Spoiler Alert!
A few Reconstruction spoilers in here. Go watch the damn series, already!
Black-Hat Jack: There is a message for you in my Author's Notes.
Headshots, Photographs, and Charming Explosions
"...And now Sig is gone," Massachusetts said flatly, staring out onto the horizon, shivering, missing her armour. "I'm going to hunt the Meta down until I get her back. That fucker is going to die."
"I wouldn't risk it, E-" Tex began, but Massachusetts interrupted her.
"Don't call me that. It's Massachusetts, Massa, or nothing."
Tex sighed, but decided it would be better to do as she said.
"Fine, Massa. Either way, the Meta has several A.I. now. Even if you had your own back, you can't outgun or outwit it. It's way more advanced than you are, and it has all the dead Freelancers' enhancements as well."
"Yeah, I noticed mine was gone when you woke me up."
"What was yours?"
"Enhanced speed. That's how I escaped the first time I encounter it. My reactions were quicker, Nevada."
"Why do you keep calling me Nevada?" Tex asked, staring. Massachusetts shrugged.
"It's your Agent name, so I call you by it."
"I prefer Agent Texas."
"I don't give a damn what you prefer. And anyway, what happened to Ali?"
"You know we all got rid of our real names when the A.I.s were implanted; when we got our Agent names. I abandoned Nevada when I left Command though," Tex said, scowling slightly. Massachusetts laughed bitterly.
"You never used your Agent name to begin with, O'Malley."
"I got rid of Omega too."
"Yeah, I know. I went to Omega's base... I saw the security tapes. I found York. Tell me, why did he help you? You ruined him. You ruined us."
Tex was silent for a moment, looking at the floor.
"Do you think it was my fault he died?" she said finally, her voice quiet.
"No," Massachusetts snapped back quickly, "No. I just want to know how you of all people managed to persuade him to assist you."
"I don't know," Tex shrugged. "I merely asked him and he agreed. Maybe he wanted revenge on Omega... he said as much. Or maybe he'd worked all the bitterness out of his system over the years. Pity you can't do the same."
"I'll never forgive you, Tex," Massachusetts spat, scowling at her, before realising her mistake. She had called Tex by her nickname.
"Would you kill me for it?" Tex asked suddenly. Massachusetts nodded.
"Given the chance, yes. Yes, I would."
Tex turned to the pistol at her side, removed it from its holster, and then passed it to Massachusetts, before sitting back against a rock and folding her arms, looking away from the Freelancer sat opposite from her. Massachusetts looked at the gun in her hand, and then put it straight against Tex's head, her face twisted in hatred.
"I lied, Tex," she hissed, her eyes beginning to fill with tears, "it was your fault. You hurt his eye; put him in danger by asking for help, even though you knew he wasn't capable. You're the reason he didn't see Wyoming on his bad left side. He's dead because of you, Tex!"
Oh her last sentence she banged the barrel of the gun hard against Tex's helmet, her lips pulled up into a slight snarl. Tex sat still for a while, silent. Then she suddenly laughed.
"Yet, despite all this, I'm still alive. You know what, Massa? I think no matter what I do, you wouldn't have the guts to shoot me. You can't kill an old friend-"
A crack echoed across the empty plains and Tex jarred, falling sideways and hitting the floor, unmoving. Massachusetts stared at the body in front of her, shaking slightly. Then her face broke out into a stunned smile, the tears finally cascading down from her eyes. She dropped the gun absent-mindedly, barely noticing the thud as it hit the floor, and leant back against her own rock, breathing deeply.
"Well, that was a surprise," Tex said suddenly, appearing by Massachusetts' side. Massachusetts yelled in shock and scrabbled for the gun, shooting frantically at the faded version of Tex.
"You can't kill a ghost, dumbass."
"A-a ghost?" Massachusetts stammered, her grip on the pistol so tight her knuckles had gone white. "Ghosts don't exist!"
"Look, I was called over to Blood Gulch to help the Blue team get rid of the Reds. Turns out Church was killed by one of his team members and needed replacing. When I got there I found he was a ghost. Anyway, one way or another, a pink son of a bitch on the opposite team stuck a grenade to me and killed me. Now, here I am. This body is a custom-made robot that I can possess at will. When it receives damage that would kill a normal person, though, I'm forced out."
"There is... no way-" Massachusetts began, but Tex cut across her impatiently.
"Look, just face it, I'm already dead. Sorry, but someone got there before you. And, because I told you to, I'll let that shot slip."
Tex's ghost returned to her armour, and she sat up again, inspecting the bullet hole in her helmet.
"God damn it, I'm going to have to repair that before something leaks... anyway, your armour is totally screwed," Tex said, indicating to the pile of twisted metal dumped by the Warthog. "We're gonna have to go back to your base and see what we can salvage."
Massachusetts suddenly realised something and jumped up, running over to her old suit, inspecting the area where the A.I. slot was. She pulled a chip of it and sighed, the signs of panic leaving her face.
"What's that?" Tex asked, suspicious.
"Something I took from York's armour before I went," she replied, but refused to speak anymore on the subject. "Let's go."
Massachusetts picked her way through the charred remains of the base, horrified. What little that hadn't collapsed was black and on the verge of crumbling. They wouldn't have long to get equipment before the whole place became buried. She left Tex to shift rocks to what used to be the weapons locker and went down the hallway to her bedroom. Most of it was intact, which was lucky for her, as it probably meant what she was looking for had survived the explosion. She spent ten minutes hauling rock off the area where her bedside cabinet was before she found it. Carefully, she dislodged the dented picture frame, shaking the broken glass away and removing the photo inside. It was one of her most treasured possessions.
"What are you doing? This whole structure could go at any moment," Tex said, walking into the room. Then she noticed the photo in Massachusetts' hands.
"What's that?"
Massachusetts held it up for Tex to see clearly, and Tex stopped dead in her tracks.
"...That's us the day we got our Agent names... you, me, and York. You kept it all this time?"
Massachusetts looked down at the creased picture and nodded slowly. She was in the middle, a wide smile on her face, laughing at a joke the person taking the picture had said. Tex was to her right, her usual superior smirk at the camera, her eyes cold and distant, arms folded, gun loose in hand. York was to Massachusetts' left, his arm around her waist, his head tilted to one side, his mouth a cheeky grin.
"...How could I get rid of it? This was our last moment together before we got the A.I. It's a moment I want to keep with me."
Tex snorted at Massachusetts' sentiment, but didn't comment on it.
"I can't even remember who took the damn picture. Come on, we need to get you sorted before Command follow that message Illinois sent out."
"How do you know about that?" Massachusetts said sharply, looking up at Tex.
"Everyone got it, I think. I was on my way back to Blood Gulch when it beeped up on my interface. I wasn't going to go until I saw the explosion in the distance," Tex replied, before turning to leave the room. Then she paused and looked back.
"I saw Illinois' body in the rubble. You always were good a headshot, Massa. I just hope you never get the fucking sniper rifle."
Massachusetts said nothing, but watched Tex go, before looking back down at the photograph. She remembered who took the picture. Did Wyoming know that, in just a few years, he'd attempt to kill two of the people in the picture, succeeding with one of them? Massachusetts sighed, pocketed the photograph, and then followed Tex to show her where she kept her secret supply of equipment. Walking past Tex, she signalled for the Freelancer to follow her, leading her to a wall with a heat dial on it. Massachusetts moved the heat dial down and then left, and the wall on the opposite side of the room slid open effortlessly.
"Welcome to my original armour," Massachusetts said, taking Tex into the room. In a glass case was silver-grey armour with blue shoulder plates and a blue stripe along the middle of the Spartan Mark VI. It originally had been Spartan Mark V, but Massachusetts managed to upgrade hers before she left Command, unlike Tex, who hadn't bothered. Tex waited outside while Massachusetts fitted herself into her old armour, and picked up the weapons and items of the racks. Shotgun, battle rifle, pistol, assault rifle, rocket launcher, Spartan laser, SMGs, grenades; it was a hell of a lot to carry. Hopefully there would be a spare Warthog for her to use so she could dump all this stuff in. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the sword. Making sure Tex wasn't looking, she picked it up with difficulty and hid it under the other weapons, out of sight.
"Hey, what's that," Tex said, making Massachusetts jump. Tex walked past her and unearthed the gravity hammer from the rubble.
"That's my weapon," Massachusetts said ferociously, and Tex shrugged. "It looks too clunky for my tastes. Where are you taking all this shit anyway?"
"If the garage hasn't collapsed, there should be Warthog and two Hornets in there. I'm going to load one of them up."
When Massachusetts reached the garage, she found the aircrafts had been crushed by falling ceiling. The Warthog remained in perfect condition, however, and so Massachusetts put all her equipment in the back. When Tex went to throw the hammer in, though, Massachusetts yelled for her to stop, and carefully took it from her, before strapping it firmly to the Warthog floor. One jolt could send her vehicle flying. When Tex asked why she was treating it like it was glass, Massachusetts told her it was a delicate thing. She didn't need Tex stealing it because she thought it was powerful.
"Get in, Tex," Massachusetts said, jumping into the driver's seat of the Warthog and starting it up.
"Why?" Tex said suspiciously, wondering why Massachusetts was getting in the vehicle when they were inside.
"We're leaving in style."
Tex paused, and then decided it would probably be better for her own safety if she did, and got in.
Massachusetts was unpredictable like that.
Suddenly, the Warthog sharply reversed and spun right around to face a solid stone wall.
"Massa," Tex said loudly, clinging to the sides of the car in surprise, "what are you gonna do?"
Massachusetts stood up in her seat, three lethal spiker grenades clustered together in each hand.
"Getting outside," she replied simply, and threw the grenades so that they hit the wall. She then slid into her seat and gunned the Warthog up. Tex realised what was about to happen.
"Massa, if you time this wrong, we're either gonna crash, get blown up, or crushed!"
"We won't."
Massachusetts put her foot down on the pedal, and the Warthog shot forward just as the grenades exploded, blasting the wall outwards. The Warthog made it through the gap just before it closed behind them, and then proceeded to weave about as large pieces of rubble cascaded down around them. A particularly huge chunk landed straight in front of them, and Massachusetts had to swerve violently to avoid it, nearly turning the vehicle over as she did. When they were finally out of range and everything had settled down, Tex spoke.
"Massa, you are fucking crazy," she said, still clutching tightly at the Warthog. Massachusetts laughed.
"Part of my charm, Tex," she replied, before turning the Warthog around and driving to the direction of Tex's.
The Mongoose stopped short of the ruined base, its rumbling engine dying down low. The Recovery Beacon beeped repeatedly, indicating that there was a fallen Agent nearby. The thing that shocked this Recovery Agent most was that three Agents' beacons had gone off in the last few days. Washington was dealing with York's, and now two had sprung up in the same area. Command wouldn't tell him who one of them was, only that it was urgent he got there immediately. The other was Agent Massachusetts, a Spartan who had made a good life for herself outside Command – the best life out of all the Freelancers. She was paid to do what she did best: be a heartless, murdering bitch. At first, all her work was legal, from what he heard, but then she fell in with crime. He had to admit, crime did pay better than what the authority could offer, as they got their money easily, and so could afford to splash out. Some of the things she has done were... inhuman. He shuddered and made his way into the hidden structure that had once been Agent Massachusetts' sanctuary. When he got inside, he whistled in appreciation. Despite the fact it was destroyed, he knew it would have once been a luxurious place to live. He wished Recovery paid enough to live like this, but he had no choice. It was either this or be on the run, and as he had refused an A.I. when offered one, he wouldn't have lasted five minutes against an Agent armed with a program. The only reason he was on the run anyway was because of his wife, who had her own A.I. She was presumed dead after the Meta attacked her shortly after he left for Recovery work, but he knew better. She was a smart and capable woman. She would have gotten away.
As the Recovery Agent came into the main living area, he saw the source of the beacon and his blood ran cold. The lifeless Freelancer clad in golden-yellow armour on the floor... it couldn't be...?
"Illinois?" he whispered, unable to move. Then he shouted her name again, before running to her. "Illinois!"
Falling to his knees from his sprint, he lifted her limp body up, inspecting the bullet hole in the helmet and groaning, horrified, before wrestling her helmet. He stroked her beautiful face, cold and pale, wincing at the blood and pieces of bone all down her skin, an ugly wound in her forehead.
"Lydia..." Missouri mumbled, placing her head against his helmet, heartbroken. Then the huge explosion outside made him jump.
"Massachusetts," he said quietly, lowering his wife's body on the floor and closing her eyes, before standing up and running to the source of the noise.
Massachusetts watched Tex drive away into the distance, her feelings mixed up. She felt a sense of loss to watch the person who used to be her friend, go, yet at the same time, was glad to see the back of her.
"Sig, patch a scan throu-" she began, and then realised she was alone.
Alone.
Massachusetts hadn't been alone in many years. What a strange thing it was to experience it again.
"Alone," she said aloud to herself, and then tapped into her manual scanner, before realising it only read the area about her. How the hell was she going to find the Meta if she didn't know where to look? Suddenly a beam of plasmid bounced off her vehicle, and Massachusetts threw herself to the floor instinctively, pulling her pistol from its holster as she did. Then a voice called out to her, sharp and stinging.
"Massachusetts," it yelled, "show yourself!"
"Sig, find the identity of hosti-oh, fuck..." Massachusetts began and then cursed. Had she become so dependent on her A.I.? Sighing and shaking her head, she warily peered over the door of the Warthog to her attacker. It was a Spartan in sage armour, pointing a brightly coloured weapon at her, which she recognised to be of Covenant design.
"What the fuck do you want, cockbite?" she bellowed, in no mood for being shot at. She turned and picked up one of the weapons in the seat of the Warthog, eager for some payback. The Spartan paused, apparently taken aback by her blunt approach.
"This is Recovery Agent Missouri," Missouri shouted to her, "and that was a warning shot. I wish to speak to you."
"Yeah?" Massachusetts replied, standing up on the seat of her vehicle, the charged Spartan laser in hand, "well this is my motherfucking response!"
Missouri threw himself out of the way as the laser blast roared towards him, missing him by inches. He landed awkwardly, but managed to roll up again, and stared at the black scorch mark that continued on right through the cliffs that concealed Massachusetts' old base and over onto the horizon.
"Now," Massachusetts continued, dropping the laser and taking up the battle rifle instead, "shall we continue this conversation civilly, or are we going share warning shots until one of us dies?"
Missouri held up his hands to show he agreed with the first option, and then walked over to the other Freelancer. When he was close enough to talk to without shouting, Massachusetts let rip.
"What the hell were you doing, shooting at me? I've just been attacked by the Meta, Mr. Fucking Recovery Agent, Sir! You could have been the Meta for all I knew!"
"So, it was the Meta," Missouri said quietly. Massachusetts stared.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"I was sent to your base to follow your Recovery Beacons. I found Illinois there, but I know your history, Massachusetts. I wasn't sure if it was you or the Meta. I couldn't find your body, so I assumed it was you, which is why I fired the warning the shot."
Shit, Massachusetts thought. She could take Missouri down easily if he attacked her, but that could invoke Command to tracking her down more vigorously than before. Best not to let him know she had killed his wife.
"I'm so sorry," Massachusetts said, forcing a tone of sympathy into her voice. "I know what it's like to lose... someone. She spoke of you, you know."
"How did you find her?" Missouri asked, his voice strained.
"I killed Robert Downing after he tried to double-cross me. There were some difficulties, and I found her locked up in his basement. She'd been working with him for time, but eventually he betrayed her as well. She helped me escape, so I let her stay at my base until things died down. However, the Meta attacked that night. It shot me... Illinois tried to help me, so it shot her. Then it took my A.I. and left. Luckily, for me, Agent Nevada was close by. She patched me up and helped me salvage equipment. She has her own business to deal with elsewhere, though, and left shortly before you shot at me."
Agent Missouri said nothing for a while, and then slowly sank to the floor, putting his head in his hands.
"She always put others first," he mumbled. "Stupid, stupid woman! I swear it, I'm going to hunt the Meta down myself and kill him!"
"Him?"
"Agent Maine is the Meta."
Massachusetts stared. An Agent was the Meta? Well, that was certainly news, but, in a way, it made sense. His A.I. must have persuaded him to start harvesting others, the same way Sig had tried, and failed, to persuade her. Suddenly, she had an idea. She could manipulate the idiot into helping her, making him believe she was helping him...
"You're Recovery, right?" she asked, innocently. Missouri nodded mutedly.
"Was," he growled, and went to destroy the Recovery equipment on his armour. Massachusetts grabbed his hand and stopped him.
"No, don't do that!"
"Why not? I was only doing this to protect Lydia. Now, she's dead. I have no ties with Command."
"Because, as a Recovery Agent, you can use it to track Freelancers!"
"So?"
"So, we can locate Agent Maine and kick his ass!"
Missouri stood up abruptly, staring at Massachusetts.
"You're right!" he whispered. "But... we?"
"The asshole has my A.I.," Massachusetts said darkly, "and I want it back. So, if you're going after the Meta for revenge, I'm sure as hell going to help you. I like Illinois as well. She tried to save me... she died trying."
Missouri nodded, before reloading his Covenant weapon and shouldering it.
"Right, Massachusetts," he said, "where do we start?"
"Well, first you get your ass in the Warthog. Secondly, you hook up your Recovery shit to the A.I. interface, that way we can both see it. Welcome aboard... partner."
Author's Notes: Something I forgot to mention. Illinois and Missouri were created by Silent Memento in name and colour. Mem made part of Missouri's personality, but I made all Illinois'. I also made their back-stories, with the exception of them being married (Mem's). Finally, all events that occur with them or have done (leaping onto Banshees FTW) are my own ideas and no one else's. There is a small idea regarding Missouri that Mem gave me, but I have expanded on it and made it my own. I will inform you when it makes its appearance.
Mem personally asked me could I put these characters in my story, not the other way around. I agreed because he is my friend.
Black-Hat Jack: I will have to consider your offer. Send me a profile of your Agent through PM, as I wish to remain strictly canon in this fic. If your Freelancer matches the original RvB story, and I can find a way to fit him effortlessly into A.I., then he will make an appearance. Be warned, though, I am a very patriotic Brit, so if your British A.I. is too stereotypical, I won't put him in (XD).
Lei.