(A/N) Hey guys, time for our latest update, and this one is a Minnesota chapter! I assume you're all watching the new RvB episode at the moment, and, if not, then what are you doing?! Get your asses over to the RT website and watch that thing! Of course, then come back and read this chapter. Maybe reread the whole fic if you have the time. Just a suggestion. ;)

As always, enjoy!


Chapter Sixty-Seven – Truce

Agent Minnesota

Written by XxXshadowkitsuXxX


"If one's friends do not openly laugh at him, they are not in fact his friends. "― Dean Koontz, Forever Odd


My body begged for rest. I refused to let it. That fight had been stupid and pointless. The Director should have known that either Penn or Carolina would have won so why make the rest of us fight? The whole thing was ridiculous like that leaderboard. I gave it a quick glance as I lashed out at the hand-to-hand simulation. Nothing in this place makes any sense.

"You show a six-"

"Run it again F.I.L.S.S." I called out to the A.I.

"Agent Minnesota, it has been a while since you have taken a break. Are you sure-"

"I said run it again," I said, irritation slowly creeping into my voice.

The simulation started up again and I forced my body back to work. I knew that the all-out fighting exercise was a suicide mission, but like any other suicide mission I put every ounce of determination into it. There was no real point to it. Why make all the rookies and 'firsts' fight each other? Maybe if they had been on teams it would have made sense, but they were told to pretty much beat each other senseless.

The lights all turned red and I waited a moment to catch my breath. My gaze drifted back up to the leaderboard. It looked down on me like it knew something I didn't. The bottom of the board, that's where I was. It was ridiculous. I can take on all these other rookies easily. The 'firsts' would be a challenge though, at least some of them. I just learned that first hand. I turned away from its hypnotic glow before I filled it full of bullets. I shouldn't feel this way towards a stupid list, but I do. It's the curse of the board as Cal likes to call it. It's not the board that's driving me like this. It's someone else, someone more important to me than the Director. I will keep going until I prove him wrong.

"Start it again F.I.L.S.S.," I said.

"Agent Minnesota, you have shown a three per cent decrease in efficiency. Maybe you should take a break before starting again," the A.I. responded.

"I'm fine just start it up again," I growled.

"Hey don't take it out on the lady, she's just trying to help."

"Thank you, Agent California," the A.I. chimed.

The simulation came on and I ignored him. As I danced in my circle of spinning targets, I noticed he had brought Michigan with him.

"Aren't you going to stop my training like you usually do?" I questioned.

"No, just watching."

I continued for a few more rounds until my legs nearly gave out on me. Refusing to give in, I attacked the few remaining targets. My body finally refused to listen and I collapsed to my knees in exhaustion.

"That's enough, F.I.L.S.S.," Cal said as he and Mich stood over me.

They sat down next to me while I caught my breath.

"What are guys doing here, anyway? Don't you have better things to do than watch me workout?" I asked.

"I saw some crates being hauled off a pelican that looked a little suspicious. When I asked about them, no one would tell me anything. Then I ran into Cal on his way here and thought you two might know something," Mich explained.

"Sorry, not a clue," I said as I forced myself to my feet.

Cal immediately stood up. "You better not be getting ready for another round. You'll hurt yourself."

I ignored him. "Why do you care? It's my training."

"Because you my friend. I just don't see why you're pushing yourself like this. I told you the leaderboard isn't worth it," he reasoned.

"I'm not doing this because of the leaderboard. It's more of a personal reason." I tried to get him to leave it alone.

"Like what, losing a few pounds? I can totally see that then." He joked while Mich laughed next to him.

"No," I growled. "Just leave it alone. I don't want to talk about."

"You don't ever want to talk about anything. Come on, I promise we won't tell anyone," he pleaded.

I thought for a moment. No, he should just mind his own business. But still, maybe it might help to talk it out to them. I know Cal wouldn't say anything, but what about Mich. I still didn't trust her very much. She has trusted me on every mission we've been on so far, so maybe I could trust her with this. I took off my helmet and sighed.

"It because of my family."

They both seemed genuinely surprised about what I said. I knew they would be. Their attention was focused solely on me so I continued to explain.

"Mainly my dad and sister, mom left us when we were little. He thinks dirt has more uses than I do while she thinks I'm the greatest person ever. I push myself to make sure he's wrong. That's why I hate losing. I refuse to let that go."

Cal stood there for a moment stunned before speaking. "Your old man sounds like a dick."

"He refused to see me off when I joined the UNSC, said it was a waste of his time."

"You shouldn't let him get under skin like this. Who cares what he thinks?" Mich said.

"You two wouldn't understand. Growing up, nothing was good enough for him. He constantly yelled at us and I took most of the damage to protect me sister. No matter how well we did, that ass would find something to yell at us for," I ranted. "I want to prove him wrong, but I can't seem to do anything here."

Cal put his hand on my shoulder, I could feel another pep talk coming.

"Look Sota, this isn't going to prove anything. From what it sounds like, nothing will change his mind."

"Are you telling me to give up?" I shoved his hand off of me and faced him.

"No, that's not what I meant. He's the problem, not you. He should be the one trying to get better at things." He looked pissed for some reason.

I got in his face. "You wouldn't understand. You don't know what it's like to push yourself everyday just to get thrown down after all your hard work. That everything you do means nothing no matter how good you are at it, but you keep going hoping that maybe someone will recognize your talents. I thought the Director saw that in me, but I guess I was wrong."

"Well okay then, if one guy doesn't think you're God's gift to humanity, then maybe the apocalypse is on us now! One guy doesn't approve of you, so what? You're still here and where is he! You think you know real suffering? Mate, what I've been through makes your father look like parent of the fucking year! Where were you before you joined up? Successful? Doing well? Well guess where I was, go on! Oh yeah, I was discharged from the military, preparing to kill myself! So don't you talk to me about suffering ever so much!" He yelled.

This reaction surprised both me and Mich. My anger faltered for a moment before coming back full force.

"Successful?! You call having every squad member abandoning me during a mission successful? You think I got through being hunted down by enemies without a scratch? I push myself because if I don't, when shit hits the fan I won't be ready. I've have to do almost everything by myself since no one has ever had my back! I train so I don't fall behind!"

"And yet, you're still at the bottom of the leaderboard," The second he finished that last word I punched him.

"I'm stronger than you and don't tell me otherwise. The only reason I'm not higher up is because the Director won't send me on a real mission," I retorted.

"You keep telling yourself that," Cal said as I started to walk away.

I left before I did something stupid. Every instinct in me said to pummel him into the training floor. My head began to hurt as more thoughts wormed their way into my mind. I tried to think of something else before I decided to act on them. Those crates Mich talked about sounded interesting. Making my way to the hanger, I found 343-R checking in several large crates.

Time to try the oldest trick in the book. "So what's in the crates?"

"Sorry, classified. Probably super cool spy stuff. Maybe it's those custom parts I ordered for my ship. Georgia's not gonna touch those babies," he answered.

"So you don't know what's in them?"

"Probably something special the Director wanted. I still hope it's those parts," the pilot continued.

"Why's that?"

"Well," he leaned a little closer and whispered. "when I say 'custom' it's really more of 'not Director approved' parts if you know what I mean."

"I hope they get here soon then."

"Yeah, once they do this baby will be able to do all kinds of new stuff." He started going on about different parts and what they would do.

Slowly losing interested, I left the chattering pilot to himself. There's only so much rambling I can take in at one time. Passing through a hall, I spotted Alaska having another conversation with the wall. How do he and Penn work so well when they're on missions? The two are almost always at each other's throats. Then there was York and North, who were the exact opposite. Neither would hurt a fly unless it was part of the mission. Not to mention Wyoming and Florida, if I hadn't seen it myself I'd never have believed it.

It made me think of my own little group. I pushed aside the dwindling anger before it got the best of me. Cal and Mich are just trying to look out for me, and they're the only ones to even try and be friends with me. It's nice to have people to count on during a mission. We hadn't been on many missions together, but we'd come to trust one another with our lives on the field. Trust, there it was again. I know what they were trying to tell me, but it's not that simple. It's something I've always done, I'd give up my sniper rifle before that would change.

I somehow managed to find the cafeteria. Grabbing some bottled water, I found an isolated table and continued my mental wanderings. Before I could even start, Cal showed up and sat across from me, Mich watching from a corner. She probably thought we'd start something again. We sat uncomfortably in silence for a minute before he spoke up.

"Sorry about earlier. I kinda lost my cool."

I refused to respond to him, instead my attention focused onto the water in my hands.

He rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "I said some things that I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

I glanced up at him. He looked uncomfortable and miserable. Spite kept me from answering.

"Say something, man. I feel bad about what happened and I don't want to lose our friendship because of something this stupid." He pleaded almost.

Almost every part of me wanted him to feel like this, for him to suffer for making fun of me, for saying he was better. Instead, I listened to the part that didn't speak up much. The part of me that felt the same as him.

"I'm sorry too. It wasn't entirely your fault," I said.

A smile crept onto his face. "Yeah, I guess we both have to work on our tempers a little, or at least save it for someone else."

"I like that second part better," I chuckled.

He held out his hand. "Truce?"

"Truce., I answered as I shook his hand.