(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about the lateness of this update, but, to make it up to you, there will be another update at some point today, so keep your eyes out for that! So, without further ado, here's a chapter written by the awesome StormBlue, not from the POV of North, as you're used to, but for her latest character, Agent Nebraska, another one of our new recruits, with quite possibly one of the best introductory chapters that we've had so far!

Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Five – No Remorse

Agent Nebraska

Written by StormBlue

"Some counterfeits reproduce so very well the truth that it would be a flaw of judgement not to be deceived by them." - François La Rochefoucauld

His eyes roved around the room, taking in each Freelancer he was now going to be working with, new recruits like him along with ones that had already been in the Project for some time. They were all conversing with each other, getting to know one another, becoming part of the "team". Those who were interested in doing so, anyway. That was important, especially in their line of work. If they couldn't get along outside of the battlefield, what chaos would occur when they finally found themselves on one?

He enjoyed getting to know people. To find out the reasons behind their actions and their inner thoughts that they kept hidden from the world. It was what he was good at. And once he found that out–

"Hey, are you alright? You seem pretty quiet over there," a soft, brotherly voice interrupted him from his thoughts.

He looked up to see a man with blonde hair and soft blues eyes watching him. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied with a smile. He recognized this man as one of the pair that had showed him and the rest of the group of rookies around the ship. "You're North Dakota, right?"

The man nodded and held out his hand. "Just call me North. And you are…Nebraska?" he trailed off, his memory nearly failing him.

"Apparently. Code-names and all that I guess." He looked at the hand for a second before taking it and shaking. Not that many people went for handshakes these days, and those that did usually either wanted something from him or had a genuinely good sense of manners and politeness about them. Looking at North, Nebraska was inclined to go with the latter.

"Nebraska, huh?" said a brown-haired man coming up behind North, boundless enthusiasm apparent in his voice. "So tell me something. Are you a fan of Grifball?"

North chuckled, shaking his head in mock-exasperation. "Not everyone's as big a fan as you are, York."

"Come on, I know you were wondering too." York nudged North with his elbow before turning his attention back to the rookie.

Nebraska looked questioningly at the two of them. "You mean the sport? I've heard of it, and am familiar with the basics. It's not really something I keep up with though," he said, watching York's obvious disappointment. His first impression of him was of someone who was laid-back and easy-going. Good for team morale. Probably not a leader, but a definite candidate for second-in-command, if he knew anything at all about team dynamics. And from what Nebraska had learned, first impressions were important. He was trying to make sure the impression he left on the others was a good one.

Before they could continue their conversation, one of the Project Freelancer soldiers stepped into the room and looked around. "Agent Nebraska?" he called, obviously not knowing which particular Freelancer the agent in question was.

Nebraska felt the questioning gazes land on him, and he shrugged in turn, having no idea what was he could have possibly done to be called out for. He stood up and greeted the soldier. "Yes?"

"The Director sent me. I'm supposed to take you to see him in the control room," the soldier replied, and he turned to leave, expecting Nebraska to follow.

He did so without hesitation, aware that a few of the others were watching him leave, but he paid them no heed. He stayed behind the soldier as he was still unfamiliar with his surroundings and neither of them made conversation. Stopping by the armoury on the way, he quickly strapped on the armour he had received and would be using within the project. He rather liked the feel of his suit; protective, yet still allowing the wearer no small degree of manoeuvrability. It wasn't colourful, not too bright or too dark for his tastes, coloured grey with white accents. It kind of mirrored his habit of blending in and not drawing attention to himself. Yes, this armour suited him very well indeed.

Nebraska was curious as to why the Director had summoned him and no one else, but he wasn't an impatient person, keeping his stride even and calm. When they reached their destination, the soldier snapped off a quick salute and went back to his duties. Facing the Director of Project Freelancer, Nebraska gave him his own salute. Not out of respect – that would have to be earned, and he had yet to see if the Director was a person he could respect –but out of habit and protocol.

"Agent," the Director acknowledged, and Nebraska relaxed slightly. Before he could ask what he was doing here, however, the Director walked out of the room, gesturing Nebraska to follow. "Come with me."

He fell into line behind the Director, following without question, and keeping silent until the Director chose to speak. They seemed to be heading farther inside of the base, eventually reaching an elevator, which began to take them down into the heart of the ship. Nebraska had taken in his surroundings as they went, mentally mapping the base. This was the base on planet, Eris, rather than the Mother of Invention, and he didn't know how much time would be spent here. Still, simple things such as knowing the layout could possibly be useful. He had a tendency to do that; to find little pieces of information and store them away should the need ever come. That way he could be prepared for most things.

The Director suddenly ended the silence. "Agent Nebraska, I called you here because I require the use of your lesser-known skills," he began.

"Sir?" Nebraska said, confused.

"We have recently captured an Insurrectionist with former connections to Lieutenant Ian Harper, who is now in one of the holding cells. He has information which could give us a lead on tracking down Harper and his cohorts, and that is where you come in, Agent. You are to go in there and extract that information," he paused as the elevator slowed to a stop and their descent was halted. The doors hissed open. "Through any means necessary."

Nebraska realized what that meant. "Interrogation." He hesitated. "Doesn't Project Freelancer already have agents more specialized in that area?" The Director sent him a look over his shoulder, and he immediately straightened again, acknowledging the authority of his superior. "Sir," Nebraska said, allowing the subject to drop. If the Director didn't want to tell him why, he was in no place to question.

The Director continued walking, and apparently decided to answer his question. "You, Agent Nebraska, weren't chosen to be part of the project simply because of your skills in combat. I do not trust Agents Alaska or California with this job as, due to recent events, they are too...emotionally compromised, shall we say. They would allow their feelings to cloud their judgement, and so you are better suited for this task than any of your teammates. I doubt you will have the same problem they would."

Nebraska nodded in understanding, and they entered what appeared to be a side room to the holding cell, and he could see screens showing the prisoner. There was a data-pad on a desk, and the Director gestured for him to look at it. He skimmed over the personal information on the hostage, taking in everything they knew about this individual before putting it back, as he wouldn't have need of it inside the room. It could only tell him so much.

"I will be viewing your progress," was all else the Director said before leaving.

A warning? A statement that was supposed to cause Nebraska to put in more effort? It didn't matter to him. He doubted anything the Director could say would give him motivation. "Yes, sir," he replied dutifully and took one last glance at the screens before entering the cell.

He could hear the door lock behind him, and he observed his surroundings. The room was simple and grey, with nothing in it but a small table and a couple of chairs. The chairs themselves weren't very comfortable, hard to sit in, and the size of the room was small enough to be a problem for anyone with claustrophobia. Everything about his surroundings had been designed to heighten the discomfort of whoever was trapped, so they would want to get out quickly, and make them more liable to surrender to the interrogator.

At least, that was the intent. It didn't always have the desired effect.

It was just him and the Insurrectionist, alone. That was the deceptive feel the room gave off, but Nebraska knew that this wasn't entirely true. He knew the general area in which the cameras were positioned, what angle they were looking at. But he didn't care what the Director saw – for indeed, he was being observed just as much as the prisoner was – and he turned his attention away from that and to the man sitting in front of him. Because right now, he was the only thing that mattered.

The man in front of him, after having glanced over at Nebraska, stared resolutely at the wall, determined to not give anything away. He had shaggy blond hair, and what was normally a clean-shaven chin was developing stubble. The dirty clothes he had been provided with hung off his frame, but Nebraska could see that he was still well-muscled underneath that. His eyes were hardened and his jaw clenched, and he refused to face Nebraska as he sat down.

Nebraska took a moment to study the man before speaking. "What's your name?"

This question caught the man by surprise, though he tried to not show it. "Wouldn't you people know that?"

"Of course, but I want to hear it from you," Nebraska replied. When he didn't respond, Nebraska shrugged. "Unless you prefer that I just call you something else."

He frowned. "Todd Fisher," he finally said. "Torture me all you want, I won't tell you anything."

Nebraska frowned. "Torture? No, I'm not here to do that. I'm just here to talk."

"Are you? You're not about to tell me your name. I won't even see your face at all, will I? Don't lull me into a sense of false complacency, Freelancer, it won't work," Todd shot at him.

Nebraska raised an eyebrow, then reached up and pulled his helmet off. He was a rather nondescript kind of man, with brown hair parted to the side, a slightly crooked nose, and steely grey eyes. Todd glanced over at him before returning to facing the wall. No doubt he had been expecting Nebraska to try and alienate himself by hiding his face behind the emotionless visor of his helmet.

"So," Nebraska began. He was going to start out small, try to get to know this man before testing his perseverance. "You know what I want to know, so let me start with some questions. Why are you here, Todd?"

Todd snorted at the obviousness of the question and seemingly irrelevance of it. "What do you mean? I'm a prisoner. I have no choice but to be here."

Nebraska shook his head slightly. "But how did you get here? Why allow yourself to be captured?"

Todd glared at him. "You think I just let them take me? That I didn't put up a fight? I'm not a coward like you," he sneered.

Nebraska leaned forward. "You surrendered at the last moment to let them lock you up in here and interrogate you for information. That tells me that you value your life more than your team."

Todd stuttered, and Nebraska knew he had struck something. He was attempting to hide any weakness but was failing, and he knew it.

Nebraska smiled to himself. "You don't value your team at all," he realized. "Because they don't value you. Tell me, Todd. Why were you with the Insurrection?"

Todd stood up in sudden fury. "Do you have any idea what those UNSC pigs did to my home? I wanted to make them pay for everyone they ever hurt!" There was a fire alight in his eyes.

"Do you care what happened to your home? Or just what happened to the people living there?"

Todd flinched noticeably. "Don't…" his voice was quiet and dangerous. "You even DARE mention them."

Nebraska tilted his head, a soft look on his face. "Why did they die, Todd? Was it because of the Insurrectionists they were harbouring?"

Todd glared at Nebraska with such fury he was surprised he could even comprehend what was being said. "It was because of monsters like you!"

With that, he lunged across the table, hands reaching for Nebraska's throat. In one fluid movement he twisted out of the way and pulled Todd toward him so that he fell to the floor. Todd looked up to see a grey boot pinning him to the floor, and Nebraska leaned in slightly to increase the pressure on his ribs. He was letting his emotions control his actions, which made Nebraska's job so much easier.

"It was because of the war, the constant conflict. The UNSC certainly isn't faultless, but neither is the Insurrection. You as well as I have been witness to their own terrible deeds. They too have torn apart families, killing innocent civilians. Both of them are to blame." He kept Todd pinned, but made sure to not push too hard. "Do you want the war to end? By now, does it matter who wins?"

Todd stared rigidly at him, and Nebraska met his gaze, not blinking. They stayed this way for a few minutes until one last flicker of defiance ran through Todd and he glanced to the side, sagging. "Fine," he said. "I'll tell you. Everything you want to know."

Nebraska watched him, then lifted his boot off his chest. He held out his hand for Fisher to take, who looked at it for a moment before hesitantly taking it, gritting his teeth as he did so. Nebraska leaned back to help the man off the floor and pulled a little harder than Todd had anticipated, spinning him around and wrenching the arm in his hand behind Todd's back. "Liar," he whispered. "You have no intention of telling me anything."

Todd grunted in pain. "Go ahead," he dared. "I might not care for my former team, but I'm still not giving you anything."

Nebraska nodded. "That's what I thought. You're not ready to talk yet." He had been feigning, and tried to get Nebraska to believe him, but he had been still too strong, with some fight left in him. He wasn't going to really talk unless he was...broken down. "You know, people like you are harder to figure than others. You don't have any loved ones; they were taken from you. You don't even care for your superiors, as they turned away from you when you needed them most. Here you are...all alone. With no motivation but revenge." Revenge was a strong motivation, and if he did this right he could twist it to work both ways.

Todd struggled, but Nebraska's grip was firm and all he was doing was hurting himself. "And I still won't give them up to you. What does that tell you?"

He smirked, though Todd couldn't see it. "That tells me you hate my superiors. A lot. If you told us what we wanted, we would send in our forces. The Insurrection would put up a fight. There would be a battle, and people on both sides would die. You get revenge on your home as well as the deaths of those who treated you poorly." He suddenly changed the direction of the conversation. "You want to know something about interrogations? A lot of the time when you're in an army – doesn't matter which army – your Drill Sergeant will subject you to torture methods. They'll train you against giving information to the enemy. But there are some things that you just can't train against."

Todd remained silent, breathing heavily. His struggles had stopped when he had nearly dislocated his own arm.

"There's also something about the interrogators," Nebraska continued. "You ever meet someone who's done that for years? Breaking people down for that long...has a tendency to break a person down." He trailed off, his voice going quiet. Todd's brows furrowed together in confusion, but then Nebraska simply shrugged. "The Director mentioned something about how I wouldn't let emotions get in the way. He was absolutely right."

He released Todd, who quickly scrambled away, turning to face him. "I know what kind of man you are," he sneered. "You're nothing but a lying psychopath, never telling the truth."

Nebraska folded his arms, shaking his head in disappointment. "Not quite. You want to know what makes a liar good at what he does? The truth. The only thing I've said that didn't contain truth was when I told you I wouldn't torture you. But this isn't the kind of torture you had in mind. Now," he corrected his chair and sat down again, completely calm. "Here's what's going to happen. I am going to start talking, and you are going to listen to what I say. Why? Because you can't help it. This is where the torture begins. Unless you're willing to talk now?"

Todd's eyes widened ever so slightly in fear, but he still remained firm. "Never."

Nebraska leaned back. "Too bad. I want you to envision your family, Todd. Think of your wife...now think of your children." He kept his face unchanged, watching Todd with a steady eye. He had looked away, focusing on ignoring him as soon as he mentioned family. But it wasn't going to work. "Your wife is in the kitchen, cooking a meal like she always does. The children come in from playing in the yard, ready to tell you of all their discoveries. Imagine your dread as you know what happens next. What happens next, Todd?"

Todd was furiously shaking his head. "Don't...don't go there...don't…" his body was shaking, unable to contain the memories. He was already thinking of what came after that all by himself. All Nebraska had to do was get him started before Todd did all the work for him.

"Have you changed your mind yet?" Nebraska prodded.

Todd shut his eyes and shook his head fervently, still holding on to his stubbornness.

Nebraska clasped his hands. "You and your wife just put the kids to bed. You're tired from a long day of work, yet you help out anyway because she also was tired. You leave the next day – just for a few hours – into the nearby city. I don't know the details, but I'm sure you do. You hear the missiles coming overhead before you see them, (you do know we already bombed a city, right) but instead of hitting you they streak past toward your home…"

His breathing ragged, Todd had taken as much as he could bear. "Enough! Alright, I-I'll tell you, just no more…" He was shaken and weary, not having any more energy to resist. He was done with the mind games. He began listing off a series of numbers. "Those...those are the coordinates," he whispered. "Harper has purchased supplies and weapons there in the past."

Nebraska watched him closely the whole time until he was done speaking, and then he stood, satisfied. But before he left, he had one last question. "You didn't tell me that because you wanted the war to end, did you? You did it because...you want it to continue…" Pondering on that, he turned away from the man and walked to the door, which opened to allow him out. He was suddenly standing in the presence of the Director, who stared at him, his expression unreadable.

The Director finally nodded. "Well done, agent. You are dismissed," he gestured with his hand. "You may see yourself out."

"Yes sir," Nebraska replied and left, following the path they had taken to get there. As he walked, he felt no remorse for the man he had just mentally tortured. Not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like if he did.