(A/N) Hey guys, it's time for another update! The days just really seem to fly by, don't they! This one is one of my personal favourites, although I've loved all of the chapters so far, it's been great to see the amount of effort that everyone's been willing to put in. Welcome back to the mind of Agent Georgia, the jet-packing kick-ass engineer. It's been too long.

Applications will be closing shortly, but I'm getting tired of repeating myself at this stage. I assume you're going to apply if you're interested, and you're going to leave it if you're not. Just don't come wailing to me, going "Oh, I just didn't have the time". It takes all of five minutes to fill out an author application form, and the tell me that you're interested in applying to whoever. You have been warned.

Now, on a lighter note, enjoy!


Chapter Fifty-Nine – Splitting Up

Agent Georgia

Written by WargishBoromirFan


"The only thing that differentiates you and me from a couple of fourteen-year-old pyromaniacs is bulletproof glass." - Adam Savage, "Mythbusters"


[Optional bonus quotes, one too crude and the other too geeky, but I regret neither:

"I'm a lead farmer, motherfucker."- Kirk Lazarus, "Tropic Thunder"

"Denethor loved her, in his fashion, more dearly than any other, unless it was the elder of the sons that she bore him." -"Return of the King, Appendix A."]


"Rookies! The Director wants you in the command room, front and centre!" Carolina barely slowed as she beat her own way to the bridge, not sparing a glance to see if the two men were conscious, let alone following her. Georgia had had to throw armour on in more stressful circumstances than this, but it was definitely a good thing that the routine was more or less instinctual and the guys had spontaneously decided that his high-ridged green and pink helmet was the funniest party-wear ever last night, way too hilarious for him to take off, because it sure wasn't being put on with any thought.

"Please tell me I don't have anything too crazy on my armour before we go see the Director," Ark muttered with a groan. "'Cause you've got something drawn here." He ran a gloved finger against Georgia's cheek-guard and grunted at the result. "Huh. Sharpie. Wyoming must have wanted to spread the joy of moustaches."

"You're fine; I'll get it later." Georgia waved him off and pulled out the green electrical tape to kludge something resembling proper dress code, at least so long as the Director had somehow misplaced his glasses and didn't come too close. Band-aids and tape could cover for at least a cursory inspection; the buffer, laser, and paint could come into play once there was time for soap and caffeine. It was better to be on time and a little messy than miss what the Director had to say. If they hurried, they'd make it to the briefing room before Carolina finished rounding up the others.

Bit of a surprise to see that Mich wasn't with her. The little blonde in lavender and icy blue held herself high and distant, but when the boss lady whistled, even her aloof roommate, Sota, and Cal came running, if not without some grumbling on Cal's part. There was just something about the redheaded woman that demanded one's compliance - she didn't really give two damns whether she was respected by her peers or thought of as a friend, but she might as well be the Director himself out in the field for all the back-talk she took and proved her skills in training and challenges so that the rest knew why they really ought to follow her - much as some might hate to admit it, Carolina was the best.

Between that unstoppable force and the immovable object of the Director's call, Georgia and Arkansas stumbled into a run, hangovers or no. "Why the hell'd I let you throw a party in our room last night?" Ark squinted against the lights of the hall as they caught up with the twins and California. Sota seemed to be missing, too.

"We were celebrating that you three survived in the ring with Carolina, Alaska, and Virginia for a sum total of about twenty minutes, ten to fifteen of which were just Alaska messing around with Cal's brain." North sounded way too cheery to be hungover. He hadn't drunk that much last night, reminding the others, - South, especially, - that they had an early start in the morning. Georgia wished he'd just meant their customary morning run.

His sister threw a punch at her purple-armoured brother. South's helmet was shoved on tight, and every move she made seemed weighted with newly-awoken rage and half-drunk deliberation. She was not in a mood to talk in more than Maine-isms.

"Sota make it back all right?" Georgia asked. Carolina had gotten both of the big men from 6401 and was pounding at Florida and Alaska's door, as well. Minnesota was a relatively light partier, but surely he hadn't dashed all the way up to the command room before the rest.

California nodded, then seemed to think better of the movement. "Carolina just called me out. I didn't realize this was a full crew briefing."

"We're missing a couple for it to be full crew," North observed as they passed York and Wyoming's room without any slowdown from their leader. Massa and Virgina's room was well down the other end of the hall, and also apparently left undisturbed.

"Notice how it mostly seems to be the girls?" Georgia asked, before staggering under his own cuff from South Dakota. "Hey, York and Sota were left behind too, so it kinda evens out. Ain't the full boys' club, even with you." Seriously, Maine was snarling less this morning.

"And Wyoming is missing, too," Ark added diplomatically, electing to ignore the onslaught upon his roommate and letting North call South off.

"Like I said, notice how it's mostly the girls?"

"Georgia, shut up," Cal hissed as they entered the bridge, hackles raised as he was packed in closer to Alaska. California was attempting an air of perfect sobriety beneath his white helmet, back stiff as he threw "watch out" claws in Alaska's direction. The senior agent in red ignored him completely, though Florida waved, prompting the tangle of rookies save South to wave back. Even she offered Florida a slightly less hostile grunt. "Though honestly, I think Carolina counts more as one-robot-hit-squad than guy or girl," Cal added once Alaska and Florida had passed them by. "There are cybernetics and then there are cybernetics, you know?"

"On behalf of York, Mich, and everyone else with a half-decent sense of humor, I feel compelled to smack you upside the head for that one," North groaned. "But I'll save it for later."

"Got it," Maine volunteered. He did have a much easier time reaching Cal's cranium than Michigan typically did, though Maine seemed extra careful not to put his palm through the helmet after last night.

"Straighten up, rookies. The Counselor's here," Penn rumbled, looking as if he were curious about this particular combination of agents himself - namely, why he had been dragged in to help baby-sit the romper room.

The rest of the group quickly stood to attention, if in a knot rather than a perfect formation. "Good morning, agents," the Counselor greeted them. "I'm sure you have questions concerning why some of you are here and some are not, but we have a project on tap that requires a certain skill set. This is not a training mission." While no one broke discipline enough to rubberneck and get a good long look at just what the others' reactions were, Georgia was not the only one trading glances with his teammates out of the corner of his eyes. "We have located two nearby Insurrectionist targets, and we require you in particular to remove them."

The Counselor stepped back smoothly, introductory speech completed, to reveal the Director. "Our last encounter with the Insurrection resulted in the loss of certain sets of armour, as I'm certain our senior agents remember. Unfortunately, they were not all removed from our enemies' clutches as I was told they were."

The mouth beneath those shining thick lenses remained tight as the Director glanced briefly between Carolina and Pennsylvania.

"The Innies have not used the armour simply as a pallet for their arts and crafts projects, I assure you."

Georgia twitched uncomfortably as that reflected light was turned upon his own green helmet. Must have missed a spot. Though how the Director saw the dullness of the tape against the helmet or even the black sharpie marks in this harsh half-light through such translucent lenses was a mystery. Did the man just pick angles on the ship where he knew they'd offer the most glare?

"They have started production on MJOLNIR-inspired armour. The Mark VI armour is top of the line, ladies and gentlemen. It is what protects you from Insurrectionist attacks and has, until now, offered the UNSC a distinct advantage over these terrorists and anarchists who would threaten what delicate existence we have achieved in the face of an alien threat. The UNSC will not thank us for losing that advantage in a time of war," the Director continued. "That is why we will end Insurrectionist armour research and development and insure that we maintain technological superiority. If they wish to play at outlaws, then we will see them blown back to the old West."

With the click of a button, the Director activated a three-dimensional map of a dilapidated UNSC bunker, allowing the agents to gather in. There were newer additions to the building, recently reinforced struts and improved security around the entryways. "This is the facility that they have converted into a factory for mass production. It will be up to Pennsylvania, Alaska, Arkansas, and North and South Dakota to insure that it does not produce so much as one set of armour. You will remove all the plans at this location and then destroy it from the face of Harmony."

Penn considered his team doubtfully through the light of the model, barely satisfied with Alaska, let alone the still delicately greenish faces of Ark and South.

"You have concerns about your team, Agent Penn?" the Counselor stepped in.

"If we're being sent to retrieve data and destroy this place, why am I not bringing Florida or York? Or even Virgina?" Honestly, Georgia wondered why he wasn't going, himself. He might not be as good at the wiring as a Double E or knowing exactly what set off the explosion as a Chem E, but he was an engineer: he specialized in building things up and taking them down.

"Florida's skills are needed on another mission at this time," the Counselor explained, still not saying anything about the missing York or Virginia. "Arkansas has the second best record with demolitions, and has plenty of covert entry experience, as well. If he would not suit your purposes, our agent with the third greatest amount of demolitions expertise would be Georgia."

Penn gave the smaller man in green a long stare. "Ark will do," he decided.

"While the other team is removing the armour facility, Carolina, California, Florida, Georgia, and Maine will simultaneously be further weakening the Insurrection via the destruction of a MAC cannon prototype located elsewhere on the planet," the Director continued, bringing up a new map. This was another old bunker, overflowing with Mass Accelerator rounds like coeds at happy hour. Georgia just wanted to pick them all up and take them home. "You will not leave so much as a single shell intact at that site. For every step they steal against us, we will force these thieves and rebels two steps back. Your equipment and travel accommodations are waiting for you, agents. The Insurrection and UNSC are not. Gear up and get moving."

"Yes, sir!" Carolina was the first to snap a salute and step smartly out of the command room, hardly giving Georgia the chance to ask if maybe he might be able to fit the cannon on the back of the Warthog and ghost it out of the building; it'd still be out of Innie hands and he was sure Ark wouldn't mind having one in the room as long as Georgia promised to share with the other Freelancers… Ah, well, he thought as he echoed her salute a few seconds behind. Maybe he could ask later. In the meantime, he, Ark, and Florida were going to get some very powerful explosives to set off.

"This is gonna be fun!" Florida gushed as they made their way into the armoury. "Always good to teach those Innie rascals about what happens when they take what's not theirs, and what better learning is there than through pyrotechnics?" Always had been Georgia's most effective learning tool.

"Not sure how many of them will be left alive to learn," Cal muttered behind them, strapping together his kit as Maine and Penn eyed each other warily over the several-ton bombs they had been instructed to help move onto the Pelicans. Even with a sled, those things weren't rolling right on and off. Once they separated on planet-side, they'd probably need at least half of each team to move the explosives into place.

"What's left of them will know," Florida insisted. "The remaining Innies at other sites will know why we did this. They'll know better after that."

"Maybe some of 'em'll come around, once they know they're on the losing side," Georgia added optimistically.

"It'd be nice, if people would figure out the right thing to do just because they've been beaten," North ventured, checking the sights of his scope, but cut off his speech as a slightly lighter purple and green helmet turned accusatively in his direction, a loaded cartridge suggestively close to the battle rifle in South's hands.

"Yeah, but then we'd be out of a job after beating them just once," Cal said, running a combat knife through his fingers in a practiced flourish. "And I, for one, am looking forward to plenty of missions against the Innies. How about you guys?"

"Burning for it," Ark deadpanned with an old rage that Georgia didn't recognize in his roommate, something even more dangerous, calculating, and wild than when Arkansas had challenged Carolina in hand to hand. And people thought he was the nutty one.

"You don't even know what you're dealing with," Alaska spoke up, his voice frigid stone beneath the red ODST helmet. "I myself would like a taste of revenge, but if you threaten to imbibe as much in this matter as you did last night, you shall not like the consequences any better."

"They're just excited, Al," Florida cut in gently before Ark and California could argue. "You must remember your first official mission on a new team, all full of thud and blunder and eager to show off. We'll make sure they don't get too carried away. That's why we're backing them, Penn, and Carolina up." Though this explanation visibly didn't sit right with the muted bloodlust in Cal and Ark's features - a stronger drive to cut through the final fumes of alcohol withdrawal than Maine's animal wrath or South's easy belligerence - because it was Florida, nobody contradicted him, though Alaska could raise a very eloquent eyebrow beneath his helmet. "You stay safe out there, too, buddy. That was one game of hide and seek I don't want to play again."

"I will certainly try," the big agent in red promised dryly. "I have no desire to repeat the experience, either. Terrible interior design."

"Then I'll stay safe, myself," Florida returned, good-naturedly shooing the last of the newer Freelancers out of the armoury after Penn and Maine. "Come on, Carolina's waiting on us, folks."

Georgia really hadn't even seen Carolina in the armoury, but she was fully kitted out and approaching the Pelicans. The only reason she hadn't yet boarded was that she hadn't been the only one waiting for the two teams.

The six Freelancers that had not been called in to the early morning briefing had emerged in various states of dress, from Virginia in full combat gear with a sniper rifle slung on her back to Wyoming attired in sharp-looking civvies to a half-armoured Sota, missing his helmet and one of his greaves and with something unrecognizable scrawled across his chest plate in black ink, to Mich in her exercise gear, to Massa, her hasty ponytail a mess, eyes betraying her lack of rest, and helmet off but waiting for the word at her feet, to York, still in his sleep pants and a rumpled t-shirt, his spiky hair half-flattened from a pillow and grey eyes still dark from his sudden awakening.

"I heard that there was a mission," Virginia said, every word a bite of bile.

"They told us about two, actually," Georgia spoke up, before South elbowed him in the stomach.

"They appear to have forgotten the better part of the crew," Wyoming said, straightening his blazer with a crisp jerk. "Unless they have you and Carolina running training exercises now, old bean?" His eyes curled as dastardly upwards at Penn as his moustache.

"It's not a training exercise. The Director wanted us, not you. Try training harder," Carolina shot off in rapid fire and started to push her way through the knot.

"To be fair, we did wish we had you guys along, too," North offered with a commiserating shrug and half-smile as he followed in Carolina's wake. This didn't seem to impress Virginia too much, but Maine and South were bulling their ways through now, as well, and the remaining agents didn't stand in the away teams' path.

"The Director must've wanted the best to guard Mommy while we're out turning Innies inside out," Cal added to Mich's groan. "Don't let us down, dude." He tapped his gauntlet against the one Sota had managed to scare up before leaving the dorms.

And before Georgia realized it, he was boarding one ship while Ark stepped up the ramp of the other. Win or lose, training or downtime, they'd always been together, watching each other's back since stepping onto the Mother for the first time. Maybe not always understanding what the other one was doing and keeping a couple steps downrange to stay out of the way, but there for the clean-up, there to dust the other guy off, there to lend a hand and back him up when things got crazy. Georgia waved, and Arkansas offered him a nod. When he lowered his hand, Georgia dropped it to his tool belt for a familiar bit of well-worn copper.

Wasn't exactly like leaving his brothers, just waving off another fatherless farm-boy who knew more about wiring, guns, and explosives than was considered healthy by most standards, a man who'd just joined up to help. His brothers had kept their feet on solid earth. Georgia stared out the back of the Pelican for a little longer.

That was, all the outbound agents had gotten past those left behind but for Carolina. Even when Virginia could no longer meet her stare and Wyoming had sauntered off with a scalded cat's studied indifference, Michigan had worked up the rage to hurl insults at California's retreating back and then emptied herself of it, falling back to Massachusetts's side and reluctantly letting the older woman lead her away, and Minnesota had melted back into the grey hallways, still staring hungrily after the ship, New York still had a hold on Carolina's arm.

"Let go, York. I need to leave."

He might still be sleepy, but York was determined. "Just hang on a second, Carolina."

"Don't make me hurt you." She took a step toward him, pulling her free arm back.

"I know you can. I just need you to promise me that you'll stay safe." His smile was clumsy, accompanied by the biggest begging eyes this side of an abandoned dog.

"Don't worry." Carolina deflated a little even as she pulled her arm away. If Georgia had watched the far shadows for a pair of reflected lights, he might have seen another mouth beneath green eyes echo her words even as she said them. "You'll see me again."

With that, Carolina turned and rocketed up the boarding ramp, shoving Georgia toward a seat. "Quit standing around, newbie. We're off."