(A/N) Here comes the second chapter, written by the extraordinary anna1795. I personally loved this chapter, and I hope you all will too. It's our very first look at some of the never-before-seen Freelancers, and our first chance to see how these guys will all coexist together. Will they get along? Will they tear each other's throats out? Read on to find out!


Chapter Two – First Impressions

Agent Virginia

Written by anna1795


"Sometimes one creates a dynamic impression by saying something, and sometimes one creates as significant an impression by remaining silent." – Dalai Lama


"Mother of Invention, this is Pelican 343-R, requesting docking clearance."

The dark-haired woman in the back of the Pelican didn't move, hearing the male pilot of the aircraft speaking to the console of the ship. The ship jumped once or twice as it hit a pocket of turbulence. She grabbed onto the safety harness and her knapsack simultaneously, while the metal of the seat and harness jarred her uncomfortably. The other two passengers on the ship did the same, though they were slightly more vocal about their discomfort.

343-R, still waiting for clearance from their destination, turned his head back towards his passengers. "You guys excited to start with the project?"

One of the guys, a tall man with lightly tanned skin and brown hair, smiled back to the impassive silver visor of the woman's helmet. "You bet!" he called up over the roar of the ship's engines. "It'll be good to do something useful!"

"Like we weren't doing stuff before?" His neighbour, a huge man with dark brown hair and an intimidating glare, directed his words at the more enthusiastic of the two. The other man leaned back, as if trying to keep away from the intimidator. The more intimidating of the two gave a short bark of laughter and hit the shorter one on the arm with the back of his hand 'lightly.' "Kidding," he said, and the first one gave a weak little laugh, rubbing the blossoming bruise.

"You're awfully quiet!" the pilot called back to her, and she turned towards the voice. "What about you? Are you excited to be working with us?" She thought about it for a second and shrugged.

"I guess," she replied shortly. "I haven't really thought about it."

Now that she did think about it, she still couldn't make up her mind. Her whole decision about how enjoyable the project would be would have to be based on the people. Each person was a puzzle waiting to be solved, and she enjoyed figuring out puzzles. It helped in her strategy. She surveyed the other people around her, watching their movements and faces.

"Roger that, 343-R. Standby for clearance." A male voice finally crackled over the radio, and she took a look around to try and figure out about the others around her.

The brunette was quick to read. He was enthusiastic, outgoing, and seemed to be friendly with anyone that he encountered. He was also quick-witted and cunning. She could easily guess that he was a jokester, full of surprises in every form. His posture was relaxed and bouncy, so he would be light on his feet. It might also mean that he was someone who tried to keep the situation as non-serious as possible so that he wouldn't have to suffer a hard loss. She gave a slight hum at the prospect. He turned to her and gave a wide, toothy grin. She responded with the largest smile possible to her, but it achieved little more than a curl of her lips upward.

"343-R, you have been cleared for landing. Welcome aboard," the flight controller's voice crackled over the radio. The ship began to drop slightly as they moved towards the ship that none of them could see, but that they all knew was there.

The tall one was a lot harder to read and understand. His face seemed impassive, like you wouldn't be able to tell where he was from. The scars on his muscular arms that were visible from the sleeves of his black t-shirt indicated that he had a military history, at the very least. He held himself tall yet reserved, like he was trying to hide a secret. His dark eyes betrayed nothing, but there was something that she felt, and she felt empathetic. Whatever this man was trying to hide, most of the façade he put forth was covering up years of pain and suffering.

"And…touchdown!" 343-R crowed excitedly as the ship jostled against a hard surface. He turned to the three passengers. "Alright, everyone off my ship! Go on!" he barked, but good naturedly. The gangway popped open, and the safety harnesses released. Spurred on by 343-R's words, the three of them grabbed their bags and raced off the ship, weaving through people to get to a secluded corner so that they could gather their bearings.

"We haven't been properly introduced, have we?" the shorter of the two brunettes asked his two companions, and he held out his hand, then withdrew it hesitantly. "Oh, we're supposed to use our new 'names' now, aren't we?" he chuckled, looking down at the official-looking document in his hand. "I guess I'm 'Agent New York.' God, that's too long," he groaned. "Call me York."

She looked down at the document in her own hand just as the taller of the two men introduced himself as Agent Pennsylvania. The precise, uniform typing listed her name in bright red letters under her real name. "Virginia," she said finally, folding the paper and stowing it away in her pants pocket.

"Those guys look like who we should go with," Pennsylvania pointed towards a group of people in civilian clothes, mulling at the edge of the hangar with their bags and possessions. The three new agents walked over to join them, and a woman with curly brown hair turned around as they approached. She smiled at them slightly, and the others stopped speaking. They opened up their social circle and allowed Virginia, York, and Penn in to join them.

"Hi there," the brown-haired woman greeted them, holding out a hand to Virginia. She took it and exchanged a firm handshake with the other agent. "I'm Massachusetts. You can call me Massa, though."

"Nice to meet you," York gave a dramatic, eloquent bow, and some of the other agents chuckled. "I'm York, that big guy's Pennsylvania, and you're shaking hands with Virginia."

One of the other men, with a thick yet manicured mustache, came forward and held out his hand to York. "Wyoming, at your service," he drawled in a thick British accent. The two men grasped each other's hands firmly, yet gave each other nice-enough smiles. Wyoming took a look at Pennsylvania and backed away to take Virginia's limp hand. "I'm truly honored to be in the presence of a lady," he murmured, bending down to kiss her hand.

Reflex dominated willpower at that moment. Virginia grabbed the hand that was holding hers and pressed her thumb hard into the fleshy part of the hand. Wyoming gave a gasp and almost fell to the ground. Realizing what she was doing, Virginia rapidly let go and backed up, horror running cold through her mind and blood. She couldn't let that sort of thing happen again. If anyone saw, she was bound to be kicked back home for sure.

"Serves you right for trying to pull that stunt," the other new woman, whose blazing red hair shone like a wildfire, stepped forward to greet the new arrivals. "It's about time you showed up," she directed her next comment at them. "We didn't know if you had chickened out at the last minute. I'm Carolina, by the way."

"Which one?" Pennsylvania asked, but a shrug was Carolina's only answer. Virginia recomposed herself with a deep breath and re-joined the group, pulling Wyoming to his feet. She stared at Carolina for a very long moment as Wyoming backed away from her, and her vibrant blue eyes met the redhead's neon green orbs. They faced each other for a moment, sizing the other up.

"Anyways," York interrupted, breaking the staring contest between the two women, "who are your other friends?"

"Right," Massa recovered and pointed to a tale, pale man with short black hair. "This is Alaska. Don't ask where he came from, he won't budge. I have a feeling that you two might get along well together, Virginia." Virginia's attention was drawn to Alaska, who stared back at her with deep blue eyes. A precautionary shiver went up Virginia's neck, but she maintained eye contact for a second and traced the scars that ran across his face.

"I don't think that it will work out so well," Alaska said coolly after a moment, turning to Massa. Virginia nodded in agreement and turned to the final man. He was older than most of them, with faint age lines and dark hair beginning to grey around the edges. He wore a bright smile on his face, though, and she felt that he had the same natural happiness and enthusiasm as York. She seemed instantly drawn to this older person and his unique personality, though it was certainly more…outgoing than her own.

"Call me Florida," he greeted the newcomers, extending a hand that was shaken by the two men. Florida took Virginia's hand gently and stared at her for a long moment, trying to read her as much as she was reading him. "You look about the same age as… well, never mind," he passed the thought with a flippant laugh, and Virginia found herself almost caught up in the infectious happiness.

"Good afternoon, everyone," a deep, calm voice echoed from a doorway, and they turned to face the dark man approaching them. He wore the dark uniform of a frigate administrator, and carried a datapad in one arm. His eyes and smile seemed oddly disconcerting, though, glassy and fake in their kindliness. "I hope everyone has had a pleasant journey and an opportunity to meet each other?"

"Yes, sir," they all answered immediately, standing up straight.

"Welcome to Project Freelancer. You may call me Counselor," the man greeted in a voice like an elementary teacher on their first day of class. "I will be assisting both you and the Director of the Project in ensuring that your needs are met and the system operates smoothly and effectively for all of us. If you will follow me, I will take you on a brief tour of the facilities before we meet the Director for your full briefing and introduction. Are there any questions?"

Pennsylvania motioned. "Is there any specific place where you want us to drop off our bags?"

"We will visit your quarters first so that you may deposit your personal effects," the Counselor replied, turning back the way that he had come. "If you will please follow me." Virginia hoisted her knapsack over her shoulder while the others shouldered backpacks or messenger bags, and they all followed the Counselor in a pack. He led them through a maze of blank hallways further along the ship. Some of them had windows along the side, and some were merely steel and titanium panels, cold and unfeeling. The Counselor talked about the various schematics of the ship, how many personnel were involved onboard the ship, their facilities, and etcetera. Virginia was only paying half a mind to where they were going until they entered a hallway with several doors.

"These will be your personal quarters for the duration of your stay," the Counselor beckoned to the doors. "Your names are temporarily posted on the door of your assigned rooms. Agents New York and Carolina, you have been assigned your own. The rest of you have been divided and paired for the duration of your stay." Virginia looked around the group of them that had arrived and, seeing that all but two were guys, could safely assume that Massachusetts would be her roommate. They all got to their doors, which opened automatically, and tossed their belongings inside without staying to look at where they were sleeping. "Agent Virginia, I apologize that we were not able to set up a bedframe for you at this time," the Counselor apologized to Virginia as she passed him. "We are working on correcting the situation."

"It's fine," she mumbled. "I prefer just a mattress."

The Counselor did not respond, only gathering them up again like a herder with his sheep, and he led them further on into the ship. There were no more windows now as they traversed deeper and deeper, passing by the training room, the gym, the mess hall, and a swimming pool. As the Counselor explained some of the restrictions with the Olympic-sized marvel, Virginia stared at the equipment surrounding the pool, including the high-dive.

The Freelancers were finally shown into a dark room with desks, with two chairs apiece that faced towards a large projector board. The Counselor instructed them to take a seat and be patient, and they all sat at the desks. York and Carolina sat together without even realizing it, and Wyoming moved into the empty seat besides Florida. Alaska sat in the back of the room by himself, while Massachusetts sidled cautiously into the seat beside Pennsylvania towards the front of the room. This left Virginia with a row all to herself, and she sat in the second row from the front, farthest towards the wall so that she had a good viewing point of the entire room.

There came a click of heels on the thin-carpeted floor, and the lights flickered on dimly. They all stood up as a man in a dark grey uniform and glasses came down the wide steps to the front of the room. The light glared off of his glasses, and the silver in his otherwise dark hair gleamed eerily. The hair on the back of Virginia's neck stood up even more so than when she had met Alaska. This man was someone that kept her aware. No matter what, she made a promise to herself never to trust this man. It could prove dangerous.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the man spoke in a thick Southern accent from his position at the front of the room, hands behind his back. He looked almost like a professor lecturing a room full of students. "You may call me 'Director' or 'sir.'" Nobody spoke, so he decided to continue. "You may be seated."

"As most of you know from the personal interviews that were conducted with each and every one of you, you are volunteers for a co-operative private and public project of the UNSC for new methods of training soldiers to be more efficient in combat. More than that, though, you are all the beginning of a new generation of super soldiers, humanity's first defense against threats such as the Covenant and the Insurrectionists."

Virginia noticed Carolina lean forward in her seat eagerly, eating up every single word the Director spoke. She held no such enthusiasm, only caution. She turned to face the Director again as he spoke.

"Most of you are the finest soldiers that the UNSC has ever seen. Some of you have been personally selected for your skills, and they will be beneficial to the future of this Project, as well as the human race. There will be numerous tasks that you will undergo to prove your worth to Project: Freelancer. There is the possibility that you may live long enough to retire. There is also the very real possibility that you will die in service to humanity." The Director paused, letting the severity of his words sink in to the new recruits. Virginia accepted them as a reality. It was true: her service to the UNSC came with the ever-real possibility that she would return home in a casket or smaller decorated box rather than in uniform and into the waiting arms of her family.

"This risk is no excuse for poor performance in the Project, and I hope never to remind you of that," the Director continued sternly. "You will all try your best with everything that you do here, or it will reflect poorly on you all. The first chance to prove yourselves is tomorrow. Schedules have been uploaded into the computers in your quarters. You are all dismissed."

"Yes sir!" Seven voices rang out through the classroom, and they stood and filed out the door towards the scent of dinner wafting down the halls. The mess hall was open, and a small line of ship staff extended from a buffet counter that had delicious fumes spreading throughout the air.

The chatter that had been going on between the personnel in line or already seated immediately ceased as the Freelancers entered, and all eyes turned towards them. Virginia felt very exposed with all those eyes on her, and she wasn't the only one being made uncomfortable by the pervasive silence. Penn twitched behind her, and Alaska had become suddenly tense. The air around the Freelancers had grown suddenly colder.

"Hey, what's up?" York asked cheerfully, though his last few words kinds of trailed off at the end. He gave a sort of half-wave, and everyone else resumed their chatter and eating, unconcerned with the new Freelancers.

"Thanks for the diversion," Massa thanked the brunette, who gave a bashful smile and scratched his head, muttering about it not being a problem. They all lined up at the counter, and Virginia eyed the food. Grabbing a tray, she began piling heaps of rice, chicken, mixed vegetables, pasta, beef, and fruit onto her plate. Everyone eyed her pile of food, then looked at Virginia, then back at the food.

"Are you starving?!" Massa asked incredulously as Virginia topped off her heap of food with a few dinner rolls and grabbed a glass of water.

"Where I came from, you learn to take as much food as you can, because you never know when you'll eat next," Virginia answered, grabbing the tray and following Florida and Penn towards an empty table. She gave a lurch as something blocked her foot, and she staggered forward, and the tray went flying.

Shedding her calm demeanor with a yelp, Virginia leapt forward and grabbed the tray, maneuvering it so that she could grab the plate and the food she had loaded onto it. Not a single grain of rice spilled onto the floor as she caught all of the flying food on the tray. She maneuvered the food onto her right forearm, twisted around, and grabbed the glass of water and the liquid that had threatened to spill out of it. There came a few gasps at the acrobatic display, and several people applauded her skill. Blushing, Virginia hustled over to the Freelancers' table and sat down on the end of the bench, making sure not to brush against Alaska.

"Where'd you learn that?" York whistled as Virginia grabbed her utensils and started shoveling food into her mouth.

"Around," she muttered around a mouthful of pasta and meat, and he gave a shrug and returned to his own food.

"Don't be a show-off," someone muttered, and Virginia looked up.

"Excuse me?" Virginia directed her innocent question at Carolina, who set down her glass of juice.

"You heard me," Carolina snapped. "We're not here to show the rest of the crew that we're the best. We're here to train and prove ourselves to the Project. Fancy acrobatics are not going to win you any credit here."

"Begging your pardon, miss," Virginia couldn't help the sarcastic tone from creeping into her tone. "I'll be sure to check my arrogance at the door the next time I wander into your presence." Her neck hairs prickled at Carolina's assumption. She was NOT a show-off; she wanted to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

"Easy, there," Florida consoled the two bristling women as they gave each other hard looks. "I'm sure that Virginia wasn't being a show-off. I think that she did a good job there getting all of her food back on her plate again." There came a few anonymous rumbles of agreement from around the table.

"Thanks, Florida. Carolina's right, though," Virginia muttered. "I'm just a little paranoid about my food and people trying to take it away. I'm not trying to show off; it's just what I've been taught to do."

"Fine," Carolina growled, resuming her eating. The other Freelancers followed suit, inhaling the food that had been denied to them since their pick-up from their various locations. A couple of guys from engineering stood up and walked past their table, and one of them brushed purposefully into Alaska's broad back. With a growl, he leapt up and towered over the man that had knocked into him.

"You got a problem, punk?" the large, pale man growled threateningly at the helmeted man, who seemed to shrink about a foot in his overlarge boots. He gave a shake of his head, and Alaska snarled. "Then beat it." The guy from engineering gave a squeak and dashed out of the hall. Giving a small smirk, Alaska sat back down. Virginia scooted a little further away from him.

As soon as they were all done eating and just about to start chatting with each other about the next day's events, the doors to the mess hall opened up to admit both the Counselor and the Director. Every soldier, Freelancer, and various personnel stood up at the presence of their superiors. With a wave of the hand, everyone but the Freelancers was seated again and resumed their meal.

"All Freelancers are to follow us for armor fitting and augmentation," the Director said smoothly, but in a tone that demanded his order be followed immediately. With a scraping of chairs and wiping of faces, they all stood up and grouped around the Director, waiting for instruction. "Well? You are acting like sheep, and I, I'm sorry to inform you, am not your shepherd," he commented snidely, his upper lip curled dismissively.

"If you will please follow me," the Counselor interjected, and he started walking towards the door with the others trailing in a line behind him. Virginia followed more towards the back, just in front of Penn and Alaska. She took a deep breath, trying to swallow the doubt rising in her throat. A firm hand started pushing her forward, attempting to move her faster. She stumbled slightly from the force in Pennsylvania's hand, steeled herself, and marched onward towards her new life.