(A/N) Hey guys, time for your latest dose of Project Freelancer, coming to you, this week, from the mind of Ayane458, and the eyes of Agent Massachusetts, as we explore the results of the events of late, and how they've changed the group dynamic onboard the Mother of Invention.

Letting you all know that there's only a week left to apply if you want to join our team of writers for Grifball: Running Rampant, so if you're interested, it's time to get moving.

With that, I'll let you be. Enjoy!


Chapter Eighty – The Aftermath

Agent Massachusetts

Ayane458


"The strength of the team is each individual member. The strength of each member is the team." ― Phil Jackson


Massa sat herself down with a nice cool bottle of water. The pilots' stash of beer had tempted her (she could pay them back, somehow) but the thought of having her senses and mind dulled, of being caught by surprise, unable to properly defend herself… well, the water had looked even better once those happy thoughts had taken root.

This rec room belonged to the pilots, and was largely empty at the moment. Massa and a few other Freelancers had been granted entrance by currying the pilots' favour, ensuring they were polite, respectful and appropriately impressed when the occasion called for it. The room itself was fairly small, but the tables, chairs and makeshift bar had made it feel more cosy than stifling. It also had a large, thick window that looked out to the stars, one of the few that remained after the Covenant attack. Massa had always been a bit jealous of it. It always seemed that the Director made sure that the Freelancers were never given any such luxury or comfort, always forcing them to be disciplined and controlled. Given recent events, Massa entirely understood the reasoning behind this. She couldn't entirely dismiss a bit of resentment, though.

Trying to push aside these thoughts (it's never a good thing to hate your CO, remember) Massa focused on the stars outside and realised she'd seen more of the universe in these few months than she'd seen in her entire life. She'd been to Reach at around eight for some medal ceremony that her parents were involved in, and she'd gone with her dad to some resort planet a few years back, while she'd still been at uni. It had been right after her brother went MIA. It had more or less been a sorry gift from the UNSC: sorry, brave former ODST, for having to lose your son as well as your wife. Now that she thought about it, maybe her dad really did hate to have her here. She'd always assumed she'd be expected to carry on the military tradition. Yet, he'd lost half his family in the UNSC and permanently damaged his right leg in combat. If she didn't come home, what would he have left? A distant cousin living on a far-off colony?

Massa swallowed down the lump in her throat with some water. There was no point in thinking like that because the answer to the problem was simple. She'd come home.

Looking for something to distract herself with, she looked at the few people who she shared the room with. Four-Seven-Niner was there, but she was the only one Massa recognised. Strange, because Massa was certain she'd met all of the pilots before at some point.

Oh. The other three were new, replacements brought in after so many were lost during the Covenant attack. Massa would welcome them later, but right now she needed to be away from any reminders of what had happened.

Massa sighed, finished her water and left the room, snatching up her helmet as she went. Wandering the halls to see what she could see may leave her open to similar disturbing trains of thought, but at least she'd be doing something.

She stopped in her tracks as a dead end that hadn't been there before appeared in front of her; an area of the ship now locked off, in need of repairs. Massa turned back quickly.

She passed South Dakota, who could barely contain a smile upon seeing her. It wasn't a friendly one. She walked by trying (but not very hard) to contain a snicker, and Massa sighed as she realised the cause: South saw Massa as someone who she had beaten, a senior who she'd surpassed. All because of South's place on the board.

Massa frowned, wondering what South's reaction would be if anyone were to overtake her. Given her seemingly competitive nature, it was a real worry. South might berate and punish herself for failure like Carolina did, harming her performance even more which would only lead to her hurting herself more… or she might go after the perceived threat. Considering what she knew of the other Freelancer, the latter was more likely. Massa bit her lip. All that silly leaderboard had done so far was promote strife among the freelancers. Why the hell had the Director put it up? Acknowledging skill and talent was always a good thing, but doing so at the expense of others only ever brought…

Why are you evenhere? You sure as hell aren't cut out for the army, kid.

I… I just want to help…

How? Look at you, rich boy. Ever killed something before? I made my first kill when I was half your age. Big bull, coming right at me.

Come off it, you did not. I know where you're from, Lance. You grew up on a damn banana plantation, not a cattle ranch.

Medic, hush. My point still stands.

Not really.

Massa shook her head, exasperated at the memory. If her thoughts would go to what happened for the weeks after, her reaction would certainly be angrier. Exactly three months and five days after 'rich boy' had joined their squad, those memories brought only hatred. And the bloody sergeant hadn't even done anything…

Massa had found herself at eleventh out of 16, a place she thought respectable. She doubted many others agreed, seeing as she was the lowest of the original agents, except for…

Alaska.

Massa stopped and leaned against a wall, feeling suddenly ill. Alaska and Massa hadn't been the best of friends. She'd thought him strange, and he'd… well, she didn't think he thought much of her at all. But you know what? She'd liked him. She'd grown to consider him a friend, a real one, not just someone she'd been thrown together with because of this project. She remember him wishing her good luck as she'd left to complete her first test here, how he'd calmly bantered with her when they'd been captured. Now she didn't even know where he was.

"Hey?" a voice began hesitantly. Massa took her hands away from her eyes and looked up to find Arkansas warily gazing down at her. "You… okay?"

Massa suddenly realised that she'd been leaning against the wall, motionless, for about a minute. She hoped no one else had seen that.

"Yeah," she nodded, smiling lightly, reassuringly. "Just thinking."

Ark frowned, clearly seeing right through her attempt at light-heartedness and wondering whether he should pursue it. Massa hoped that he would not, but was glad for his concern. She understood he and Cal had had an… altercation at some point, and had been worried that he would exhibit similar violent tendencies to other freelancers or crew. Knowing that he was capable of caring calmed that fear down a bit.

In the end, he nodded and took a step back. Massa trailed her eyes over him briefly as she pushed off the wall, checking to see how badly he'd been injured in the battle. She didn't see much to worry about –a few bruises, much like her. He'd been thrown against the wall, she recalled.

"Maybe you should get some sleep," he suggested. Ark was being quite tentative, seeming unsure of the words as he said them. Massa grinned at him for trying.

"Too early for that," she shrugged the suggestion off, but tried to make it clear that she was grateful for his concern. "I'd wake up at some silly time like 3am. Much better to get my sleep back into a somewhat regular pattern." Massa let her smile drop a little bit. "How are you holding up?"

Ark considered it for a moment. "I'm holding up," he replied, and then walked off. Massa rolled her eyes before continuing down the corridor. She was certain there was a time when she'd have pursued such an answer. Now she just accepted that the grand majority of freelancers had issues and had learned to deal with them in their own way. She trusted Ark to know his limits.

She'd wandered into the training area without really noticing, and took the time to peek through a few of the windows and see who was doing what. Anything to distract her from the incessant downward spiral of her thoughts. Maybe she should have broken into the pilots' stash of liqueur.

Carolina was taking York through a few hand-to-hand exercises. Massa nodded in approval that they were using the time that their love demanded they spend together in a practical way.

Mich and Florida seemed to be testing out and discussing the merits of various large weapons. Massa was grateful for Florida's presence. She had been concerned that the largely quiet girl would have trouble finding someone to talk to.

The next room down didn't have a closed door, and the sounds of yelling and a few loud bangs echoed out into the hallway. Looking in, Massa found Georgia and North, Georgia hobbling after North, chasing him around with his armour enhancement, trying to get his shield to go turbo, despite the Director's warning's against using their enhancements. Upon further inspection, she saw that Cal was also in the room loading up a paint rifle.

Massa stood in the doorway and watched for a bit. F.I.L.S.S. would occasionally remind the boys that a lot of the equipment they were messing around with was extremely expensive and to please be careful, and Georgia did lay off after she chimed in… for about five seconds, before redoubling his efforts.

North's dodging slammed to a halt as Cal fired, paint rounds hitting right next to North. This allowed Georgia to catch up to him and grab his arm, North activating his shield and Georgia's enhancement pushing it into overdrive.

"Continual use will likely damage both Agents' armour enhancements, even with regulation from the command server," F.I.L.S.S. warned. North from within his shield seemed a bit uncomfortable with this, but Massa could barely see through the hazy bubble and in any case Cal kept shooting and Georgia kept… overdriving.

"Agent Massachusetts, I would like to request that you intervene," FILSS continued, sounding a little affronted that the men (boys) hadn't listened to her complaint.

Georgia was apparently quite surprised with the revelation that Massa was present, leading him to jump apart from North as North attempted to shut down his shield. The bubble popped out of existence around them, but Cal was still firing, and in the end two Freelancers were on the ground covered in pink.

"Oh, shit!" Cal yelled through laughter. "F.I.L.S.S.? F.I.L.S.S., get a medic down here, will ya?"

"Seeing as you elected not to declare a training match, medics are not on hand at this time," F.I.L.S.S. said. While her voice remained as cheery as always, Massa couldn't help but think she was still feeling slighted at being ignored.

Massa considered leaving the three of them there –North and Georgia stuck to the floor, immobile and moaning, as Cal scurried around them freaking out –before deciding that they'd learnt their lesson.

Massa strode in, mostly unnoticed by Cal, who was attempting to drag Georgia out of his pink trap. Crouching next to the table that carried an assortment of simulation weapons, she slid open an easily missed cabinet and pulled out a few sprays. Satisfied, she shut the cabinet and made her way over to the boys.

Cal finally spotted her, and moved towards her immediately.

"Will you call a medic?" he begged. Massa dismissed him with a frown and a wave.

"I am a medic, idiot," she muttered, setting herself down between North and Georgia. They'd fallen so that it appeared they were holding hands. Now that Massa seemed to have the situation under control, Cal was loving that.

"Oh, I wonder what South will think –you're breaking hearts here, North, didn't you see the way weapons-bridge-girl was looking at you?" and so on and so forth.

Massa pointedly ignored him, instead using the small spray bottles she'd grabbed to dissolve the paint on Georgia and North and that on the floor surrounding them. She wasn't entirely sure what it was called exactly, nor what is was made of, as her introduction to it had occurred on her specific medics' orientation of the ship, where they showed where extra paint dissolver was stashed in a pinch.

As the paint finally disappeared and freed the two men, Georgia leaped to his feet, nearly knocking Massa over, and ripped off his helmet, taking several deep breaths. Once he settled down, he grinned maniacally. "Well, myenhancement works like a charm! Hey, North, reckon I could take a little look at yours? I bet I could make it more durable to mine, and–"

"No," North spat, sounding horrified at the very idea. He sat up, helmet off and rubbed his presumably aching head. Massa put a hand on his shoulder, concerned, and was relieved at the small smile he gave her in return. She looked back at Georgia to find a polite hand extended to help her to her feet.

"Thanks for that, ma'am," he said as she let him help her up. Massa was somewhat surprised at the display of manners, but that was the Freelancers for you, she decided. Everyone had some little surprise waiting.

"I hope you learned a lesson from that," she said, addressing them all. "Preferably one about following protocol and declaring a training session even if you are just dicking around. Also, one about not dicking around with the highly sensitive equipment."

"Or about closing the door so no one can surprise us and not putting a shield down while someone's firing at ya," Cal huffed, eyes narrowed good-naturedly at North and Massa.

North shrugged helplessly while Massa prepared some sort of comeback, when F.I.L.S.S.'s voice rang through the training centre.

"All freelancers are to report to the briefing room immediately," she declared. The four freelancers glanced between each other before obeying.

As she entered the briefing room, Massa left the other three to their own devices and walked to Virginia's side. She noted the Director and Counselor at the front of the room, away from the assembled Freelancers, as Carolina hovered close behind. Massa looked around to ensure all freelancers were present before focusing on Virginia.

"Do you know what's going on?" she asked in a hushed tone. Virginia shook her head, eyes quickly glancing from the Director's back to meet Massa's.

"He hasn't said anything since we got here," Virginia murmured quietly. "He and the Counselor just keep talking."

Massa nodded, looking back to the front of the room to the console where their leaders stood. All three of them, Massa thought suddenly as Carolina hesitantly approached the two men.

"He's found him," Penn said. Massa jumped damn near out of her skin, while Virginia just turned, eyes narrowing in confusion.

Instead of flying through a lecture on how rude it was to sneak up on someone, Massa forced herself to ask, "Found who?"

"Harper. The Insurrectionist Lieutenant."