(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about the lack of update yesterday, but here's Monday's chapter. Finished my exams, and hopefully everything will have gone well, so there should be no more late updates. *fingers crossed*The after party got a little blurry, which resulted in the lack of update, and my subsequent hangover meant that now is the earliest I could get it posted.
Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Seven – Recovering
Agent Massachusetts
Written by Ayane458
"Miss, it's what happens when someone is shoved into an already tight-knit group. Doesn't matter how nice and polite they are. There's always going to be some resentment."
- Sergeant David Larsen to the squad's medic.
Virginia led the way through the halls that day; every so often glancing back to ensure Massa was still there. Every so often glancing down to her right arm before flicking her eyes away.
Massa sighed, suddenly longing for the security (and cover) of her armour. It was still being repaired after the… incident. The bastards had had their engineers try to study it, look into it to see if they could replicate it. Took it apart into tiny pieces. Armour was not an option at this moment in time.
Instead, Massa wore the standard-issue t-shirt and loose pants and Virginia wore the same, the only difference between their outfits the shade of green on the shirt. It felt far too light and flimsy to be facing the world with.
Fifteen minutes ago FILSS had announced that the Director wished to see all the Freelancers in the briefing room for some news. Massa honestly had no idea what it could be about –normally it was a training simulation or new mission he was announcing, but she sincerely doubted that any of those would appear for a while. Not with more than half of the team temporarily out of action.
As they entered, Massa crossed her arms, effectively hiding most of her right arm from the other Freelancers. She noted Carolina doing the same with her injury, angling herself so her own recovering arm seemed insignificant. Massa suspected it was for a different reason – Carolina would want to cover up any sign of weakness. Massa just wanted to hide any reminder of an event she wanted wiped from her memory. The stitches across her forehead were one thing (they'd had to shave some of her hair off, damn it) because that was just from a plane crash. Nothing she hadn't been expecting in her line of work.
Being captured also kind of fit into that category.
Torture wasn't something she'd been expecting. Losing more blood than any human being had any right to lose and live to tell the tale wasn't something she'd been expecting.
At least the majority of her newfound scars were easily hidden.
"Agents," the Director greeted, and on instinct they all stood straight with arms to their sides. Massa returned to her previous position the second he nodded in acknowledgement.
"In light of recent events," he continued, cutting straight to the point, "where several of our agents were incapacitated and we were left with limited resources..."
Massa observed the room at these comments, the Director's description of all the pain that had been inflicted on them. She was surprised to see little resentment to his words –Carolina appeared ashamed, York resigned, and Alaska remained mostly impassive.
So it was only her who felt like slapping the Director's glasses off his face for dismissing days of repeating rank, file and number as being 'incapacitated'.
"…I have gained approval to bring more agents on board the Mother of Invention. They are currently waiting on Eris, and shall arrive tomorrow."
Instantly, Massa felt dread settle in her stomach, her scars and all they represented forgotten for now. She had something new to focus on.
These new agents would –hopefully –not purposely bring any harm to the table. But the current Freelancers had only just barely learned to get along and act as anything resembling a team.
These new agents would skew the dynamics they had been building over the weeks. Intentional or not, they would be an issue.
Massa resolved to welcome them with open arms, but could see already that it was really only York and Florida who would do the same and mean it.
"Sir," Carolina spoke up slowly, "is this really necessary? Despite recent... events… we've suffered no losses and have levelled large Insurrectionist forces. We're doing fine."
"Agent Carolina, how long do you think it will be before we suffer events far worse than what we've been through?" the Director challenged, meeting her eyes until she backed off. "Three Freelancers and one of our pilots have barely escaped permanent damage or worse this past week. Do any of you deny the use larger numbers could be?"
No one spoke.
"Dismissed."
The Freelancers slowly filed out, Carolina hastily walking in the direction that would either take her to the training hall or the cafeteria, York scurrying along behind her. Virginia gestured at Massa, inviting her back to their room, and Massa smiled and shrugged weakly. She needed to sort some things out.
Once Florida, Wyoming and Alaska had scattered, Penn seemed to take note of her presence.
"Hey," she greeted, keeping her voice neutral. She wasn't sure if trying to be friendly would be taken as an insult somehow, or bring up memories of her last attempt at 'friendliness'.
Penn nodded a greeting back. "How's your arm?"
Massa sighed and uncrossed her arms, giving him a good view of the scars running up and down her right arm, from the base of her wrist until they disappeared up her sleeve. Her injuries were centred on her forearm.
"No permanent damage," she shrugged, because there hadn't been. "Stings, sometimes. And the whole area feels tight. I think they were holding the whole threat of serious, irreversible injury over us as some secondary form of torture, you know? Make us want to spill quickly so we get out with our limbs intact and our bodies working. Lucky for me I'm left-handed…" Realising she was rambling, she shut up.
Penn observed her with slightly narrowed eyes. "For someone who's supposed to be one of the more compassionate ones around here, you seem to have a basic grip on psychological torture."
"Maybe I missed my calling," Massa muttered. Then louder, "Look… thanks for the rescue."
Penn shrugged it off. "I was following orders and I wasn't the only one who saved you. No need to thank me."
"You successfully led the team that got me, Carolina, York, Alaska and Niner out of there before they did anything too damaging," Massa replied. "Thanks."
Penn considered this for a moment, then accepted her gratitude with a nod. "I guess this means you owe me one."
"Hey, you were just following orders, right? Don't get too pushy," Massa grinned, and Penn just stared flatly. She feared she'd blown whatever chance of resolving their issues she had, but Penn just shook his head in a manner that might've hinted at exasperation and walked off.
Massa elected to interpret that as 'I don't necessarily like you, but we're cool'. And she could live with that.
It was best to get any and all bad feelings between the current Freelancers gone now.
God knows there's gonna be a whole lot of issues once the new guys settle in.
