Chapter 3

Colorado and South looked on from the observation room as York, Wyoming, and Maine were readying up to fight the newest Freelancer recruit. The door opened and Washington and North came in.

"Just in time, guys."

"No way we would miss a three-on-one," Washington replied, taking a spot between the crimson and orchid agents.

"Three. Two. One," FILSS counted down and the match began. All three Freelancer's charged the new recruit, only to get swatted away like flies with a pugil stick swing.

Carolina walked in. "What's going on? There's no training session on the schedule."

"It's impromptu," South answered.

"Who the hell is that?"

"Some new recruit."

The team below got up and charged, but were knocked back down in no time.

Washington was certainly surprised. "Wow. He sure doesn't move like he's a recruit."

South scoffed at the fellow agent's blunder. "Why do you assume it's a guy. She's a girl."

"Oh. I... I didn't really mean that he... I mean it... I mean her... I-"

Everyone except Carolina chuckled at the steel-gray-and-yellow agent's blunder. Colorado lost track of the conversation and watched the fight below. The team had managed to flank the black-armored recruit, but were hesitant to move in. Then they simultaneously charged, resulting in Maine and York landing on the floor. Wyoming was stuck on the agent's shoulder, his feet hanging above the ground and the pugil stick pressing against his neck.

Maine and York got back up and readied themselves. And by "readied," they raised their sticks above the waist before the new girl whacked them across the heads. Wyoming dropped to his feet and turned to attack, but was quickly taken out in a flurry of speedy hits all over his body. York followed suit, giving Maine enough time to swing his stick in a downward slash. The recruit blocked it and proceeded to give the same punishment. Maine was knocked out of his senses from an uppercut to his jaw, the hit powerful enough to break the end off the recruit's stick. With everyone down and out, she tossed away the broken weapon and walked away.

"Round One: over. Pugil sticks training, complete. Point awarded..."

"Yeesh. Glad I ain't down there," Colorado said. He winced in sympathy as Maine pushed himself onto his feet, only to lose his balance and fall back down. Twice.

"Texas, huh?" Washington repeated the announcement.

Carolina's arms were crossed over her chest. "I thought that name was reserved."

"Nice moves."

"Could be luck. We'll see."

FILSS continued, "Beginning hand-to-hand combat. Round Two in five, four, three, two, one. Round begin."

Colorado looked on with interest. The team lined up against Texas, fists ready. Maine rushed forward and was punched back; Wyoming quickly followed his fellow Freelancer. York lost his focus and took a fist to the gut and a face-plant on the floor. Maine recovered and broke her defense with an uppercut, but couldn't escape her counters. He threw another a punch, was grabbed, and thrown into Wyoming. York got up, but was likewise tossed away.

Colorado let loose a whistle. "Dang."

"Wow."

North smiled beneath his helmet. "Okay, that was pretty impressive."

Carolina just glared on in silent observation.

Below, York, Maine, and Wyoming got back onto their feet. The last two rushed in together, leaving York to follow. Texas expertly beat back the white-and-brown Freelancer, and his counterpart ran right into her fist. She moved around like a cat, dodging and blocking hits while landing her own. Even flanked on all sides, she knocked them down one by one, kicking Maine and Wyoming in the head and back respectively, and finished by kneeing York in the face.

Okay, knuckles are definitely out of the question against her, Colorado told himself. If he were down there, his kinetic knuckles would be more of a liability than an asset.

"Round over. Point Texas. Hand-to-hand combat complete. Now resetting the floor for Lockdown Paint Scenario." Pillars rose up out of the training floor.

Groans filled the observation room upon hearing "Lockdown Paint".

"Ugh," Wash complained. "I hate that paint."

"Tell me about it. That stuff hits my knuckles and my fingers are broken for a week," Colorado said, flexing his fingers and making sure they were still good out of forced habit.

South: "Stings like a b***h."

North: "Turns your armor hard as a rock."

"I wouldn't know." Everyone looked at Carolina. "It's not bad if you don't let it hit you," she reasoned.

"Thanks," Wash replied in a sarcastic tone. "I'll try to remember that."

"Round Three, in five, four, three, two, one. Round begin."

The room below turned into a pink slaughterhouse. York was the only one left within the first five seconds; Maine got shot three times and punched back and Wyoming got hit in the face not long after. The gold Freelancer eventually ran into Tex, who kneed him in the crotch and blasted him in the face. In the subsequent round, he was left on his own and was quickly ambushed, whether it be from above or behind.

Maine and Wyoming finally got teamwork and patience into their heads, and didn't run out straight away. At York's signal, they all leaped out of cover... and hit the floor, pink paint stuck to their armor. Next round had Wyoming be the last one standing on his team; he was pushed to the ground and Texas walked away, twirling her pistol on her finger like an old gunslinger.

The longest round so far had Wyoming get hit in the left thigh, dropping him on his rear, but still leaving him in. While he crawled for cover, Maine took a hit to both arms, but kept on his powerful swings. A shot to the head finally took him down, and York jumped over his flying body. He managed to knock Texas' pistol out of her hand, but she grabbed him and unceremoniously emptied York's mag into his crotch. She walked off and didn't even look as she scored a final shot on Wyoming's visor.

"Round Nine, begin."

The recognizable sound of live shots reached the observation room. "What?!" Washington asked, shocked. "Are they using live rounds on the training floor?"

"Looks like it," South answered, unconcerned.

"That's against protocol, they're gonna kill her!"

CT apparently came in during the previous round, since Colorado hadn't noticed her when the paint rounds started. "Probably," she said in the same tone as South.

"Someone should get the Director!"

"The Director? Who do you think gave them the ammo?"

"Watch your mouth, CT," Carolina snapped. The brown Freelancer returned to watching the fight.

With Maine and Wyoming using live ammunition, Texas was a bit more cautious. York seemed to have warned her, as she was not as brutal towards him than before. But that didn't mean she stopped beating the crap out of him whenever he got close. She stuck Maine into a pillar, but got shot in the right shoulder. The black Freelancer pounced on Wyoming with unseen fury, and knocked him to the ground. She threw York away from her and unleashed a magazine of paint rounds into Wyoming, his stuck body bouncing off a pillar before being smashed headfirst into it.

Maine tore his hand free from the immobilizing paint and shoulder-charged the pillar between him and Texas. She dodged the debris, but York was hit hard and landed on the ground in a daze. With a flurry of point-blank shots, she punched Maine back into the pillar.

Colorado saw something fly out of the agent's hand and Texas dodging it. He realized what it was too late. The grenade landed next to York, who was quickly shot multiple times with the lockdown paint until it exploded, sending him flying. Everyone moved to get down to the floor and provide aid.

"S**t!"

"Damn it! Those maniacs!"

"What the f**k are they doing?!"

"Idiots!" Colorado yelled as he led the group, subconsciously checking his belt and legs for the medical kit he always had on hand.

"Medical team en route. Please remain calm," FILSS said in her neutral voice.

The door opened and Colorado dashed to York's moaning body. He ignored his comrades' conversation and helped the medics. His HUD immediately scanned the Freelancer and marked the injuries. He pointed out the wounds and opened up his kit.

"Everyone! Stand down now!"

He pushed the kit to the medic beside him. "Here. I'll get it back in the med-bay." The suited man nodded and Colorado joined the other four Freelancers, standing at attention next to South.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves! I expect you to act as a team!" the Director shouted in anger as he paced in front of them.

"They used live ammunition on the floor, sir. That's against regulation."

The Director berated Washington, approaching the soldier with his hands behind his back as always. Everyone else backed off, and Colorado silently gulped in fear. "Do you think our enemies will care about regulations on the battlefield, Agent Washington?!"

"So, y-you're not punishing them?"

"Ingenuity and adaptability are admirable traits! You should all learn something from this. Dismissed." The Director turned away and left.

The crimson agent relaxed as best he could, then knelt down next to York and continued to help the medics. Once they stabilized him, York was moved to the med-bay.

"Hey, thanks for your help," the lead medic said.

Colorado put on a small smile behind his maroon visor. "No problem."