(A/N) Hey guys, ecstatic to announce the new story arc, following the introduction of the eight new rookies into Project Freelancer, and they are North, South, Maine, Georgia, Arkansas, California, Michigan and Minnesota. This chapter opens up this arc, and is from the POV of my own OC, the aptly named Ark, for our new arc. Too much? Sorry.
Anyway, hope you all enjoy this chapter and am as hyped up as I am to see what these new writers have in store for us. Watch this space! We're also looking for writers for a Grifball fic and an X-Ray and Vav fic. More info can be found on our forum, along with the application forms for the Grifball fic (still looking for interest for poor old X-Ray and Vav, although I have begun working on a pilot chapter).
Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Eight – New Kids on the Block
Agent Arkansas
Written by NicKenny
"He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore." - Sigmund Freud
'Keep calm. You know why you're doing this. You know what you want from this project, and they just want your ability to point a gun. Well, and some other stuff too. Just sit back and observe, it's what you're best at. Remember why you're here.'
Ark's thought process, attempting to mentally reassure himself and remove the sense of dread that had so inexplicably fallen onto him, was suddenly interrupted by the Pelican's pilot, who called back to the assembled recruits. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Project Freelancer Airlines; our E.T.A. is in approximately fifteen minutes, as the Mother of Invention is currently just outside Eris' troposphere. Our pilot would like you to sit back and enjoy the flight, and the hostess with the in-flight snacks will be along shortly."
The man sitting across from Ark, a rather graphic burn running along the side of his face, raised his eyebrows at Ark questioningly. "Is that dude for real?" he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.
The pilot's voice quickly rang out in response, coming from the cockpit where the connecting door stood half-open. "Ooh, dissing the pilot. I sure hope you won't ever need me to pick you up in the middle of a fire-fight, kid, because I won't be putting my ass on the line for someone as wet behind the ears as you anytime soon."
"You do realise, don't you, that we've been hired as super-soldiers," the scarred man asked, shaking his head slightly, raising his voice so as to make sure that the pilot could hear him. "Don't make me come up there and kick your ass!"
Even from here, Ark could hear the pilot's amused chuckle, and hear the sneer in his voice. "Kid," he began, "Don't get me started on super-soldiers. You wait 'til you see the guys who came before you. One thing that I've learned in my time here in Project Freelancer, everyone bleeds the same way. I shouldn't even be the one making this pick-up anyway, wasn't supposed to be my gig."
Curiosity piqued Ark glanced over to the half-shut door separating the new recruits hold from the cockpit. "Why? What happened to the other guy?"
The pilot paused for a moment before replying, his voice sounding slightly more sombre. "Trust me mate, you don't want to know. She's alive though, that's the important thing."
The scarred man chuckled to himself and rolled his eyes. "Well, you know what they say about women flyers."
There was a slight moment of tension as the two female recruits took this opportunity to glare daggers at him, before the pilot responded with a bitter "Nice one dude. Fucking classy," and shut the door fully.
Ark stared at him, his eyebrows raised. "Smooth," he murmured, and felt the general consensus side with him. The guy just shrugged slightly, his movement impeded by the harness, and smiled.
"It's who I am, love me or hate me," he said, grinning toothily, before adding, almost as an afterthought, "California, Cal for short."
Ark smiled slightly back to him, shaking his head. The recruits hadn't met each other before their pelican flight to the project's frigate, despite the fact that Ark, at the very least, had been on Eris for two weeks. For whatever reason, they had been kept apart, quartered in different areas of the main Freelancer command post on the planet, only given their new codenames, no information, no explanation, no nothing. "Arkansas, guess I'll go with Ark. It's got a bit of a ring to it."
He glanced over at the other agents, starting with the two sitting next to Cal, one male and one female, both blonde, with more than a certain passing resemblance to each other. "You two?"
The two recruits glanced at each other, and the girl shrugged slightly. The guy turned back and smiled warmly, a genuine act of friendliness. "North Dakota, and this is South," he replied, nodding to the girl sitting next to him, who promptly scowled.
"I'm fully able to introduce myself…North."
Ark made the connection, smiling back at North. "Brother and sister?"
North laughed. "Twins."
Ark repeated the process with the others. The small man to his left replied with a cheery "Georgia" and a wide grin, the petite blonde next to him smiled self-consciously and introduced herself as Michigan, and the dark-haired man next to her hesitated briefly before answering "Minnesota". The group's attention then fall onto the man that they had all been attempting to avoid, his massive frame barely fitting into the harness, his bald head gleaming in the light of the pelican's interior.
"Maine," he grunted, and made it clear that that was the end to it, raising his eyes to stare at the ceiling.
"So, super-soldiers?" North offered after a brief moment of awkwardness. "Reckon they're going to turn us into those Spartans the news feeds have been so full of lately?"
South snorted next to him. "North, those guys are eight feet tall! Unless they're planning on stretching you I reckon it's going to be something a little more realistic."
Next to Ark, the guy called Georgia stirred and stared at the pair of twins in interest. "Actually, the recent breakthroughs in physical augmentations means that you probably could be made eight feet tall. Of course, it'd be extraordinarily painful, and the chances of you surviving the process wouldn't be great, but hey, we're all gonna die someday, right?"
He noticed the odd looks on his fellow recruits' faces and visibly sagged. "Just saying."
The pilot's voice suddenly rang out over the intercom within the pelican. "We are about to dock in the Mother of Invention, please keep your safety harnesses on until the little light turns off, and please recommend PF Airlines to all your friends and family. The time is eighteen-oh-seven and the temperature is currently twenty-six degrees."
Cal's voice rang up at once. "What? It's not twenty-six degrees out here, that's freezing!"
The pilot sighed over the intercom. "Celsius, bro."
"Come on dude, Celsius sucks."
Ark barely paid attention to this interchange as his harness suddenly shot up, and he rose from his seat, stretching his muscles and bouncing from one foot to the other in anticipation. He glanced over at Georgia, who grinned back at him. "Exciting, ain't it?" the other recruit asked, his eyes gleaming.
Ark smiled and nodded. "Guess so, looking forward to seeing what this is all about."
The wall at the back of the pelican lowered to provide a platform out into the landing bay of the ship. The eight recruits filed out, each displaying some form of awe, excitement and enthusiasm, all except the one who had introduced himself as Maine, who merely remained impassive as he gazed over the hanger filled with pelicans and white-clad pilots and Freelancer personnel.
A man in dark clothes walked up to them, the light of the hanger bay shining off his dark skin. "Hello, agents," he murmured, greeting them, "I am the Counselor, here to make sure that your time in this project goes as smoothly as possible. Welcome to the Mother of Invention. This will be your new home for the remainder of your time within the project. If you'd all follow me, the Director would like to speak with you all personally."
They filed in behind him, two-by-two, Ark moving next to Georgia, California left with the unappetizing opportunity to walk alongside Agent Maine. They progressed in silence as they travelled deeper into the ship, occasionally gasping in awe as they passed things like the ship's core, or the shield generator.
Eventually the Counselor led them into a small classroom, complete with desks that looked like they had seen the inside of an actual school at some point, and told them to take a seat. As Ark sat down at his own desk, he couldn't help but notice that someone had scrawled "York wuz here" in thick black marker, next to a caricature of a stick figure with a huge twirly moustache, promptly followed by a "Real mature, old chap - W".
Another man walked in, wearing a thick pair of glasses, clad in the same black jumpsuit that the Counselor was wearing. "Good evening, agents," he announced, his southern drawl enunciated with every word, and Ark could sense the others shifting into a more alert and upright position.
The man in glasses continued, "My name is Doctor Leonard Church, and I am the Director of this project. While you are here, my word is law, and any disobedience will be met with the most severe of punishments. I am sure that many of you are wondering exactly what you will be expected to do here. I could spend several hours telling you, or I could just show you."
He directed their attention to the clear plexiglass at the far side of the classroom, and motioned for them to make their way over. Ark stood up and slowly walked over, wondering exactly what it was that they would see. The window overlooked a large room, filled with vertical pillars, and he was momentarily confused until he saw three figures striding into the room, one from one end and the other two entering together. The lone figure, in…bluish-seafoam-greenish-turquoise armour quickly disappeared from view, and the other two, one in off-white armour, the other, taller one, in dark blue with white accents, appeared to communicate for a moment before the one in white disappeared, but the blue one slowly striving forward into the centre.
"Agent Carolina is our Number One, and will be taking on agents Wyoming and Pennsylvania, our Number Three and Two, respectively. These are our best agents. What I want from you is to be better."
The figure in blue (Ark wasn't sure if it was Wyoming or Pennsylvania), suddenly ducked back as two purple projectiles whizzed past his head. From the other end of the arena, a sniper rifle rang out, and Agent Carolina's form suddenly appeared, dodging the sniper's bullets, and crashing into the blue figure with incredible speed, knocking the assault rifle from his hands.
"All three agents have been outfitted with paint rounds, which will cause their armour to lock up in the case of a direct hit. In this case Agent Wyoming is the sniper in the white and Agent Pennsylvania in the blue."
Pennsylvania threw the smaller freelancer off him, physically flinging him off of him, but something he managed to roll rid-air and land gracefully on the top of one of the pillars. Pennsylvania then charged forward, clearly more than willing to take on Carolina with his bare hands, and Wyoming took advantage of this momentary distraction to take a shot at Carolina, who threw himself into the air, vaulting over the oncoming projectile.
The recruits oohed and gasped at every shot, every movement, every attack, but it quickly became clear that Carolina held the advantage over the other two, despite their numerical advantage. Pennsylvania was simply not fast enough to hit him, and he and Wyoming couldn't react fast enough to each of his brief hit-and-run assaults, before he had disappeared once more.
Ark saw the end coming before it happened, Pennsylvania (having reclaimed his assault rifle), stepped just a little too far from Wyoming, and Carolina appeared once more, his magnums firing again and again, enveloping the white freelancer in pink paint. He landed nimbly, raising his pistols to put Pennsylvania down, but Pennsylvania charged at him, tackling him into a nearby pillar. Despite this setback, Carolina quickly recovered, dropping his magnums to parry one of Pennsylvania's blows, knocking him back with a swift snap-kick before diving for the nearest magnum, spinning around just as Pennsylvania began to charge at him once more, this time getting a shot off before Penn reached him, his torso exploding into a mist of pink paint, sending him crashing to the ground.
The recruits whooped and cheered, their adrenaline pumping after such an epic conclusion, and even Maine had a wild shine in his eyes. They turned to the Director, who allowed himself a small smile, and stared at them calmly. "The work you will be asked to do will not always be pleasant, and you will face many hardships. Always remember that we made this clear to you now, in the beginning. If you wish to walk away, this is your last chance. After this, there can be no turning back."
He paused for effect, and no one moved, their eyes collectively locked onto his. "Very well, then. Your next stop is the armoury, and then you'll be given a brief break to get some food and reflect on all that you have seen so far. Agent Carolina will take you to your next stop," he said, nodding to something behind them.
As one they slowly turned around to see the same figure that had just partook in the incredible mock-battle only moments ago, and Ark was slightly surprised to see that she was a woman, then mentally rebuked himself for this sexist attitude. Her helmet in her hand, there was a slight sheen of perspiration on her brow, and she casually flicked a strand of her flaming red hair back behind her ear, smiling at the collected recruits.
"Guess you're our new recruits," she said, smiling slightly as she stated the obvious, her eyes wandering over each of them in turn. It was only when her neon-green eyes met his that Ark realised that he knew who she was.
'It's a small world,' he thought to himself, shaking his head in wonder.
Carolina turned and gestured for them to follow her, proudly striding down the halls, clearing the way amidst the sea of medics and personnel outside for the recruits. They met with some catcalls along the way, directed towards Carolina by a soldier dressed in tan armour, standing next to a smaller agent in blue and another in dark green and red armour. Carolina ignored him, flipping him off, and continued on her way, taking us right into the heart of the ship.
Eventually they reached a huge metal door, with ACCESS RESTRCITED emblazoned on it. Carolina quickly punched in a five-digit code into the panel next to it, and the doors slowly pulled back to reveal eight gleaming sets of armour, reflecting the shining eyes of the new recruits.
"Beside each suit is a data-pad with the state name of the agent it's assigned to and instructions on its functions," Carolina called out, striding into the room with an air of confidence. "Go and suit up, unless you want me to hold your hands while you do so. No? Then get to it."
Ark walked down the line of suits until he found his own, staring into the visor of the strangely shaped helmet, noting the coral with sage trim of the suit with an element of satisfaction. He quickly changed into his suit, pulling on the various pieces of armour with a great deal of enthusiasm and expectation. His helmet, which according to his HUD was a Scout variation of the Freelancer armour, whatever that meant, did impact his field of vision slightly, but he quickly realised that with some slight adjustments he could minimise the interference that it'd have on him in the field. Clearly the purpose of the smaller vision was to protect the agent's head, as Ark knew from experience that visors were rarely able to withstand any sort of impact.
He looked at the others, and was momentarily nonplussed when he saw Maine fit to what all extents looked like a golden gold-fish bowl over his head. The taller recruit turned around and Ark nodded to him, slightly unnerved by the huge agent's presence. The others had pretty much finished at this point. Georgia latched on a rounded green helmet and strode over to Ark.
"These things are pretty neat, I gotta admit," he said, looking Ark up and down. "Your helmet's pretty cool, though."
"Cheers," Ark murmured, tapping his visor lightly with his hand, "Yours is pretty damn cool too. Wondered who made these things?"
Georgia shrugged, and it was remarkable how expressive the suits allowed the agents within to remain. "I dunno, I just wish I had gotten a helmet of my own. Between you and Maine, you guys have racked up the cool helmets. Me and Sota over there got paired up with the same design."
"Does that really bother you?"
"Originality is key man, I live by that. I like to stand out."
"Well, those pink accents will get you noticed."
Georgia sighed. "Yeah…I'm not really sure about them."
Ark just raised his hands and shook his head. "Look man, in my opinion, don't ask, don't tell."
He could sense Georgia frown at him, but both of them turned as North and South made their way over to them, and Ark smiled beneath his helmet as he took in the two purplish agents. "Really, guys? They gave you both variations of purple and green armour? Seems like the Director's trying to keep the trend running."
North shrugged and chuckled, but Ark could sense South scowling beneath her helmet. Apparently not everyone was happy with being shoehorned into being a pair within this project. Ark waved his hand aimlessly in the air. "Just kidding, guys."
He turned to face the others, Maine in his white with orange trim armour, Mich clad in lavender and cobalt, the same helmet that North and South wore on her head. Sota was, indeed, wearing the same helmet as Georgia, but looked more at ease within his white and grey armour. Cal was just fitting his helmet on, another one of the North/South variants, his red accents showing up starkly against his white armour, when Carolina strode up to them.
"Okay, time to move on. Make sure you keep up, don't separate from the group, and everything will be okay. Next stop, the cafeteria."
Amidst the cheers coming from Georgia and Cal, both clearly anxious to get something to eat, Ark felt himself grin, the sense of worry and unease that had seized him on the flight over slowly dissipating. He could do this, he knew. He could make something of himself here.
Soon his name would be displayed up on that board, and he knew he had it within him to make the top half, at the very least, regardless of the abilities of the other agents. He was Agent Arkansas now, a member of Project Freelancer.
When he was finally deployed in battle, the Insurrection wasn't going to know what had hit them.
He owed the dead that much, at least.
