(A/N) Our first Monday update that is actually coming out on a Monday! Also the day after my twentieth birthday, so I guess it's just a good day all round! Just realised after writing this chapter that this would have probably worked quite well as an April Fool's Day chapter, but what are you going to do. Anyway, this is a chapter by me, from the eyes of the fabulous Agent Wyoming, our favourite British freelancer!

A shout out to Casaric, who provided the idea for the simulation which takes place in this chapter! Here's to you! :)

Enjoy!


Chapter Twenty-Three - Knock-Knock

Agent Wyoming

Written by NicKenny


"Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing." - William James


Wyoming was bored.

Normally, he'd have been pumped up with adrenaline for this simulation mission, despite the fact that, since the second one where Penn had been shot, there hadn't been any real upsets or injuries. Indeed, the last few had been a walk in the park, and ever since the mission to Sidewinder, which Wyoming hadn't taken part in, evening the teams due to Penn's incapacitation, the agents had pretty much strolled through their missions, no matter what challenges the Director or the Counselor had thrown at them. Indeed, Wyoming was starting to question the sanity of these sim troopers (their intelligence and ability had been thrown out from the start).

For example, when you capture an enemy and bring him into your base, who allows that same enemy to keep his armour and handcuffs him to a chair that even a non-Freelancer could break with ease? Wyoming hadn't been overly fond of the idea of allowing himself to be captured, particularly considering the fact that the sims had been issued live rounds, but the Director had assured he would not be harmed, and Wyoming was consoled slightly by the fact that Florida would be captured by the other group of sim troopers.

At least he had a good companion for the flight over. The pilot, whatever her name was, had never been particularly fond of him. Apparently her pelican was a no joke zone. He hadn't even gotten to the one about the rabbi and the priest eating at a restaurant before she had threatened to eject him.

Oh well, some people just didn't appreciate a good joke.

So here he was, cuffed to a chair with handcuffs that we had broken out of hours ago, surrounded by three red idiots who couldn't tell their knees from their elbows. This mightn't even be an exaggeration. In an attempt to amuse himself Wyoming had started cracking jokes a while back, but the sim troopers didn't appear to appreciate them much more than the pilot had.

"Knock-knock."

"WHAT?!" the one nearest to him screamed, spinning around to face him. "For God's sake, what is it this time?!"

Wyoming frowned, although his helmet prevented the reds from seeing it, so he slowly repeated his previous two words, his voice oozing with disdain.

"Knock. Knock."

"Who's there?" the soldier said wearily, evidently having heard dozens upon dozens of these jokes already.

"Boo."

The soldier sighed, knowing where this was going, but resigned to the fact that this was going to happen, whether he liked it or not.

"Boo who?"

Wyoming chortled in delight. "No need to cry, old chap. It's just a joke!"

One of the soldiers at the far side of the room began thumping his helmet into the wall. "For god's sake, SHUT UP!"

Wyoming grinned, and his amusement could easily be heard in his voice. "Doesn't look like anyone in this room has a sense of humour on them, does it boys?" The three soldiers stared at him, each contemplating murder, despite the orders their sergeant had given them. "Say, has anyone heard the one about the young priest and the prostitute?"

No one looked at him. The third soldier, who had been quiet up until now, was beginning to twitch. The silence went one for a few minutes, and Wyoming sighed.

"Come on, chaps. Someone be a sport. Just trying to kill some time here."

The first soldier, shaking slightly, stood up and turned around to face him.

"Ah, there's a good fellow. What does a ghost wear when it's raining outside?"

The soldier stared at him for a moment, then looked away. His two companions remained where they were, one still thumping his head off the wall, the other, still twitching, was pacing back and forth, staring at the ground.

Wyoming repeated his question, staring fixedly at the soldier nearest to him, who looked up and miserably asked: "What?"

"Booooooooooooooooooots!" Wyoming triumphantly exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. The two soldiers spun around to glare at him, all of them beginning to shake uncontrollably. "I'm going to fucking kill him," one of them murmured to himself, his hands curling into fists.

"Okay boys, how about one more? Just this last one, I promise! Knock-knock."

One of the soldiers, his voice trembling, managed to reply as he slowly made his way towards Wyoming, the other two joining him. "Who's there?"

"Interrupting sheep."

His voice continuing to quaver, the same soldier managed to ask: "Interrupti-", before Wyoming suddenly interrupting him with an echoing "BAAAA!" followed by a long, victorious chuckle. The soldiers glanced at one another, telepathically communicating their shared desires to ignore their orders, just this one time, and throttle the life out of the man they were guarding.

"Knock-knock."

One of the soldiers stretched out his hand, pointing at Wyoming's visor. "You said that was the last one. You said. That. Was the last one."

"Dreadfully sorry old chap, but it would appear that I lied." Wyoming cheerfully replied, demonstrating a mirth that would have challenged Florida's.

"No," the second soldier murmured. "You can't do that. It's over. NO MORE JOKES!"

"No need to raise your voice, I'm right here."

The soldier leaned towards Wyoming, until their visors lightly touched off one another. "No. More. Jokes."

Wyoming nodded, appearing to be awed by the sheer display of masculinity and aggression that was before him. "Of course, of course."

The soldier leaned back, and they all sighed, rolling their shoulders back and appearing to relax. They slowly made their way back to their previous positions, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time he would shut up.

"Knock-knock."

They froze, each of them shaking furiously. As one, they spun around, and the one nearest to Wyoming said, in a voice as shaky as the vibrations that were convulsing through his body, screamed at him. "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU STUPID. FUCKING. COCKBITE!"

At that moment the door, which had been sealed and firmly locked, buckled underneath some sort of assault, the boom echoing throughout the small room. The soldier froze in the act of beginning to strangling Wyoming at looked at one another. Wyoming, in a calm voice, repeated himself once more. "Knock-knock."

Another boom echoed, and the frame of the door shook, groaning under the pressure being exerted on the other side. One of the sim troopers gulped, and fearfully asked, in a voice as fragile as china: "Who's there?"

Wyoming began to laugh as the door flew off its hinges, slamming into one of the sim troopers and sending him sprawling onto the ground, unconscious. Other two raised their weapons as Penn's enormous frame strode into the room, his assault rifle on his back, casually observing the two soldiers facing him.

"Pain," Wyoming answered, as he stood up, shaking free of his cuffs, picking up the chair as he rose and slamming it into the back of one of the sim troopers, knocking him out immediately. The other sim trooper gaped at him, then turned back to Penn, who was slowly walking up to him. The red raised his battle rifle, but before he was able to fire it Penn's fist had shot forward, sending the trooper flying into the wall, which he slammed into and slowly slid down, moaning quietly.

Virginia strode through the opened doorway, tossing Wyoming her sniper rifle, which he caught deftly and quickly checked its chamber, making sure that it was loaded. Virginia walked past the two male agents, drawing her magnum and pointing it towards the red that Penn had just punched, pulling the trigger and sending him into armour lock.

Wyoming, satisfied that the rifle was loaded, hefted it over his shoulder and grinned. "What took you so long?" he asked, glancing from Pennsylvania to Virginia.

Virginia shrugged. "Stealth mission. Couldn't set off the alarms. Course, Penn still decided to punch his way through the door, rather than allowing Carolina to hack the control panel, but thankfully these sim troopers are dumb as hell."

Penn chuckled, looking at the mangled door at the far side of the room, an unconscious red pinned underneath it. "It did the job, didn't it? And it saved us some time."

Wyoming nodded, whistling appreciatively to himself. "And where is our precious Number One now?"

Carolina had reclaimed her number one status from York a while back, which had initially irritated Wyoming, but the longer he spent in her company, the more he realised that he would never be at her level. Sure, he was still one of the highest ranking agents in the project, but Carolina was far, far out of his league. However, he was starting to think he could live with that.

"She's outside, setting charges." Penn answered, waving away Wyoming's question before he could even ask it. "We were only unable to set off alarms until we had rescued you. Now, we can make all the noise we want, providing we don't allow ourselves to get shot."

"Do you think you'll be able to manage that?" Virginia asked him, sarcastically, and Penn seemed to glare at her from beneath his visor.

"Funny," he muttered, although his tone suggested that he thought it was anything but. "And – forgive me for asking – but, despite the fact that I was booted to the bottom of the leaderboard after I got shot – who is currently fourth on the leaderboard, and who is – what was it again – sixth?"

Virginia was now the one appearing to glare, and Wyoming was worried that he might have to step in if they were going to complete this mission, when Carolina's voice suddenly rang out over their radios.

"Charges are set. Things are about to get loud. I'll make my own way out and we'll rendezvous at the LZ, sync?"

"Sync!" the three of them replied, already moving out the door as the base suddenly shook, the ground trembling beneath them as several explosions suddenly rang out across the compound. The base was filled with the screams and wailing of a good dozen sim troopers, who all made their way to the source of the explosions, taking them away from the path the freelancers had to take in order to make it to the landing zone.

The agents burst out maze of corridors that surrounded the base, Wyoming quipping "Ah, that's why they called it Rat's Nest!" They hopped into their pelican, Wyoming receiving a frosty nod from their female pilot.

"Is Carolina on-board?" Penn yelled up to her, and growled angrily when he received a negative response.

Wyoming sighed, and cursed as he saw the other team suddenly burst out from their respective side, heading for their pelican. Penn snarled, and seemed prepared to jump out in order to hold them off, but suddenly a hand shot out and pushed him back, as Carolina calmly sprang up into the pelican. "Get us out of here!" she yelled at their pilot, making her way to the co-pilot seat.

Wyoming and Virginia shared a knowing look, both rolling their eyes beneath their visors. Typical Carolina, Wyoming mused. Always leaving things to the last second.

The three agents sat down in their seats and pulled down their harnesses as the pelican's engines fired up and their pilot lifted off. Wyoming grinned at the other two, although of course they couldn't tell, and chuckled slightly to himself, pleased by their victory, and by the way the other two held themselves, he could tell they were too.

"So," he began, breaking the silence. "Anyone up for a knock-knock joke?"