(A/N) Hey guys, NicKenny here coming to you with an early Christmas present for you all! Here is our latest chapter for Phase Two: Betrayal, brought to you by Jerem6401, when Penn finally learns to embrace the Christmas spirit and give up his old, sociopathic ways.

Only not really.

Also, just a reminder that anyone who intends on applying for a character in this fic has just over a week to do so, so it's really time to get your asses in gear, y'all. Again, apps close on January 1st. So seriously, if you're interested, get a move on! With that, I'm going to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

Enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen – Any Questions?

Pennsylvania

Written by Jerem6401

"Leadership is the art of getting someone else to do something you want done because he wants to do it." – Dwight D. Eisenhower

It's amazing, sometimes, how you can be somewhere so different, and feel like nothing has changed.

At least that's how it felt sitting on that bench, anticipated the start of my training session. It may have been my first mission alongside the Crimson Sun, but my nerves were already deadened by my experience in Project Freelancer. There was no anxiety, no fear… and at this point, I didn't even bother coming up with a strategy. But there was something I was feeling. Something I didn't expect. There was an emptiness, that feeling that overcomes someone when they achieve their life goal. The knowledge that something that once consumed your mind is now something that never has to snake its way into your consciousness again. This training session was supposed to prove to our unit that I was more than capable of leading them, but to me… it felt like it had no purpose.

Without my name glowing in bright blue letters above everyone's head, it felt like I was no one.

"Pennsylvania," the computer spoke out, "report to the training floor immediately." Funny how I was still called 'Pennsylvania'. I had the option to go back. Back to my real name. As far as I'm concerned, there's only two times in my life I want to be known by that name. One had already passed. A time before the war. The next… would only be when my eyes had shut for good. I pushed myself to my feet and made my way towards the training floor entrance. This was fixing to be an interesting fight.

My armour wasn't the same as it used to be. It was heavier now, bolstered with the same metal alloy that made up the Insurrection's prototype armour we set out to destroy. I had also taken several steps of my own to make my armour fit my needs. I used the nearly unbreakable alloy to construct some piercing spikes that attached to both my gloves and gauntlets. If I hit something with a punch or a forearm… they were staying down this time around. I had been specifically instructed to remove them for this session. The other alterations to my suit, more aesthetic than anything else, weren't worth noting, other than the fact that we had been forced to re-route my oxygen system, and as a result reinforced tubing connected my torso to the base of my spine, where my oxygen reserve lay. Technically, this might have been a weak point, but what did I care? Death didn't scare me anymore. After my suit was outfitted with its teleportation enhancement, I had already experienced death almost a hundred times.

The door in front of me finally started to open. The training floor was very similar to the one at Project Freelancer. A giant empty room with metal pillars spread across the floor. Before me I saw about six Insurrectionist soldiers. All of them had their hands up, on guard, ready to fight. They must have known what was coming.

As I stepped onto the floor, the sensors in my helmet started to flash. I turned and looked up to see another soldier standing over the doorway. He jumped down, planning to catch me off guard. In a second, my hand was up and I had a firm grip on his shin. I ripped him inwards and smashed my fist into his helmet, shattering my first visor of the day and knocking his body into the wall.

I turned back around to see the other soldiers second-guessing their roles, but now that I had that small taste of violence… I wanted a full meal. I started to slowly walk towards the group as one of the soldiers charged in. Once he reached me I hiked my boot into the air and slammed it into his chin, clotheslining him, before ramming my boot back down and pinning his helmet to the floor. I continued walking forward. Two more soldiers came running. I ducked under one punch and rammed my fist into his stomach, lifting him off the ground. The second soldier went for a kick, which I swiftly blocked with my forearm. I wheeled myself around throwing my back leg into the air. My heel cut in a circle around me, nailing both soldiers in their heads and knocking them to the ground.

As I came to a stop another soldier was already throwing a punch at me. I reached up a snatched his fist out of the air, before crushing his hand like an orange. Juice and all. The final soldier came up quickly behind the last. He used all his might to throw his fist at me. His punch cracked against my helmet. My head turned slightly, but the rest of the my body was rock solid in its place. I turned my head to look at him as he pulled his hand back. He stepped away, but before he got too far, I grabbed his shoulder and ripped his body into the air. With a wind-up, I rocketed his body into the wall, and he slammed off the metal surface with a groan.

With that, the training session came to an end.

"What a show!" a voice yelled. I turned to see Ark standing on the floor with me, clapping his hands sarcastically. "Haven't lost your touch, I see. Could have gone a little easier on them, though."

"All you said was I couldn't kill them," I replied. "You're lucky I gave you that much."

"Beggers can't be choosers," he agreed, smirking, watching as a pair of medics attended to the last man, lifting onto a stretcher. "Anyway, I'm here to introduce you to your new squad."

"Squad?"

"Yes, Penn. You're not running future missions by yourself. The stakes are too high with the UNSC and Project Freelancer on our asses." Ark motioned behind him as five soldiers stepped onto the floor. "Get to know them, Penn. You're the field commander for the Crimson Sun. When we're on the ground, every movement and action is going to be guided by you. Teach them a thing or two." Ark turned and walked away as the soldiers approached me. I looked at them and folded my arms.

"Name. Combat specialty. Now!" They looked at one another before someone finally chimed in.

"Daria," the first reported. She was about 5'8", fairly skinny, with jet black recon armour and only a few spots of red importing any sense of individuality. A pair of goggles sat just above her visor, ready to be equipped at any moment. "I'm the squad's sniper. I provide overwatch and update enemy locations and weaponry to the squad's HUD. I also specially designed these goggles myself. They can calculate the trajectory of a sniper round and give me the perfect shot every time. Wind resistance, distance, even banking off objects, not an issue at all. My codename… Scope."

I nodded and looked to the next soldier. He was smaller than she was. Extremely frail looking. He was wearing ODST style armour, that didn't cover his arms or neck, which seemed to be horribly scarred. Attached to his gauntlets were two flamethrowers, which were being fuelled by a large tank on his back.

"Sid!" he yelled in a squeaky voice. "I like fire! Send me in first, and I'll take out a good number of them. You ever see what happens to team morale after the enemy witnesses ten of their friends sizzling on the floor like bacon? It's beautiful. Codename: Inferno!"

The next in line was a massive individual. I only came up to his chest. He was easily over seven feet tall and very thick in stature. His armour was covering every inch of his body and looked like it weighed tons. He had a massive mini-gun that he held with one hand, being supplied with ammo from the pack attached to the back of his armour.

"They call me Grendel," he said in an extremely low voice. "I lay down support fire." There was a silence. I looked at the others and then tilted my head.

"Codename?" I asked. He stared at me, before rolling out his shoulders.

"Grendal." I shrugged and then nodded.

The next soldier was about six feet tall and well built. He had jet black armour and a standard ODST helmet with a red skull painted on the front. He had the handle of a weapon sticking out of a holster at his side. I recognized him, as impossible as I knew it to be.

"Silhouette," he said quietly. I raised an eyebrow.

"No you're not," I replied. He titled his head. "Silhouette was a soldier when I was still a kid. Greatest stealth trooper of all time. He'd be well into his sixties by now. So unless you're much older than you seem, which is unlikely, you aren't Silhouette."

"Have you seen his face?" he asked. I stopped. That's what Silhouette was famous for. No one knew his real name, or what he looked like. "There was never one Silhouette. I'm one of a line of soldiers to wear this mask."

"So are you just as good as the others? And what about his equipment?"

"I have all the perks that come with this uniform. His camo cloak, durasteel katana, increased radar detection… you name it."

"Good." I looked down to the next soldier, when he suddenly stepped forward and pointed a finger at me.

"You think you can just walk in here and take the place of our field sergeant?!" he cried out.

"Excuse me?" I asked, already getting angry, not used to anyone .

"We had a man in charge of our squad, and thanks to you freelancers, he's gone! You'll never be what he was!" I smirked under my helmet and slowly shook my head.

"Name, soldier?"

"Craig. Codename…" Before he could finish, my fist was buried in the front of his helmet. He launched backwards and slammed into the floor, out cold.

"First thing we're going to cover," I spoke loud and clear to my new troops.

"Is it respect?" Inferno commented, in a snarky tone. I stepped closer to him, seeing him tense up as I did.

"No. It's your gear. The technology installed in your armour is specific to the Insurrection. If any of our designs make it to the enemy, we're in deep trouble. So, outside of this facility, if your vitals stop, your suit with self-destruct to preserve the safety of our technology." The crew nodded, also dropping a little sweat at the thought that they were wearing a bomb. "Naturally, though, the most important information is stored within your helmets. Therefore, until clearance is given, your helmet seals underneath your chin when being worn. It cannot come off until I give the thumbs up. Watch."

I pressed a button on my gauntlet and watched the crew jump as two metal pieces extended under their chins, locking the helmets onto their heads. I approached Craig as he started to regain consciousness. "These helmets are now impossible to remove." I grabbed Craig's shoulder and lifted him to his knees. I put one hand on the bottom of his helmet and pressed my other hand against his shoulder. "Well nearly impossible…"

"What?" Craig asked, regaining his senses. "What's going… wait… what are you…!? WAIT, NO!" I pulled my arm back, ripping his helmet off. His suit started beeping, but failed to self-destruct, as we were inside the facility. His body fell to the floor as blood started to pool around it. I looked into the visor of the helmet in my hand, still heavy with contents. I snickered a little and turned to the rest of my squad. None of them daring to look me in the eye… the way it should be. I dropped the helmet to the floor and folded my arms again.

"So… any questions?"