Apologies, Deception, and Mediocre Entrance Scoring
Missouri was jerked from his sleep by a knock at his door. He barely registered it at first, as it was quiet and timid, but then it seemed to grow it confidence, becoming sharper as it sounded again. Missouri debated whether to answer, before dragging himself wearily out of his bed and trudging over. His sleep had been riddled with dreams of Lydia. She had simply stared at him, expressionless, not responding when he tried to speak to her, moving away without even walking as he ran to her. He rubbed his eyes as he leant against the door, and then took hold of the handle, opening it.
"...Ohio?" Missouri said, a feeling of dread washing over him. She looked down at the floor, sensing his discomfort.
"I just...wondered if we could talk?" she mumbled awkwardly. Missouri sighed, and then stepped aside, letting her in, before closing the door behind her. He then shuffled over to his bed and threw himself down on it, staring determinedly at the ceiling. Ohio stood by the door, feeling unwelcome, clutching at one of her arms, as if it gave her support.
"I suppose I came to say...that I'm sorry. What I did was selfish and inappropriate. Can you ever forgive me?"
Missouri sat up and stared at her.
"What are you talking about?" he said incredulously. "How is this your fault? I'm the one that was married, the one who had a wife; not you."
"But that's my point! I had the clear head; I was responsible!"
Missouri snorted but didn't reply, causing Ohio's cheeks to flush red.
"...Perhaps we should just settle for 'we're both at fault'," she suggested, sitting down next to him. Missouri smiled slightly.
"The easy option? Hell yeah," he replied.
"Just friends?" Ohio said, looking at him and taking hold of his hand. Missouri glanced up at her gratefully.
"Just friends," he repeated, giving her hand a tight squeeze. She nodded, smiled, and stood up.
"Get some rest, Louis. You look exhausted."
Missouri watched her leave, his head cleared slightly, but the guilt buried deep inside still raging violently.
Massachusetts trudged alongside the rest of the patrol, her gun held aloft, eyes scanning the area for any sign of unwanted movement. She had programmed her suit to take in the surroundings, building in a 3D that could be displayed on her visor.
Arkansas held up his hand to bring the patrol to a halt, and Massachusetts stopped abruptly, waiting to hear what he had to say. She had not spent long in his presence, yet already she deeply respected him. Much older than the rest of the Freelancers, he was trained in the ways of war, serving as a valuable asset against the Covenant. That was why he was chosen to be enhanced; he would have been unstoppable. When it was decided that the A.I. had to be removed, Arkansas was made top priority. He was needed for the war, and Command couldn't risk him dying or losing his mind. However, like many of the Freelancers, he became attached to his A.I., and decided to rebel. He broke out of Command and disappeared, knowing if they came near him, they'd take Iota. He was then contacted by his old friend, Iowa, being told about an abandoned base in the mountains, and was asked to assist in making a Freelancer stronghold. Arkansas had nothing else going for him, so he agreed, becoming head of defence, getting the best mercenaries and ex-soldiers to fortify the base. Only a few Freelancers ever stayed at the base at one time; the rest were the hired help. Sometimes they even got the odd Spartan joining in for a short period of time – the ones that weren't assigned to the Freelancer Project.
Arkansas did a series of hand signals, indicating they advance – that it had been a false alarm. However, as they moved forward, Massachusetts, who was at the back, noticed something out of the corner of her eye. It was a quick flourish of movement, only small, but it was there all the same. She quickly used her radio to contact Arkansas at the front, and he brought the procession to a halt, before moving along the line towards her to ask what she had seen.
"I don't know for certain," Massachusetts replied, "but it sure as hell wasn't an animal. Sir."
"You don't need to call me Sir, Massachusetts. We're on the same level. Now, where did you see this…thing?"
Massachusetts pointed, and a blue hologram appeared by Arkansas' shoulder, the A.I. Iota.
"Ark," he said, "I suggest we send a select group of soldiers down to investigate. We should always be cautious of our enemies. Whilst they have not attacked us yet, they could do so now, assuming that we will not expect it – counting on us being arrogant."
"Who did you have in mind?" Arkansas asked.
"Agent Massachusetts, naturally, as she saw this anomaly. She knows what it looks like, and can identify or dismiss it readily. I also think it would be a good strategy to send an able Agent to assist, as well as yourself. If the sighting is indeed a hostile, you have the direct link back to base, and can trigger Red Alert from here."
"And if Command attacks the rest of the squad whilst I'm down there?"
"Agent Alabama is more than capable of handling the situation. He is second to your authority, after all."
Arkansas nodded and gave the signal to Alabama, who gave a swift reply and motioned to the rest of the soldiers that he was in charge. Arkansas then beckoned Louisiana to follow him and Massachusetts, before making the descent down to where the figure had been seen. The group of three moved tightly, keeping all points of view covered. The Arkansas saw a person running away from them.
"Hostile in sight!" he said to the two other Freelancers. "Advance, quickly!"
Massachusetts ran into a sprint alongside Arkansas and Louisiana, catching up to the stranger and hitting him in the back with her gun, knocking him over. Arkansas stood over him, kneeling down and grabbing the front of his Command regulation uniform, before dragging him up.
"I see you're a scout," Arkansas stated, pulling the soldier close to his helmeted face. "Tell me where the rest of your squad is, now, or I'll have Louisiana subject you to brutal and merciless torture. What's it going be?"
The soldier looked away, saying nothing, so Arkansas let go of him. He glanced up at the Spartan, confused, only to have the back of the Freelancer's gun smash across his face, shattering his nose and knocking a few teeth of his teeth out. He fell backwards into the snow, wailing in agony. Arkansas nodded to Louisiana, and the fellow Freelancer picked the bleeding solider up again.
"Are you going to answer his question?" Louisiana spat, shaking him slightly. Still the enemy said nothing, so Louisiana shot him in the foot. It took well over half an hour of hitting and shooting at his limbs before he spoke, by which time he was a mangled mess. Massachusetts crouched down over the mass of blood and splintered bones, looking at him with contempt.
"You know, things will get much worse if you don't answer," she said softly, her tone dangerous. The solider shuddered and slowly spat out a mixture of blood and tooth shards from his split and bruised lips.
"…I…don't know…where they…are…" he croaked, his face screwed up in agony as he struggled to speak. Arkansas put his foot on the man's chest, pushing hard on his already broken ribs. The man moaned, squirming in vain to get away from the Spartan officer.
"You're lying," he hissed, grinding his heel. "A scout always knows where the rest of the squadron is. That way, you can give area information to them as quickly as possible."
"…I'm…not…a scout…!" the soldier gasped, his head lolling about wildly.
"What?" Arkansas said sharply. Massachusetts suddenly realised what the man meant, and groaned at her gullibility.
"He's not a scout, Ark!" she cried, repeating the soldier's words. "He's fucking bait. A distraction! He's been left there in hope that the patrol would be split up and separate from you, and we fell for it!"
Suddenly, gunfire started from the distance. There was a crackle as Alabama radioed in to Arkansas.
"It's Command… Comman-…we need assisstan-…heavily outnumbered-…"
The radio cut off completely, and Arkansas looked down at the soldier they'd been torturing. Then he raised his pistol and shot him in the head.
"Load up, Spartans," he said, putting the pistol back in its holster and checking the ammunition of his shotgun. "We're going in hot."
The three Freelancers were trapped, holed up in a nearby cave. When they had reached the scene of the fighting, Arkansas found that the rest of the squad had an easy exit. They were only waiting for their leader.
"Alabama," he said, trying to reach the Agent through his radio. Alabama crackled in confirmation. "Get the hell out. It's pointless trying to fight them off here. Get back and help out with the defences; I'll contact Iowa and set up the base on Red Alert."
"What about you, Sir?"
"It's Ark, and I'll be fine. I'll hold them off as best as I can, or at least provide a distraction so that you can make a clean retreat. Now, move!
"Yes, Sir - I mean – Ark."
Massachusetts looked at Arkansas.
"What's your distraction going to be?" she asked, ducking behind a nearby boulder.
"No idea," he said, crouching as part of the rock he was using as cover chipped off with enemy gunfire. "But I suspect that this grenade may come into play."
He held up a strange, cylinder-like object that seemed to glow red, clicked the activation button, and then threw it at a group of soldiers. It produced a miniature inferno on impact, reducing the target group to black and charred corpses.
"A fire grenade?" Massachusetts said, stunned. "How the hell did you get one of those?"
"By knowing the right people."
Arkansas watched as the rest of his team made their escape, the majority of the Command infantry turning towards their direction.
"On the count of three, we run to that cave over there," Arkansas said, pointing to the destination. "We'll have a better chance of surviving by fighting the enemies bottle-necked."
"Ark," Massachusetts said, sighing and shaking her head. "Trust me, never count to three. Ever. If you do, it's bound to fuck up one way or another."
There was a short pause.
"Good point. Run!"
The three Spartans sprinted across the battlefield, taking the enemy by surprise with their bold action, allowing them to make it to the cave with little gunfire.
So, here they were, trapped with no way out. Arkansas had made the call to Iowa, and the base was setting up their defences. Whether they'd make it out alive of the current situation was yet to be seen.
The wailing of sirens brought Missouri out of his shaky attempt at sleep, making him bolt upright. Rubbing his eyes, he stumbled out of bed, his legs tangled in his sheets, nearly tripping over. He staggered out into the corridor, wondering why the hired soldiers and the occasional Spartan were running wildly down the corridors. What was the big emergency? Then he saw Ohio pushing her way through the crowds.
"Louis!" she cried, shoving people out of the way to get to him. When she came within reach, she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards her.
"What's wrong; what's happened?" he asked, covering his ears at the blaring noise of the Red Alert.
"Command's attacking base! There's a group headed from the mountains now to provide back up, but some of the patrol are still caught up in the firefight! You need to get your armour on, quickly! This is going to be a heavy battle!"
"Wait, wasn't Massa part of that patrol?" he yelled, desperately trying to be heard above the noise. Ohio shook her head.
"Think about all of that later, Louis! We need to get you suited up first!"
She took hold of his hand and half led, half dragged Missouri through the corridors and up to the armoury where his sage suit waited patiently for him. He quickly changed into the skin-tight suit, before clamping the metal plates of the armour on while Ohio looked away politely. When he was ready, he scooped his helmet up and put it on, before picking up his favourite and most reassured weapon, his trusty carbine. Next went the plasma pistols, duel wielding, which fitted in the two holsters of his modified armour, meaning he could carry the extra secondary weapon. Then he attempted to radio Massachusetts, despite Ohio trying to hurry him on. At first all he could hear was static, hissing angrily down the headset at him. Suddenly, it cleared out, and the violent gunfire, teamed with Massachusetts' frantic yells nearly deafened him.
"Massa's still trapped by Command…" he murmured, before turning on his heel.
"Where are you going?" Ohio called out to him, making him turn back to look at her.
"I need to see Iowa. I'll talk to you later, Annie."
With that, he set off at a sprint towards Iowa's office.
"…you want to attempt a pointless stunt, wasting our resources, to try and rescue people who may be dead by the time you arrive?" Iowa said, folding his arms and staring at Missouri. He had just been loading up his sniper rifle, which he was deadly with, when the Freelancer had burst in, demanding the use of a Banshee. "What do you think, Tau?"
The red A.I. appeared next to Iowa, a grin on his face.
"It's a crazy idea…and I like it," Tau said, nodding towards Missouri. "We need Arkansas; you know it, I know it, Command knows it. That's why they've attacked now. Massachusetts and Missouri – two Freelancers on the run with Recovery equipment – it's the perfect excuse for an assault. If they get Ark, then we may as well leave this place now. He has the strategy A.I.; he is all our tactics stuffed in a Spartan suit."
Iowa turned to Missouri.
"If my A.I. says it's good to go, then you may do as you please. I'll let the garage know you're on your way. We can't risk sending more to Arkansas. If the patrol – which has some of our best men – couldn't get to him, then sending all our defences out would be stupid and risky. Now, hurry, before I change my mind."
Missouri nodded and left, before running frantically across the complex, using his radio every so often to check Massachusetts was still alive. When he reached the building where the aircrafts were stored, the guards let him in without question, and he was directed over to the deep purple, Covenant aircraft – the Banshee. He had seen flying around in the days he had been here, and he had used one before. Missouri opened the hatch and slid in, closing it firmly behind him with a clunk. Flat on his stomach, he quickly accessed the panel of controls, starting up the plasma generator that fuelled the Banshee, so that it lifted itself slowly off the ground. Missouri then moved the lever that dictated movement, and felt himself grin as the aircraft shot forward, swooping with a graceful spiral as he rocketed into the air. He loved flying; the sensation was so wonderful – it made him feel like he didn't have a care in the world. He was free; free from all the shit down below him, and that nothing could bring him down. The Missouri remembered he had to stay on focus. He had to find Massa. Turning the Banshee east, following the tracker on Massa's suit, he drove himself forward, dipping in and out of the mists that surrounded the lofty peaks of the mountain range. Every so often, he glanced down to see his progression, and was always stunned at the amount of troops Command had sent to capture the base. They were like ants, swarming over the pure, white snow – an infestation; a disease.
It was not long afterwards that he came to the area where Massachusetts was trapped. Soldiers wereIt was not long afterwards that he came to the area where Massachusetts was trapped. Soldiers were positioned not far from an entrance to a cave, so he assumed that was where she was. He tapped into her radio to get her attention.
"Massa?" Come in, it's Zoura."
"Massa? Oh shit, heads up! Look, I'm a bit busy at the moment, what's up?" she said, her voice dubbed with static.
"I'm in a Banshee above your position."
"…A Banshee?"
"Yeah-aw, shit," Missouri groaned, as a Hornet suddenly hovered into view. He could be shot down at any moment. "Hornet, Massa. Looks like I'm out of play…unless…do you have any explosives on you?"
"No, I used them all already. Why?"
"I need an explosive. Ask your team mates."
Massachusetts turned to Arkansas.
"You got any explosives, Ark?" she asked him. He shook his head.
"Patch me through to Missouri; I'll find out what he wants."
Arkansas connected his radio to Missouri's, asking why he wanted the explosives. Missouri explained, and Arkansas shook his head again. It was risky, that was for certain, but perhaps a risky plan was what they needed to get out of this.
"Missouri, Iota is going to interfere with the controls of the Hornet and fire its explosive ammunition where you want it to. Will that be enough?"
"Should be," Missouri replied. "Go for it."
Arkansas stood back, turning to Massachusetts.
"You might want to get a front row seat for this, Massa," he said, before giving the firing signal to Iota. "Fired, Missouri! Go, now!"
The Hornet lowered itself slightly, before firing its rockets at the Banshee. Missouri flew the Banshee forward at high speed, before jumping out of the aircraft at the last second. He managed to grab a nearby cliff, hanging by one hand, as the Banshee hit the Hornet, exploding and sending it spinning into the cliff face, directly below the Freelancer. Rock flew everywhere as the mangled mess of metal and fire rebounded, crashing down on the soldiers below, crushing and incinerating them. Missouri, meanwhile, lost his grip from the violent impact, and fell down into the snow below, landing heavily. He staggered up as quickly as he could manage, and then ran towards the cave as the aircrafts fell, fully ablaze, nearly scorching him as he sprinted unsteadily.
There was a final roaring explosion, which lifted the Freelancer off his feet, sending him skidding into the cave on his front. Massachusetts reloaded her gun, looking down at him.
"Not bad. I'd give it about an eight. Eight and a half if I'm feeling nice."
"Thanks," Missouri said, standing up and brushing the snow of his scorched armour. Arkansas and Louisiana simply stared at him.
"I have no idea how you managed to survive that," Louisiana said slowly, "and I think it's best if I don't ask at all."
"We need to go pick off the remaining stragglers before we make our way back to Command," Arkansas cut in, deciding not to comment on Missouri's stunt. The others nodded in agreement.
War raged outside of the base; the guns blazing, men dying, blood everywhere. Ohio merely sat inside the medical room, waiting for it to stop. She wasn't trained to kill; she was trained to prevent death instead. She was also worried about Missouri. She'd seen him take off in the Banshee, and she knew he was going to help his friend, Massachusetts.
The silence was unnerving, but at least it meant that the enemy hadn't gotten inside yet. However, no one had been brought in injured either. One could think that it mean none of their soldiers had been hurt, but Ohio wasn't stupid. Something was wrong. Was so fire so heavy that they couldn't risk saving their friends? Ohio had already packed a few base and essential medical supplies, in case they had to leave quickly.
Suddenly, there was a bang down one of the corridors, accompanied by heavy footsteps and harsh orders.
They were in.
Ohio stood up abruptly and moved to her filing cabinet, opening and checking it was still in there. It was, and she sighed with relief, reaching down to touch it. Then she heard a click of a gun being loaded and pointed in her direction.
"Don't move," one of Command's soldiers snarled.