(A/N) Sup y'all! (Just changing it up a little). Another update, which takes place at around the same time as the last two chapters, as will the next two, ending this batch of chapters. We're seeing from the POV of North Dakota for the very first time here, and he'll be taking you on a wild ride over the remainder of this fic. This is written by another of our new writers, the sensational StormBlue!

Still looking for X-Ray and Vav, and I'll be putting up a deadline for applications sometime this week, so if you're interested, get down there immediately! What are you waiting for?! ;)

Enjoy!


Chapter Forty-Five – The Ball Game

Agent North Dakota

Written by StormBlue


"A friend shares the good times and helps out by listening during the bad times." -Molly Oliver


The Dakotas, as they were coming to be known, walked throughout the Mother of Invention together, still familiarizing themselves with the facilities of the ship, having reunited after South escaped Massachusetts' grasp, abandoning Michigan. North wasn't entirely sure what to think of Project Freelancer, but he saw nothing wrong with it, an experimental military program that was going to make them better soldiers somehow. If it helped win the war and North got a chance to protect people from threats such as the Insurrection, he could be content. His sister, South, was more pleased that they had been recruited into a top program such as this one, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

He nudged South - who had adjusted to their new code-names quicker than he had expected. "So what do you think?"

"About the other agents? They don't seem so tough to me," she replied with a shrug.

"Well, I meant about the Project in general."

South glanced over at him. "What about it? They give us equipment, and we do their dirty work for them. We have a job to do, and we do it."

"We're probably going to be here for a long time, and nobody is even allowed to know who we are." That was the part that confused North. If they were supposed to be a team, couldn't they at least get to know one another?

"Who cares? We get to go kill the bad guys, and they give us the means to do so. They chose us because we're the best." There was smugness in South's tone, and North knew that she enjoyed the superiority in combat she had always held with their previous squads.

"But we're leaving everything else behind. Doesn't that mean anything?" he asked gently. He had often wondered if she missed how things used to be, or wondered how things could have been.

She suddenly rounded on him. "No, North. It never means anything to me," she said sharply, and North was taken aback. He didn't say anything, and South turned away from him. "Besides...we have each other," she added, in a softer tone that was rare for her.

He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We'll always have each other," he reassured her.

They stood there for a moment in a mutual silence that was only broken by the technicians and other personnel that passed them. South then shrugged, as if brushing off the whole conversation they had just had. "Whatever. Hey, I'm going to the training room. You coming?" she asked.

North shook his head. "No, you go ahead. I'll catch up with you later."

South nodded then turned and walked away from him. He watched her go, then turned back the way they had come. He didn't have a destination in mind, and even if he did he doubted he would be able to find it. These ships were like mazes. Maybe he could find a place where he could relax for a while, grab a drink, get to know his teammates a little better. He walked the corridors, passing various rooms, exchanging a kind word or two with those that he passed.

A yell sounded from farther down the hall, and North started slightly, on edge. However, it didn't sound like someone getting attacked, or even an angry yell. It was more...disappointed? The invitation made earlier that day to him, Georgia and Cal chimed dimly in his mind. He made his way toward the sound and stopped in a doorway, looking around at some kind of lobby. A place for the agents and personnel to relax. It was unoccupied right now, save for one corner where a brown-haired man was sprawled on a couch, watching a screen on the wall intently. This was...New York, if he remembered correctly, who just preferred to be called 'York'.

North turned his attention to the screen and saw a bunch of red and blue armoured people running around, all equipped with large hammers and energy swords. Grifball, the most popular sport of the 26th century. Interested, he moved closer, unnoticed by York. He appeared oblivious to everything except the game.

It was Team Elimination versus Team Majestic, and they'd had a pretty strong rivalry for a few years now. North watched the two teams skirmish around the room, players constantly lunging with their swords and blasts going off from the hammers in the fast-paced sport. Red-armoured Elimination was pounding on blue-armoured Majestic, who currently held the Grifball, but then one of the blue players swung the hammer at the orange-armoured player. Instead of getting hit by the heavy object, the orange player simply jumped and the blast the hammer made when it hit the ground threw Majestic's ball-carrier into the air, above the red players, giving him an easy score.

York erupted in a round of cheering as the bomb exploded and the commentators went crazy. "Whoo! Now that's what I'm talkin' about!"

"Nice teamwork!" North joined in.

York jumped and turned to North, a look of happy surprise on his face. "Been a fan long?" he asked, smiling.

"Yeah," North replied. "I used to watch Grifball all the time with my dad before-" he caught himself, then shook his head. "Never mind. We're supposed to leave our pasts behind us, right? So who's winning?"

York turned back to the screen. "Elimination is currently ahead, but I reckon it won't take long for Majestic to catch up. Majestic's my favorite team. You?"

"Same," North said with a smile.

"Well don't just stand there," York gestured to the seat next to him. "Come sit down, watch the game with me."

North complied, plopping down in the cushioned couch, and York handed him a bottle. North looked at it. "Is this beer? I thought that wasn't allowed on-board the ship."

"I have connections," York shrugged. North eyed the bottle for a second, then took a swig. There was nothing wrong with sharing a drink with a friend. York then changed the subject. "I'm so relieved to find someone else who watches Grifball. No one else here really appreciates sports, you know what I mean? Anyway, I'm York. You're North Dakota, right? Sorry about this, probably the ninetieth time I've had to ask for names today."

North chuckled, waving his apologies away. "Call me North."

The two reached out to shake hands, but were interrupted by a loud exclamation from the game and both turned immediately to watch. Team Elimination had just turned to the offensive and pulled off a complete wipe-out of Majestic, just bulldozing their way through to the goal and getting a score, jumping back before the Grifball exploded.

"Oh come on!" York shouted. "I mean, I know it's a violent game and all, but those guys are just brutal!"

"What are you two up to?"

North turned to the new voice behind them and saw that it belonged to the cheerful middle-aged agent, Florida. "We're watching Grifball," he said.

"Wanna come watch it with us?" York offered.

Florida leaned on the back of the couch, and watched for a minute. He complimented the designs of the weapons, then started talking about how dangerous the sport seemed. "Can't people find less violent ways to have fun?" They watched a red member get bashed by a hammer in an accidental betrayal from his teammate. "Is that even safe?"

"Of course," North reassured him. "There's safety precautions for everything."

"Yeah, but it's a sport. I mean, there's going to be some injuries no matter what you do, but it's all part of the game," said York.

Florida stood up and walked away, shaking his head and saying something about the interests of kids these days. York and North turned back to the game, with the player currently on a five-minute break.

"So that's Florida," North commented.

"Yeah. That guy is always happy about something. I haven't seen him lose his cool over anything, save for that one time he challenged Alaska to a one-on-one."

"He challenged Alaska? How did that go?" North didn't underestimate any of the agents, but he had a hard time seeing the chipper agent squaring off with the surly Alaska, who was no doubt faster and stronger than Florida. But then again, strength and speed weren't the only things that counted in a fight.

York chuckled at the memory. "Florida beat him. He's a little more old-fashioned, but a quick thinker on the battlefield."

"And what about Alaska? What's he like?" North inquired, curious about his fellow teammates.

"Alaska's a strange guy. He doesn't talk to other people much, but he talks to himself often enough. I wouldn't ask him about it though, if I were you. Had this whole rival thing going on with Penn. Now Penn," York continued, telling North about the Freelancers he had come to know in his time here, "back when we first arrived, he was quite ruthless. He had some serious anger management issues, but he's calmed down a bit since then." Relief filled York's voice at that last statement.

North remembered Pennsylvania, number two on the leaderboard. That show-down between him and Maine was not one he would forget anytime soon. Thinking about the leaderboard reminded him of something he'd been wondering. "So what's the list there for? I get that it's supposed to tell us who the top agent is, but there's all kinds of different specialities. How does it determine them?"

York sighed. "I honestly don't know. The leaderboard is supposedly there to let you know where you're at, and encourage you to get better, but from what I see, all it does is stir up competition. And competition..." he trailed off.

"Leads to grudges on the battlefield." North finished for him, understanding.

"Yeah," York said. "But hey, maybe it won't be so bad. Things seem to be going ok so far."

A round of cheering interrupted the conversation as Majestic scored in Grifball, and North took a drink of his beer. They were still watching a game, after all.

"What about Carolina? She's on the top of the leaderboard, isn't she?" North said. After watching that two-on-one training round, he didn't have a hard time seeing why.

York went oddly quiet for a second before telling North about her. "She's very devoted, and likes to take charge. It doesn't take much to make her mad though."

North studied the other man's features as York spoke, and could see the small tell-tale signs that York had feelings toward the teal freelancer. He didn't say anything aloud, however. It wasn't his place.

It was York's turn to ask questions. "What about you? You were pretty amazing in the training room with South. She's your sister, right?"

"Yeah. We're twins," North said.

York laughed. "That would explain how well you two worked together. What's she like? She seemed very...aggressive. No..." he seemed at a loss for words, not wanting to say anything negative.

"Intense?" North offered, understanding the reaction toward his twin.

"Yeah, that's it."

"She tends to leave a strong impression on people."

York hesitated. "You mean...mentally, or physically?"

North couldn't help but laugh. "I get what you mean. I can't really blame her for the way she acts, but I try my best to calm her down."

"So you like to look out for her?" York asked.

"Yeah. I have since we were kids," North said.

They turned back to their drinks and the game, laughing as it played out. It was...it was nice. Even though there was a galactic war raging around them, even though they were on a giant spaceship in the middle of space that belonged to a secret military branch, even with their troubled pasts, it was nice that two guys could still share a drink and watch sports.