
"When they're down," Ian's maniacal voice was filling his head again. "You make sure they don't get back up. Taking prisoners is a rarity. Try to leave more dead, than alive."
The machete was swinging forwards when someone, he thought it was Michigan, but it could have been several others as well, yelled.
"Cal! No!" The blade hesitated, before flying forwards. Ark closed his eyes as the blade impacted.
Three inches from his head.
He opened his eyes to see Cal with his eyes closed, body practically shaking with rage.
"Cal?" he tried weakly. Cal opened his eyes and Ark saw the depths of his rage and madness.
Cal raised his fist and punched Arkansas as hard as he could on the nose, breaking it. Ark collapsed as Cal released him, throwing the machete to the floor as he turned and walked to the door. He paused as it was blocked by Carolina. He turned to her. She looked him over, before raising her eyebrows and nodding slightly, stepping to the side.
He didn't try to think about what that nod meant and had no intention on thinking about it. He walked away, to the corridor housing his room. He walked inside, leaving the door open behind him. He sat down on the bed, his back to the door and leaned his head against the wall, feeling the emotions overcome him.
He had lost it again. He had nearly given in to the madness. And now everyone had seen it. They had seen him nearly kill Ark.
His body shook as tears formed in his eyes. He closed his eyes in an effort to clear them, the blood still dripping from his face, staining his white armour.
A hand closed around his shoulder and he turned to see Mich there. That in itself was surprising. She looked both determined and slightly fearful. She took in his appearance and stood up.
"Come on," she said as she pulled him to his feet. "Killian. You need a medic." And Cal allowed himself to be dragged away, temporarily putting his madness behind him once more.
