(A/N) Hey all! Time for our Saturday update, or at least I hope it's Saturday...days have kind of been blurring together lately. But that's summer for you! Anyway, it's time for a new chapter, and this one is for everyone's favourite locksmith, Agent New York! WargishBoromirFan will, from now on, be taking the character over from Maple Alycia Hood, who's moved over to our X-Ray and Vav fic as a writer!

We've got our group of writers for Phase Two, so, if you weren't aware, applications are now closed. I'm really excited to get started there, and to introduce our new writers and characters, but we've got a good way to go in this fic before we can start thinking of that! ;)

Enjoy!


Chapter Sixty-Three - The Good Column

Agent New York

Written by WargishBoromirFan


"Mercy is the mark of a great man. … See how I'm not punching him?" - Malcolm Reynolds, "Shindig"


York kept his eyes on the sky, hands behind his head and weaponry tucked away neatly on his back as the ship came down. He was partially tempted to take his helmet off and feel the cold breeze on his skin while he was still on planet to enjoy it, but he didn't want anything slowing him down as he made his way back to the aboard, so buffeting wind through his armour it was.

"No need for fidgeting, York," Wyoming said from his left. "I'm not aiming at you anymore, at least for the nonce."

York shifted, putting weight over the foot he'd been unconsciously jiggling. "Sorry, I'm just eager to see how the other missions went, I guess." He gave the rest of the group a sheepish grin behind the visor. Massa shook her head, arms crossed before her, though her taller roommate seemed almost as fixated on their ride back home as he'd been.

"Eager to see how Carolina did, especially," Massa summarized, and York felt a hint of heat on his face that wasn't from Eris's weak sun.

"Better than you guys, I'll bet," Mich spoke up, riding high on their win. All in all, the training exercise had been a good thing. It gave Minnesota and Michigan that little extra confidence boost, gave Massa and Virginia an excuse for changing into their armour so early in the morning, and had been a welcome distraction from sitting around his room, driving Wyoming crazy as they waited for word on the Insurrection missions.

It wasn't that York was worried, really; all the agents sent on both missions were perfectly capable, and the team-ups ought to work out well. (Ark had been sent with Penn and Alaska and wouldn't bring up any intra-team challenges with them, but then Ark had always been the best at keeping Georgia to sane plans, but at least the man would probably take orders as long as Carolina issued them but would Cal pay attention and follow her commands as long as he didn't have Sota and Mich to run off with? Not that the other two agents weren't good at their jobs, just very independent and for the love of all that was good in this universe he hoped Florida had stayed in charge of the heavy explosives…) But all of the remaining freelancers had really needed something to shoot at.

Unfortunately, Virginia looked like she could still use a little target practice to blow off steam and Mich had presented her with a sitting, squawking duck. "You better hope your little friends did better than you. If they'd broken cover like that in the middle of a real battle, with a whole squad of Innies firing at them with real bullets… they weren't dealing with just me, Massa, and Wyoming with paint rounds and a couple of idiot simulation troopers to baby-sit." Her six-foot frame leaned well over the smaller woman in lavender.

"Stealing a rifle from your lackey certainly wasn't very sporting," Wyoming added conversationally, as if it were merely a minor annoyance and not a threat of things to come. "Don't expect that to offer you an advantage next time."

"We just knew how to take an opportunity when we see it," Sota backed his teammate up. While York couldn't argue with the results, Sota's use of live ammo with his armour off in the snow had seemed like taking an emergent opportunity too far. It wasn't to Penn's level, since nobody had gotten killed, but the shadows of Pennsylvania's initial training runs loomed uncomfortably, painted in dried blood on Virginia's armour. And it wasn't like York hadn't been in a position to stop it before a single shot had been fired.

They'd won, so who was York to complain, but privately, he had to agree that for a guy who lived for respect, Minnesota didn't always show it for the rules or the other people around him. Which shouldn't bother York, what with the deeper extremes they'd face on the battlefield, but it still itched uncomfortably at that winning feeling. Was it better to have a good loss? "If you're too shell-shocked to move, I'm sure we can leave you here with the rest of the burnouts."

That went too far. York didn't even have to see Massa's expression or the way she automatically put a hand to her right elbow to know it hadn't struck only his own nerves. Wyoming had come to stand next to Virginia's shoulder, even as the tallest woman placed herself firmly between the rookies and her roommate, reaching with deliberate casualness for the rifle strapped to her back.

"Hey," York pulled Sota back before Virginia decided on another method of stepping him down a notch, "those sim troopers are serving as well as they can, and so are we." Besides, a lot of the Reds and Blues could be pretty entertaining to hang out with, as long as you didn't offend their zealous tastes in colour pallet. Well, York did understand liking certain shades of blue that he couldn't quite put a name to. And red. And especially a specific hue of electric green. You didn't insult those, even in jest. "We're doing a training mission to practice, build up our skills, not rip each other to pieces. Let's keep it to lockdown ammo and get back on the nice big spaceship heading our way."

And hopefully to clear answers as to what had happened to the other teams. Sota shook off his hand, but didn't aggravate the other team any further verbally.

Even once it settled with ungainly delicacy into the dock, the Mother of Invention still kicked up a lot of wind. All that power was made for the depths of space, not sitting about some backwater, waiting on the rest of her crew. She was probably safer here in the command hub of "Freelancer City", techs fussing all over her hard outer hull during this rare downtime, but she was meant for traveling the depths, for the fight, for conquering anything that stood in her way, and York was just glad that she'd appeared to have come back in one piece, offering him a place to fight alongside her once more. It was nice to get back to the ship, too.

The reunited training teams humped it to the boarding ramp, York and Michigan leading the way. The snipers from opposite sides were probably still eyeing each other suspiciously behind their backs, but as long as they kept any fights to mental combat, York would look the other way for now. The Director and Counselor weren't there to meet them at the ramp, but at least one familiar face sat by the entrance, cleaning black spots and tape off of his helmet. Not all of the black marks looked like permanent ink from their party last night. Maine was also awaiting them slightly further in, pacing like a jungle cat behind bars, Georgia his reluctant keeper, but the big man offered little acknowledgement as the training teams made their way to the ramp.

"Hey, y'all," Georgia greeted them absently, his smile distracted when he at last looked up from his work. "How'd it go?"

"We won!" Mich told him, a new wave of good cheer bringing her onboard as she greeted her fellow newbie - though York wasn't sure if Georgia, Maine, Cal, Ark, and the twins could be called rookies after their missions today. Even without any hitches in the plan, first blood changed a person. He remembered the experience all too well. "Sota and I kicked ass; we'll be heading out with you guys next time for sure. Unless you get left behind for being too far down on the leaderboard," she teased him, offering the green-armoured man a playful bump to the shoulder.

Georgia looked far more hurt than Michigan's contact warranted, and the green and pink-armoured engineer had never seemed all that worried about his thirteenth place on the leaderboard, so long as he could provide unique skills to get the Director's notice. Above them, Maine narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "I guess the burning question on everyone's mind is how your missions went," York ventured carefully.

"Mission accomplished," Georgia replied, though the victory in his voice sounded hollow. "Blew up real good. Penn 'n' Ark got their plans and everything."

"Everybody okay?" Massa asked, stepping around Virginia.

"Yeah," Georgia lifted a weight off of York's shoulders, "well, yeah, everybody except her." And it crashed back down. While he didn't wish any harm upon South, either, the pessimistic side of York severely doubted that Georgia was talking about her. He wouldn't be waiting at the ramp if something had happened to South; he'd probably be laid out in the next bed over, hurt even worse. "I keep thinking, if I'd just said something, if I hadn't been so enamoured with the bombs, she'd still be here and ready to shoot…"

"Dude, are you still going on about that cannon? Maine, if he keeps bitching, smack him for me," California called from further back in the airlock, letting York breathe again.

Maine saluted in response, but Wyoming gave a slight bow as the British sniper proffered his own much closer services. "Found Georgia ill-equipped for the attack, what?"

"I swear, we already had to listen to geek tragedy the whole way home; that is why you got left on door-greeter duty," Cal told his teammate.

"Just because her design was flawed doesn't mean we couldn't've fired her once! At least at the Innie base!"

"It was in the middle of the Innie base!"

"My point exactly!"

While normally York would help Massa and the quickly approaching Florida calm the argument down and promise Georgia that he could build his own MAC cannon as long as he stopped sulking and annoying the other Freelancers, offering Cal, Maine, and Wyoming one hit each, the man in tan had other business to attend to at the moment. He jogged up the ramp, leaving Sota and Michigan to catch up with California and crow about their victory, Massa to distract herself with defusing the tension, Virginia to back her up physically as Florida stepped up to support her psychologically, and Wyoming to undermine Massa and Florida's efforts for his own amusement. Hopefully, they'd all be in one piece later. At least he'd gotten the chance to see them in one piece.

Carolina was cloistered with Penn, the Counselor, and the Director when York made his way all through to the command bridge. The rest of Penn's team was waiting outside for their debriefings, but some of them were taking it more seriously than others. South kicked her heels like a bored delinquent waiting outside the principal's office, while Alaska stared at old dents in the hallway just beyond the door as if attempting to divine the origins of each one. North, at least, was making some attempt at protocol, but his frequent glances at his sister rather ruined the formality of it. Ark kept to his seat, posture a comfortable at-ease, but if Georgia had been in mourning, Arkansas was… well, that was the most satisfied smile York had seen a guy wearing in a long time.

"I take it it went well," York said, glancing at the twins once more. South wasn't paying Ark any attention, but she didn't seem to be purposely ignoring him, either. Probably wasn't that, then, but a guy could be forgiven for mistaking it for that if all he'd had to work with was the black agent's expression.

"Yeah," Ark said, melting into his seat with lazy euphoria, "I'd have to mark today in the 'good day' column."

Finally, Carolina poked her head out of the briefing room. "Oh, York, you're back," she noted absently. "Train the circus monkeys yet?"

"Well, not entirely," he admitted. Sota's initiative probably would not get her ringing endorsement, even if it had won this round. "I haven't gotten them on the little unicycles yet. But the mission went well."

"Good. We can get started on the Director's next objective early, then." She offered him a light smile as she sent the rest of Penn's team in and left to gather her own squad. Yep, today definitely fell under the good column, York decided.