"There's so many stories where some brave hero decides to give their life to save the day, and because of their sacrifice the good guys win, the survivors all cheer, and everybody lives happily ever after.

"But the hero... never gets to see that ending. ...They'll never know if their sacrifice actually made a difference. They'll never know if the day was really saved. In the end, they just have to have faith.

"...Ain't that a bitch?" -Epsilon


RWBY x Red vs Blue Crossover:

"Metastability"


Chapter 6: On Your Knees

When Krimzen Reed arrived at the infirmary to check on the status of the still unconscious Agent Maine, or rather Jaune Arc, he did not expect to find the red-haired Mistral champion sitting at his bedside. Pyrrha Nikos laid there, asleep next to the blonde haired male, head resting against her arms. He would have thought that Glynda had locked the room, in case Jaune had awoken and tried to break out, even going so far as to reinforce the doors. 'How did she get in here?' he questioned, but then shrugged his shoulders, smiling. At least the girl had managed to get some sleep. And at his side, no less.

It didn't take a genius to know a crush when one is so blatantly obvious. Though because of such infatuation, she must have felt responsible for his current state. He knew nothing of the details regarding Jaune Arc's 'last' mission, only that he was presumed dead, or at the very least, MIA. Krimzen still had no idea how the boy could have found himself in the hands of the Director, Leonard Church, nor how he found himself in space no less. His previous memories were blocked by something. What, he couldn't tell. Perhaps it was because of his trauma from Sigma? Regardless, as a doctor, it was his duty to look after his patient, and help him however he could.

"Miss Nikos?" he called, walking over to her. He gently gave her a shove. "Miss Nikos."

"Hm...huh? W-what?" Slowly, the red-haired Amazon stirred. Sluggishly, she rose up, rubbing her eyes in a sleepy manner. "What is..." She turned, and found Krimzen standing close to her. "M-Mr. Reed?"

The old doctor smiled at her. "I see you stayed the night," he said gently. "I can understand if you're so worried about him. How long have you been here?"

"Um," Pyrrha smiled bashfully, scratching her cheek. "All...night I guess. I waited for Ms. Goodwitch to leave. As for how I get on here..." Her eyes drifted to the windows. Krimzen turned, and found them slightly ajar, and the metal lock slightly bent out of shape. He quirked an eyebrow and looked at her. "W-well, I..."

Krimzen shook his head in amusement. "I won't say a word, if that's what you're worried about," he said, smiling. However, his eyes developed a worried, forlorn look to them. "However...I assume that...you wish to continue the session from yesterday?"

"...yes." The answer came with almost no hesitation. Her eyes turned to Jaune's unconscious form, and her hands coiling around one of his own. Idly, she noted how rough they felt. They were so much different from how they used to be. Back then, they were soft and gentle, and smooth...but now they were callous, touched with scars. It only made her heart ache even more, thinking about what he must have had to endured. "I...I want to know..."

The doctor sighed. "Ms. Nikos," he said, sitting on the bed next to her, careful as to not disturb the patient. "I understand how you must feel...however, you are rushing this. I cannot begin to imagine how this must be for you, to see someone you care for no longer the person you once knew them as...but if you continue to trudge forward with no clear destination, you will only crash and burn."

"But...But I..." The doctor held a hand up to cut her off politely.

"I know you are worried for Mr. Arc...and guilty for what happened to him. But would he really wish for you to strain yourself like this?"

Pyrrha opened her mouth to speak again, only fall silent. She let out a defeated sigh. He was right. Her leader...her friend, wouldn't want her to be pushing herself like this. "Even still," she continued. "I..."

"I understand your concern, Miss Nikos." Dr. Reed responded. "But you must learn to have patience. Whatever Mr. Arc went through will not be resolved in a short amount of time. He has experienced years of combat on the battlefield and endured numerous traumatic events."

Pyrrha bit her lip. "I...I know that, but I..." Her hands tightened around his. "I...want to see it for myself. I want to know what Jaune went through...how he became this...Maine person that we fought back at Forever Fall." She then looked at the doctor with pleading eyes. "And if...if I can bring him back to the person he used to be."

Krimzen looked at the girl in the eye...seeing her desperation and determination. She was driven in her pursuits...if only she realized how deep Agent Maine was in his trauma. Either way, nothing he would say would disway her. In the end, he sighed. "Alright, then..."


[TRAINING SIMULATION: Level X. ROOM HAS BEEN CLEARED FOR AGENT MAINE. AWAITING STAND-BY.]

The room was dark. The training room was silent, the only sounds echoing were the harsh falls of footsteps of Maine, who then stopped once he was in the middle of the room. His hulking form was eerie, even in the dark, and his helmet glared back at whatever was in front of him. Behind him, his shotgun waited, primed and ready for combat. In his hand was his magnum pistol. He gave it a brief inspection, checking to make sure everything was in order. Then, the room began to slightly light up. Holographs began to develop, forming ciruits resembling human bodies, and then solidifying into what looked like armor. Then the lights died out, leaving only the simulation soldiers, all of which bearing the same armor as the Insurrectionists.

[SIMULATION WILL COMMENCE IN 3...2...1...]

The buzzer resounded, and the room lit up, revealing over fifty soldiers in total, all of them surrounding Maine.

[Play: Caffeine - Jeff Williams & Casey Lee Williams, feat. Lamar Hall]

And each one carried an assault rifle, every one aimed at him.

[BEGIN]

As soon as F.I.L.S.S. said that word, they all opened fired. As there were fifty soldiers, one would expect the poor soldier facing the brunt of it to be turned into swiss cheese. However, no soldier was the same as Project Freelancer's Agent Maine.

The hulking Freelancer moved with deft movements, quickly evading the storm of bullets before ducking into a nearby panel for cover. Some were quick to follow, clearly out to try and kill him. He gave a brief look at his shields. No damage so far. He then looked at the grenades he was given for this simulation. Four frag grenades and four sticky grenades. Not a lot to work with. But for this amount...it'd be enough. He grabbed a sticky grenade in his free hand as he clutched the grip of his pistol.

He peered out from his cover. Some were spread out, but he found a few who were clumped together. A foolish mistake on the battlefield. To congregate numbers en masse merely makes them a bigger target just begging to be mowed down. His response to their foolishness? He chucked the grenade in the direction of the largest group. It landed in the ground, giving off a blue hiss. It caught the attention of some, but the sound of gunfire drowned out any screams of panic. Meanwhile, he took the time to shoot back, trying to pick off as many as he could before the explosion.

He aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger. A shot tore through a soldier's skull, another right through the leg, another to the heart, and so forth.

After shooting ten rounds, he was forced to change clips. He wasn't too worried though. The bomb went off, killing a cluster of soldiers. Many were thrown off their feet by the explosion. Agent Maine then switched out for his shotgun, and decided to get up close and personal. With the simulation soldiers now dazed, it was time to introduce them to more...extreme measures.

He rushed up towards the nearest one and jabbed the muzzle into its ribs.

*bang*

The round blasted open its ribcage through the armor. He then spun around and bashed another solider in the throat with his weapon. One tried to pump him full of bullets from behind, but he whirled around, and grabbed the soldier by the neck. Several then whirled around, getting their bearings, and tried to gun him down, only for Maine to use the soldier in his hand as a meat shield. He then charged toward the next group of soldiers, using the body as a means of getting close. Once he was within range, he hurled the body to his attackers and knocked them down. He then aimed his shotgun and incapacitated the group of three.

The splash shot of the gun killed them instantly. He gave a quick look at his HUD to see the remaining simulation soldiers. There were approximately thirty left. He needed to end this quickly. He pulled out a frag grenade from his belt. He threw it at a random direction, and then focused on the soldiers around him. He whipped out his magnum pistol and shot two more in the head before switching to his shotgun and firing at a soldiers back.

In seconds, he was holding his shotgun in one hand, and his magnum in the other. He heard the frag go off, killing more soldiers, but paid it no mind. He let out a growl of anger when he saw that his overshields were dropping. Being stationary and focused in a single area meant that he was being shot at far too much. At this rate, he was about to suffer hard. Simulations they may be, the damage they do can simulate actual bullets. He vaguely remembered Wash mentioning that being shot in the head felt too real, and that he 'blacked out' for several seconds, like his brain was trying to figure out whether or not he had actually been shot in the head.

He wouldn't let that happen to him. He would pull through and overcome this. That was what he strove for. To be the strongest soldier in Project Freelancer. To be able to protect his new family. Its what he's been working for the last five years.

When he realized he was out of ammo, he threw his shotgun away, and took out a sticky grenade. He charged up to the nearest soldier, and slammed it straight into his face. The bomb stuck to the helmet, and was thrown into the thick crowd of soldiers. Maine then spun around, and fired off a few rounds at the simulation soldiers behind him.

The grenade went off behind him, swallowing the unfortunate group in a fiery blaze. Maine let out a few more rounds before he found that his gun was also out of ammo. Growling, he threw it aside, and then looked back around him. The crowds had thinned. Then he looked at his HUD screen.

'Fifteen left, huh?' he thought before his eyes burned. 'Let's make it zero.'

He pulled out two more of his grenades. One frag, one sticky. He tossed the frag grenade in the air, while clutching the sticky in his hand. He needed to time time this just right. Once the frag reached its apex, it slowly descended downward. Maine kept his eye on it, prepping the sticky grenade to throw. The soldiers, unfazed, were ready to open fire on him again. The frag reached his face.

Then he smirked.

He hurled his sticky grenade with all his might. The glowing explosive struck the descending grenade as the force of the throw propelled both forward to the remaining batch of soldiers. The frag smacked one soldier in the head, causing it to hit into the air once again, and thus giving Maine the opportunity to use him as a springboard. He ran forward, and jumped, slamming his foot on the simulation soldier's head to take to the air. He grabbed the frag grenade, and then threw it behind him, straight into the thick of soldiers that had tried to shoot him down now. The grenade struck one of them in the chestplate before going off. The explosion was stronger, due to the sticky grenade being stuck to the frag. Most of the soldiers behind him were now blown apart and splattered across the floor.

Now all that were left were a lowly three soldiers.

The remaining soldiers raised their guns, though Maine had one other weapon on him. Two, actually. His bare hands, and a combat knife. He ran for the closest one, standing to the left. They tried to shoot him down, but he was moving quickly. Within seconds, he was at his target. He raised his rifle to open fire, but he moved in fast, ducking underneath the point-blank barrage before delivering a swift uppercut, knocking the soldier away and staggering. He whipped out his knife, and jammed it straight into the helmet, ending their life instantly. He then ripped the rifle from their hands and opened fire at the remaining two. The guns were blown out of their hands, and thrown away from them.

He wasn't about to give them time to retaliate, however. He gunned down one of them, pumping them full of lead, before he turned to the next. Unlike their companion, this one was smart. It began to dart around, avoiding the gunfire while charging at him.

Soon, Maine ditched his rifle and grabbed the soldier by the throat when it got close enough. He then grabbed it by the shoulder and fell back into a suplex hold, bashing the soldier's head into the ground behind him. The two hit the ground, and the soldier left dazed. Maine got up first, and pinned the soldier down, ramming one knee down on their chest. He then pulled back his right fits before smashing it into the soldier's visor. He repeated the same motion with his left arm and continued the process.

One strike.

Two strikes.

Three.

Four.

Five.

The process repeated itself, even when the soldier's helmet crumpled beneath the blows and Maine felt his fists strike flesh and bone over and over.

The final blow was delivered, hands clasped together, and swinging them down. The last strike tore flesh, metal, and bone together. The ground crumpled beneath the weight. Maine pulled back his hands, looking at his work. Blue pixels were glitching and flashing, due to the damage he had inflicted. The same could be said for the rest of the dead soldiers, all seeming to struggle, trying to remain where they were. Slowly, the soldier stood, shrugging off the tension in his body before looking at his HUD screen.

It read: ZERO.

He gave a deep sigh, letting all of the stress inside of him release and calm before speaking. "Time!"

[EXCELLENT WORK, AGENT MAINE. YOU COMPLETED THE TRAINING EXERCISE IN THREE MINUTES AND FORTY-THREE SECONDS.] F.I.L.S.S. announced.

Mar 19Maine groaned. "Seriously?" he asked, removing his helmet. The metal separated from the black material with a hiss, letting his blonde locks fall. His hair had grown slightly longer, and slightly more messy, the fringe now covering the right eye. Despite five years of training, however, he still looked the same as he always did. The face of a young teen, despite now being in his twenties. "Dammit, three seconds behind...so close."

"Eh, don't feel too bad, Maine," he heard someone speak up from behind. Maine turned, and found York walking toward him, his helmet underneath his arm. "Still pretty impressive. Hell, you had it on the highest difficulty too." The brown-armored soldier then let out a whistle of appreciation. "Man, and to think, it was only yesterday when you were a bundle of nervous...now you're just a cold bastard."

The blonde gave a shrug. "Had to improve somehow, right?"

York wasn't wrong on that point. When he first started out, he tried to put his mind on the mission, which definitely showed, but sometimes he let his mind wander. He couldn't let that happen, though. What if he made a mistake, or screwed up? If he did, his friends...the family he made here on Project Freelancer would be in danger. So, he asked the Director to help him get stronger. From there, he was put through the proverbial ringer, taking on tougher missions that were usually meant for those in the top 3 of the Leaderboard. He found himself constantly being pushed to the edge. Some missions were more...horrible, than others. It was only a matter of time before he caved in to the pressure and broke down. The Counselor tried to help him rid himself of the burden, but the nightmares...they didn't stop. If he continued to let his mind get in the way, he was going to crash and burn.

So he found a solution...compartmentalize everything. Here, with everyone, he could be the lovable idiot...but out there, on the battlefield, he would be what the Director expected of him. A soldier. Someone who could watch his friends' backs without having to rely on his own personal feelings. He made a promise to get stronger, to become the best soldier...and it was showing. He got results. He completed missions with brutal efficiency. South had once commented that he was like two-faced showing one side to everyone and another side out there to others. Regardless, Maine found this method to be effective. He could worry about the missions'...lasting effects on himself when everything was over, an then let everything smooth out.

But on the battlefield, he would be a soldier first and foremost. He would suppress his other self for the sake of completing the mission successfully. He would not let his own anxieties and fears impede him and drag his comrades down. He was a soldier...and his actions strove to serve the greater good of Project Freelancer.

That, and it did strike some fear into the Insurrgents. Soon as they saw the white armor, they immediately knew they were fucked...or at least that's what Florida told him.

"So, what are you doing here?" York asked. "Shouldn't you be relaxing? I mean, you got back from your last job like a week ago, man. You're gonna tire yourself out at this rate."

"I'll be fine." Maine waved his friend's concern off. "Just keeping myself alert and prepped for when the next mission comes. The Insurrectionists are getting smarter as time passes, York. We can't let them get ahead of us."

The brown-haired man pondered that, and then nodded in agreement. "Well...guess you got a point, there. Oh yeah, did you hear?"

"Hear?" Maine tilted his head. "Hear what?"

"We got a newbie...and she's picking a fight with Wyoming in the Locker Room," he said before chuckling. "Heard some of it, and whoo boy...never thought I'd hear the day when someone would call Wyoming a cocksucking british Shisno."

Maine quirked an eyebrow. "...shisno?"

"Dunno, but apparently, it means 'worse than shit' in alien. As for how we know that, and only translated that much, don't ask. I think we're better off not knowing."

"Huh...so what's this rookie like?"

"Name the most violent girl you've met."

"If by violent you mean bitchy, I'd say South. Otherwise, I'd say Carolina. Why?"

"Well this rookie is like Carolina...times eight." York answered.

"...Oh lord..." Maine winced. Oh boy...sounds like the dysfunctional family got another girl with issues. He held nothing against South other than her occasional bitchiness, but the fact that there was a girl who's got a temper worse than Carolina just basically told him that he should expect a lot of things. "Is she still with Wyoming?"

"Probably."

"Should we go save him?"

York sighed, scratching his head. "...if we gotta."


Pyrrha was conflicted by the battle she had just witnessed.

One one hand...she was impressed with how Jaune had managed to fight off all those simulation soldiers. On the other hand...the way he dispatched them and his current mindset greatly disturbed her. Seeing her confusion and worry, Reed had shown her how he developed this mindset. He showed her the meeting between the Director of Project Freelancer and Jaune, and how Jaune had asked to become stronger. His speech had reminded her of when they spoke upon the rooftop that one night, when she learned he lied his way into Beacon. He had asked to be a soldier...the best damn soldier Project Freelancer would ever see. The sight warmed her heart, yet she was filled with trepidation.

After all...it was one thing to ask for help like training from a friend, but this Director was the person who egged him on to kill civilians just because they were on the other side of the battlefield.

She was growing more and more worried about him. Just what had he become between then, and what she saw? When he spoke with York, he seemed like his usual self, but back then...he was brutal. Powerful. Like a berserker out for blood. It was like...it was as if he had two personalities. One being the lovable idiot she and the others knew...and the other being this cold, ruthless, soldier.

Perhaps, in a way, the girls were right...Jaune wasn't there, but at the same time he was. It would more apt to say that the one who spoke with York was the blonde lovable idiot, and the one out on the battlefield is the soldier they faced back at Forever Fall. Just the thought of it chilled her to the bone. Was he really that far gone as to split his personality in two to accommodate different environments?

In way, though, she might have understood why. She remembered how he was on his very first mission. How he was traumatized by the fact he took the lives of innocent civilians under orders, and how he desperately tried to suppress them to continue with the mission.

"Why," the so-called Invincible Girl whimpered, tears threatening to fall from her face. "Why does it have to be him...?"


"I-I beg your pardon?! Now, see here, madam, I am nothing of the sort!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, asshole." The black-armored soldier scoffed at the white armored Englishman. They had been at this for the past ten minutes...all because Wyoming started it. Maine didn't know the full details, but according to York, Wyoming had tried to mess around with her. Sadly, he was not aware of her fiery temper, and it lashed out at him, thus leading to the argument they found taking place. Like everyone else, the newbie was dressed in high tech armor, though hers was of a dark color, nearly black with an orange-colored visor. Wyoming was without his helmet, thus revealing his angered expression.

"W-why you little tramp!" the sniper growled. "While its usually not my place to hurt a woman, you are testing my patience!"

The newbie snorted. "Your patience?" she asked, taking a threatening step forward. "You started testing mine when you decided to call me out. What, can't take a few jabs yourself? Let me guess, that rifle you carry with you is for compensation for something."

"...she's like Carolina with South's attitude rolled into one," Maine sweat-dropped. "Only without the bitchiness."

"I hear ya...just don't let either of them hear you say that..." York commented.

'Do I look suicidal to you?' Maine thought back, giving the man a slight glare before looking at the two. If this continued to escalate, the newbie was going to get into trouble. Having worked with Wyoming enough, the man tend to have a more cruel side. Hell, Maine was sure the only reason he became a Freelancer was because of the good pay. Plus, if the newbie got into a fight on their first day here, it would only cause them trouble. With that in mind, he stepped in.

"Alright, you two, break it up."

Both soldiers paused in their fight and turned to the approaching duo. "Maine? York? What are you doing here?" Wyoming was the first to ask.

"Maine just got done with training," York answered, following Maine from behind. "As for me, I'm just waiting for my next assignment." He then gave the sniper a look. "Now, why the hell are you picking a fight with the new guy?"

"SHE started it!"

The newbie growled. "Like hell!" she shouted. "You threw the first shot, stache face!"

"Hey! DO not mock the mustache! I do take a good deal of pride in it!"

"Whoa whoa, hey now!" York immediately got between them. "Look, let's both calm down!"

"The only way I'll 'calm down' is if I rip that mustache of this bastard's face!"

Wyoming growled, and tried to rush up to her, only for Maine to step in his way. "Back off, Wyo," he warned, his eyes burning red. "Unless you want this to get ugly." The Englishmen wanted to retort, but he knew better than to cross Maine when he's like this.

He gave a warning look to the newbie, bearing his teeth and showing his frustration before he took his helmet and rifle, and stormed off. As he did, York sighed. "Geez, a fine day to have his scope rammed up his ass," he muttered before looking at the newbie. "Sorry about Wyoming. He can be a real dick sometimes."

"So I noticed," she scoffed. "And for your information...I didn't need any help."

"Maybe...but we could tell things were gonna get ugly. And while Wyoming could be annoying with his knock knock jokes, we still consider him a friend...more or less." Maine shrugged.

The newbie crossed her arms. "You consider that asswipe a friend?"

"...depends on the time of the month," he confessed. "Anyway...welcome to Project Freelancer, I guess? My name's Maine, and this is York," he gestured to the brown-armored solider next to him. "It's a pleasure, uh..."

"Texas," the new Freelancer introduced herself. "But call me Tex." Then she paused, and her arms dropped. "...wait, you said your name was Maine?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Yeah...why?" The dark armored soldier paused and walked right up to him. Her visor was a few centimeters away from his face, as if examining him. The blonde blinked, as did York. What was she doing? "U-um...can I help you?"

"...you're younger than what the Director told me," Texas stated, causing the two to stare at her in confusion. The Director had spoken to her about him? Why? What was going on? "You're on the sixth spot on the Leaderboard, aren't you?"

'I've got a bad feeling about this,' Maine thought, but then gave a nod. "Y-yeah...w-"

"Fight me."

"Wh-what?" Both Freelancers looked at the rookie in confusion.

"From what I hear, you were the newest recruit before me, and you managed to reach the leaderboard in a short time and stayed there for quite a while." Tex clarified. "That's why...I want to fight you."

"M-Me?"

Tex nodded. "Yes, you. And I'm not taking no for an answer."


Pyrrha had to admit, the ferocity and ambition Tex had surprised her. Though her face couldn't be seen, she could practically feel the desire coming from her. An ambition that wanted to be sated. She had something to prove here. She had to admit, she felt the same way when faced with opponents. She wanted to fight someone who could give her that satisfaction, the idea of being able to fight all out, and come out panting and exhausted. Most of the time, the opponents she fought with barely posed a challenge to her. It wasn't that they were poor fighters...it was just that her semblance turned the tide of battle to her favor.

Also...was it just her, or did Tex sound a lot like Professor Goodwitch?

Their voices sounded so familiar, but their tones were completely different. Goodwitch was strict and no-nonsense, becoming very irritated when someone interrupted her lessons. Tex, however, demonstrated traits she herself had, a strong desire to fight someone who could match her, measure for measure. It appeared that Tex found someone who could possibly give her that - Jaune.

...Now she was REALLY worried for her friend.

'Somehow...this won't end well.'


"...I know she asked me to fight her, and I can understand York being here...but why did you decide to join the bandwagon, Wyoming?" Maine asked the Englishman who was testing the weight of his pugil stick. The white-armored soldier had been down in the training room when they arrived. Going by how he tensed when he saw Texas, it was clear he was expecting a brawl. York had insisted that he fought with Maine, if only because of the feeling he had. Texas didn't seem to mind. In fact, unless he was imagining things, he'd say that she was actually approving the gesture, as if the prospect of fighting two individuals in the top 10 of the leaderboard excited her.

Back to the present, Wyoming gave a shrug. "Director just said I should come here is all," he said simply. "Although, I'm amazed. That lass challenged you? Up front?"

"Oh yeah," York nodded. "And she didn't object to me joining in, either. Something tells me she's like Carolina when she's fired up. Enjoys a challenge." He then looked over to the black-armored Freelancer, who was testing out her pugil stick, giving it a few swings. "And going by the fact that she hasn't said anything...I think she's waiting for you to hop in on the fun too, Wyoming."

The Britain smirked beneath his helmet. "Sounds perfect to me."

[ATTENTION,] F.I.L.S.S spoke through the comm systems. [THE TRAINING MATCH BETWEEN AGENTS MAINE, TEXAS, WYOMING, AND YORK WILL COMMENCE SHORTLY.]

Maine blinked. "Wait, what?" he questioned. "All four of us?" He looked at the digital screen. To his shock, the match was...three on one?! "Wait, the fuck?! I-isn't that unfair?! I mean, Texas just joined!"

He'd understand if it'd be one on one. Even two on one if it were stretching it. But three Freelancers against one new recruit? That's overkill. How could the Director approve of this? Unless...he understood the new recruit's abilities. York seemed to reach this conclusion as well, as he suddenly turned weary. "Hey, Texas," he called out from his side. "Before you joined PF, what did you do before this, if you don't mind me asking?!"

"Sorry, but I do mind!" Texas hollered back, resting the shaft of the pugil stick on her shoulder.

Wyoming chuckled. "Shot down, it seems," he remarked before looking up, seeing quite a number of personnel gathered around the windows. "And we have an audience."

York and Maine looked up to see some of the other members of Project Freelancer observe their little exhibition match. South, C.T. and even Carolina were there. "South?" York questioned. "I thought she and North were out on a mission?"

"Must have gotten back," Maine said. He then took a deep breath. This was just a simulation...training. Sparring. There wouldn't be a need for him to go into his "Freelancer" persona, as he dubbed it. "Alright, boys...showtime."

[THE MATCH WILL NOW BEGIN IN 3...2...1...]

Then the buzzer went off.

[BEGIN.]

[Play: This Means War - Nickelback]

The three Freelancers charged in at once with their pugil sticks poised to strike. However, when they got close enough, Texas smacked them all away with an impressive display of strength in a single stroke. "Ooof!" Maine grunted as he landed flat on his back, skidding back a bit before he clambered up to his feet. York landed next to him, managing to hit the ground feet first rather than tumble like Wyoming did. "Damn...all three of us in one hit?"

York groaned. "Yep...its another Carolina."

"Great..." Maine muttered in sarcasm. Now that that's been established...he's debating whether or not he should use his Freelancer Persona...

Wyoming jumped up to his feet, shaking off the damage. He charged right back into it. Texas didn't seem the least bit concerned, spinning the weapon they were given around. The sniper came in close, trying to knock her off of her feet. Her response was to slam her pole into the ground and hop around it, leaving Wyoming's attack to miss completely and receive a boot to the face, and throwing him back again. Maine studied her carefully, trying to look for chinks. Then he looked at York. "So...ready to run back into the thick of it?"

"That all depends," York replied cheekily. "Who's payin' for dinner?"

"The guy who got his ass kicked the hardest."

"Then I'll be sure not to get beaten too badly."

Maine smirked back, and then the two charged together, running past a dazed Wyoming. Tex charged forward, meeting their advance. York raised his stick for an overhead strike while Maine came in for a side sweep. Tex defended against them easy, her staff blocking both strikes. She parried, and bent down for a low sweep. The two jumped up to evade, with the brown-haired soldier twisting his body around in mid-air to strike at her with her back exposed. Tex, however, proved to be quite swift, as she spun her pungil stick to defend, lightning clashing with their weapons. When he landed on his feet, Maine went for a thrust while keeping his back to hers. She tilted her body to the side, letting the staff pass below her arm, and letting her catch it.

With a swift tug, she made Maine lose his balance just so she can sweep his feet out from under him and throw him over her shoulder.

Maine let out a grunt as he landed flat on his back. York tried to retaliate, but found himself striked in the chin, a bolt of thunder smashing against the edge of his helmet and throwing him into the air. With a twirl, she slammed the pugil stick into his abdomen, sending him flying. She turned, and set her sights on Maine. The blonde gritted his teeth. 'She's strong,' he noted as he stood up. 'If I didn't know any better, I thought I was fighting Carolina when she's pissed off.'

It was hard to believe that this woman was a new recruit. She fights like a fricking veteran! "Hey York!" Maine called as Tex approached. "You okay?!"

The brown-armored soldier groaned, shaking his head. He still felt a bit dizzy from when he was thrown and landed on his head. "Peachy," he called back. "Any ideas now, kid?"

"Yeah...you remember that job two years ago? You know, with those pirates me, Carolina and Wash ran into few years back?"

"Why?!"

"You remember our old combo?!"

York stared at Maine for a second before smiling under his helmet. "Sure do!"

"Then on my mark! Mark!"

"Sync!"

Tex was confused by what they were talking about, but didn't take any stock into it. Whatever they were planning, she could handle it. So far, though, she was beginning to wonder if Maine was really as strong as the Director said. Sure, his physical strength was impressive, but so far, she hasn't seen anything worthwhile. Who knows? Maybe he'll surprise her. Regardless, she readied her pugil stick as Maine got back up to his feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw York getting back up.


(Outside of Memory)

"Gotta admit, she's got some moves on her," North said as he watched the fight. "Not many can keep up with York...or Maine for that matter when he's serious."

"Yeah, maybe," Washington agreed. "But something tells me York and Maine aren't gonna go down without a fight. Also...what's this about a combo?"

Carolina smiled in reminiscence, recalling the mission that York had told her about. "Those two worked together for a while a few years ago. Director said that it was necessary since they had the skill sets he needed. Apparently, they learned a thing or two while working together. I sparred with them a while back to see what they came up with."

"And?" South turned to her. "How'd blondie do with York?"

"They nearly broke my undefeated streak."

North whistled. "This ought to be interesting then."


Tex whirled around on her feet, going on for a swing that would strike at the helmet. Maine ducked underneath, only for Tex to use the momentum and reverse her motion, spinning around the opposite way and go in for a second, faster strike. This time, he angled his body just so the pugil stick would fly right across his body, spars dashing slightly against his armor due to how close they were. The new Freelancer's weapon spun around her arm and flicked it into her hands, going on for an overhead strike. Quickly, he brought the stick up to his face, and braced himself. She swung down hard, and nearly threw him to his feet.

Then York came into the picture. "Hey, Tex!" he called out. She looked over her shoulder, and to her surprise, he was holding the pugil stick in a familiar fashion. "Catch!" With a strong throw, the shock stick was sent flying straight at her, like a javelin. She adjusted her body, letting it fly past her torso, letting off the pressure she was putting on Maine.

That was a mistake.

In a split second, Maine grabbed the flying pugil stick, and using the fast momentum to his advantage, he spun around, not letting it lose speed, and swirled around, delivering a solid strike. It was blocked, but the tip nearly came close to her helmet. Then Maine surprised her again, as he tossed his stick up into the air above them. She heard the sound of rushing, and turned over her shoulder. York was running towards her. Was he intending to strike while her back was turned? Bad idea. She'd crush him for even trying. While hand-to-hand wasn't exactly used in a fight with pugil sticks, it wasn't forbidden either. However, she was proven wrong when he jumped over her, and grabbed the stick, right near the end.

Beneath his helmet, York grinned, and while looking down at Texas, as his body was facing hers from above, he went into a forward somersault, and swung, letting it strike her dead in the fast.

Sparks splashed against her face, and the attack stunned her considerably, as she found herself stumbling back. For a moment, she was confused. What the hell happened? Where did that come from? When she regained her senses, she found herself staring at York and Maine, standing side by side, armed against her. She wasn't sure what happened, the strike had jumbled her up for a moment. When she regained herself, she was struck in surprise.

She...had been hit?

She must've been...otherwise she wouldn't have been stunned like that. It looks like these two have some moves after all... The black clad Freelancer grinned. Things were now getting interesting.


Pyrrha was smiling. 'That's the Jaune I know.'

From the beginning of the exhibition match, she's had a feeling of trepidation. It's been this way since she's witnessed Jaune's brutality in combat. However, so far, she had only seen the abilities and mentality of the team leader of JNPR. He worked exceedingly well with York, acting together as a single unit as they managed to force Texas back. And for that, she was relieved. Relieved knowing that Jaune was still in there somewhere.

"Yo, doc, you in?" a familiar voice called out. The scenery shimmered, as the doors to the infirmary opened, revealing Team RWBY, Ren and Nora. "We came to-whoa, what's going on here?!"

"We're in the middle of viewing another memory." Krimzen Reed replied without looking.

Ruby frowned, putting her hands on her hips while giving Pyrrha the most cutest death glare ever. "Pyrrha, we talked about this!" she said, clearly not happy. "We promised to look at this together!"

"I'm sorry a Ruby..." The Spartan apologized. "I just...I just couldn't take it..."

Yang sighed. "You really need to calm down, Pyrrha," the fighter suggested as she walked next to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Look, I know you're worried about Vomit Boy, but you need to calm down. I get it, you feel like crap for what happened back there, but he wouldn't want you to crash and burn."

"I know but...I need to know what happened to him..."

"We all do, Pyrrha," Ren spoke. "But you don't have to do this all by yourself. After all, we're all here with you." To emphasize this, he gestured to the Huntsmen and Huntresses in training within the room, all staring at her with consolation and sympathy.

A smile reappeared on her face. "I'm sorry...thank you guys..."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Yang grinned before she looked at the memory currently playing. "So, what's Vomit Boy getting himself intooooooo whoa holy crap! Is-is she strangling that white dude with a staff?!" The group turned to face to what Yang pointed out, and sure enough, Tex was choking Wyoming behind her. She was holding onto her pugil stick with both hands to block his wind pipe.

"...who's she?" Nora asked, eyes glimmering. "Can she teach me to do that?!"

Pyrrha sweat-dropped. Knowing their luck, she wanted to do that to Cardin. Not that she blamed her. Even though Jaune had saved him, he was still a complete ass. "That's Texas," she said. "The newest recruit of Project Freelancer. This is five years after the last memory, and since then, Jaune's gotten stronger." As the rest turned to watch the memory, they witnessed Wyoming struggle to get out, even aiming his pugil stick to strike him from the gap below his arm. However, Texas applied greater pressure, and proceeded to throw him into the air, and then slammed the stick straight into his privates, the end hitting him straight in the nether regions. The result was enough to cause the girls to gape and the lone male to cringe, feeling the sudden urge to protect his family jewels. Wyoming let out a low whine as he slowly fell off the stick, and hit the ground with a plop. "...that had to hurt."


[END OF MATCH. POINT TO TEAM 1.]

Maine panted, sitting on the ground while York rested on his knee. It had taken them ten minutes to get enough damage on Texas to end the first round, though Wyoming was now in serious pain, evident by how he was clutching his nuts. The two men did not blame him. It had to hurt. "So..." the white-armored Freelancer asked, tired and exhausted. "What's the next round?"

"Hand-to-hand," York replied, trying to catch his breath. "So...we got round 1, but what are our odds here?"

"Well, if she's anything like Carolina...We should probably have a medic team standing by..." Maine confessed.

[BEGINNING HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT. MATCH WILL BEGIN IN 5...]

After Wyoming managed to get over the aching pains in his nuts, he joined York and Maine, with the latter to York's right, and Wyoming to his left. Meanwhile, Texas shrugged off the tension from the earlier match, and began to crack her knuckles and shoulders and neck, obviously looking forward to this. Maine noticed how she seemed a bit more confident than usual. 'Is hands-on combat more her forte?'

If it is...then she is definitely like Carolina...they really should've called that medic team for standby...

[2...1...ROUND BEGIN.]

"Okay guys, let's play this by the book." York began. Noticing how Tex acted when learning they'd be switching to CQC, it would be best to remain wary. "Wyoming, you flank her from the right..." The man didn't listen. He charged in straight forward, rushing at her and hoping to take her down easy. Sadly, he sorely underestimated her, as a right hook was enough to send him flying, his backpiece scraping the floor. "...or you can rush in and get knocked out," York sighed before turning to Maine. "Okay, kid, let's stick together, and wear her down. She's gotta tire out at some point."

"Got it." Maine nodded. He wasn't going to be stupid. They were going to need a solid plan to best her.

"Right. Now on my mark. Mark!"

"Sync!"

The two charged in, ready to dive back into the thick of it. Tex smirked but remained cautious. These two took her by surprise during the last match. But Hand to hand combat was her forte. Truth be told, she preferred fighting with her fists rather than with weapons. At least with her hands, she could bash in someone's head. York came in first, trying to deliver a punch, only for her to catch it and knock him back with a right hook to the chest. Maine then came in with a right hook only for her to duck underneath it and deliver an uppercut to his chin. He stumbled back a bit, but remained standing on his feet. Tex went in for a straight hook, and he defended, using his forearm and retaliating with an elbow strike. Tex blocked it easy, and kneed him in the stomach.

The white armored soldier crumpled before Tex grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him into an approaching York. The two crashed and hit the floor. Wyoming, having recovered, then charged at Texas once again, this time taking it more cautiously. He made the mistake of rushing in without a plan. But this time things will be different. He tried to go for a drop kick, jumping into the air with legs out and stuck together. Tex, however, evaded easily and grabbed him by the leg, proceeding to then throw him away, and smack him against the wall. He gasped as he impacted the flat surface and slumped down.

Tex gave a small, dark chuckle. "Payback's a bitch, stache face," she mocked before she turned to see Maine and York back on their feet, this time approaching more cautiously. "Ready for round 2, boys?"

"More or less." York shrugged, though internally, he was grimaced. 'She's as strong as Carolina, if not better,' he thought. 'Man...where did the Director find her?' That was the million dollar question. From the way Tex fought, she's like a trained veteran. Normally, he wouldn't be so suspicious...but her fighting strength was definitely noteworthy. He looked back at Maine, who gave a nod. "Round 2 it is."

They charged once again.

Neither of them, however, expected what was to come next.


"...oof," Yang winced. "That's...gotta hurt."

"Aww!" Nora pouted. "And Jaune was doing so well earlier! Leader, what are you doing?! You're getting beaten by a girl! An angry girl! Come on!"

"I don't think it's like that, Nora." Ren shook his head. "If you looked closely, while He and York defeated Tex in the last round, it took them quite a while to do so. Which means that despite not used to that staff as her main weapon, Tex was still a formidable foe. But now, based on her movements in this round, it can be deduced that her proficiency is in unarmed combat."

Pyrrha nodded in agreement. "I would have to agree," she said before she winced, seeing York punched and thrown across the room. "Although...this is very painful to watch. Agent Texas is stronger than Jaune in terms of hand-to-hand combat."

"Oh please," Yang rolled her eyes. "I could take her, easy!"

As if to respond to her statement, Tex broke through Maine's guard, grabbed his head and smashed it onto her knee. While he was disoriented, she clasped her hands together and slammed them down on his back. She then grabbed him by the neck to pick him up before punching him right into the just now recovering Wyoming.

Weiss sweat-dropped. "...no offense, Yang, but Texas would beat you in a few seconds. There's a difference between a Huntress-in-training, and a trained soldier. Especially one that is currently beating Agent Maine, who mind you also kicked OUR butts?"

The blonde brawler tried to refute that statement, then noticed that in the memory Tex was on top of Maine, slamming his head into the training room floor over and over again.

"...okay, point taken."

Ruby winced with each time Maine was punched, kicked, or thrown. Same with York or Wyoming. She also noticed that Texas seemed to be particularly more brutal on the white-armored sniper than anyone else, despite often targeting Maine. "Owwie...that's gonna hurt in the morning."

After kicking Wyoming in the nuts again, Maine tried to rush in and attack her from behind. But at the very last moment, Texas spun around and smashed her fist into the back of his head, sending him crashing ti the ground once more.

"...okay, this is just sad," Blake deadpanned. "Any chance we can skip this part? I think we know the outcome."


[ROUND OVER. POINT TO TEXAS.]

"...okay, ow," Maine winced, tending to his ribs. "Jesus...I thought South was violent during Shark Week."

"That felt like getting on Carolina's bad side..." York groaned. "...times three."

"Guuuh..." Wyoming whimpered while still clutching his crotch. Before the match ended, Tex got a few more shots in.

The three men had been left aching and bruised after the match had come to an end. While the round was over, the match wasn't. Frankly, Maine wanted this to be done already. Why did he even agree to this? He should have just said no! Instead here he was, getting the ever-loving shit kicked out of him! He was now REALLY tempted to just bring out his Freelancer persona in order to get this match done and over with. He would especially need it for the next round of the training match.

The Lockdown Paint Scenario.

"Ugh...I hate this part," York muttered. "Alright, Maine, let's try not to get hit by this stuff."

Wyoming huffed, hobbling over to the two. "Good luck with that, mate," he scoffed. "Chances are, we're going to be pelted!"

"Thanks for the pessimism Wyoming..." Maine shook his head as he moved to grab his own pistol and paint pellet filled cartridge.

The room began to shift while they went to grab their equipment. The three picked up their respective pistols and loaded them with the cartridges filled with the lockdown paint pellets. Behind them, they heard the room configure, raising pillars to provide cover during this particular match.

[5...4...3...2...1...ROUND BEGIN.]

[Play: On Your Knees - Jeff Williams feat. Sandy Casey & Lamar Hall]

With the buzzer going off, the three moved in, hiding behind the closest pillars they could reach. Maine stuck closest pillar beside York, while Wyoming hit the farthest. The 'leader' of the group let out a sigh, hoping things would go well here. "Alright, here goes nothing," he muttered before looking at Wyoming. "Wyoming, I'll flank to the left. You..." he trailed off, as the sniper went straight out to gun her down, or at least find a good position against her, found himself being pelted. Slowly, York sighed again. "...could get taken out. Alright, fine. Maine, we...uh, Maine?" When the brown armored soldier turned to instruct his friend, he realized he was already gone. He heard two gunshots and Maine's frozen body fall beside him. York groaned. "Really? Now you too, Maine?" he said, sorely disappointed. "Am I the only one who knows how to talk?"

"I think that's your problem, York." He turned, and was promptly shot in the face, thus ending the first of several rounds.

Things didn't get much better from there. Even with a change of tactics from all three of them, they all got pelted with the paint.

However, it was also where Maine took off the kid gloves. He had taken to his Freelancer persona, and started to tackle the situation more aggressively. While he would sometimes go off on his own, he coordinated with York, and managed to win a few a rounds...that said, though, it was still embarrassing to see happen, as well as frustrating. Regardless, things had become tense, with one side trying to get an edge over the other.

The third round, Tex was pelted, with a leg an arm stuck with paint, but Wyoming was, unsurprisingly, shot in the nuts. York was shot in the hand, and Maine in the shoulder.

Fourth round, Maine was bombarded in retaliation. Wyoming was stuck to a wall, and York's head stuck to the floor.

Fifth round, Texas was covered in paint.

Sixth Round, Wyoming and York were stuck together, Maine cradling his now bruised family jewels, covered in paint.

Seventh round, Tex lost.

Eighth round, the three lost.

Ninth Round, they lost again.

When the tenth round hit, things had...changed. Maine was grabbing his gear, going for a refill after having scraped off the damned rock-solid paint on his armor before he noticed Wyoming walking past him, slipping a new clip into his gun. However, something was different. The coloring of the clip wasn't gray, but silver, and the casings didn't have the purple tip. Rather, they had dull gray tips. "What the..." York got out, also noticing the clips. "Wyoming, what are you doing?"

"Ending this stupid farce," he spat out, his voice in contempt. Through out the entire match, Texas had been toying with him, beating him down. He didn't like that in the least. It angered him. Who did she think she was? Better than him? She was a rookie! She had no right to look down on him like that! "She's struck my last nerve."

[FINAL ROUND, BEGIN.]

The match began, and Texas immediately went in to go after Wyoming. She was confused when she found Maine and York staring at their teammate oddly, but didn't dwell on it. However, when Wyoming fired on her when he saw her, she understood why when the bullet struck the pillar...and debris went flying near her. "Shit!" she cursed and took cover, more rounds shooting at her cover and blowing off bits and pieces of the pillar.

Maine, even in his Freelancer persona, recognized what Wyoming was doing, and was shocked while York was terrified. And for good reason.

The sniper was using live ammunition.


"The fuck?!" Yang cursed in disbelief and disgust, ignoring the fact that Ruby was in the room and was glaring at her in disapproval, even though she currently shared the same sentiments. "That's not paint! That's actual ammo! I thought this was a spar, not an actual fight!"

"It was..." Pyrrha narrowed her eyes at what Wyoming was doing. "But it looks like Wyoming decided to end this once and for all."

"But that's crazy! Texas could get hurt! Or worse!" Weiss voiced her concern.

"From the look of things, Wyoming doesn't care about that." Blake shook her head.

Ren frowned, folding his arms. "From my perspective, he's someone who values his ego and pride," he said, giving his thoughts. "Wyoming is probably an experienced Freelancer, like Carolina and the Dakota twins. The fact that Texas, a newcomer, is showing him up, doesn't sit well with him."

"Doesn't excuse the fact that he's trying to kill the mean lady!" Nora growled. "I say we break his legs!"

"Again, Nora, this is a memory. We can't do anything."

Ruby scowled, an unusual action for her. However, the sight angered her. What the heck was he doing?! They were supposed to be teammates now, and teammates should understand one another, not try and gun each other down!

She thought all of this was crazy. First there was the Leaderboard that made each of the Freelancers compete with each other fo the top spot, and now there are guys who take things too seriously and are actually trying to shoot each other! With these thoughts...she could only say one thing. "Kick his butt, Texas!"


"Fuck!" York cursed. "Maine, take care of Wyoming! I need to help the new girl!"

The only response he received was a grunt as the white-armored brute made his move, heading towards Wyoming while York ran over to warn Texas. Maine grabbed Wyoming's outstretched arm to try and wrest the gun from his hands. But Wyoming broke free from him. "Stay out of this, chap!" He then charged in between a set of columns to find his target. Growling in annoyance, Maine followed him with his own gun raised. Since plan A failed, he's going to have to shoot Wyoming to lock down his armor and stop him from doing anything else stupid.

He let out one round, but it missed, splattering across the pillar in front of the sniper, hardening. The sniper turned, and scowled beneath his helmet, and fired at him this time. Maine immediately ducked behind one of the pillars. A piece of the stone pillar he hid behind was blown off from the fired bullet. He immediately moved and dove behind another pillar for cover. He hissed angrily. Wyoming actually tried to shoot him! "...asshole," he growled, noting to break his legs. And if need be, have a talk with the Director about letting the man have live rounds.


(Outside of Memory)

Washington reeled back in horror. "I-Is he using live rounds on the training field?!"

"Looks like it," South remarked, not caring in the least. If at all anything, the sight of Wyoming being pissed was awesome to see. "Should have known he would snap sooner or alter."

"Are you joking?! Someone's going to get hurt! Or worse!" the gray-armored Freelancer argued. "Someone should go call the Security! Hell, get the Director down here!"

"The Director?" C.T. questioned in a scoffing manner. "Who do you think gave him the ammo?"

"Hey!" Carolina snapped at the brown armored Freelancer. "Watch your mouth, C.T."


"Look out!" York shouted at Texas. The woman turned, and immediately began to run, avoiding Wyoming as he continued to shoot at her. She veered left and dove behind another stone pillar. She took the moment to pause and catch her breath.

The training field was a mess. Several pillars were broken, not meant to withstand the pressure of being pelted by bullets. Some had already been reduced to rubble, others lying on the ground in a broken heap. Taking a moment to relax, Texas looked out past her hiding spot, and found Maine trying to fight Wyoming.

The blonde went in for a lariat, intending to knock the man right in the neck and send him flying. Wyoming ducked, and kicked Maine away and aimed his gun at him. Seeing as what the British soldier was about to do, Tex took immediate action. She whipped her arm out and shot a paint round right at Wyoming's outstretched hand, encasing it in a glob of pink paint. "Che!" Wyoming scoffed, slipping his loaded gun into the other hand. He turned to shoot at Texas in retribution, but promptly found himself being picked up by Maine, and being charged through one of the pillars.

The brute of the Freelancers smashed Wyoming into the stone and continued his charge. When he stopped, he slammed his foot down, and threw the sniper away, letting him hit one of the pillars. The British soldier's body crashed through the stone before bouncing off and landing harshly on the ground. He groaned, shaking his head before looking up, and finding Maine cracking his knuckles, shoulders and neck, glaring down at him. "...my turn."

Meanwhile, from Tex's standpoint, she was utterly confused. What the hell was Wyoming doing, firing live rounds at her? Sure, the Director told her to account for that scenario, but still, that was dangerous! Why was Maine also fighting his own teammate? They were on the same team, so why- "Hey!" She whirled around, and aimed her gun at York, who immediately raised his hands in defense, revealing he carried no sidearm with him. "W-whoa, hey lady! I'm trying to protect you!"

"I don't need protection!" she snapped angrily. "Never abandon your team!"

He stared at her, incredulous. "E-excuse me?!" he gawked. "In case you haven't noticed, Wyoming's trying to kill you! And Maine is trying to save your ass!"

He whipped his arm over to the combating duo and saw Maine grabbing Wyoming by the leg and hurling him into another pillar. The sniper went right through it, creating discomfort in his side, but ignored it as he landed back on his feet. He looked up and found Maine charging at him. He rolled out of the way, letting the brute smash through the pillar behind him. He quickly moved out of the way and out of sight. The last thing he needed was that meathead getting in his way any further. Still, what a bother. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to get at least one shot at that bitch. 'Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say,' he thought as his hand went to his belt. He smirked a bit as he pocketed the item away, looking for the right opportunity. 'Now, where were we, dear Tex?'

"Maine!" York shouted. "He's to your six!"

The former rookie of the team snapped his head to his side and whipped out his gun, firing a few rounds at Wyoming's direction. The paint bullets got him in the leg and arm. Wyoming let out a small cry, feeling the stuff harden on his armor, and began to weigh him down. As if that wasn't enough, he found Texas charging at him. He raised his gun, and fired off a few more rounds. Most flew past her, some scraping against her armor, but one struck her in the shoulder. She let out a growl, and rammed her gun into his face, shooting as many bullets as she possibly could.

The sniper jerked his head back from the force of each bullet impacting him in the face. He felt his armor hardening. Pretty soon, he'd be unable to move. But before that happened, he was determined to take her down! Using his free hand, he made a move for the item in his pouch. He grabbed it just when Texas grabbed him by the face and rammed him straight into a pillar, smashing it in the process. The sniper's helmet was intact, even though the paint was smashed apart. He hit the floor, bouncing slightly before sliding to a stop. He didn't get back up. "Fucking finally," York muttered in exasperation, letting out a heaving sigh. "There's one problem dealt with."

"Speak for yourself, York," Tex replied hostilly, turning to him. "The match is still..." She trailed off, and suddenly tensed. Maine frowned, and followed her line of sight. Then his eyes widened, reverting back to his usual self, and stared in horror.

There was a grenade right next to York's feet...without the pin.

"What?" York asked, oblivious to the stares' meaning. "What's up with you guys? Is there something by my...feet..." He looked down, and found the grenade. "...oh son of a-"

That was as far as he got before Tex, acting quickly, took aim at opened fire, splattering the paint on his body. The first one struck him in the leg, which accidentally forced him to his knees. The second splattered across his helmet, covering almost half of the visor. The third struck him across the chest, and the fourth along his arm. The fifth covered another leg, and the sixth splattered along his arm.

She was about to fire off another shot to cover the rest of the visor, but the bomb exploded.

"Gah!" York screamed in pain as his body took the brunt of the fiery blast. He was blown from where he stood and crashed to the ground in the midst of the fallen rubble. Despite his armor being hardened, he felt a blinding pain in places that the paint didn't cover, like the part of his visor. His visor was cracked, shattered in. Glass pierced into his skin, and blood poured out from the wounds. He tried to open his eyes. He found only the right side damaged, the visor cracked, but...why couldn't he see the other side? Why was it black?

"YORK!" Maine screamed, rushing to his friend's side. Alarms blared, F.I.L.S.S saying something about the match being cancelled, but he didn't care. He slid down next to him, finding most of the armor intact, but a few parts were compromised. Exposed bits of armor were broken, blood leaking out. However, the worst was at the exposed side of his visor. One side was cracked, and some of the armor was damaged, but the other side was...destroyed. It was cracked, metal was bent, and...York's eye was gone. Glass pierced through the eyelids and into the ball, smaller shards embedded in the face. "Fuck! York, can you hear me?! S-say something!"


(Outside of Memory)

"THAT MANIAC!" Washington roared, pounding on the glass before moving to leave the spectator box with the others. "IF YORK'S HURT, WYOMING IS FUCKING DEAD!"

As the others rushed out to help, Carolina called for medical support. As she did, her eyes focused on York's hurt form, and clenched her teeth. She agreed with Washington. If anything bad had happened to York because of that...Wyoming was in for a world of hurt. Live rounds was one thing, but a fucking GRENADE? Her mind went back to what C.T had said earlier. That it was the Director who provided it.

'What are you thinking, old man?' she thought before moving to follow the others.


[MEDICAL TEAM, ON ROUTE. PLEASE, REMAIN CALM. I REPEAT, MEDICAL TEAM, ON ROUTE...]

"York!" Washington and the others barged into the training room, the gray armored Freelancer rushing to his friends side. "York, can you hear me?! Say something!"

"How is he?!" Carolina asked, rushing next to them. "Is he okay?!"

"Some of his armor's fine," Maine replied, checking him for any other injuries. "But some parts were compromised! Half of his helmet's been blown out! His eye's damaged too!" He let out a growl as he turned to the still unconscious Wyoming. "That motherfucker...when he wakes up, I'm gonna kill him!"

"Get in line, Maine." Wash scowled. "I called dibs."

"Dammit, what the hell are you waiting for!" Carolina screamed at the medics, who began to enter the training room. "Get over here! Now!"

Soon, the medics began to work. One group picked up Wyoming, much to the chagrin of Maine. He wanted to beat the shit out of that bastard, while another group began to escort Texas, despite her insistence that she was fine. As she was being pulled away, Carolina watch her leave, noting the sparks on her arm and her combat ability from earlier. From what she observed, the new girl wasn't a amateur. She must have been highly skilled. It made her wonder how and where the Director found her. Meanwhile, another group began to look York over for any serious injuries, and then pulled him away.

"Can't believe she did that," South said as they watched the medics pull York away. "Shot his armor, sacrificing him..."

Washington shook his head. "When the paint hits the armor, it hardens," he said. "By that logic, it was what saved his life."

"Quick thinking," North nodded in approval. "She's good." He then looked at Maine. "How about you, kid? You okay?"

The blonde snarled. "No. I'm fucking pissed," he spat. "Wyoming better hope they have good security, because the moment he wakes up, I'm gonna-!"

"EVERYONE, STAND DOWN! NOW!" The Director of Project Freelancer barked as he marched into the room. The Freelancers who weren't being escorted to the infirmary stood at attention as he approached. They stood in a line while he marched towards them, a cold look on his face as he stared back at them, his piercing gaze looking at them straight past their visors, as if looking at their very souls. "I am ashamed of you all," he said coldly. "I expect you to act as a team!"

"They used live ammunition on the training floor, sir," Washington said in protest. "That's against regulations!"

The Director stopped, and whipped around, facing the soldier, who promptly began to retreat in fear. "Do you honestly think that our enemies will care about regulations out on the battlefield, Agent Washington?"

The group was startled, Maine especially. They stared at one another, realizing what the man was implicating, and then turned back to the founder of the group they were apart of. "S-so...you're not punishing Wyoming?"

"Ingenuity and adaptibility are admirable traits," the man responded without a beat. "You should all learning something from this."

Maine's hands were balled into tight fists. Wyoming tried to kill Texas. He nearly killed York! He wanted to bark back at him, but he held his tongue. The soldier inside him stopping him from doing so. Didn't mean he wasn't angry though.

Without any further response, the Director turned on his heel and left. "Dismissed."

The soldiers relaxed. "Are you serious?" Washington said, clearly angry. "Tell me he's not serious!"

"We could learn something from this, alright," C.T remarked. "That some of us don't like to be shown up."

"I can't believe this!"

The woman gave Washington a look as she patted him in the shoulder. "Better keep an eye on your spot on the board, Wash," she told him, reminding him of their past conversation, before she turned to leave. Washington and the others soon followed. Maine followed behind them, but was still clearly angry. He was worried about Tex, since it seemed like she was injured earlier if the way she held her shoulder was any indication, but he was furious. The Director was right on a few accounts; they were supposed to act as a team, and they needed to be ingenious and adaptable to new situations.

However, if his definitions of that was to have an egotistical British snob live ammo and try to use it against the new girl, then he was better off working with those he trusted.


"Unfreakingbelievable!" Ruby shouted. "He's letting Wyoming go?! After York got hurt?! That's-that's-!"

"That absolute fucking bullshit!" Yang snarled angrily. How the hell was the Director okay with this?! One of his soldiers nearly killed another of his soldiers and he didn't even bat an eye!

Weiss, for once, wasn't appalled by Yang's choice of words. In fact, they were spot on. The Director's demeanor had struck a nerve with her. A very disturbing, familiar one. A cold look crossed her face, unpleasant memories crossing her mind. "How is a heartless monster like that in charge of such a military operation?" she questioned. "He clearly doesn't care if his soldiers do whatever it takes to win, even if their competitive nature leads to them to try and kill someone just because they're better than they are!"

"I say we break his legs!" Nora suggested, also fuming. "York was awesome! He's friends with Jaune! First we break his legs, then we break 'em with a car!"

Ren sighed. He's told her so many times that this was a memory, but he was in agreement with the others. The Director, clearly, didn't care what happened to York if he was praising Wyoming for his tactics - and attempted murder- of Agent Texas. Something like that was just deplorable and disgusting. A man like that is a disgrace of a leader and a human being.

Pyrrha's hands balled into fists, and her eyes hardened, staring at the retreating back of the Director of Project Freelancer in utter loathing. This...this was the man who Jaune asked to make him stronger? THIS was the man who had molded him into Agent Maine?!

For once in her life, Pyrrha Nikos had wished horrible things unto a human being. Things that would otherwise seem like torture to others.


"Dammit," Texas growled as she tended to the sparks in her shoulder. Blood was trailing a bit down her arm, much to her displeasure. "That Wyoming...should have hit him more in the nuts." She slowly adjusted the settings in her armor, letting the locks release around her neck. A slight hiss echoed in the room, and her helmet loosened its grip on her. She slowly pulled it off, revealing dark blonde, almost brown hair that fell down to her shoulders, a rough yet graceful face, and light brown eyes.

She usually didn't like taking off her helmet. She wasn't sure why, but...looking at her face always felt wrong. Like it wasn't HER face. However, she felt rather stuffy right now, so she didn't have much choice. She also disengaged the locks on her armor, allowing her to shed it off and let her tend to her wounds more easily. She was a bit furious about what happened during the match. Things were going so well, she had managed to get Maine to take this more seriously, and were it not for the fact that it was a team match, she was sure they would have had a much more enjoyable fight. It had been so long since she's had a good fight. However, Wyoming ruined any chance of that when he pulled that stunt. Don't get her wrong, the whole live ammo thing didn't surprise her...but the grenade? That was obviously meant for her, and instead it hit York.

"Well, don't you look pissed off," a voice called out from a nearby console. Texas looked to her side, and found a holographic, miniature soldier in white armor standing on top of her night stand, arms folded. "Alright, spill. What happened this time? Wait, don't tell me...someone actually kicked your ass."

She rolled her eyes. "No, Alpha," she replied in amusement. "Just some idiot who got stupid ideas."

"Hey hey, we talked about this. I thought I told you! When we're alone, it's just Church," the holographic soldier snarked, waving his hands around in a gesture. "Lord knows the Director don't used it. Can't even recall the last time someone actually used his damn name." The AI had a point. It was like the Director was trying to forget his own name by having everyone else refrain from using it. "And you didn't answer my question," Alpha said. "So what happened? And don't lie to me, Tex. I can always check F.I.L.S.S' logs."

"...Fine...I had a match earlier. Me against three other Freelancers, York, Maine, and Wyoming. It went well for the first few rounds...gave me a run for my money on occasion...then that asshole Wyoming brought a grenade in the lock down paint match."

Alpha's arms dropped to his sides, and his form became enveloped in a red light. "What?" he nearly shouted. "And the Director didn't do anything?!"

"Nope," Texas shook her head. "All he said was that Wyoming's actions were admirable, in that he he was using ingenious tactics and adapted to the battlefield. Understand where he was coming from...but York got hurt. Don't know if he's okay or not. Medics took me out before I could check on him."

"My God...That's just fucking bullshit!" Alpha spat.

"What a fucking prick! He's just gonna let the guy walk away?!"

"Easy, Church," Texas told him. "No use getting upset. Not a whole lot we can do. Besides, wasn't all bad," she grinned. "I got to fight Maine. Had to admit...he's stronger than he looks. Took me a while to actually get him serious. The Director wasn't kidding. Give him another year, and he just might beat me."

"Oh please," Alpha scoffed. "The day someone beats you is the day I get a rampancy."

"Heh...Maybe..." Texas let out a small smirk. "But the way things are going in this war...who knows?"

Alpha sighed. "Whatever," he muttered. "I won't say anything to the asshole. But if he tries shit like this again, I'm tearing him a new one."

With that, he vanished back into the console, and went away back into his own little space. Texas shook her head in amusement before she laid down. A sigh escaped her. She wished she had another shot at Maine, though. One on one, not team against one. It would be a better test of his abilities. Especially when he got serious. She heard from the Director that out of all the soldiers, he was one of the best. He'd have to be hold his spot for five years straight. That, and according to him, Maine outmatched Carolina in terms of raw strength. She saw some of that when Maine was fighting Wyoming...but she wished she could have fought against it herself. Just the thought of it impressed her.

Oh well...there was always next time.


"What I've learned is that a great love is a lot like a good memory. When it's there, and you know it's there, but it's just out of your reach, it can be all that you think about. And you can focus on it and try to force it, but the more you do, the more you seem to push it away. But if you're patient, and you hold still, well maybe, just maybe, it'll come to you." -Epsilon


A/N: Okay, normally I would give you the rundown on some explanations, how this chapter is longer than usual, and ask how about how the chapter was, the usual thing I've been doing, but I gotta state something. Uh...dammit, where is that paper? Oh, here it is! *clears throat*

"Dear Readers,
It has come to my attention that most of you are all clearly displeased by the results of the poll I set up, in order to establish the relationship between Agent Maine/Jaune Arc and the one chosen. As the results stated, the chosen girl was Pyrrha Nikos.
I fail to understand the problem. For both registered users of , and to guests who visit the site, do remember this: It was the majority who voted for the outcome, and per the wishes of those who have voted, the one with the highest vote count would be selected as Jaune Arc's lover. Therefore, it was by the decision of the readers, of registered users of , that Pyrrha Nikos would be his lover.
I find your...displeasure to be highly disconcerning. Why would you be angry over a decision, that YOU made?
Sincerely, one of the two authors of Metastability, Demons Anarchy of Pride."