(A/N) Hey guys, time for an important update in Phase One: Genesis, not only because it was written by the fantastic Lili-Hunter, but because it's our 100th chapter (yes, I know it's called Chapter Ninety-Nine, but we had a prologue, remember?) and this, I believe is definitely a cause for celebration. It seems like only yesterday that I put out a short post looking for writers willing to take part in a collaboration, and look at where we are now! I can only promise that the remaining chapters will be just as awesome, and that the sequel will be twice as incredible as this one has been.
Also, would like to announce that we're no longer taking Carolina apps, and have accepted RocketTortoise as ParabolaOfMystery's replacement, so watch out for his chapters in the future! He's got a lot to live up too, and big boots to fill, but anyone familiar with his fic Red vs Blue: Dissent will know that he's fully up to the job! :D
Enjoy!
Chapter Ninety-Nine - Dogs of War
Agent South Dakota
Written by Lili-Hunter
"Cry 'Havoc' and let slip the dogs of war." – William Shakespeare, 'Julius Caesar.
Agent South Dakota stretched upwards, pushing away the metal harness that kept her trapped safely in her seat. A moment later and she was freed, turning slightly to face the back of the Pelican. South reached above her seat, pulling her weapons free and straightening her back as she surveyed what little could be seen from the open door of the airship.
Little land now surrounded the Insurrectionist base that had not already been transformed into a defensive structure of some kind by the rebels. Blockades and turrets littered the ground, the characteristic green and tan armour of those manning them marking the soldiers as Insurrectionists.
Now, as the Pelican dipped lower, South could see the UNSC mounting an offense, furiously assaulting the Innies' defences, hammering home blow after blow. The Project Freelancer soldiers had replenished their ranks a few hours previously - but now, the Freelancers were planning to do much, much more.
On top of the low hill, a large, ugly, concrete and metal bunker surveyed the on-going battle. Somewhere inside, Lieutenant Ian Harper lurked. And Agent South Dakota fully intended on being the one to put the bullet through his head. Of course, she might have some competition there, but opposition had never prevented her from getting what she wanted.
Without warning, the Pelican swerved to the side, tipping onto its left wing. Something thick and metal whistled past, falling back to earth after having missed its target. Inside the cockpit, the pilot cursed. "I guess we're going in hot!" she yelled over the radio, and South felt the ever familiar pang of flight-sickness as the Pelican lurched again.
Before they had time to register her words - or re-buckle themselves in - the Pelican dropped. South's hand immediately reached out, searching for something to help keep her steady. It closed around Massa's arm, and she turned to help the purple and green Freelancer. South snatched her hand back quickly. She didn't need anyone's help.
The airship banked, dove, then shot back up again. Her balance wavered yet again, and South only just barely remained standing. She'd never been too good at the whole 'keep-upright-while-the-pilot-performs-evasive-pro cedures' thing.
"Get ready to jump!" Carolina shouted, pulling her weapons free, exuding that air of confidence and leadership that was just so typical of her.
South imitated her, feeling the reassuring weight of her battle rifle in her hands as the pilot responded with a countdown. "Three, two, one - now get your asses outta here!"
The Pelican's flight leveled out for the duration of a heartbeat. The Freelancers threw themselves forward, tumbling gracefully into empty space. It was a short dive, and South bent her knees as she landed, absorbing the impact easily.
She knew that the upcoming battle would be hard. It would be long, bloody, and vicious.
South grinned - a feral, sharp grin that exposed all of her teeth. Personally, she couldn't wait.
Punch, kick, hit, pull. South had not been wrong, before: the battle for the bunker was just as vicious and brutal as she had expected it to be. One thing that she had gotten wrong, however, was its monotony. The Insurrectionists were unending.
South hooked her foot behind an Insurrectionist's knee and yanked, pulling him or her off balance. Her hand swung up automatically as the soldier faltered, burying a bullet in their skull as they faltered. She let the body drop to one side, already focused on her next target.
This one was lower in rank, as evidenced by the lack of a red insignia. South put them down almost too easily, dodging their clumsy attempts at shooting her, and responding with a bullet through the chest.
South danced backwards, reloading her pistol. Her armour smacked into someone else's, and a bolt of shock – not fear, definitely not fear – spiked through her. South twirled, raising her weapon and firing on impulse. A white and red shape faded out of sight. Her bullets tore through the blurred lines, only to smash through the frontal lobe of an Insurrectionist soldier.
The white and red shape came entirely into view, solidifying right before her eyes. South realized, belatedly, that it was California. Jesus, she thought. If his judgment had been so much as a moment off, South could have easily taken his head off.
"Thanks," Cal grunted, seemingly unfazed with the whole coming-an-inch-close-to-death thing.
She chose not to respond, swallowing a sharp, 'What the fuck, Cal?!' and turning to face the unending sea of Insurrectionists.
Their little group had, somehow, been separated from the other Freelancers. North, Cal, Mich, and Ark were by her side, and all five of them were attempting to force the Insurrectionists surrounding them towards the northeast corner – where the other Freelancers were waiting, and the Innies would be crushed between the two forces.
South threw herself forward. Her heel crashed into the arch of an opponent's foot as a crunch sounded, and he stumbled with a pained cry. She followed instantly with a fist that caught him squarely beneath his chin, snapping his head back.
Adrenaline raced through her like wildfire. Her heart beat so fast, it seemed to leap out of her chest. As his chin dropped, South grabbed him by the lip of his helmet, and head-butted him so hard she almost saw stars. South snarled as she whirled, shoving him with her back foot, with such force that he flew backwards. She drew her magnum smoothly from her hip, firing at the Insurrectionist before he could recover.
Another soldier made his presence known directly behind her; South stepped sideways, jabbing her elbow into his throat. Her left fist followed instantly, smashing her knuckles into his groin. The enemy doubled over with a muffled yelp, and South gripped the sides of his helmet with fierce intensity. She yanked him forwards, her knee rising.
His nose crunched beneath her bent limb, rich scarlet flowing in streams down his face. The Innie stumbled to the ground, and for a slow moment, he turned his face upwards to look at her. His lips parted, in what may have become a plea, or surrender.
South wrapped her hands around him, one finding its place on his chin, and the other cupping the back of his neck. The soldier's eyes closed, and South twisted them viciously.
The soldier dropped, unmoving, to the ground. Was he dead? Had she snapped his neck? South didn't know. She didn't care.
A bullet whistled past her ear, and South twisted out of the way. The Insurrectionist's body thumped to the ground, forgotten.
There was almost no room to maneuver herself. South stepped forward smoothly, jabbing the hard edge of her palm into the soldier's throat. His hands came up automatically, reaching for his bruised windpipe. It was always easy to prey upon their instincts. South grunted as she swept her body in a smooth circle, lifting her right leg to slam into his gut. The Innie stumbled with an "Oof!", and she finished him off with a blast from her pistol.
But for every one that she felled, two more were ready to take its place. Literally. South lifted her gaze, and the two soldiers cracked their knuckles menacingly.
One lashed out immediately. South threw herself backwards, squeezing the trigger in an automatic response. But his shoulder jerked at a sudden impact, and she knew that she had missed his heart.
The second one followed its partner's lead. A grey fist flickered towards her helmet. South brought her fist up and fired – but too late.
The firearm was knocked out of her grip. South gasped angrily. But, she was not so easily taken care of. Her knee shot up, hoping to catch the soldier by surprise. He dodged it effortlessly.
The first one lumbered forward, and South backed away, faced with double the threat. Oh my God. She couldn't do this. She wasn't like Carolina. Without time to draw her weapon, South was powerless.
Huh. Powerless.
Instantly, every cell of her body rebelled against the word. No. She flinched, automatically, against the label. South wasn't powerless. She was strong; she was a soldier. She was a Freelancer.
South wasn't powerless. Perhaps, a long time ago… she had been. But not anymore. Not ever again.
South whirled, gaining momentum to crash her fist into the first one's jaw. He reeled, stumbling backwards, hands flying automatically to his face. His partner shoved past him, ready to take her on.
She landed two hits to his stomach before the Insurrectionist responded, slamming a disorientating right-hook to her temple. South fell back, one hand clutching at her head. He leapt hungrily after her.
South lashed out, kicking at his lower stomach to keep him at bay. Her hands dropped back into ready fists.
They landed, one after the other, on his collarbone. The Innie recoiled with a snarl, and she danced backwards. But now, the first one had gotten up, doubling the threat. Despite the challenge, South smirked.
Did they really think they could take her?
She met the first fist with her palm, closing her fingers around his wrist a split second later. Thinking she was momentarily defenseless, the second Innie kicked at her knee, just as South moved. Her left hand grabbed the back of her opponent's helmet, shoving it towards her as she twisted his wrist and yanked. Her body twisted, forcing the Insurrectionist to his knees – and into his companion's direct path.
The foot connected, with bone-crunching force, to his vulnerable neck. A sickening snap! sounded, and South shoved the body to one side.
If the Insurrectionist was fazed by just having brutally murdered his ally, he didn't show it. His fist crashed into the underside of South's helmet a moment later, snapping her head back. Her teeth clicked together, biting down harshly on her tongue. She tasted blood.
He followed as she stumbled, aiming another hit towards her chest. But this time South was ready, and she ducked out of the way. His fist sailed harmlessly past her ear.
South returned with a snap-kick aimed between his legs. The Insurrectionist groaned squeakily, doubling over in pain. His exposed chin offered too tempting of a target – she curled her fist and lashed out, hearing the satisfying crack as it dislocated his jaw.
The Freelancer whirled, letting her momentum build. As her attacker spun back into view, South kicked out, flat-footed, towards his knee. The blow connected, and his leg bent backwards at an unnatural angle. Her lips parted as she gasped for breath, her heart thundering in her chest as she watched him falter.
Almost completely doubled over, the Innie was practically helpless. South gripped the side of his helmet and yanked it downwards, shoving his dislocated jaw onto her unyielding knee. A guttural scream was the only sound that followed, blood now flying from his lips.
He was completely at her mercy, and South was reveling in every minute of it.
But the waves of soldiers were endless, and South had work to do. She slammed her foot into his stomach, forcing the soldier onto the ground. He watched her weakly, perhaps knowing that it was the end. His eyes were near-blinded by pain, and there was nothing he could do to save himself. South didn't hesitate, raising her foot and slamming it into his vulnerable neck with savage strength. There was a satisfying crunch, and the life drained from his eyes.
A thread of thrilled pride tugged at her chest, and South smirked. And then she turned; ready to take on the next attacker.
But instead of an Insurrectionist, South saw her brother. North stared at her, his expression unreadable. She resisted the urge to turn around and look at the broken, mangled corpses behind her. "South?" he asked, hesitatingly.
"What?" she snapped, all of a sudden unreasonably angry.
After a long moment of silence, the female twin turned away. North was wasting time, especially as there were still rebels to be put down. Not to mention, Ian Harper still had to be found.
The twins didn't speak of it again.
South squeezed down on the trigger, letting loose a spray of bullets from her battle rifle. A few Insurrectionists fell under the fire – not many, but enough to put a severe dent in their opposition.
South ducked behind a barricade, reloading as fast as she could. To her right, Mich was doing the same while North, Virginia, Cal, and a few UNSC soldiers did their best to finish off the soldiers. Before them, Insurrectionists swarmed over the east side of the bunker, and it was their job to put them down.
South bent one knee, poking her head around the side of the barricade. She took aim at a clump of soldiers, and sent a spray of bullets in their direction. A few of them jerked, falling in ungraceful piles to the ground, and she knew that they'd been hit. In answer, bullets spat into the dirt around South, and she retreated quickly. Damn it! They'd responded quicker than she'd thought.
"South, move!" Mich yelled, shoving the Freelancer to one side. South fell back, opening her mouth to ask the lavender woman just what the hell was she doing, when another form broke free of the Freelancer. Identical in every way, the second lavender Freelancer sprinted towards the Insurrectionists and slightly to the right, drawing their fire. Bullets tore through the hologram, appearing on the other side and digging into the barricades.
"Go, go, go!" Virginia yelled. As South glanced towards her, the Freelancer blurred out of sight. Her form flickered, barely noticeable, as she sprinted towards the next cover. Next to Mich, Cal activated his Phase Shifter and did the same.
Mich, North and South followed after them as quickly as they could. None of them had the advantage of invisibility, or of being momentarily invulnerable, so they were forced to go slower.
Suddenly, North grabbed both her and Mich by their armour and dragged them behind a barricade. The Insurrectionists had seen them, and turrets slammed heavy rounds into the ground around them. They were protected for the moment, but only just.
But that wasn't why North had grabbed them. South raised herself fractionally, turning her head to glance over the edge of the barricade. Her gaze zeroed in on exactly what had caused North to become so abruptly protective. Finally.
"He's here," her twin said hurriedly. "We can't get at him now, so we're going to have to-"
"CAL!" The scream tore from Michigan's throat, cutting her brother off. South flinched at the loud cry. Mich scrambled, trying to gain a better glimpse of whatever had caused the panicked yell. North put a hand on her shoulder, holding her back.
"Mich-" he began. South tuned him out, and instead copied the lavender Freelancer, twisting to the side to gain a better view.
A single man stood in the swarm of Innies. He was obvious, only in that he was a rock amongst their rapids, staying completely still while they surged around him. South would have taken him for a brain-dead idiot - he was standing still, in the middle of a battle for God's sake - if she hadn't recognized him immediately. Tall, strong, tanned - exactly what Carolina had once described as the "poster boy" of the Insurrection. Tousled blond hair was swept above bright, unflinching green eyes. South almost thought she could see the insanity dancing behind his black pupils. But that wasn't the worst part: ahead of them, breaking cover and sprinting in a blur of white and red armour, was California. Running straight into the arms of the enemy – Lieutenant Ian Harper, himself.
"Oh, shit," she breathed, tensing up, unable to look away.
