(A/N) Hey, guys, NicKenny here, bringing you another update from The Freelancer Collaboration. As I mentioned last chapter, we're currently looking for people for a Grifball fic and an X-ray and Vav fic, so if you're interested check out our forum! Next chapter will be our fortieth (well, if you don't include the prologue), and will take us over one hundred thousand words, so will obviously be a monumental achievement for us. Will probably take us over 9,000 views as well!
Can't tell you from whose POV it's going to be, but I'll give you a little clue, nothing that'll give it away though. Expect someone new. Someone fresh. And be excited.
Anyway, once again I will leave you all with the work of the incredible Jerem6401, who was recently a featured user on the RT website. Good for him. :)
As always, enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Nine – Olive Branch
Agent Pennsylvania
Written by Jerem6401
"He who cannot rest, cannot work; he who cannot let go, cannot hold on; he who cannot find footing, cannot go forward." - Harry Emerson Fosdick
I sat quietly at the table in the cafeteria. Like that solitary student, shirking away from all the others at every high school. I'm sure it looked like I was sulking. Mourning my loss to Carolina… again. But I wasn't. I was reflecting. Remembering every single thing that happened in that match. How could she have beaten me again!? And now that bitch was escorting some new soldiers around the MOI like she owned the damn thing. I looked at my helmet, sitting on the table in front of me. It was staring back at me… disappointed in my performance. A small spec of dried paint still scarred its surface. It was like the damn thing was staring at me… mocking me! I don't know what caused it, but I quickly stood up and threw my fist forward into my helmet. It careened off the table and slammed into the wall on the other side of the room and erupted into an explosion of yellow shards. I took some deep breaths and glared in fury at it.
"You know," a voice started, "those visors aren't exactly cheap." I looked to the side to see York leaning in the doorway. He had his arms folded and his head tilted. "Still mad about the match, dude?" He stepped into the cafeteria and made his way to the table. "Calm down, man. It's just a training exercise." He sat across from where I stood and rested his hands on the table. He lifted his arm and motioned towards the bench. I sighed and sat down as well.
"Yeah. I get that, York," I replied. "But what seems like just a training session to you, means everythingto me!"
"Why?" he asked. He sat back and waved his hand at me. "Look at you! You're some kind of freak-of-nature. You could crush this table into a ball right now if you wanted." Believe me… I wanted to. "What exactly are you trying to prove, big guy?" I closed my eyes and sighed.
"Look," I started, "let's just say I need this, alright? I need to show the Director…"
"What?" another voice called out. I looked to the side and saw Alaska standing in the doorway now. He strode into the room, his chin up high. "Trying not to disappoint your superior? Wasn't getting discharged from the UNSC already doing that for you? Or are you just looking for more?" I shot up from the table and grabbed the end of it. In rage I ripped upwards, rocketing the table, the attached benches, and York into the back wall of the cafeteria. I stepped forward and stood only a foot from Alaska.
"The UNSC was all I had!" I yelled at him. "And they tore it away from me! I didn't have friends! I didn't have a family! The army was the only thing that ever mattered to me! If a couple of dead soldiers is what can lead a person to be discharged… then you're really tempting me to get kicked out of here right now!"
"Enough!" Alaska and I both looked to see Virginia in the doorway. Behind her was Massa, Florida, and Wyoming. "Stop it, both of you!" she yelled. She walked up to us and stood right next to us. "Project Freelancer isn't going to last if you guys keep fighting like this. Imagine what these new guys will think when they walk in and see us at each other's throats." I slowly looked back at Alaska, who was already staring straight back at me.
"C'mon fellas," Florida began, "let's not bicker around anymore. The teams all back together. We should be celebrating! Right, Penn? Al?"
"Yeah," York started as he approached us, rubbing his head. "That's why I came in here, dude." He continued walking to the door to the cafeteria and reached behind the frame. When he returned he was holding a cooler in his arms. He dropped it on the ground in front of me and reached inside. "I owe you this." He handed a beer to me and nodded. I slowly reached out and took it from him. "So thanks, dude… for getting us out of there in one piece."
"I too, old chap," Wyoming chimed in. "Without your leadership on that rescue mission… we might not have made it back alive. I personally am beginning to warm up to you, friend."
"I suppose I should give you a thank you as well," Massa said quietly. She folded her arms and looked the other way. Not that I cared. Florida reached out and gave a friendly punch to Alaska.
"C'mon, Al," he urged. "You know you want to." Alaska unfolded his arms and stared at Florida. How those two got along… I'll never know. Alaska looked at me and then lifted his hand, pointing a finger at my chest.
"I don't like you, Penn," he muttered. "I really don't like you." There was a silence in the room. If Alaska was willing to start a fight here… I was more than ready to oblige. Then Alaska opened his hand and left it hanging in the air in front of me. I stared at it for a moment, and Alaska seemed to have no intention of moving it away. I slowly reached out and shook it. "But despite everything I've seen from you… all the horrible things I know you've done… I can't help but respect you." I nodded and took my hand away, probably quicker than I meant to. Alaska shook his head and looked at York. He motioned to the cooler, and York leaned down to get a beer. "Just a little, though," he murmured quietly. I smirked and popped the cap off my beer.
"Back at you," I said behind a snicker.
"I know Carolina feels the same way," York added. I cringed at her name and coughed on the beer a bit. "She's probably too busy with the rookies to tell you, though. I'm sure she'll get around to it."
"What about them?" Massa asked. "I saw them boarding the MOI a little while ago. Quite a group of characters."
"Yeah," I agreed, "I saw them to."
"So then you saw him?" York asked. "Right?"
"What do you mean him?" Virginia questioned. "There's eight of them, right?"
"Yeah," Florida agreed, "but York's talking about the big guy. Basically the rookie's version of Penn. Hell that guy might even be bigger than old Pennsylvania, here. Isn't that nifty?" I knew who they were talking about. I saw him step onto the MOI. I looked him straight in the eyes as he did. He was massive, and I had never seen a stare as emotionless as the one he gave me. I listened to the roll call as they went through. North Dakota, South Dakota, Georgia, Minnesota, Michigan, Arkansas, California... then… then they stood in front of that behemoth and called for him.
"Agent Maine," I said sternly.
"Yup," York said while snapping his fingers. "That's the guy. Creepy, man. He's huuuuge, too!"
"Looks like you're in for some more competition, Penn," Alaska said in a snarky tone.
"Shut up, number seven!" I snapped back at him. He lowered his beer at the remark and growled a little. "I'll figure him out in no time. He's still just the new guy."
"Yeah?" Massa asked. "Gunna figure him out the same way you're trying to figure out Carolina?" I started to tighten my grip as her name was mentioned again. York leaned down and grabbed the cooler, pulling it back to his chest.
"Let's head back to the barracks guys," he stated. "We can keep the bevs coming once we're there." Everyone turned and headed towards the door to the cafeteria. Alaska remained in his spot right next to me as he took another sip of his beer.
"So what are you really thinking?" he asked. It's weird. I hated this guy… I mean reallyhated this guy. But he always seemed to understand me… and vice versa. Anyone walking in would've seen me and Alaska, holding beers, conversing with each other… like we were best friends.
"These new guys all seem pretty talented," I admitted. "Some of them even have background with each other. North and South are twins, so they'll function perfectly as a team."
"What's your point?"
"Look at that scoreboard, Al." I can't believe I called him that. "There's eight slots up there… and I'm damn sure the Director isn't planning to add more. It's only a matter of time before Freelancers start getting kicked off." Alaska sighed and finished his beer.
"You're probably right, Penn. But think about it. We're the experienced ones. It's not like we've really got anything to worry about." He turned away and walked to the exit. He looked back over his shoulder and lifted his bottle to me. "Except each other, of course." Then he turned and walked away. I was left where I began. Alone in the large room. My helmet on the ground against the wall… its visor shattered into bits. I gripped my bottle even tighter, until it erupted in my hands, sending shards of glass everywhere. I cringed for a moment and closed my eyes.
"I'll show them," I muttered quietly to myself. "I'll show all these new recruits. I'll show Alaska. I'll show the Director." I opened my hand, letting the shards fall and break into smaller pieces when they hit the ground. I opened my eyes again. I don't know if it really happened… but I think a small smile was draped across my face.
"I'll show you, Carolina… so you'd better be watching."
