Lasers, Hornets, and Motherfucking Firepower
Richard Downing picked up the sword, admiring the shimmering, purple-white glow of its lethal blade. He stood up from his desk, the sword held out at arm's length, and then swished it through the air, the roaring noise it made causing his skin to prickle. It was finally his. He looked over at Massachusetts.
"You have done well," he said simply, and then sat down at his desk, bringing the footage of Massachusetts' face up onto the wall through a projector. Then he held his finger over the keyboard, a smirk on his face. The Freelancer realised something was serious wrong.
"My money?" she asked curtly, and Downing shook his head.
"My dear Massachusetts, do you really think I can afford that sort of payment?"
"Well, you better hurry up and afford it, or you'll find a bullet in your skull. And I thought you deleted that security tape?"
"The men are gone. The footage is not. Now, I'm going to make you a deal. Either you accept that you will not be paid, and work for me from now on, or I send a detailed account of you and hunting grounds straight to your Command. You even try to attack me now and I'll press the button. It won't matter that I'm dead, only that your location will be revealed."
"I need money to live, you asshole!" Massachusetts cried angrily, raising her gun. Downing moved his hand over the send button, forcing her to stop abruptly.
"Ah, ah, ah," he interrupted, a grin mingled in with a look of arrogance and superiority. "You won't need to worry about living costs again. You will remain here, my own personal soldier, ready to assassinate and assist in any operations I deem worthy for you."
"So, basically I'll be your pet?" Massachusetts spat bitterly, glaring in fury at him. Inside her head, however, she was giving instructions to Sigma.
Be creative, Sig. Make him pay.
"But of course," Sigma replied, and then left the A.I. slot in Massachusetts' armour.
"A pet? I'd never thought of it like that… but yes, yes you will," Downing replied, completely unaware of the files projected on the wall behind him suddenly changing and switching around. Massachusetts grinned, resisting the urge to laugh, and then walked casually over to Downing. Sigma came back into her head, looking extremely pleased with herself.
"You know what, Downing?" Massachusetts said daringly, "I don't think you will."
With those words out in the open, she promptly shot him in the foot with her pistol. Downing screamed in agony, nearly falling over.
"Last chance, Massachusetts! Stand down or I will send these files!"
Massachusetts responded by shooting him in the other foot. Downing sunk to his knees, shaking all over.
"Fine!" he hissed, and hit the send button. He smiled triumphantly, waiting for Massachusetts to start panicking. Then he heard the laughter.
"You… arrogant… dumbass!" the Freelancer howled, supporting herself with the desk. Sigma appeared in front of the confused Downing, who was beginning to realise he had been tricked.
"I deleted all the files concerning me and Massa," the A.I. said happily, "and I replaced them with these."
Downing stared in horror as the data and files which provided concrete evidence to his criminal nature appeared in front of him. Extortions, assassinations, drugs, robbery, murder; it was all there. He had just publicised his darkest secret to every high figure of authority across the world.
"Oh," Sigma continued, "by the way, I added a little extra something to make your reputation less… credible."
An obscene image of two men being exceedingly intimate with each other materialised in front of Downing. His face had been worked on to one of the men so that it looked exactly like him. Even Downing wouldn't have known that it wasn't real if he had looked at it from a different point of view.
"You… wouldn't," he whispered, now feeling quite sick, the pain in his feet numb.
"We didn't," Massachusetts said, shrugging. "You did."
Downing let out a moan of anguish, putting his face in his hands.
"You've ruined me… ruined me…" he said quietly to himself, shaking his head. Massachusetts snorted in contempt.
"You shouldn't have tried to keep me. You should have kept your word," Massachusetts said scornfully. Downing looked up at her, his face full of hate.
"You'll get everything you deserve!" he yelled, and pulled out his gun. Massachusetts reacted immediately, kicking the gun out of his hand before he had a chance to use it, and drawing her own, shooting him several times in the chest. Downing fell back, blood pouring from his mouth and wounds, twitched, and then lay still. Massachusetts went through his desk as she had Larson's.
"Take all the money from his account and transfer it to mine," Massachusetts ordered Sigma. Then she found a packet of cigarettes.
A few minutes later, when Sigma had sorted out all the money and destroyed all security footage and working cameras, she reappeared to see Massachusetts with her helmet off, smoking, savouring the taste and rush of nicotine with each drag.
"It's been years since I've had one of these," she said happily, sighing. Sigma shook her head disapprovingly.
"They're bad for you. You're killing yourself slowly you know that? And anyway, I thought you'd given them up?"
"One can't hurt," Massachusetts said, shrugging. Suddenly there was a knocking at the door.
"Sir?" a voice called from the other side. "Sir, we heard gunshots, and I was sent to investigate. Sir? I'm coming in to check on you-"
As the guard opened the door and walked in, Massachusetts raised her gun and shot him, before taking another puff of her cigarette. She finished it and flicked it to the floor, grinding it beneath her shoe, before putting her helmet back on.
"Time for work, Sigma," she said, reloading her gun and approaching the door.
The situation was bad; Massachusetts knew that for certain. She was surrounded and cornered in Downing's huge basement; her ammunition low, her options running out. She hadn't expected so many guards, and she cursed her own arrogance, for underestimating Downing and his men. They weren't like Larson's, thugs, looking for easy money, they were trained soldiers and extremely lethal.
"Sig, stat me!" Massachusetts yelled over the gunfire that was aimed at her cover.
"We only have enough ammo to take half of them out. If we take them head on, we won't last five seconds. If we make a run for it, we have a thirty percent chance of survival, if we-"
Sigma stopped suddenly, analysing the scanner.
"What is it?" Massachusetts asked, looking at the A.I.
"Agent Illinois is inside the building, not far from here! If we get her help, we might have a chance!"
"Quick, give me directions… we'll run on the count of three."
"Wait, on three, or after three?" Sigma said, grinning.
"Not the time, Sig!" Massachusetts growled. "One… two…"
A grenade suddenly landed beside Massachusetts, and she jumped up instantly, following the map.
"Fuck it, we'll just run!" she yelled as the grenade exploded behind her, sending boxes and splintered wood everywhere. Bullets rained down on her as she turned a corner, working her way through the twisted maze that way Downing's basement. With each step she could hear the guards gaining on her. Suddenly a bullet hit her in the side and she cried out in pain, nearly falling over.
"Sig, slow them down somehow!"
"On it."
The generator above them suddenly short-circuited, making an impassable electrical barrier behind them.
"It won't last long, Massa. Find Illinois quickly!" Sigma said urgently. Massachusetts nodded in acknowledgement, before staggering down the corridor, clutching at her side. Then she saw the Freelancer, locked in what looked like a barred cell.
"Hey, you, Spartan," Massachusetts called out to the figure, "are you Illinois?"
"What if I am?" the Freelancer said warily to Massachusetts.
"I'm currently being pursued by a legion of guards. I can't take them all out by myself. If I let you out, will you help me?"
"You can't get me put of here. Only Downing has access to my cell."
"I'll take that as a yes. Sig, open the door."
The electric lock sparked and the door swung open. Illinois stared.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Name's Massachusetts, and this is Sigma, my A.I. Now, if you don't mind, I need assistance wiping out all of Downing's guards. They're a bit pissed since I put a bullet in his head."
"You killed Downing?"
"Yup."
"Excuse me," she said, walking past and breaking the lock on a small cupboard. She pulled out a large green gun, which Massachusetts recognised as a Spartan laser. She whistled in appreciation, and then stood back to watch the show. Illinois raised the gun and pointed it down the corridor to where the guards would appear when they caught up. The laser began to charge as shadows grew on the walls, and when they finally rounded the corridor, it blasted out a monstrous beam of red light, incinerating them all and taking down all the walls. Massachusetts stared at the gaping maw that lead to outside, and then shrugged. She picked up some of Illinois' weapons from the cupboard, rearming herself, and then limped towards the exit. Illinois followed her, keeping a lookout for any unlikely survivors.
"No, you're not coming with me," Massachusetts said firmly, climbing into the Hornet.
"I saved your ass!" Illinois said indignantly.
"Yeah, well, I set you free."
"I don't care what you say; I'm not staying here on my own."
"Good luck keeping up with a Hornet, then."
Massachusetts gunned up the aircraft and began to lift it off the roof. Illinois shook her head, before taking a running leap off the roof, grabbing hold of the exterior passenger seat and hanging on tightly. Massachusetts sighed, but didn't try to shake her off, as another Hornet and a purple Covenant aircraft, known as the Banshee, came into view. They take care of Illinois for her… if they didn't take care of Massachusetts first. Massachusetts opened fire on the nearest enemy, which happened to be the Banshee, the more manoeuvrable of the two hostiles, but it dodged and waved her fire. As it flew underneath her Hornet, though, Illinois had a sudden idea. Massachusetts watched in amazement as Illinois suddenly jumped from the Hornet. The fall would kill her, so why did she leap?
The answer became apparent when Illinois landed directly on top of the Banshee.
"No. Way," Massachusetts exclaimed, dodging a rocket fired by the enemy Hornet. Illinois forced open the Banshee's door and dragged the occupier out, throwing him to his death. The Banshee, now with no pilot, plummeted towards the ground, and then suddenly pulled up as Illinois closed the hatch door behind her and took control of the aircraft.
"Patch me into her comm., Sig," Massachusetts said. A moment later, Illinois was on the line.
"Massachusetts, is that you?"
"Yes. Nice work with the Banshee. Now, we need to take down the Hornet or our asses are toast. You distract him, as you can move better than me, and I'll blast him with this motherfucker's firepower."
"I'm on it."
It took minutes for the plan to work. Illinois flitted about the Hornet like an irritating fly, and Massachusetts let the rockets go into the mechanisms that kept it airborne. It hung in the air for a single second, and then tumbled down to the mansion below, crashing through the roof and exploding, taking half of the building with it. Illinois cheered through her radio, causing Massachusetts to wince.
"And with that, I bid you farewell, Illinois."
"What? No way!" Illinois cried. "I need a place to hide for a few days!"
"Well, here is my reply."
Massachusetts shot down the Banshee as it approached, but at the last moment Illinois replayed an old trick, jumping from the Banshee and landing back on the Hornet. The Freelancer sighed. She would deal with Illinois when she returned back home.
"…So, there we are. Now, let me stay."
Massachusetts glared at Illinois. The damn Freelancer had given her no option, and she knew it. It turned out Illinois was an expert hacker, with skills to match Sigma. She didn't have the same speed as the A.I., but that was beside the point. She had hacked into Massachusetts' files and found her location. If Massachusetts didn't give her a place to stay, Illinois would hand her over to Command. If Massachusetts killed her, the automatic function of the armour was to send the said file to Command. Also, Illinois' old A.I. had put an automatic protection code over Illinois' files, meaning any files that existed or were made could not be tampered with by Sigma. Illinois didn't know where her A.I. had gone, or even what its name was. All she remembered was being attacked by the Meta, and the next thing she knew she was in Downing's home.
"He offered me a job and I took it," Illinois said when Massachusetts asked her. "I needed security, and he gave me it. However, after a while he lost interest in me. It turns out he'd found a better and more efficient Freelancer – you. He stuffed me in those damn cells and said he would deal with me later. Then you came and set me free."
Massachusetts sighed.
"Fine, you can stay. But we warned, the first opportunity that I get, you will pay."
"I'll survive, I'm sure," Illinois said, shrugging. She removed her helmet and sauntered off into the kitchen, rooting through the fridge. Massachusetts clenched her teeth in anger, but said nothing.
"Maybe it's time you got some company, Massa," Sigma said, appearing on the interface beside her. "I mean, computerised company for years on end can't be good for you."
"I don't give one," Massachusetts growled irritably. "I work alone and I live alone. That's how it's always been, and that's how it will always be. End of."
"Then," Sigma said, grinning, "It looks like we need to get rid of her."
Dinner that evening was a strange experience for Massachusetts. After much debate, she finally took off her armour, patched up the bullet wound in her side, and changed into ordinary clothes. She even lent some to Illinois, surprising herself. They talked for a while, and Massachusetts found herself warming up to the Freelancer, although the fury of being blackmailed into extra company still burned beneath the surface. They chatted and laughed; spoke of the old days before the A.I. implantation. Illinois had gotten quite intimate with one of the other Freelancers over the years, it seemed.
"…And Missouri and I married last year," she said, smiling. Massachusetts nodded, suddenly reminded of York. She looked away for a moment, and then asked a question.
"Where was he when the Meta attacked you?"
"Well," Illinois replied, "He got a call from Command. They said they'd leave us alone if he did a little job for them – Recovery, I think he said it was. About a week after he left, the Meta found me. The Meta usually doesn't leave its targets alive, so I'm probably presumed dead. As soon as things die down, I'm going to find Missouri again."
"Why do you call him by his agent name if you're married?"
"Habit, I guess. So, what about you and York? Are you two still together since you escaped Command?
"…York's dead."
"Oh, I'm sorry. It must be hard losing a loved one," Illinois said sympathetically. Massachusetts stood up abruptly.
"I don't want to talk about it," she replied bluntly, before walking away into her room. Illinois watched her go, and then turned back towards the T.V. There was a News report on about Downing and Larson's murder. Apparently all security footage had been destroyed, so the police had no leads. Illinois guessed Massachusetts' A.I. had been at work in the computer system, and she smiled to herself, before turning the T.V. off. She stretched and yawned, tiredness washing over her, and then pulled the blanket Massachusetts had given her over her shoulder, snuggling down onto the sofa. Within minutes she was asleep.
Massachusetts twisted and turned in her sleep, strange images of torture and pain flickering through her mind. They felt almost like memories. She awoke to her body aching, her chest heaving, her head incredibly sore. Sigma looked at her from the bedside interface.
"It seems you picked up on the things I saw in Wash's head," she said quietly. Massachusetts stared.
"How?"
"We share a mind, Massa. It's not that hard."
"Wash sees that everyday?"
"No. It's the memory of his A.I.; images that his A.I. sent through his mind as it unravelled and destroyed itself."
Massachusetts got up and walked back into the main area of her home, watching Illinois asleep on the sofa.
"You're lonely, aren't you?" Sigma asked her. Massachusetts shook her head stoutly.
"No, I'm not. I have you. I'm getting rid of her as soon as possible."
Then Massachusetts suddenly noticed a flickering red light on her security system. The cameras and scanners indicated an intruder, but the turrets hadn't fired at anything. The Meta suddenly flew past the camera.
"Shit!" the Freelancer yelled, waking Illinois up.
"What, what is it?" she called over to Massachusetts.
"The Meta; it's found us! Get your armour on because we're in for one hell of a fight!"
The Meta stalked silently through the building, searching for the traces of the A.I. Sigma. A noise in the corner of the room made it turn sharply. Massachusetts shot out form behind a pillar, gravity hammer in hand. She swung out with it, missing by inches as the Meta jumped back, and promptly smashed through a wall.
"Now, Illinois!" she yelled, and the other Freelancer jumped up from behind the Meta, opening fire. The enemy quickly ran across the complex, firing with a brute shot, sections of the ceiling and walls falling down with it. Massachusetts groaned, knowing the cost to repair it all was going to have her working non-stop for a year when this was over.
"You cock sucker!" she shrieked, her temper getting the better of her, and charged down the hall towards it, gravity hammer raised. The Meta switched to its pistol and hastily shot at her, its aim off, but still managing to hit her in her already wounded side. Massachusetts staggered and fell over, crying out in pain as she did, and watched the hammer bounce away, leaving huge dents in the floor. The Meta stepped towards her, a strange rattling noise in the back of its throat, when Illinois opened fire at it, driving it into cover. Quickly Illinois ran over to Massachusetts and helped her up, letting her lean heavily against the wall to support herself, keeping guard whilst she did.
"If I support you, we only have a slight chance to get away. The odds aren't good, but it's all we have. However, if one of us can give a permanent distraction, we might make it."
"Won't I just slow you down?" Massachusetts grunted, her side feeling like it was on fire.
"I don't leave people behind, Massa," Illinois said, not looking behind her. If she had, she would have noticed that Massachusetts had a gun pointed to her head. There was a bang, and Illinois fell forward, a small hole in the back of her helmet. She was dead.
"You would have been better off if you had," she said quietly, as Sigma appeared in her visor.
"You killed your only ally?" she said, a look of wonder on her face.
"It's a distraction for the Meta," she mumbled, so the lurking Meta wouldn't hear her. "If it goes to harvest her A.I., I can get out with you. And anyway, I warned Illinois. I told her to leave me be. She ignored me; she blackmailed me, and so she paid the price."
The Meta came out of its hiding place, its head cocked to the side.
"Meta," she said clearly, "you want an A.I.? Here's your A.I. Take Illinois' while you can; come after me later."
The Meta slowly approached the dead Freelancer on the floor, but then stopped as if it was listening to someone. Then it growled deeply and ran at Massachusetts. Faster than thought, she threw herself to the floor, sliding along to the gravity hammer, jolting her wound as she went. As she took hold of her weapon and turned to face her enemy, the Meta kicked it out of her hands. It flew up and hit the ceiling so that it collapsed. The Meta moved out of the way in time, but Massachusetts could only watch as rubble crashed down onto her, pinning her arms, legs, and body onto the floor. The Meta shifted a small amount of rock off her so that it could access her A.I. and enhancement slot, and began taking the circuits apart. Sigma watched Massachusetts sadly while it happened.
"Do something, Sig!" she cried desperately, squirming under the weight that was crushing her body, but Sigma merely shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Massa," she said, smiling bitterly at her Freelancer. Then her image flickered and disappeared. The Meta had her A.I.
"Give her back, you bastard!" Massachusetts screamed frantically, struggling to free her body but failing. The Meta walked a few feet away from Massachusetts, and then crouched down, planting something. When it had finished, it ran, and the Freelancer realised what it that had been set.
A timed bomb.
It was going to bring down the entire base on her.
"Oh shi-" Massachusetts began, but was cut off as it exploded.
Her world went black.
"Massa? Shit, hold on, Massa. I'll get you out of here."
Grabbing hands, scraping of rubble, pulling, tugging, freeing. Leave me be. I'm dead; I just want peace.
Peace from these memories.
"Nearly there, Massa. Shit, shit, you're a mess…."
Hauling, dragging, fire, pain.
"We're gonna get the hell out of here, and then I'm gonna fix you up, OK?"
Car doors slam, helmet removed, bright light, burning, bright light.
Massachusetts groaned and squinted, opening her eyes slowly. The person helping her turned to face her, their face hidden by their own Spartan helmet.
"Massa? Can you hear me?"
Massachusetts knew that voice anywhere.
"…Tex?" she croaked, stunned.