(A/N) Welcome back to our regularly scheduled uploads, fine readers! Today, we have a treat for you, in another look behind the curtain of our dear Agent Colorado and how she's processing the recent events of the last few chapters. With her presence on the mission alongside sworn enemies and her recent experiences in our sister-fic, Interphase, let's find out together just what she's up to and how she's handling the endlessly building tension!
And of course, if you haven't already read it, remember to check out Mina's latest addition to Interphase, 'Everything I Am', where Colorado finds herself in enemy territory on the Mother of Invention! We hope you enjoy!
Chapter Two Hundred and Two– The In-Between
Agent Colorado
Written by Minaethiel
"We don't let them decide who we get to be. We'll carve our own paths."
– Sarah J. Maas, House of Sky and Breath
"Son of a bitch!" The curse ripped through my lips as a hail of paint bullets encased my left arm in lockdown foam, my gun rendered useless by the assault. Just the sheer volume of fire stung like a horde of bees, and I expected a number of bruises there later. Nevertheless, I watched as Neb returned fire to my assailant, Arizona, before taking cover on a pillar next to me. Jersey was behind us waiting for the chance to move up, while keeping an eye out for North and Indiana. An unscheduled three-on-three match wasn't a common occurrence on the Invention. However, all six of us had ended up inside to let off some stress, so we'd all agreed to a fight. It was pretty much unspoken what teams we'd agreed upon. Strangely enough, Nebraska had tensed up at the arrangement of being with Jersey and myself, but before I could ask him what his problem was, we were getting ready to start.
I could guess what was on his mind, though. Harper and the rest of them had been around for long enough that, while we held an uneasy truce, the underlying tension of waiting for it all to blow up was constantly present. Nevermind the little 'pep talks' he'd given us while we were in the field. I hadn't heard about what he'd talked about with the others. Frankly, I was just tired at this point. Some part of me, a dark, twisted part I was desperately trying to ignore, was wondering if the bigger threat to the status quo was us. And I felt like a fucking traitor for it, but I didn't want things to blow up anymore. That fire I felt when they'd first gotten onboard was just… shrinking.
And it sure as shit didn't help that I actually liked that stupid fucking pyro.
As it was, even if I wasn't feeling so conflicted, none of us could touch Harper or his men with the Director backing them. However he had also made it very clear what would happen if they stepped a toe out of line. A grim look came to my face as I recalled Maine's Danger Room demonstration for Harper and his crew. A lesson in how easily they could be terminated if they tried anything while onboard the ship. And if just Maine could take them out, it was painfully obvious what would happen if he pissed all of us off at once.
"'Rado!" Jersey's voice shocked me back into the moment and I whipped my head over to her. She still hadn't moved an inch forward. When 'Zona ran out of bullets, it seemed like Indi and North picked up the slack to give him time to reload.
"Get your head back in the match!" she ordered, taking a blind shot around the corner with her magnum.
"Apologies," I growled whilst trying to free my arm of paint. "Perhaps all these stun rounds have clouded any viable form of thinking."
"What a creative answer," she said sarcastically. "You and Neb can separate and try to flank them. I'll distract them here."
"I'm on it," Neb responded immediately, turning away and dashing from pillar to pillar. I could see him flicker in and out of vision as he put his ability to use in an effort to remain somewhat less visible. I didn't have the same luxury. I took off in the opposite direction, hoping my speed alone would be enough to draw as little attention as possible. Unfortunately, my left arm would be completely useless except as a club, despite the SMG still cemented in my hand. The battle rifle I had also grabbed was useless since I couldn't fire it one handed. That just left me with one SMG and painfully inadequate reloading times. Grimacing, I ducked behind another pillar. With my current situation, I was better off as a distraction. Neb and Jersey could sweep them from behind while their attention was focused on me.
I turned a corner to my left and put my back against the pillar. All I had to do was draw their attention and hope Jersey would figure out the rest. Though it was a dangerous idea, I removed my helmet and released a loud whistle before replacing it back on my head.
Showtime.
I stormed around the left corner again with my weapon raised, unsurprised to see Indiana ready to meet me with two magnums in her hands. North had his back against a pillar behind her, and I could barely see the front of 'Zona's gun as it poured fire down where Jersey was – or had been.
However my most pressing issue was Indiana. I let off two quick bursts and used my thruster pack to dodge behind cover as she began firing a volley of shots.
Already down to just two thirds of my magazine. If I have to reload, it's over. I have to finish her off before my gun empties.
Feeling a burst of adrenaline brought on by a do-or-die situation, I retreated backwards a few yards before rushing the pillar I had been using for cover. I ran up the side and used my Thruster Pack to give me an extra boost. Just like with my demonstration with it, I looked down, expecting Indi to be behind cover, only to feel the sting of several paint shots impacting my chest.
Instead of the graceful landing of a trained soldier, I dropped like an unbloodied rookie, and fury and embarrassment surged through me. I didn't know how long I was out for, but before long, the paint had fallen away. Jersey and Neb had managed to pull off a win, to my surprise, but the victory did little to ease my anger. It wasn't any better with the short, quick looks North and 'Zona were shooting me. Finally, after putting our equipment away, I sighed loudly.
"I know, I fucked up, okay? You happy now? I'm just not feeling combat right now."
I removed my helmet in a quick, practised movement and magnetised it to my back. Even for its security, I felt too hot with anger for the helmet to be comfortable. Indi followed suit with her own, a concerned frown on her face as she looked at me.
"What's wrong, 'Rado? You've been like this for a few days now."
My eyes fell on her, and I felt a war beat on between my patience and my frustration. But in the end, I took a deep breath. Whatever my inner turmoil was, I couldn't expect everyone to understand it, or guess at it. Indi was just being Indi: kind to everybody, even if they didn't necessarily deserve it. Since I hung out so much with 'Sota, I, by extension, spent plenty of time with her too. She didn't deserve to catch the wrong side of my temper.
"Sorry, Indi," I offered. "I'm just stressed."
And really, who could blame me? Aside from the complicated interpersonal bullshit I was now dealing with, I had to face the very real possibility of questioning my orders if we got told to take down the Innie squad in our midst. But nobody needed to know that, ever.
"It's okay," North reassured, interrupting my dark thoughts. "It's been a lot more stressful lately. None of us are feeling very carefree with Harper and his men here."
"We wouldn't be carefree whether he was onboard or not," I snorted, shaking my head as frustration ate away the patience I had exercised. "We're standing on the edge of things either going really well, or really fucking shittily, and I'm pretty tired of being able to do nothing to influence it one way or the other. I'm tired of this tension. I'm tired of all the fucking bullshit we're being put through."
"'Rado, calm down," Jersey asserted in the face of my outburst. "Yes, we've been dealing with a lot of shit the past few weeks, but there's no reason for it to be hitting you this hard!"
A dark scowl ripped across my face. No, I most certainly could not tell them that part of the problem wasn't just the stress of the what-ifs, but the fact that I actually didn't mind some of those guys. And none of the people in this room would really understand that. It made me feel worse about how things, in my head, were morphing into Cal and I versus Freelancer when it came to our recent sessions of hanging out. Frankly, I just needed to let everything out before it ate me alive. I looked to Neb, hoping for a bit of support. The grey Freelancer seemed to understand the look, but shrugged, making it a point not to make eye contact.
"I'm with Jersey on this." I narrowed my eyes and snorted, shaking my head. There were no pieces of context I could share with them that wouldn't condemn me.
"You guys go on ahead and go. I'm going to stick behind and do some target practice. Jersey? Neb? Will you stick around? Please?" I added the rare pleasantry after a moment of hesitation. That alone had to be worth something. North, 'Zona, and Indi gave their farewells and left, leaving the three of us alone. After a moment of thought as I looked at the arsenal, I decided to work with a grenade launcher and an assault rifle. Jersey went with her magnum and shotgun while Neb picked up the battle rifle and magnum he had dropped off earlier.
"Target practice isn't truly on your mind," he observed, albeit dismissively. The unfriendly tone surprised me, and I frowned. Where the hell had that come from? He'd been unusually aloof lately, which was both annoying and concerning. I hadn't brought it up yet because I figured it was just a sour mood from our current houseguests.
"It's actually the last thing on my mind, Neb," I admitted, slinging the rifle on my back and re-equipping my helmet. "But I just need a bit more time out here to settle myself down."
"Jersey and I have more things to do than help you 'settle yourself' while Harper and his men are on the ship," the grey Freelancer protested. I couldn't find it in me to light a spark of fury. Not yet. Not when he was wound as tightly as I was.
"Let's just practice," I said with a sigh. "I want you guys to fight me in a two versus one battle. I need to get better at taking on multiple opponents at once."
It would turn into a close quarters bout; this I knew for sure. With that in mind, I ditched the grenade launcher and picked up a battle rifle to replace it. A blunted practice knife quickly followed onto my belt alongside a couple of paint grenades.
Neb brushed past me on his way to the opposite side of the floor. The gesture itself could have been normal, if a wave of cold indifference hadn't followed. For a moment, surprise cut through my earlier frustration, causing me to stare after the man for a moment more. Jersey shot me a confused look, and I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was to delve into Neb's current demeanour towards me with Jersey. He seemed fine towards everyone else – maybe a bit more distracted, but that was to be expected.
I shook my head and sighed. Neb was not a problem to be solved at this moment. If we ended up in a fight, I would probably say something stupid to piss him off more than he seemed to be already. Instead I took my starting position.
"FILSS, same exercise as last time. Include variable cover this time. Record session and send it to my datapad when completed."
Whether I fucked this up or came out on top, I wanted to see the variables to make and break a performance against multiple targets. Shoving this thought out of my mind, I tried to force myself to focus on the task at hand. For the most part I felt myself settle down slightly, but at the slightest provocation I knew my anger would lash out again.
Find the killing calm, I willed silently. Push everything else out of your mind. Focus. Keep cool, keep calm, keep collected. Another few deep breaths and I finally felt ready.
FILSS counted down and time almost seemed to slow as I felt myself slip into the state of concentration I had been coveting earlier. When the final starting signal dropped, I surged forward with my assault rifle ready, hopping from cover to cover. With pillars falling left and right, I was always on alert for a flash of orange or grey. That flash came mere seconds later, and it was Jersey I caught sight of. Neb's location was a mystery, though I couldn't imagine they would have strayed far from one another. I couldn't take the chance of them being together. Throwing caution to the wind, I sprinted towards where I believed Jersey was walking, assault rifle ready to fire. Unsurprisingly, I almost ended up crashing into her, and her shield deflected my hail of bullets as I fired. Thinking quickly, I dropped, swept her feet out from under her and spun back up to my feet, assault rifle already aimed down at her.
A flash of grey out of the corner of my eye announced Neb's presence, and I used my Thruster Pack to vault over Jersey's recovering form, taking cover behind a pillar. I didn't know how long ago it had been raised, but I did know that Neb and Jersey would likely coordinate to catch me in a crossfire. I couldn't let that happen. I retreated back further and began circling my way back to Jersey, hoping she was in the same general area. That way, it would be her between Neb and I. I only needed one opportunity to bring this fight to an even numbers battle.
That opportunity presented itself a few short seconds later. I caught sight of Jersey again manoeuvring to where I had run off to. If I was correct, Neb was making similar progress across the way. This was one chance I couldn't mess up on. Quietly, I crept up behind her for a clearer shot as I swapped the assault rifle for my battle rifle. She didn't see it coming as I plastered her head with two quick bursts of fire. One down, one to go.
Neb could be unpredictable in combat. I'd seen him in close quarters and I'd seen him work from range. Lethal in both aspects, I didn't know which tactic he'd use to confront me with. Thinking it would be best to have a closer-quarters weapon to pair with my knife, I grabbed Jersey's magnum and slipped it onto my thigh before moving on. I had thought Neb would come straight at me when the shots went off, but my prediction proved to be incorrect. Like North in my very first training match, Neb was a ghost. His armour colour only aided in blending in too, which annoyed me considering how much I stuck out. My armour colour proved to be a problem as the burst of a battle rifle went off. Paint splattered the pillar next to me, but it offered no cover for me as it began receding into the floor. I threw myself to the pillar next to it, my Thruster Pack flaring as I used the extra boost to leap a greater distance.
Battle rifle it was, then. If that's how he wanted to play it…
I looked towards where the shots had come from, seeing only a flicker of armour as Neb put his ability to use and leaned out to fire towards my position. Despite the futility of it, I fired a burst back and took cover, counting the seconds for how long the ability would last. After about five short moments, I leaned back out and fired where he had been, unsurprised to see he had moved. Neb wouldn't draw back further with a battle rifle… if anything, he was going to get closer and use his pistol or his rifle. I put my own rifle away and drew the magnum, balefully realising that I hadn't bothered to lift any spare clips off of Jersey. Sloppy. Regardless, I felt a little comfort in the knife I also held in my hand.
Turning around, I took a cautious peek around the corner, and reeled back as a fist impacted my face. Yup, definitely moving up. I rolled back around the corner and into a crouch, lunging towards his hand when he stuck it around the corner to fire blindly.
Grabbing his arm, I hooked it over my shoulder so we were back-to-back, and used my Thruster Pack to flip us onto the ground. Neb gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, and I took the opportunity to flip myself over and bring the knife down firmly on the back of his neck.
"Do you give in, Neb?" I asked, somewhat breathless. He seemed just as harassed by all of the matches we had done earlier, but his voice was steady nonetheless as he gave his answer.
"I do. Are we done now?" he asked curtly.
Yet again, I felt myself grow surprised. What in the world had I done to deserve that kind of response? Slow, contempt-filled clapping the space before I could confront him, and all three of us turned to see Firefly leading the group of Monty, Crosshair, Circuit, and Geist in.
"Hey, it's my favourite Firecracker! And the extras," Firefly greeted. "You look like you're done, mind clearing the field for your pals to get some fun in? Spectrum promised us some exercises we could actually take part in since your AI won't let us in the Danger Room."
Spectrum? It wasn't hard for me to laser in on Isaac, who was pointedly avoiding our eyes. Jersey and Neb didn't seem bothered by it, which didn't really surprise me. I offered the kid a lazy salute.
"What if I don't want to leave?" I drawled.
"We do have an odd number right now if you want to join in," Firefly offered with a wink. I sighed heavily. It would figure, really, that Firefly would show up. It was like thinking of my problems summoned him. And frankly, they did still need a responsible adult chaperoning them, not that I could consider myself 'responsible.' But I figured I was less likely to get bulldozed over than poor Isaac, even if they would probably be on their best behaviour for him.
Before I could even respond, Neb slammed past me, the movement taking me off guard as I fought to keep my balance. "This is not my problem then," he said coldly. "It's yours now."
Shock kept me rooted and silent as I stared after him, but the red-haired Insurrectionist that had sauntered in didn't have the same problem, his arm flashing out to shove the Freelancer back, losing the grin in his voice. "You do that shit in front of me again, I don't care how interested the boss is in you, I'll break your fucking nose," he informed, and I watched Jersey tense up, ready to spring.
But I put an arm out to stop her before she could.
She shot a look at me, but didn't storm past to knock the pyro flat for laying a hand on Neb. She did, however, turn to me as Neb shoved Firefly's arm down to stride past the group to leave, and only then did I feel secure enough to drop my arm by my side.
"Are you going to be ok here if I go to lunch? I promised to meet Kent when we were done."
Yeah. I had some doubts about that, but I wasn't going to complain. Frankly, I felt a faint relief that made me hate myself a bit. But I didn't voice a damned thing about it, just nodded. "Please, I'll be fine. I doubt Isaac would let the big bad birdies do anything to me."
The last part I said loud enough for the other squad to hear, looking at Firefly as I said it, and he huffed a laugh. "If you think we're going through Isaac just for one Freelancer, you're crazier than Ian. Would have to be at least two."
Behind my helmet, I smirked slightly, unable to reject the amusement the remark inspired. And the serious doubt that they'd go through him at all. Still, it was enough for Jersey to sigh in acceptance.
"Fine. But a single toe gets stepped out of line, you call for a damned emergency, got it?"
I seriously doubted I'd get the time if an emergency did happen, but if it reassured her, fine. "No shit, Sherlock. I'm not winning this fight."
"That's character growth for you," she snickered, clapping me on the shoulder before she left. The rest of Phoenix had been rather silent, but there was a subtle tension relieved as soon as the door slid shut behind my friend, sealing us away from the rest of the ship. It struck me how I was far more bothered with Neb's departure than the small squad of Innies in the room. And how one of them had intervened where Jersey hadn't. Now I didn't blame her, not at all. I solved my own problems. I didn't need other people to cut in on my behalf. But the fact that Firefly had done so, unprompted, unasked for, unquestioningly, had me ponder just when the line between us had blurred that far.
"Earth to Tigress," the man in question prompted, waving a hand in front of my face to catch my attention. "Zone out on somebody worth it, yeah? Like my mate Circuit-"
"What?!" the tech in question blustered immediately, and Isaac choked on a shocked laugh.
The disbelief was palpable enough that I turned back to Firefly, who raised his hands and added, "Look, Alexander, if you were my type, you know? You deserve better than that."
I didn't want the sentiment. Didn't want to examine the truth or lie of it. Not when either answer could raze another piece of me to rubble. So I did what I always did and deflected it with dry humour. "Wow, how Romeo and Juliet of you. So are you taking the knife to the heart or the poison?"
He scoffed. "Please, I'd burn down the damned church."
"Mm. Preferably not with me in it."
"I always offer my friends the chance to douse everything in gasoline before I light it up," he said, winking.
"Yeah, somehow I feel like I wouldn't stick around to see you light that match."
"Right, right. I'll just take a video and show you later."
"So generous," I said wryly.
"That better not be sarcasm, I'm a goddamn saint," he declared.
"A very distracted one, apparently. Hey, Monty, what exercises did you have in mind anyway? Since I'm apparently being recruited to even the teams out."
The other Freelancer/Phoenix hybrid in the room looked vaguely like he was caught in a set of headlights, not that I could blame him. My presence was… energetic at best when it was nicest. Maybe 'intense' was a better word. Either way, he was tapping a finger on his wrist as he thought.
"Was thinking a paint scenario. Or hand to hand. It's better here than the gym ring."
Less crowded, for one. And for two, it probably meant they had to be less on-guard since the training room usually didn't have as many people, if any. As long as they had at least one of us with them, it was pretty fair game to play in the room. And I was sure Isaac had brought them there to avoid the eyes directed at him as well for hanging out with them. I wasn't dumb enough to think that the enlisted personnel hadn't heard about his identity. But I had to wonder if anybody had outwardly given him a hard time since his elder brother had come onboard. Maybe if they were feeling particularly suicidal. Like I'd told the man in question when Cal had dragged me along to Phoenix's post-mission gatherings, if our positions were switched, nobody would have found the bodies of anybody that fucked with my brother.
"I'm down for whatever you guys want to do," I said with a shrug. "I'm warmed up regardless."
"I feel like Mike could stand for some up close and personal time," Aaron said immediately, and the marksman scoffed.
"Code for 'I want another rematch with my favourite Freelancer,'" he accused.
"You're going to hurt poor Isaac's feelings," I informed, and the redhead waved me off.
"He's a Phoenix, Tigress. And definitely our collective favourite one. Barring extraordinary circumstances," he added with a grin.
"Of course, how silly of me," came my sarcastic rebuttal. "So if we're doing a hand to hand exercise, are we doing a team deathmatch or individual pairs?"
"While I'm sure Lucas would enjoy hogging you-"
"Shut the fuck up, Aaron," the tech said immediately.
"While I'm sure your dazzling company is in high demand enough to hog, teamwork is important. You, Geist, and Crosshair against me, Spectrum, and Circuit. Let's see you keep up with us, mate. Give it your all."
I shot him a look from behind my helmet that I hoped conveyed how ridiculous the sentiment was. He'd worked with me in the field. He'd seen what I could do. I was Agent-fucking-Colorado, and I could keep up with a bunch of Innies if I fucking wanted to.
"FILSS," I said, turning away to stalk to the other side of the room, flicking my hand in a sharp gesture to beckon my two new partners with me, "Set the room up for a hand to hand combat simulation. Pillars too, please."
Firefly and I had sparred before, of course. I'd practically bulldozed into him and Cal after one of my late night gym sessions, and the redhead had provoked a fight. He'd won that first one, but not the one after. And I couldn't say I'd kept my streak after I'd won our rematch. He'd continued trying to bait me since. Wildly, I'd gone from barely tolerating his bullshit to looking forward to beating his ass. But I couldn't tell anybody that, except for Cal himself. And I hadn't. But from the way Cal grinned at me whenever we got together, I could tell that he knew anyway. Wouldn't surprise me if Firefly himself knew either. Out of everyone in this room, except maybe Monty, Firefly had seen more out of me than any of his flockmates. And I was going to make it a point to punish that knowledge… by ignoring those two entirely.
As pillars raised from the floor, hiding our opposition from view, I set up a channel for just Crosshair and Geist, keying into it.
"Circuit is mine. He's the one that knows the least about what I can do, presumably, so I'm taking him out first."
"Keep an eye out for Spectrum," Crosshair warned. "He's as sharp as Maverick is in the field. You wanna know how we got half the things done we did? Isaac is the reason."
"Never let it be said I underestimated a Harper again," I drawled. "Especially one that beat Carolina. Recommendations?"
"I'll take Circuit," Geist said simply. "You take Spectrum."
I raised an eyebrow. Far as I knew, Monty was like me: he didn't really specialise in anything, but he could use whatever was at his disposal with deadly results. His brain did the leg work, his hands just carried the orders out. I hadn't gotten to see much of what he could do outside of his match with Carolina, mostly because we were handling different jobs when we'd stolen the Command Server back, and because Phoenix had shown up to kill us. It would have been not just cruel, but dangerous, if we'd had him throw himself against the men he cared about. But now we were all in the same room again, with free reign to give our all just to win a match. So how would he fare here with no need to check himself? Time to find out.
"Fine, I can do that. We can rotate as necessary, just call out for it."
I seriously doubted I'd be hearing anything from the other two. They knew each other inside and out, and knew what they could handle, and that included Isaac. I was the odd man out here. The people I'd seen the most from when it came to hand-to-hand were Monty and Firefly.
Perhaps that was why they'd had me switch targets. Whatever the case, I took my spot on the line and shook out my hands, mentally preparing myself. I wanted to fucking win. Not for any particular reason other than my personal pride blooming into full strength. After all, I was practically the best of my class. I had something to prove, not just to myself, but to the other Freelancer across from, no matter what name he wore currently.
"This hand-to-hand combat scenario is about to begin. Agent Montana's team will be Team A and consist of Corporal Paul and Lance Corporal Thorpe. Agent Colorado's team will consist of Corporal Baxter and…" she hesitated, which had me laugh under my breath, before finishing simply with, "Geist."
If FILSS was human, I really would have enjoyed sharing a beer with her. Still, I had to glance at the latter man mentioned, and he barely shrugged in answer. Fair enough. It did not stop me from wondering just how he'd managed to get a barebones file working for ONI though. Enough that even FILSS didn't know what rank the man had climbed to.
Something told me that Circuit had something to do with it after they'd left, even as I watched the engineer across the training room floor encourage a shy-looking Monty into a brief fist-bump. Though I also heavily suspected that anybody who did know anything was also worm food. But it sure as shit wasn't my business. I had what intel was immediately important when it came to these guys. Digging for more was not only pointless, but fucking stupid. And frankly, even if it did have a point and wasn't stupid, it didn't matter to me. Not in this moment. The only enemy I needed to be focused on was the younger Harper across the way.
"Three."
He'd beaten Carolina at her own game. I couldn't afford to keep my guard down against that kind of capability.
"Two."
But I could do it. If I could live as long as I had against the things I'd endured, I could handle Monty.
"One."
I took a deep breath, let that adrenaline feed my veins, let it quiet my mind.
"Begin!"
I shot forward without a thought, hopping on top of one of the pillars and leaping across them. I didn't need much help to see the opposition as a result, black blurs between the shadows, save for one, a bluish anomaly among them. I didn't stop, didn't hesitate, just leapt across the pillar he was passing by, springboarding off of it. My thrusters flared with the motion, only increasing my momentum as I lashed a foot down, the painful impact felt through metal as his arms came up to block me and throw me off. I flipped back off of him, landing on my feet in time to throw up my forearm to block a punch aimed at my face. He followed up to sock me in the gut, and I grimaced, but responded by grabbing his arm and twisting it harshly, holding back from dislocating his shoulder, but still making a point. Not that he heeded it when he slammed a boot back into my gut, forcing me to release my hold on him.
Neither of us was keen to let the other take the advantage and with my back against the pillar, I needed to take the fight somewhere more open. He knew it too, and rushed back to stop me from getting a better position. He swung for the side of my head again, and I danced beneath it, thoroughly used to having taller opponents go for the easy shot. My fist flew for his ribs and he blocked it without a thought, throwing an elbow at my helmet that I grabbed and shoved away to give me both some breathing room and enough time to sidestep to have my back to the open arena. The entire time, Monty was quiet, strategic intent in every movement and look. His head tilted ever so slightly as he assessed me, and I shifted my stance, ready for him.
Never let it be said he didn't live up to his name.
Phoenix, Harper, whatever mindset he was wielding, he charged me like a bullet, and the two of us tangled in a crash of violent limbs and unshakable will. I had to give it to him: he was making me work for a win. He clearly knew what he was doing, each parry and blow he threw made without hesitation and executed expertly. I was giving as good as I got, but I was still getting a lot thrown at me. Bruises were no doubt going to blossom on my arms later from how many hits I'd blocked, but he wasn't pushing through my guard to try and win. Not yet, at least. If ever that was a warning sign for me to end things quicker…
I redoubled my efforts to get through his own guard, gradually pushing him back further into the maze, forcing him to move or take heavier hits. All the while, I focused on his stomach and torso, ignoring any other areas entirely, forcing him to get into a pattern of defence. And just when he was comfortable…
I changed the key.
I thought I had him. For one brilliant second, as I dropped down and sliced his legs out from beneath him, I was euphoric at having the upper hand that only could have led to a pin. But that euphoria, drunk too soon from its cup, was what really killed me. As he fell, he flashed a leg out, hooking onto the side of my neck in a manoeuvre I recognized all too well. By the time I tried to shove myself backwards, his other leg had already scissored onto my neck, sending us both to the ground in a clash of metal. His legs tightened on my neck, and instinct had me claw at them as he constricted my breathing. Rage flooded my veins, but neither of us had a good grip or position. His advantage was the strength in his legs, but that alone wasn't a victory.
Gathering my own strength, I kicked myself forward, and, failing that, flipped over so I could brace my hands on his legs and shove them off of me. My helmet went with him and I sprang to my feet just as he did, both of us taking up defensive positions and eyeing the other as we assessed our next moves. He twitched a foot, and I stiffened, but he merely kicked my helmet closer to me with a nod to it.
A faint grin touched my face as I relaxed enough to grab it and replace it on my head. That was as far as his generosity went. As soon as my hands fell from it, he was lunging for me and I didn't have the time to block the first punch that landed on my shoulder, nor the follow up stomp on my shin that had me shout in equal parts outrage and pain. He was all-in on turning the tables now, and it was now me getting pushed back to where we'd started. I had open space to manoeuvre now, sure, but it didn't matter when I didn't have the freedom to utilise it.
In an effort to trip him up again, I flashed a leg out for his thigh, and he grabbed it. I grinned under my helmet as he spun, and I spun with it, hopping up to slam my other foot into his cheek. But while most opponents may have dropped me or gone off balance, Monty held on. Even as my foot landed on the ground again, he wrenched it back and up, forcing all of the weight on it, his other hand grabbing my throat. If we were doing ballet, it would have been perfect. But instead, I was caught looking like a fucking amateur.
"Exercise paused, new combatants on the field," FILSS announced, and I groaned in dissatisfaction. We weren't done yet!
Not that Ian Harper really gave a shit.
Cal was hanging out at his side and offered a lazy salute as we broke from each other to see who'd crashed the party.
"How're we feeling boys? And ladies, of course," he added to me after taking a bite from the apple in his hand. I snorted.
"Fine, thanks," I said dryly. "You know normally, common courtesy would dictate you'd plant your ass in the viewing room until the match is over."
"I had to come down and compliment Isaac on his technique," the elder Harper said with a wink to his younger counterpart. "Very well done."
As if that killer instinct faded away, I watched Monty curl into himself a bit again, though pride kept his posture straight. "Thanks, Ian."
"I'm sure my cheerleader would say something if he wasn't so distracted," I said pointedly, and Cal actually whined a bit.
"I'm hungry."
"Why didn't you get something in the mess?" Ian asked in exasperation, following blue eyes to his apple.
"Because I wasn't hungry until now."
The sigh Ian gave was so relatable that I almost shook my head. Of course Cal ignored his own needs in favour of just charging ahead. Fucking typical. "Do you want a bite of this?" the blonde hedged his partner, and Cal shrugged, his chin bobbing on Harper's shoulder.
"Depends."
"On what? We both know I'd say yes regardless," he said with a scoff, offering the fruit to the other man, who took the apple, snagged a bite, and tossed it back to him.
"If you two are done with the theatrics," I said wryly, "can we finish our match now?"
"You won't be finishing anything."
Red armour slid into the room, Alaska's cold voice clashing against the warmth the room had held prior. I grimaced, the expression only growing as Carolina joined him.
"You know the routine, you two," Carolina cut in, looking between Monty and myself. "All matches need to be pre-approved by FILSS, and by extension, the Director."
"Oh come on, Carolina," I groaned. "The Director has bigger things to worry about than a fucking throwaway match."
"Doesn't matter. Protocol is there for a reason, especially when it comes to guests."
"Yes, I'm very scared of being stabbed in the neck with a blunted weapon in the middle of a highly secured room that FILSS can turn into a death trap at the snap of her fingers," I drawled. "I'm sure that there's a good reason for denying a match with our guests when we're supposed to work with them. But protocol sure as shit ain't it."
"How about avoiding fraternising with the enemy? Is that a good enough reason?" Alaska asked simply, and I felt a snarl build in my throat.
"You, Alaska, can go fuck yourself," I said sharply. "Accuse me of that again, see exactly what an enemy looks like." But if anything, the remark had me mentally cement that any time Cal convinced me to hang with the guys in addition to him, I couldn't breathe a word about it.
"You've never beaten me in training before, but you're free to try," he purred, and I tensed up, taking a step forward, but Monty of all people stopped me, catching me in place with a hand on my shoulder. His gaze was locked onto Alaska unerringly.
"Enemies treated her with more respect than you," he said, quiet, but an edge to it that hinted at what lurked beneath the surface of the normally shy Freelancer.
"I wasn't talking to you, halfbreed," Alaska dismissed, and I felt more than saw the Phoenixes in the room tense up, the accusation of Monty's divided loyalties hot in the air. The room seemed to almost dim around them.
Monty's head silently tilted to one side, the gesture eerily familiar to me by now after reliving the memory of being locked up with his older brother so many times. Behind Monty, Harper had matched the motion, something dangerous in his eyes and the teeth suddenly bared in a manic grin, but letting his younger sibling stand his ground.
"I'm the one that beat Carolina," he reminded the red Freelancer. "So I don't care if you were talking to me or not. We'll leave when we want to leave."
God damn. I'd never seen Monty to be so assertive before. But I supposed when he was surrounded by his friends and family, it was far easier to draw confidence to talk some serious shit. Alaska now shifted his attention fully to the younger Harper, but before he could really start cutting, Carolina spoke up again.
"Enough, Alaska," she ordered. "This training match is over. Montana, Colorado, to the mess hall. Now."
I fully considered telling her to fuck off, when I saw Cal grin from his place next to Harper.
"What, no order for me, Boss?"
"You've already proven to do what you want, Cal. I'm not about to convince you otherwise."
"Fine," I cut in as a dark cloud entered Cal's eyes. "We'll go have dinner. Monty, we'll just catch them later. Cal and Firefly owe me a gym session," I said smoothly, staring straight at Carolina and Alaska, defiance roaring through my veins. I was as loyal to the UNSC as they came. But I wasn't going to put my own thoughts and opinions and actions on the backburner to please anybody, particularly not those two. And especially not when Alaska had thrown that halfbreed comment out, as if Monty had a choice about who his family was.
Cal, helmetless, offered me a vicious, ecstatic grin even as I gently pressed Monty's arm down to let me pass. Before I left, I stopped at the doorframe, shooting my eyes to Alaska.
"Careful who you target for your bullshit, Alaska. At the end of the day, it's still going to be us watching your back. Don't tempt me to look away."