(A/N) Hey guys, it's time for our Monday update, and today we have another Michigan chapter, written by the brilliant TunelessLyric! Some big announcements coming up in a few weeks, but not going to give anything away for now, just telling you all to keep an eye out!
Also, just wanted to let you all know that we've set up a forum for roleplaying, in kind of a quasi-continuity with this fic and its sequels! We accept all writers, so, if you're interested in RP-ing, head over an check it out!
As always, enjoy!
Chapter Sixty-Four – Hits And Misses
Agent Michigan
Written by TunelessLyric
"Be miserable. Or motivate yourself, whatever has to be done, it's always your choice." - Wayne Dyer
Mich was standing in the tight room with the others. The Director pressed a button on the console before him and six names appeared on the giant screen at the head of the room. All of the sixteen assembled agents leaned forward eagerly, all hoping to see their name up there. Carolina nodded in self-satisfaction as soon as she saw her name at the top. Penn made no reaction when he read his in the second position. York remained third. Alaska tipped his chin up arrogantly at the same time Wyoming's shoulders loosened, the two having switched places to sit at fourth and fifth respectively. Virginia made only a small noise upon realizing she had dropped down to sixth.
Michigan wondered why they had all been called together if none of the new Freelancers hadn't made the top six yet. She let the annoyance smoulder in her chest, acknowledging how she felt before taking a breath and letting it go. Being emotional in front of all these people would be bad. She would just have to track down the full list as soon as they were allowed to leave.
"Well, that was enlightening," Cal said dryly. Clearly, Mich wasn't the only one who was left frustrated that the newer agents weren't good enough.
The Director fixed Cal with a hard glare. "You are dismissed."
"Hey, everybody," said Georgia, "I have a great idea. We should all go and check the whole list. You know, like a team."
Mich stepped back, not caring either way if the older Freelancers went with them or if she had to go alone. A short flurry of discussion followed and in a few minutes, the eight rookie agents and two remaining original ones all headed to the mess hall to check their standings.
North and South led the way, Mich bringing up the rear. The rookie team practically ran to the mess hall, despite their outward appearance of indifference, they were all eager to see how they had improved. Mich speculated where she now rested. She had helped win the latest sim mission with Sota and York, but would that be enough to boost her above the others who had gone on the trip to the Insurrection base? What if Sota, who had been on her team and the only Freelancer below her previously on the Board, had surpassed her? What if Mich would find her name beside the ugly 16 this round?
She nearly collided with Georgia, barely managing to draw herself from her deep thoughts and pull up before running into him. She realized they were in the main cafeteria now. Mich craned her neck to see over the others.
7. North Dakota
8. South Dakota
9. Massachusetts
10. Florida
Well, Mich could find it within herself to feel proud of the twins for beating the two other original agents later. At least now, the first eight would have to work harder. They would know that the rookies are not to be messed with.
11. Maine
12. Arkansas
She kept reading, a little hurt that she was in the bottom quarter still. If only she had been assigned to the Innie facility mission instead of play-fighting a third time.
13. Michigan
14. Georgia
15. Minnesota
16. California
Mich heaved a sigh of relief. She moved up two places! She could live with that. Mich nodded once and turned to measure the others' reactions.
The Dakotas wore matching expressions of triumph. Massa looked as though she was trying not to burst out, thinly veiled hurt in her eyes. Florida shrugged. "Well, there's still lots of room for improvement," he reasoned. His injury on the earlier mission must have been what had dragged his placing down.
Maine seemed ready to explode. Mich understood that he had been chosen to go to the MAC facility. Still, it wasn't as though it had gotten worse.
Ark accepted that his ranking hadn't changed with little reaction. Georgia allowed a small smile to curve his lips at the evidence of his improvement.
Sota looked relieved he wasn't at the very bottom anymore.
California's mouth dropped open. "Well that's just perfect."
Mich quietly left the room. She had done what she needed to do. Now it was time for a little break before her training match. She went back to the room she shared with Carolina. Two places. If only she had been able to prove her worth in a better way. Mich knew the Director wouldn't be content with only that tiny improvement. Not while she was still so near to the bottom.
Mich sat on her bed and read for an hour or so. After that, she was just leaving the room, wondering where Carolina was when F.I.L.S.S. chirped happily to her.
"What's up?" she asked.
"The Director has announced that your training session will be hand-to-hand combat. You will face Agent Maine and be partnered with Agent California."
"Thank you, F.I.L.S.S., I'm going to get ready now."
Michigan went to her locker room. Inside, she met California. His mouth was set in a tight line. He was more shaken by his sudden drop than in first appeared. The whole time Mich was in the room with him, getting her armour on for the session, he didn't say a word. He just waited for her to finish before sweeping from the room ahead of her.
She followed his disappearing figure through the short hall to the main training floor. He was already inside, bouncing on the balls of his feet when she entered. Maine was on the far side of the arena, stretching his arms. Mich fought down a smile at the sight of all the white armour with warm-coloured accents.
"All Freelancers have assembled. Match beginning in two minutes," announced F.I.L.S.S.
"Cal," Mich called. She beckoned him over.
He jogged to her and threw her a what? body posture. His hands were turned out, palms almost facing the wall behind Mich, one shoulder raised in a half-shrug and head tilted.
"I'm not even going to touch the fact that you're annoyed by the rankings today," she began.
"That's great," he snarked. "I appreciate that."
Mich depolarized her visor, showing him her impatient features. "But," she ploughed on, "I need your head in the game. Maine is not going to go easy on us, he's still angry over the fact that he didn't improve. I get that you got worse, but here's your chance to show the Director that you don't deserve your crappy rank. If we win, we're going to get better ranks next time. So, show him that you should be higher on his precious Board."
Cal's shoulders dropped and he stood taller. "You're right."
Mich polarized her faceplate again before he could see her darkening cheeks. Her face grew warm when his posture became proud rather than beaten down. She shook the feeling away. It was time to fight.
Maine signalled he was ready. Mich acknowledged him with a dip of her chin. "Here's the plan," she said to Cal. "Flank left, do your thing. I'll take his right and come up more from behind. While he's focused on you, I'll incapacitate him."
"Got it," replied Cal.
"Session beginning," sang F.I.L.S.S. "Good luck, agents!"
Cal charged forward, fists raised, and collided hard with Maine. Mich followed more slowly. This had to look good to the Director, or else he wouldn't give them as much credit. As she neared the two grappling Freelancers, Mich cracked her fingers individually.
She watched Cal unleash a flurry of sharp jabs to Maine's abdomen. Maine lowered his guard reflexively, trying to sweep away Cal's legs. The white and red agent dodged the counter attack and threw a powerful sucker punch at Maine's jaw. The larger man reeled back and swatted Cal away.
"Are you coming, or what?" Cal asked, signature sarcasm drawling in her ear.
Instead of offering an excuse or reply, Mich skirted around behind the white and orange Freelancer. She saw Maine kick at Cal as he drew near enough to attack again. Mich gave up hope of a quick victory and leaped at him, giving Cal enough time to regroup.
Maine twisted to meet her with a backhanded blow that glanced off her shoulder. Mich stepped forward and delivered a swift punt at the side of his knees. The hit that would have made any other person double over or fall to the ground only served to make him growl. Maine grabbed her arm and bent it out at the elbow, the way the joint was not supposed to bend.
Pain lacing through her, Mich pounded hard on his fingers. They tightened, viselike, around her wrist and upper arm. She gritted her teeth and kicked again at his knee. Maine pulled her tight against his chest to make it hard for her to land any more blows.
"Hey, why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
Cal's taunt made the massive agent turn around. The smaller man fell on him, leaving punches on the side of the EVA helmet and trailing them down to the more exposed lower back. Mich took advantage of the momentary distraction and wiggled free.
"You're not so tough, are you?" Cal's voice doesn't let up, the taunting and sharp attacks blending together.
Maine's back was turned to Mich again. This time, she stretched up as tall as she could and snaked her arms around his neck and shoulders. She tightened her grip, elbow protesting, and pulled herself flush against Maine. Using his weight to pin him to her smaller body, Mich held on while Cal continued to hammer away at his front.
After only a moment, Maine got his foot up stiffly and it connected with Cal's chest. The white and red agent let out a grunt and fell back. He shook his head roughly as though to clear it. Then Mich's attention was dragged back to the squirming man in her grasp. Maine delivered a searing jab to her side that made Mich release him.
By this time, Cal had jumped back at their opponent. He caught Maine's arm before he could assault Mich again. Maine turned and slammed a fist into Cal's chest again, sensing it was a weaker spot. Cal dropped to his knees, Maine looming over him. Mich leaped on the large man's back and unbalanced him. The two tumbled to the ground with a screech of armour on polycrete floor. Mich knew if Maine got her pinned, it would be over. She flailed around, somehow managing to remain on top of him. She pummelled the area of his helmet protecting his ears, doing her best to disorient him.
Cal pushed Mich down and set her on Maine's wildly kicking legs to help hold him. Her partner took her position on the other man's chest and shoved his hands against the floor. Maine struggled for another full minute before going limp under the two Freelancers.
"Training match complete, the winners are Agents California and Michigan."
At F.I.L.S.S.'s voice, Mich hopped off Maine. Not a moment too soon because the defeated agent surged to his feet, throwing off Cal and batting him aside. Maine stalked from the room without acknowledging their win. Mich was distracted from his foul mood and poor sportsmanship when Cal let out a hacking cough.
She whirled and saw him on all fours, limbs shaking. As Mich looked on, Cal's body shuddered and spasms rippled through him. She threw herself down next to him as he flopped onto the ground, scrabbling at his neck. Mich hauled his helmet off. Cal let out another harsh cough. Mich recoiled when a sticky, red liquid splattered against her visor. Fear and worry threaded through her like ice.
"Medic!" she called. She ripped off her helmet so she could see again. She flipped him onto his side and tried to remember what to do in a situation like this. "F.I.L.S.S., get a med team down here!"
Cal convulsed again and his throat worked, trying to expel more bloody fluid. He went limp under Mich's hands. She cautiously released her hold on him.
"I'm good," he rasped faintly. Cal slowly sat up and turned his head. He spit out a globule of red, glaring at it in distaste and wiping clinging strands from his chin. "I'm okay."
"I don't know where you were, but I just watched a teammate spasm and cough up blood," Mich retorted sourly. "I had to hold him down. I think we should wait for the medics before we pass any judgment on your health."
A pained and impatient expression darkened his face. "I got hurt a long time ago. Maine just brought this attack on by pummelling me so hard," he explained. "Thanks for that, by the way."
Mich stood and stalked halfway across the arena before he could stop her. He just had a mini seizure and was already back to his old and aggravating self.
"Wait, I'm sor –" the shout was interrupted by another wet-sounding hacking fit. Mich spun on her heel, suddenly anxious for the annoying Freelancer.
"Are you all right?" she asked in concern, hurrying back to where Cal was sprawled on the polycrete to catch his breath again.
He nodded breathlessly.
The doors slid open to admit a handful of medics, lead by a man so colourful, it seemed like a rainbow had attacked and demanded money from him. Killian Jay bustled over and took an eyeful of Cal, blood dribbling down his chin again, before pushing Mich back a ways.
Cal protested to the medic weakly. A long moment stretched between the group in the training room. Killian introduced himself – as if anyone could forget him – and looked the stricken man over. Mich craned her neck to see over the congregation. Killian lifted Cal to his feet. Cal took a few shaky steps unaided and flashed Mich a painful smile. It made for a gruesome sight, dark blood spotting his teeth.
Cal and Killian made a short loop around the floor, the agent not wavering. Satisfied, the medics left, only Killian sparing a backward glance before leaving. "You had better be more careful," he said darkly. There was an obviously omitted or else hanging in the air.
Mich was left standing right where she had been when the medics came running in. "All fixed?"
Cal scuffed the floor with his boot and bent to retrieve his helmet. "I told you I was okay, didn't I?"
Rather than dignify that with a response, Mich turned to go.
He seemed to sense his misstep. "Okay, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful, it was all my fault," he snarled. "Will that do?"
She whirled around, blazing with fury. "No. That will not do," she spat. "I was worried about you, okay? What would you think if I began spasming and coughing body fluids right now? You scared me half out of my mind!"
Cal nodded and sighed. "I'm just not used to everyone needing to know every detail about me. It happened years ago and it has been a long time since my last episode…" he trailed off.
Mich swallowed her rage. "I get it. I overreacted, but I didn't know better. Next time, I'll just let you hack up a lung or die."
His face rearranged into a smirk. "Did you just say something funny? I must be rubbing off on you."
She just moved to leave, shaking her head. "Scary, I know."
For some reason, being alone in the arena with Cal made Mich's ears hot. At the same time, however, she didn't really want to leave. She shook the feeling away and headed back to the locker room.
"Hey!" Cal shouted after her.
Mich spun around. "What do you need?" The words didn't come out as sharply as she wanted them to.
The white and red Freelancer was hurrying after her, lavender helmet in his hands. "You forgetting something?"
She let him catch up to her, looking at the drying blood on her helmet's visor in distaste. Cal held it out to her expectantly. Mich took it gingerly, not wanting to smear any of the mess on the rest of her armour. She held it up to him in a kind of toast. "Thanks."
He dipped his chin. "I figured you'd be needing it in the near future."
Mich wrinkled her nose at the faceplate. "This isn't going to be fun to clean off," she muttered.
Cal shrugged. "You could always try the shower," he suggested.
"The shower?" She threw him a look.
"Unless you'd rather lick it off."
"Stop. Just stop right there. Not funny," said Mich, holding up a hand. "That's enough."
He didn't make any further comment. Instead, Cal continued to stride down the corridor in the direction of the locker rooms like he owned the ship. Mich had to jog to keep up with him; his legs were nearly a foot longer than hers.
In no time at all, the two agents were inside the shower, fully armoured except for helmets. Mich held hers awkwardly under the first shower head.
"If this stunt makes my armour rust," he said with a hint of a smile, "I'm blaming you."
She glared at him, incredulous. "Blame me? This was all because you coughed on me, California, if you have forgotten already."
He spread his hands in a peaceful gesture. "You let Maine pummel me," he countered.
"You jumped in without me."
Cal, for once, didn't have a cheeky comeback. He shifted his weight for a moment. "We going to do this, or what?"
Mich winced. "Okay, there! You made it weird again!"
He punched the on switch of the shower in reply. A cold spray hissed out, catching Mich full in the face. She protested loudly.
"You moron! Not on me," she yelped, shielding her face with a hand.
He adjusted the shower head to angle at the bloody visor rather than her face. "So sorry, didn't mean to."
Mich didn't think he sounded sorry at all. She scrubbed the mess off her faceplate quickly, formulating a plan. As soon as it was clean, she lunged for the head, dropping her helmet. She pointed it straight into the shocked features of Cal.
He sputtered with indignation for a second before grabbing Mich's hand wrapped around the shower head. He pushed to reorient it once again, full on at her. They struggled for a while against one another, trying to soak the other agent. Mich gave up, allowing Cal to thoroughly douse her. She cut off the water before FILSS could chirp online and do it for them.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked with a grin.
Blonde hair hung in dripping strands around Mich's face, twisting free of her low ponytail. She swept them away and did her best to look angry. It was hard, Cal arranged his face into a wicked smirk.
"You don't want me to answer that," she growled. "I'm definitely blaming you for any rust, though."
"Make all the threats you like, Michigan," he laughed. "You had fun."
"I had a shower," she corrected haughtily. "There is a difference."
Cal rolled his eyes. "Showers are normally taken wearing substantially less than you have on."
Mich opened her mouth to deliver a harsh reply. And then closed it again, face turning hot. She felt her brain freeze up, refusing to offer her a remark.
"What on god's green Earth are you two doing in the shower?"
Mich and Cal whirled at once, taken by surprise by Sota. "Nothing," they barked in unison.
Sota raised a disbelieving eyebrow at that. "Really...?"
Mich pushed past the two of them to get ready for supper. Now her face really was burning.
