(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about how late this chapter is coming up, given that it's coming about two days late. Have had problems getting the necessary time for editing, but hey, we've got it here now, right? And the next update will go up later tonight, so we'll be keeping up with the schedule at least! Also, for those interested, we're currently looking for applicants for Agent Texas, and for more information you can either PM me, or just head on over to our forum!
We're also currently running an Awards listing for Red vs Blue fic, and you can check that list either on our website or on our forum, and we'd really appreciate it if you'd send in your votes, so that we can really announce our appreciation for some of the best writers and fics on this site!
Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Six – British Intelligence
Agent Wyoming
Written by Xehanorto
"I get it," said the prisoner. "Good Cop, Bad Cop, eh?"
"If you like." said Vimes. "But we're a bit short staffed here, so if I give you a cigarette would you mind kicking yourself in the teeth?"
― Terry Pratchett, Night Watch
Wyoming sat in the back of the Pelican, in deep thought, as they began their descent onto Vizier. This mission had been thrust upon him rather suddenly, but he had known that something like this was coming, because he needed this, and he knew that the Director knew that. As a result, he had been preparing for this moment ever since he had met with the Director in that bar.
His objective was rather simple, but critical nonetheless. The Crimson Sun had recently raided a UNSC base, resulting in many casualties amongst the local UNSC forces, but they had managed to capture a handful of CS soldiers. The Director had sent him to interrogate these soldiers, to see what he could learn from them. He remembered how effective Alaska's methods had been in the early days of the Project, but he knew that these chaps would be harder nuts to crack, given that they had served under Penn. Ultimately, this meant that his subtlety and wit would likely prove totally ineffective against them.
What a pity.
Though, to be honest, he didn't care all too much about that right now, this had become personal the minute his fellow teammates had been killed. Wyoming was used to being a loner and an outcast, so Ark and Penn's betrayal of the only people he had ever managed to become attached to really irked him. To put it mildly. He would do whatever it took to bring them to justice, even if it meant crossing lines that were meant to never be crossed.
The intercom buzzed as 479er opened a connection to the rest of the Pelican. "Alright ladies and other people, we will soon be landing on the popsicle known as Vizier. Once we land, hurry up and get out, because it is fucking cold outside, and I don't want my baby to freeze up! Radio once you're ready for pick up, and, well hey, I might just pick you up!"
Wyoming couldn't help but chuckle, despite the fact that he knew the pilots jokes got on the nerves of some of his teammates, but hell, so did his own! He never had the pleasure of working with a better pilot, and she was the full package: amazing skill and an amazing sense of wit that was nearly on par with his own.
The light mood swiftly grew tense as the Pelican touched down on the surface of the planet. Wyoming stood up and approached the hatch as it slowly opened, blinking as the sunlight reflected off the icy surface. He motioned for the Project Freelancer troops to follow him with a swift jerk of his head, and an: "Alright chaps, stay close and stay quiet. You'll probably need to cuddle for body heat, but don't invite me into whatever circles you end up forming."
The small squad quickly made left the ship behind, which took off the second they began to move out. Wyoming's blood was boiling right now, despite the cold, and he was confident that he could get this done quickly.
A quick survey of the area showed that the fighting hadn't lasted to long; the UNSC had clearly been woefully prepared to deal with a Crimson Sun attack, and Penn had hit the base, retrieved whatever it was that they had wanted, and left, after leaving a few mementoes. Now, there were about three squads of UNSC soldiers in the station, along with two officers, at least if the information that they had received was correct. Wyoming looked back to the small squad that had been sent with him, and signalled for them to join up with the UNSC forces in his absence.
"You chaps help the others secure this location; I'm going to have a quick chat with the commanding officer here." The soldiers quickly scattered across the area after giving a quick "Yes sir!", earning a brief smile from Wyoming, hidden beneath both his visor and his moustache.
Wyoming then shook his head and sighed as he made his way to the officers in charge. He walked up to a man with a captain's emblem on his uniform, just as the man sent off a subordinate. From one quick glance, Wyoming could tell that the captain already seemed annoyed with the situation, and he knew from previous experience that the UNSC didn't like having Freelancers interfering with their work. The captain glanced up at him, and his scowl deepened.
"Oh great, now you're here. This is just perfect!"
Wyoming merely chuckled as his HUD pulled up some information on the good captain. "Well, Captain Marsden, I'm sorry if my timing is poor, but I assure you that once I'm done here, you will have one less problem to deal with. Or several less problems, depending on how many of those buggers are still alive."
The Captain briefly glared at Wyoming, before turning away to look down at some files that were scattered across his desk.
"I honestly don't care what you're here for; you've been cleared by HIGHCOM, so that's out of my hands. But the sooner you're done and out of my hair, the better, so let's get to it, shall we?"
Marsden sighed and pointed to the remains of a half collapsed building, frowning slightly as he did so. "The UNSC forces that survived managed to capture three Insurrectionists, and we've kept them there, in separate cells."
Wyoming's gave a nod of satisfaction to the Captain. "Have your men move them into the same room, if you would be so kind."
The captain simply shook his head and called over some of his troops to their position, sighing once more, not doing too good a job of hiding his irritation. "I need the prisoners moved to the central holding room," he ordered, and the marines saluted
"Yes, sir!" The marines turned and left, heading into the building to carry out their task. Marsden turned to face Wyoming, a hint of confusion on his face.
"Now then, you really think you'll get them to talk in the same room? We've been keeping them separate, hoping that one of them would break, up until now. I'm guessing you've got a plan in mind, right?"
Wyoming glanced up at the captain, his visor once more hiding his smile. "Don't worry, old chap, I'm a Freelancer, of course I've got something in mind." He paused for a moment, before adding: "I'll try not to make too much of a mess, but no promises on that account."
The captain gave a swift nod, and Wyoming took this as his signal to leave, making his way over to the temporary prison just as the UNSC soldiers began to file out. He held up his hand, catching their attention and they paused, confused. "I want two of you chaps to stand guard out here, just in case any of the bastards get loose, alright? Any of them get out; put a bullet through the back of their skulls."
The marines nodded, and two of them split off the group to stand at attention at the door, taking their positions as he entered. Hopefully things would go smoothly, he mused, though he had confidence in his own abilities. Strange though, that the Director wouldn't have sent Alaska or California instead of him, but perhaps, given all that had happened, he was viewed as the wise choice in this case.
Wyoming walked in and glanced about the room, staring at the three men for a moment, his eyes picking up small details, building a picture for him. This was going to get rather messy, a lot more quickly than he had expected.
The man seated in the centre was clearly the highest ranking of the bunch, given the way the other two would glance at him from time to time, seeking guidance as to how to react. This would work to his advantage; he just needed to play his cards right. All men had their limits and he would find theirs before this day was out.
Wyoming walked up to the leader, when one of the other two suddenly spat in his direction, the projected spittle landing on his boot. Wyoming tsked before knocking the offender to the ground with a brutal right hook, and the sound of a tooth pinging off the ground filled the room. "Now now, old chap, weren't you ever taught to respect your superiors? I'll be nice though, and forget about this, and if you cooperate from here on out I promise that both you and the rest of your squad will live."
The man merely chuckled as Wyoming pulled him up off the ground and righted him. The Innies couldn't move at all, as their hands had been bound, rather tightly, to their chairs. "Nice try, but the UNSC haven't been able to get anything out of us, and neither will you, you Freelancer scum. We're not afraid of you, we know your limits."
Wyoming looked down at his pistol before casually aiming it at the soldier on the left. "You know, I would rather not sully my hands on pathetic swine like you, but you're leaving me with little choice."
The private looked over at his commander, acceptance dawning on his face before he closed his eyes, waiting the end. The superior officer only looked at Wyoming with a smirk on his face. "You see, you lap dog, we are more than willing to give up our lives for our ca-."
The officer was silenced as a gunshot ran through the air. The private whose eyes were closed simply waited for the impact of the bullet, but it never came. He let out a small shudder as his eyes slowly opened, realising that the other private had taken the bullet. A single bullet in between his eyes and Wyoming was still staring at their commander as if he had never even moved.
"Well, that was rather rude of me, wasn't it? Never even as the poor bugger his name. Now then, how about we start with your name, old chap." Wyoming glanced back over to the private, who was shuddering at the sight of his fallen comrade. "Or perhaps I can get your squirming friend here to provide me with it, unless, of course, you're happy to let me put a bullet through him, too."
The commanding officer was blinked, clearly thinking of a reply when the private finally cracked. "He's Sergeant Wilfred Thane, alright? Of the Galactic Army of the Crimson Sun."
The private was sweating profusely, which caused Wyoming to chuckle, revelling in the power that he had over these two men. As of this moment, he was literally Life and Death, and he could dispense either as he saw fit. He walked over to the young private and laid his other hand on the man's shoulder, patting it softly. "Very good lad, now then, if you want to get out of this unharmed, you should answer the rest of my questions."
The sergeant tried to interject at this point, but Wyoming merely turned the pistol in his direction, effectively silencing him. He leant in closer to the private, whispering into the young man's ear "There's already one man dead because you wouldn't talk. Now then, the question remains; what do you know?"
Wyoming could already tell that Thane wasn't going to talk; he had that look of defiance on his face. The private, however, was a different matter. Young people these days just had no backbone. They would rush into a cause in a fit of enthusiasm, glory and honour on their tongues and in their minds, and when they got their first taste of bloodshed, they turned tail and ran. "Cat got your tongue?" he asked, almost mockingly, when the private refused to answer.
He straightened up and turned to the sergeant, his head cocked slightly as he gazed down at him. "You know, this could be going a lot easier on you. Did that poor chap really have to die for your secrets?"
Thane spat on the ground Wyoming's left foot before glaring at him again, and Wyoming's trigger finger twitched, but he managed to restrain his instincts. "I'll take that as a yes, shall I? You know, you really should work on your manners, I may be interrogating you, but that's no reason not to show proper etiquette, now, is it?"
Wyoming walked back over to the private, holding his pistol right between the young man's eyes. "Now then, we're going to have a little Q&A session, and if I don't get the answer I like, we've got a problem. And if we've got a problem, you've got a problem. That clear?"
The man simply nodded in response, clearly too afraid to speak, knowing that saying the wrong thing could end his life in an instant. "Good then, now we are going to start with something simple. Your name, please?"
"Private A-Anderson Smith…" the private stammered, trembling slightly before Wyoming, and the Freelancer knew that he was mere inches from breaking point.
He pressed the gun against Smith's head, leaning forward slightly as he did so. "Good show, old chap! Now then, do you know anything about your commanding officer's family?" Thane grunted at this, evidently furious, but fully aware that interjecting could result in the end of either the private's life or his own. Wyoming smiled to himself. He had hit an emotional point, which was very good, and if he could get his 'friend' here riled up, he had no doubt that he would sing.
"Well…he has a wife…and three kids…two sons and a daughter…I don't know their names though, I swear. He keeps a picture of them in his locker, we've all seen it!" Wyoming had to give this one credit; he was a good stool-pigeon. Now if only he could squawk something that the Director would be interested in...
"Good, quite good old chap." Wyoming leaned in close to the young looking private, lowering the pistol slightly. The next few words were said in a whisper so only Anderson could hear them.
"Do you think your life is worth more than the rest of your squad, private?" Smith gulped, but gave a slow nod. Perfect. Wyoming stood up and walked away, looking down at the ground as though deep in thought, then looking up to face the sergeant once more.
"Now then, one last question chap, do you have access to any information that your teammates don't have?" The sergeant glared at Wyoming, then over at Anderson. It was quite obvious that he didn't want his subordinate to speak, but he wasn't the one dictating the action here, Wyoming was.
"Y-yes…" Wyoming gave a curt chuckle as the private answered, slinking down in his chair slightly, most likely from shame. He knew that Anderson wasn't likely to have any more information, but he was no doubt prepared to try and lie in order to buy himself a few more minutes.
Wyoming looked over at the sergeant, who seemed worn out by this point, defeated and, despite his best attempts to hide it, clearly worried about his own life. He raised the pistol one final time and squeezed the trigger, and the sergeant's chair was thrown backwards from the impact of the bullet, fallen to the ground with a thud.
Wyoming reloaded his pistol, letting the empty clip fall to the floor. The instant it hit the ground Smith lost it, though whether this was from defeat or sheer anger was unclear. "You bastard, you goddamn bastard! You killed an unarmed man, a prisoner, with no provocation! You have no honour, no dignity, and no respect!"
Wyoming chuckled as he walked over to Smith, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him and his chair into the wall. "You're right, I have none of that. I did, once upon a time, but it was taken from me. So, unless you tell me what I want to know, the next people to learn of this will be your family, and it will be a very permanent lesson, I promise you that."
Smith had one emotion evident in his eyes as he gasped for air. Pure unadulterated fear. Of course, Wyoming couldn't be sure if it was for his own life or for the lives of his family, but, all in all, it didn't matter that much. Wyoming let his grip loosen just enough so he could speak. "Fine…I'll talk…just let my family live…"
Wyoming smirked from underneath his helmet and let go of Smith, allowing him to regain his breathe. About time, he mused, with no little degree of satisfaction. "Good. Now then, spill, because you don't want to test my patience any further. You can probably guess what happens when I get impatient."
Smith nodded as he caught his breath, before looking back up at Wyoming. "Some of our weapons…they looked like they had been manufactured from the Aurochs plant on Serena. That's all I know, I swear!"
Wyoming smiled as he fired one last bullet, leaving no survivors. He opened up a radio connection as he walked away, heading back towards the agreed LZ. "Director, I have some intel that you will find most interesting."