(A/N) Hey! It's update time, bringing you another chapter for one of the eight new rookies! You may be familiar with this guy. ;) Our next update, as always, will be on Monday, and will feature another new freelancer, whom you may have heard of, but probably won't have seen before. Stay tuned!

Just want to let everyone know that we are now accepting applications for our X-Ray and Vav fic, and our applications thread for our Grifball thread will close on Monday, so if you're interested, get on it! :)

Enjoy!


Chapter Forty-Two – Unstoppable Forces

Agent Maine

Written by Jerem6401


"He who angers you conquers you." – Elizabeth Kenny


"Hey big guy," a voice spoke quietly. Maine turned his head slightly to see York standing right next to him. Maine was standing in a small chamber, where competitors would wait while the training floor was prepared. Soon the chamber would open into the arena, where the fight would commence. Maine was still staring down at York, emotionless, like always.

"Are you sure about this, man?" Maine broke the contact and turned his head back to the doorway in front of him, almost begging for it to open. "Look… I know that you guys, being new and all, feel like you have something to prove."

Maine's hand suddenly reached out and grabbed York's armour with incredible strength. York couldn't have wriggled away, even if he really tried. "If there's a point," Maine spoke, in a voice almost inaudibly low, "make it."

Maine's grip lessened and York sighed. "You two are a lot alike," he muttered.

Maine snapped his head to York again at the remark. York rubbed the back of his head and motioned towards the door. "Listen. I don't doubt for a second that you can handle yourself in a combat session, especially a hand-to-hand. But this guy… I mean… Pennsylvania…"

Maine turned his head to the door as lights above it turned green, signalling that the training floor was ready for the battle to start.

"He's not like the other soldiers, okay? This guy has shown before that he's willing to do anything… even in a training session." Maine remained silent as the door began to slowly slide upwards, revealing the floor.

"Agent York," the Director's voice called over the speakers. "Please clear the floor. Unless you want to join the fight yourself."

York sighed and turned away. "Not even for a second." He turned his head back to Maine and nodded. "Just be careful, rookie… okay? Winner gets a beer."

Maine didn't react at all to York's happy remark. Instead he just stared straight ahead. The door was completely retracted now, and the training floor was fully revealed. It was dotted with massive concrete pillars, usually used to provide cover, but in this situation they would most likely be useless. There were no weapons in this fight, just fists. Maine could see across to his opponent.

Penn had a small smile on his face as he strode into the arena. His helmet was in his hand, pushed against his side. Penn walked to the centre and lifted his hand towards Maine, motioning him to join. Maine stepped from his chamber and into the arena, slowly making his way to the centre. He stopped only a few feet from Penn. His smile seemed to fade… maybe because Maine was the first soldier he ever had to look up to. Penn was 6'8" and weighed around 290 lbs, while Maine was 6'10" and weighed almost 350 lbs. Penn slowly lifted his arms and fastened his helmet into place, erasing his face to a mysterious blank… the way Agent Maine seemed to spend every second.


"Agent Maine, you understand why you're here," the Director asked quietly. Maine sat in his chair, hands folded in front of him, staring at the floor.

"Yes."

"You are going to be a member of a highly trained group of super soldiers, with humanity itself at stake. Being a functioning member of this team is key to both your, and everyone else's survival."

Maine continued to stare at the floor, but now began to twiddle his thumbs. "Your military history suggests a violent nature within you, Agent. However, you have also proven that you're extremely capable of taking and following orders in the field. I expect that behaviour to continue."

Maine nodded again and gripped his hands together, tightly. "Understood."

"Do not get let your anger get the best of you while you're out there. That is an order." Maine closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The Director circled behind his desk and sat down, draping his arms across its surface. "I understand that charging into enemy lines is something you won't think twice about, what with your… condition."

Maine opened his eyes once again and looked up at the Director. It may have just been the lighting in that particular room, but it always seemed like Maine's face was hidden in the shadows. Cloaked behind a shroud of mystery.

"You're special, Agent Maine."

"A freak."

"No. You are unique. Congenital analgesia is a very rare condition, yet you claim to have it. Tell me, Agent… is this true?"

Maine looked down once again, before quickly leaning forward and snatching a pen off of the Director's desk, almost faster than he could see. Maine lifted it high into the air, before violently ramming it downwards into his own leg. There were a few streams that leaked away from the wound, marbled with both the colors from the ink, and Maine's blood. Maine's face did not change, and he slowly lifted his head to stare at the Director once again.

"Nothing."

"A man incapable of feeling pain… amazing. Simply amazing. I'm sure you've been called that your entire life."

Maine closed his eyes as he ripped the pen out of his leg. "Not amazing," he growled quietly. "Monster."


"Session will begin in T minus 3," F.I.L.S.S. began. Maine clenched his hands into fists and could see Penn doing the same. "2."

A massive silence fell over the other Freelancers as they looked down on the training floor from the spectator booth.

"Please don't kill him," York quietly prayed as he closed his eyes. North looked towards him and bumped him in the shoulder.

"Who are you talking about?" he inquired. York shook his head and put his hand on the glass.

"I don't know yet, North. I don't know."

"1." In an instant, both Maine and Penn were lunging forward, their fists tearing through the air in front of them. The two massive strikes collided in a shattering sound of cracking knuckles. A shockwave from the impact exploded outwards, actually cracking some of the cement pillars around them.

Penn stepped back and shook his hand, trying to numb the pain. Maine, however, didn't hesitate and rushed forward. He threw a punch which collided with the side of Penn's helmet, snapping his head to the side. Another shot hit Penn directly in the chest, lifting him off the ground for a moment.

Penn stepped back and leaned against one of the pillars, grabbing his chest and trying to get his breath back. Maine stopped that by grabbed the front of Penn's visor and pulling him in, before smashing his head into the pillar, shattering the concrete. He quickly repeated the action again and again, burying Penn's head further and further into the rock.

"Oh my God!" South yelled. "That's awesome!"

"Penn's going to get hurt!" Florida exclaimed. "The poor lad. Someone better stop this."

"Hold up!" another voice yelled. The Freelancers turned to see Alaska, his arms folded, looking down on the arena. "I've got a feeling we shouldn't end the fight just yet."

Alaska unfolded his arms and rested one hand against the glass, leaning forward as he did. "I know Penn isn't going to quit yet." Suddenly he began to shout, so his voice carried well into the arena.

"Not with his rank on the line!"

The words travelled through the pillars and into Penn's helmet. His rank… his purpose… his pride. Penn gripped his hand into a fist and rotated his entire body behind a punch. His fist tore through the air and slammed into Maine's chest piece, crumpling his armour like foil. Maine careened backwards into a pillar, sending tiny shards of concrete flying everywhere. Penn leapt off the ground and lowered his head. He tackled Maine straight through the pillar behind him, cutting it in two and sending the top half skywards.

Maine rolled backwards after the attack, skilfully pushing back up to his feet. He looked up and saw the top half of the pillar falling back to the ground, and quickly rushed forward, punching it before it made contact. The slab of rock became a projectile and rocketed towards Penn. Penn punched his own hand in preparation, before loading up and ramming his fist into the incoming rock, shattering it to bits that landed harmlessly behind him.

However, as soon as the rocks cleared, Penn saw Maine erupt through the smoke and jump into the air. He threw two kicks that Penn blocked with his gauntlets. By the time Maine landed, Penn was already throwing another punch. Maine dodged it, causing Penn to punch another pillar, taking a massive chunk out of the side.

"Jesus!" California yelled. "Didn't realize Project Freelancer had a god damned juggernaut in the ranks."

"Maine's not exactly a lightweight, either," Michigan added.

"Yes, quite a show," Wyoming agreed. "Wouldn't want to get hit with one of those fists, would you? Our good old chap, Penn, can cause quite a bit of damage, eh, Carolina?" Carolina closed her eyes as a sickening scream filled her mind once again. She suddenly reopened them and stepped forward.

"Maine can handle it," she said confidently, "he can beat Penn."

Penn and Maine continued to exchange blows, each taking and dealing massive shots to the head and chest. Maine reached up and slammed downwards, cracking Penn in the back of the head. Maine reached down and took hold of Penn's armour. He hoisted him over his head like a child, effortlessly. Maine then threw Penn across the arena and into another pillar, cracking it.

Penn shook off the attack and looked up to see Maine charging in again. Penn quickly pushed Maine's fist out of the way and slammed him in the side of the head with a forearm. Maine flew to the side and into yet another pillar. Penn quickly got behind his pillar and loaded up a kick. He slammed his boot into it, severing it from the ground and turning it into a missile. It crashed into Maine, sandwiching him between two of the heavy, concrete structures and making him disappear behind a wall of rubble and smoke.

"God… is every training session here like this?" Georgia asked.

"Not even close," Massa chimed in.

"How can you guys stand here and watch this!?" York yelled. "That's got to be enough! One of them is going to get killed!"

"No, Agent York," the Director replied. He had his arms folded behind his back, and was calmly looking down at the arena. "I want to learn something from this match. Something very important."

"What could you possibly learn from this?" York demanded.

"A lot actually," Virginia added. She turned to look at York and shrugged. "I mean… if you're a medic."

"Agent Pennsylvania and Agent Maine have both been given the same instruction," the Director replied. "I guarantee the winner will be the one who listened. The one who can control themselves."

Penn took some deep breaths as he menacingly walked towards the crash site. He was stretching out his fingers, wanting desperately to have them around Maine's throat.

"Alright, rookie," he said darkly, "time to make sure you stay in your place." Suddenly massive chunks of concrete flew from rubble pile as Maine leapt off the ground. He threw a punch, which Penn caught out of the air. In response, Penn threw a punch, which Maine also caught. The two stood there, both grabbing each other's fists and squeezing as hard as they could. They were both pushing with all their might, but this was an unstoppable force facing an immovable object. Their feet dented the metal floor beneath them when both monsters refused to give an inch.

"You're out of your league," Penn growled at Maine. "You can't beat the best Freelancer here." Maine gripped even tighter and pushed even harder.

"New best, now," he spoke in his deep, terrifying voice. Penn could see his reflection in Maine's visor. It was a perfect mirror. He could see the destroyed arena behind him, and the spectator box, filled with the other Freelancers. Then he saw her. Standing in her teal armour… just watching… judging.

Penn ground his teeth and pushed forward. Suddenly Maine's knee buckled, and the arena erupted into the sound of shattering bones as Maine's fist collapsed. Maine dropped to one knee and Penn quickly grabbed the underside of his helmet. He ripped Maine back and draped his body over his knee. Penn stood in the arena, Maine lying backwards over his knee, a scene Carolina hoped she would never have to see again.

"NO!" York yelled. "PENN! Don't do it!" Penn stared at the spectator box as those little voices began speaking once again. Penn scanned the faces in the booth until his eyes fell on the Director.

"Control your anger." Penn took some deep breaths, and let go. Maine rolled off of his knee and onto the ground. Penn pulled off his helmet and held it tightly at his side. He leaned down so his head was near Maine's.

"You'll never be… what I have become." Maine could hear Penn walking away, but everything else was a blur. He couldn't feel any pain, but couldn't move any of his fingers on his right hand. He pushed himself off the ground and onto his hands and knees. He could feel people grabbing at his armour, probably medics. Maine looked up and saw York standing over him. York's words before the match were still alive in the air, like they were mocking Maine. York reached out his hand to help Maine up. There was a moment of silence, before Maine erupted off the ground and grabbed York's throat with his broken hand. He rammed York's back into a pillar and held him there.

"Maine," York muttered. "Chill out. I'm your friend here… remember? We're teammates."

Maine stared at him, with no emotions escaping from his faceless visor. Maine's grip loosened and he let go of York. York rubbed his neck and shrugged his shoulders. "We need a new way to shake hands, dude," he chuckled.

Maine didn't say anything and instead turned to look in the direction Penn had left. York slapped Maine on the shoulder, making him refocus on the tan soldier. "Don't sweat it, man. Hand-to-hand… kind of Penn's thing. You know what? Screw the whole 'winner gets a beer thing.' Let me grab you some beer tonight, big guy. What'dya say?"

Maine turned his head away and began to walk out of the arena. "So… that's a no to the beer? C'mon, man."

Maine stopped and lowered his head, but didn't turn to look at York again. He spoke deep under his breath. "This is not over," he murmured, then lifted his head and continued to walk away. Maybe it was the acoustics of the room, or just something in York's ear. But Maine's words didn't sound like words…they just seemed like a growl.