Marriage, Anger, and Awesome Stunt Jumps

Massachusetts opened her eyes as the last A.I. log playing from York's chip into her helmet finished. She sighed, and then rewound it to her favourite moment.

"You want to know what's up with me; why I put my arm around you, why I spend every waking moment with you? I love you. I fucking love you."

Massachusetts stopped it and replayed it, repeatedly, listening to York's voice in her head continually. It was probably a sign that her sanity was questionable, but she didn't care. She remembered that moment well. She'd liked York long before the drug dealer incident, but she thought that he saw her as a friend only. Then, when he'd held in her in the photograph, she began to wonder, and decided that it was time to get it all out in the open. Massachusetts' lips twitched slightly as she heard herself threaten to break the door down if she wasn't let in. She would have done too, had he refused, but luckily for him, he did as she asked. However, York hadn't described the entire of the confession in the log, and rightly so, because it was… intimate. She cast her thoughts back to that wonderful moment: the kiss. When she had kissed him back the second time, he had picked her up and put her on his bed, gently undoing her shirt. He had always been so careful with her, as if she was a doll. Massachusetts had acted in the complete opposite manner, taking York by surprise.

It had been a fun night.

Massachusetts stopped the report as it went past that moment, and she blinked back the tears in her eyes, irritated with herself. She needed to be strong, not mope about all the time, weeping over things dead and gone. She had to think about the present, about Sigma. Her A.I. was the most important thing right now. The Freelancer removed her helmet briskly, rubbing her eyes with her armour plated hands as best as she could. Missouri looked up from the tree he was leaning against, supposedly trying to get some sleep.

"What is it, Massa?" he asked, looking her in the eye. At first Massachusetts had refused to take her helmet off in front of him, but then remember that she no longer had an A.I., and was not wanted by Command anymore. She was probably presumed dead anyway. Missouri had sent a confirmation to Recovery that it had been the Meta, and then subsequently quit his job, before cutting off the comm. to the woman speaking. The problem now was that Command would want the Recovery equipment of Missouri's back, which meant they had to be constantly on the move. Not that this bothered Massachusetts. She was used to it.

"I'm just… thinking," she replied, unwilling to share her own personal feelings with him. Missouri had been pretty much silent through the week they had been together. Tracking the Meta was hard, and just when they thought they had him in their grasp, he disappeared. Massachusetts would have thought Missouri to be more… depressed, what with his wife being brutally shot in head, but he always stayed expressionless and focused.

"Thinking about what?" Missouri persisted. Massachusetts shook her head, but he guessed anyway. "Is it Agent York you're worried about? I saw his beacon go off."

Massachusetts nodded mutedly, her face going tense. Missouri saw and tried to comfort her.

"I'm sure he's alright, Massa. It was probably just faulty equipment-"

"No, he's not."

"You don't know that."

"I do. I found him before Recovery got there. I watched him die."

"…I wondered what you meant when you said… when you said you knew what it was like to lose someone."

"Well, now you know," Massachusetts replied bluntly, turning the Warthog, checking the Recovery scanner that had tags on Maine. He had simply disappeared off the map, and she was sure it was one of the A.I.'s doing; Sigma, perhaps? Maybe he forced the A.I. to somehow do as he wished, although she did find it hard to imagine Sigma actually doing as she was told.

"Sorry; I shouldn't have pried," Missouri mumbled apologetically. Massachusetts turned to him and shook her head.

"It's OK. You didn't know. Now, let's see what we can do about our Meta problem," she replied, changing the subject swiftly. Missouri arched his eyebrows.

"I think we should be getting some sleep first. There is no way you can work and fight efficiently when you're tired."

"I'll manage. Now, come help me."

Missouri scowled and folded his arms; he hated being told what to do, which is mainly why he refused an A.I. Another voice in his head ordering him around? No thanks. Command weren't too happy that they'd trained him for years, only have him to jump out at the last minute, but when the rebelling came, they were mighty grateful for him. Well, they would have been, had he not skipped out on his duty of containing the fleeing Freelancers. He had heard Tex had broken out and was on the run. If he went after her, he'd end up dead. So, instead he pretended to be doing his duty, and then smuggled Illinois out with him, doing a runner alongside her. They married a few months afterwards in a quiet church somewhere in Maine, on pretty, snowy day. How ironic that the Agent of that state would ruin the happiness founded there several years later.

When Command realised he'd abandoned his post, they were furious, alerting the government about him. All standard issue UNSC weapons were banned from his possession, and if he was caught holding or being in possession of one, he would be shot on sight; no questions asked, no chance to explain himself. For Illinois' sake, he obeyed, knowing he put her at risk as well if he obtained one. They ditched all their equipment in an abandoned warehouse, which, as they saw on the news, was later discovered by a crime gang, using them to rob a bank. However, it meant they were forever moving, as they had no means of fighting back. Eventually the money began to run out, and finally, when Missouri and Illinois were backed into a corner with no escape route available to them, Command approached Missouri and offered him a job. If he refused, they would have been arrested and separated, the length of their sentence unlimited. He took it, left for work, and never saw his wife alive again. If he had waved away the opportunity to get back in Command's good books, would she still be here? Lydia... would she have survived, kept away from the Meta? He almost blamed himself for her death, yet at the same time, knew that as a life as a prisoner until death wasn't living at all. Lydia had been free for a short time, and that was what mattered...

Missouri felt his cold exterior begin to crack, the hate and anger that was brewing menacingly underneath threatening to spill out into the open. The intensity of all his emotions was so powerful and overwhelming, that Missouri was surprised with himself that he had lost it yet. All he wanted to do right now was scream, shout, hit, and kill. Perhaps even cry, but he knew his pride in front of Massachusetts wouldn't allow him to. He didn't respect anyone who couldn't prove themselves to him first, but he knew all about Massachusetts' deeds. Command never shut up about her, always broadcasting her crimes and assassinations across the network, always insisting they'd double their efforts to find her. Of course, they never did locate her. It was often said that a Freelancer paired with a 'smart' A.I. would be unstoppable. Sigma, with her abundance in creativity, was considered pretty damn close to the mark.

Yes, Massachusetts had been a force to be reckoned with. Whether she still was remained to be seen.

"I'm going to sleep, Massa," he growled, scowling at her. "I don't take orders from you, but if you want to become an easy target through self negligence, by my guest. With that said, he haughtily returned to his tree, sitting down against it and putting his helmet on, before lowering his head to his chest. Massachusetts glared angrily at him, but didn't argue. At the moment, she needed him more than he needed her, so, causing a fallout would not help serve her purpose. She gritted her teeth, containing her legendary foul temper, and turned back to the Warthog, flicking through the settings with determination. After a while, though, she began to see what Missouri meant. Her eyes kept drooping, her hands slipping every so often off the computerised interface, and she felt her body sway each time her concentration wavered. Finally, she gave in, admitting defeat.

"God damn it," she muttered quietly to herself so Missouri wouldn't hear her, "you win."

Massachusetts leant over the side of the car, picking her helmet up and putting it back on, before climbing into the driver's seat and attempting to get comfortable. Behind his visor, Missouri smiled to himself.

Light, pain, torture-

Memory-

Memories-

Lies, deceit-

Creativity.

An-

Anger, hate, sadness, hurt—

Hurt.

Hur- hurt—Lo-

Love.

"Wake up."

Massachusetts yelled and sat up abruptly, pulling her pistol from the holster and pointing it at the person who had shaken her awake.

"Whoa, whoa!" Missouri said, leaning away from the gun barrel aimed directly at his head, hands out in front of him. "It's me, Massa!"

Massachusetts paused, breathing deeply and raggedly, before sighing in despair and dropping the gun, putting her hands to her face. She had glimpses of those images in her sleep since Sigma had left, but never an experience as vivid and frightening as that. What in the hell had A.I. Epsilon been doing to project such notions in Wash's head? Missouri slowly lowered his hands and looked at her curiously.

"Nightmare?" he asked, and she nodded mutedly, deciding she didn't need to share. Missouri shook his head though. "That must have been some hell of a nightmare. In fact, you were crying out in pain, thrashing about, kind of like when I was sent to detain Washington. What did you see?"

"There's no hiding anything from you, is there?" she said weakly, realising she'd have to spill. "Fine. Some time after I… I found York, I came across Wash. He suggested that he was going to turn me in, so I sent Sigma into his head to do some serious mind-fuck. He reacted… strangely, to say the least; like he was in agony. Anyway, when Sig came back she was different, almost as if she had suffered great stress. She looked older and more haggard, but she wouldn't tell me what she'd seen. Then, just before the Meta attacked, the images leaked into my head without her doing anything. She'd picked up and stored some of Wash's memories, and then accidently passed them onto me. Now, when I sleep, I see them."

"Is that the reason why you try to stay awake all night?" Missouri asked her, climbing into the passenger seat of the Warthog. Massachusetts shrugged.

"I've never really thought of it like that… but yeah, I guess so," she replied, retrieving her pistol of the floor and putting it back in its rightful place. She shrugged again, and then started up the vehicle, the low rumbling noise sounding like an agitated beast. She put her foot down on the pedal, swerving at high speed and narrowly missing a tree. Missouri, who had despaired at her driving skills at first, was now used to them, and didn't even notice as the wing mirror of the car cracked against the bark and flew over his head, landing in the back seat behind him.

Several hours later, after following an automatic tracking device, the landscape grew barren, the temperature dropped abruptly, and a mountain range loomed overhead.

"The Meta is on the move again," he said, bringing up a holographic map with a small dot to indicate their target. "It seems he's moving north, to the colder regions. I know a few Freelancers holed up there, hoping Command wouldn't be stupid enough to send their men into such harsh conditions. They right, in any case, and now have some sort of camp or base set up in the mountains. I don't know how the Meta thinks he can take them all on at once-"

"He managed to get past my high security defences, which were manned and created by my own A.I. Because he has more than one, he has the advantage," Massachusetts said, echoing Tex. "If had has the right combination of A.I., then he will be unstoppable. For example, say he managed to get hold of Delta, the logical one, and paired him with Sig, who is quite creative; he'd find a way past their guns easily."

Missouri nodded. When they eventually reached the base of the mountain range and began to drive up the narrow paths, he gave her the best and safest route to the north. Massachusetts shook her head in disapproval.

"That'll take too long. If we can patch a message through to those Freelancers and warn them, they might be able to hold the Meta. Even if we did that, though, he'll be long gone by the time we get there. Sigma and I have been through here before on one of our earlier missions. I know a shortcut."

"Massa, if we take a 'shortcut', we could easily get lost. We'll lose the Meta. It's best if we follow regulation directions-"

"Oh, stop being so boring," she said, and cranked up the speed, the tyres sliding dangerously on patches on ice and snow. Missouri turned to stop her, but she simply pressed a button on the dashboard, and his seat reacted immediately, clamping him in.

"A little something I added for targets that needed to stay alive for my employer," she said happily, grinning as Missouri squirmed frantically in his seat.

"You go this speed through the route you're suggesting, you're going to get us killed!" he yelled, watching with panic as she drove towards a deep crack in the earth, a deep and dark drop that seemed to have no end. Massachusetts turned sharply towards a slab of rock that was at an angle on the ground.

"Don't do it, Massa!" he cried out in horror as she put her foot down again, spurring the jeep on. Massachusetts merely laughed loudly, turning and patting the top of his helmet patronisingly.

"You need to live a little, my dear partner!" she cried happily, before bringing her attention to her stunt. Missouri's heart skipped a beat as he felt the Warthog ride up the rock that was acting as a jump, the tyres squealing mercilessly. Then his stomach moved upwards as they went airborne, the black pit below them screaming out for them to miss and fall, allowing it to devour them. However, the Warthog cleared the chasm, landing heavily with a crash, and Massachusetts pushed it on, whistling as she did. Missouri stared ahead, unable to believe he'd survived such a thing, and then put his head back against the seat's headrest, laughing manically.

"You're insane, Massachusetts!" he yelled over the noise of the wind and the engine, snow falling slightly down on them from above.

"I know!" she replied, "but you're going to hate me now. We have quite a few bigger jumps to clear yet!"

Missouri groaned, shaking his head as he did. Secretly, although the jump had scared the living shit out of him, it excited him at the same time. He couldn't wait.

Massachusetts knew she should have checked over the tyres before attempting to clear the final gorge. They had sounded funny all the way through the ice caverns and plains, but she'd been having too much fun to care. So, when she'd gone to power slide over the final natural ramp, everything went wrong. At the last possible moment, the tyre had burst, sending the Warthog spinning out of control. They skidded sideways off the ramp; half cleared the gap, hit the side, and the fell. Luckily for them, the chasm narrowed as it went down, meaning the Warthog was now jammed between the two walls of rock and ice, but it was slowly slipping. They didn't have long to make their escape. Massachusetts moved first, taking off her seatbelt and removing the Recovery interface. That was the most important thing. She dislodged the handheld device with difficulty, as the cold has made it stick, and then loaded herself up with as many weapons as possible. Battle rifle, gravity hammer, the sword, grenades-

The Warthog jolted slightly, and Massachusetts knew it was time to go. She pressed the button to release the restraints holding Missouri, and then leapt nimbly from the vehicle, grabbing the rocky wall and using it as hand and foot holds. As a soldier, her strength was as good as it had to be. As a woman, though, her upper body strength was not up to scratch, and she struggled to drag herself up the vertical climb. As she neared the top, however, Missouri called to her.

"Massa, Massa!"

"What?" she yelled back, turning to him. He was still in the damn Warthog. Why hadn't he tried to get out?

"My leg! It's stuck! The metal from where we hit the wall has clamped down on me! Help!"

He began to frantically pull at his leg, becoming panicked, his violent movement only succeeding in making the Warthog slip even further. If she went down and tried to help him, there was an almost definite chance it would collapse, taking them both down. Massachusetts looked down at the Recovery device strapped firmly her body. She had everything she needed to hunt the Meta herself; Missouri had become obsolete.

Why risk herself to save him?

Massachusetts pondered this question thoughtfully, while below her, Missouri edged closer and closer to death.