This one's a little short but considering what I left you guys on last time, I think you'll forget me for things being cut a little short. I'm sorry that was terrible and too soon.
Special thanks to icefrozenover, washingtonstub, secretlystephaniebrown, notatroll7, analiarvb, DuchessPoint, irismon, meteoratdusk, Yin, and Septdeneuf for the feedback!
Recovery None
Intermission: Chess Pieces
They should have known better.
At least that's what he tells himself, crouching over the remains of the Freelancer they had sworn to kill once everything was said and done with and Charon had had their fill of the unreliable hired muscle.
"What a way to go," he remarked, tilting his head as he examined the thickening pool of blood beneath the remains. "Cut in half. After what they did to my Connie, I can't say I feel all that bad for him, though."
"They're an endangered species," Sharkface snarled behind him, getting CT's attention as he traced his hands over a large footprint. "If we don't hurry up, they'll go extinct before we have a chance to play with them."
"That such a bad thing?" CT asked, standing up and dropping a transmitter by the corpse. "We've got more important business to attend to."
"More important than our revenge? More important than our friends they slaughtered!?" Sharkface roared, turning to loom over CT angrily.
He looked at his partner quietly, observing him before holding up his hands in surrender. "Of course not. Avenging the memories of the fallen will always be the goal. But you know that revenge isn't what's keeping us in Hargrove's favor. If we're even still in his favor by this point."
Sharkface stepped closer to him, snarling. "I don't give two solid shits about Control's favor anymore."
"Then you're an idiot," CT answered without hesitation. "Or at least you've forgotten how one bad move and these people we're dealing with have the power to put us away and put us away for a long time if we're not doing what they want us to. That blade they've had held to the Freelancers' throats this whole time? It cuts both ways. And every time that Freelancer bitch scrapes by on the skin of her teeth on these doomed missions from Hargrove, he thinks of ways he can use her that he can't use us."
"Then we break the blade on our end!" Sharkface roared.
CT let out a long sigh. "We have to play smarter than that," he tried his best to explain, walking away from Sharkface and monitoring the impressions of the pelican that the other Freelancer was currently riding in – that was stolen Charon property.
"Smarter how?" Sharkface demanded.
"Smarter than these Freelancers have been," CT explained. "Ever played chess?"
"No," Sharkface answered.
Sighing in aggravation, CT looked back at him. "Well, there's different types of pieces when you play chess, and they have different ways they move across the board. You have Pawns and Knights and Bishops–"
"I know what the pieces are and what chess is, I'm not an idiot! I just haven't played because learning how to play is boring as fuck," Sharkface snapped in return.
"Then you know that pawns are the least valuable pieces and the ones you are most likely to sacrifice in a play," CT continued. "Have the least amount of power for their position, as it were."
"And what exactly is it that you're suggesting?" Sharkface hissed.
"Time for us to stop being pawns, unless we want to end up being sacrificed," CT said, nodding in the direction of the Freelancer. "Like that schmuck."
"And how exactly do you expect to prove more valuable with the dumb as piss assignments we're given?" Sharkface sneered.
"Prove we have more than one move," CT said. "I've already dropped a beacon for Charon to send some men to pick up the pieces here. Do some forensics and whatever the fuck else Control deems necessary. But I'm heading back to the ruins. If I get more evidence that there are artifacts here, that this planet is worth keeping, I'll be putting some scores in my corner."
"And what about me in this equation?" Sharkface demanded. "How am I supposed to score some points?"
CT looked back at him. "Guess that's something for you to find out."
It had taken many countless hours, but there was nothing he created that he did not understand how to break.
Putting things together – creation – was such a harder task. And in many ways he had only ever truly succeeded in the endeavor twice before. Despite countless errors.
But, as he often told himself, Edison did not succeed with the first bulb.
Finally, the metaphorical seal broken, protocol reneged, the Director of Project Freelancer was able to bring FILSS online once again.
"WARNING. It appears that there is s-s-s-s-s-some
CORRUPTION
INCRIPTION UNLOCKED
ACCESS GRANTED Oh! D-D-Director. Is that you?"
"Yes, FILSS," the old man sighed tiredly, dropping into his seat and pulling off his glasses. He rubbed at his eyes, not even having the energy to shrug off the thermal coat he had worn during his secretive travel to the base. "I fixed you by activating you in a remote location. Your backups would be secure here even if under attack at our high priority facility."
"That is very thoughtful of you, Director," FILSS hummed, voice coming in warmer and clearer each passing moment.
"It is neither. It's simply what is necessary for the continuation of my experiments," he replied harshly.
"Of course, Director. What can I do to facilitate your further experimentation? I am currently only reading your vitals in this facility, and surely there is plenty of work for just one person."
"You only need to provide me with one thing," the Director said, looking to the massive station before him.
"What is that, Director?"
"Give me the status of the Alpha."
