Chapter Two

-Making Friends-

Inside the test arena, two tech officers dressed in their drab yellow uniforms stood at their computer consoles, bringing the new recruit's equipment online. One tech officer, Sam Patterson, looked up from his screen and glanced at the new agent. Compared to the other Freelancers, the young woman was smaller and her arms had less muscle, her right arm much thinner because of the prosthetic. With the glistening armor and the faceless, reflective surface of her visor, the small, unassuming girl looked absolutely terrifying yet beautiful, an angel of destruction and death, meant for nothing but killing.

"Wow, she's flat as a fuckin' board."

However, his fellow tech officer, Glenn Mayer, managed to take that image and smash it to pieces like a brick to a stained glass window.

"God damn it, Glenn." he groaned while rubbing his forehead.

"What? What'd I say?"

Sam looked up at his co-worker from his seat. "Dude, you're looking at a badass space warrior who can kick your ass from here to Sunday and the first thing you mention is the size of her tits?"

"Oh come on, it's not like she can listen to us inside that oversized bucket. Besides, you know I like big breasts on a girl, like the ones on Carolina." The tech officer said, forgetting his duties and imagining the redhead topless, his hands in a flexing motion, "Now those I wanna squeeze."

"Yeah, never gonna happen. She'd wipe the floor with you first." Sam quipped before going back into his screen, "No erratic heartbeats or brainwaves, bringing health monitors online."

"Man, you're such a fuckin' prude."

"...and you're a pervert."

"You're one to talk," Glenn shot back, pointing at the Freelancer on the floor, "or was I imagining it when you stared at her ass when she walked in?"

Immediately, Sam's back straightened and his face turned red. Ah fuck, he saw me….

"Hey, shut up, man. It's called art appreciation. I don't diss a girl because she's 'flat as a fuckin' board,' as you put it." Sam shot back while striking the keys on his holographic interface, "Recharging shield systems are operational. Health monitor online, bringing up targeting systems."

A large grin appeared on Glenn's face as he stood up and patted his friend on the shoulder, "I'm saying that I don't blame you. In fact, I'm very proud of you for glancing at a cute girl. With the right body, that under layer part of the armor always makes it snug in all the right places. But, from what I can tell, her ass is the only thing she's got going. Plus, I don't like the ones with the robot arms. Always expect them to smell like motor oil."

"Dude, would you just drop it?"

"Aw, what's wrong?" his fellow officer teased in a mocking tone, "You have a crush on her already? Don't tell me you believe that 'Love at first sight' bullshit."

Sam responded by pointing his finger at his colleague's interface. He looked down at his hand on the intercom button, the red light indicating that it was on.

The tech officer looked down at the agent on the floor, both her arms crossed, her prosthetic twisted with her natural limb, and silently tapping her foot. Her helmet's visor obscured her face, but he didn't need to see that she was angry.

"You cockbite! Why didn't you say anything?!" Glenn blurted out.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sam managed to say before turning back his screen, "Targeting systems online, motion tracker online, bringing up night vision."

While Glenn opened his mouth to say something, the door to the observation deck opened and two men entered. One was the Director himself and the other was the Counselor, an unnamed, dark skinned man who always carried a Holopad and at the Director's heels, following him like a shadow. The tech officer muttered a curse under his breath before going back to work.

"Is everything in order?" the Director asked Sam.

"Just about...there." the tech officer replied, typing on his screen before turning his seat to the Director, "Just brought up night vision online, sir. Everything looks green across the board."

"Good." Came the Director's reply, "Start the testing."

Sam opened an intercom channel and spoke to the new agent, "Alright, let's start with the shielding system..."

Michigan's helmet immediately showed everything on her heads-up-display on the inside of her visor. It showed her health and shields in real time at the top of her screen, along with a radar at the bottom left and what looked like a munitions display right next to her health monitor. Her HUD integrated with her neural interface and entered her peripheral vision, small enough not to obscure her vision, but big enough to see if she concentrated on them long enough.

The tech officers brought up one function at a time and tested her for each one. Every function they brought online, Michigan complied as she completed each test as if she was on autopilot, almost like a robot. Under the helmet, though, the feeling of irritation crept into her mind. She was still thinking about the fight with 'South', even after testing was over and the Director told her to report for weapon testing in the "morning."

With the help of the onboard AI, designated FLISS, she found her way into the barracks and into her room. She noted the basic essentials, a small bed with a side table and a small cabinet for her clothes.

Michigan found herself sitting on the bed, unable to shake off the feelings of anger. She was too wound up to go to sleep and punching the shit out of a sandbag would do nothing.

"Um, FLISS," She started, so weird talking to an AI, "so, you know your way around the ship right?"

Of course, The AI stated in a very cheerful demeanor, Would you like to take a tour?

"Um, no, I just need a quiet place to think with a window, I guess."

Alright, scanning… The AI paused as if searching for something, then spoke up, There is an empty observation deck on the starboard side of the ship. It offers a lovely view of Earth just above orbit. Would you like me to point the way?

With a silent nod, the AI lit up a path that guided the new agent to the starboard observation deck on the floor, the lights blinking, giving the illusion of moving forward.

Eventually, Michigan found her way into the observation deck. Several rows of benches filled the large room with a window showing the black void of space covered with countless stars. She slumped in one of the benches and took off her helmet, placing it beside her before letting out a long sigh. A headache started to form inside her head as she thought about today's events.

She was off to a rocky start, Michigan knew that much. She didn't think she would run into trouble five minutes into the project, much less pick a fight with someone.

The Director. He reminded her of her father back on Earth, harsh without being loud. The only exception was her father didn't talk to her like a five-year-old who just picked a fight with a neighborhood kid.

'South.' While the altercation was partially her fault, Michigan knew that she were going to have problems with her. Just by the teasing, she knew that the girl was a bitch.

Something had been tugging at the back of her mind since she entered the observation deck. That something grew when she sat down. It was a familiar feeling...

Like someone following her.

So then, she asked out loud, "Are you going to come out of hiding? Or do I have throw a knife at you?"

Nothing. No one came out or said anything. The new agent mentally slapped herself. Quit it, Ramona. South is not gonna beat you senseless before a training session tomorrow.

Then again, I wouldn't past her...

Goddamn it! Knock it off, you're being paranoid!

She argued inside her head for a few minutes until a hand rested on her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" a male voice asked.

Instinct instantly kicked in as she stood on her feet. One hand grabbed his wrist while her other gripped his belt. With a strained grunt, Michigan flipped her assailant over her head and slammed the body into the ground.

"A-aah-ooow!" the man protested in pain.

Michigan looked down at the person she threw over her head, her hand still grinding his wrist. His armor was colored blue-white running across his helmet and on the arm protection. His helmet was off, showing his short brown hair and eyes. His facial expression was mixture of bewilderment and apprehension.

"Oh," Michigan realized what she had done and let go the man's wrist. She covered her mouth with her hand, alarmed of her own actions, "Holy shit, I'm so sorry. It was just a reflex, I always throw people who sneak up behind me...Fuck, and I…messed up."

"So, judging with what happened between you and South, I'd say you had a bad day, huh?" He quipped before slowly standing on his own feet.

"Um, well," She hung her head low, clearly ashamed of throwing someone who was being friendly, "I've...been on edge, so yeah..."

"Saw the fight from the loading bay and the observation deck. You did pretty good, but you shouldn't pick fights with random people, or call them names for that matter." The man explained, "Kinda hurts your reputation and it's gonna be really uncomfortable when you're paired together on a mission."

"Well, no shit!" Her anger flared up, but then it quickly disappeared. Michigan let out a sigh before she sat down into the bench with a slump.

"Damn it," she cursed, "I'm sorry. I'm not...I've…I'm just gonna throw myself off the ship."

"Okay, two things you need to know," the young man started off, "Quit apologizing and don't make excuses. The Director doesn't take too kindly to things like that."

Michigan sighed, "I think I got that when he scolded me like a five year old."

"The first day here isn't usually difficult." The freelancer replied, sitting next to her, "You just caught South at a bad time. It's not your fault.

"Well, I really need to learn when to not say thoughts outloud."

"Heh, really? What exactly happened?"

An awkward silence filled the room. It was weird for her. She wondered if the man speaking to her was this good-natured or if he was just doing this to get her guard down. She trusted her instincts and went with the latter. It's not like everyone was against each other and wanted to kill everyone.

So, she explained to him how she ran into South, asked for directions, how she told her to "Fuck off," and how Michigan called her a bitch out loud, which led to the argument and the fighting in the Training Room.

"You actually tried apologizing?"

Michigan shrugged, "Didn't think it would hurt, but you saw how that worked out."

The awkward silence came back, feeling much thicker than the first time. In an attempt to break it, Michigan spoke first, "I...didn't break anything, did I?"

"What?"

"When I threw you to the ground." She reminded him.

The man shook his head, checking his limbs and cracking his neck, "My limbs are still intact and my spine is still in place. So no, you didn't do any damage. You're not that much of a hard hitter, anyway."

"Oh that's good, I guess," she said, twiddling with her thumbs, "Sometimes, it's good when this thing works when it wants to."

"I take it you're talking about your prosthetic?"

Michigan stared down at the piece of metal melded to her shoulder, moving her arm and flexing her fingers. "Had this for a year and I'm still trying to get used to this thing. During the fight, I lost my balance trying to punch her and that gave her an opening."

"Well, South is one of the best agents in the Project…"

She sighed, "Small wonder why I got my ass kicked."

They both laughed for a bit before Michigan asked, "I don't think I got your name."

The man let out a chuckle before he replied, "My codename is Vermont, but most people call me 'Monty' for short. What's your name?"

Michigan felt a little relieved. It seemed that the guy was actually being friendly and she didn't want to burn bridges with the other Freelancers. At the very least, she didn't end up fighting every time she met someone. She hesitated at first and then she gave him her state name.

Vermont raised an eyebrow, "Michigan? For some reason, it makes me want to call you Mitch."

"Don't call me that. People will think I'm a guy and this armor doesn't exactly do me justice." She said, putting her helmet back on and stood on her feet.

"Leaving already? Don't tell me you hate me because I called you Mitch." The male Freelancer quipped with a hint of teasing in his voice.

"No, but as much as I love to continue this conversation, the Director has me running a few training sessions tomorrow." Michigan explained as she headed to the door. "Besides, I need to clean up. I can still taste blood in my mouth."

"Don't worry screwing up, Mitch. Just run through the training sessions and you should be fine."

"Quit calling me Mitch! I'm not a guy!"

"I'm telling you it's gonna stick." Monty warned her, his voice loud as she left the observation room to grab a few hours of much needed sleep. The anger from had earlier faded, but it wasn't completely wiped away.