(A/N) Hey guys, time for the latest chapter in Phase Two: Betrayal, and this chapter features the…for want of a better word, antics of Agent Kentucky and company, written, as always, by the…possibly crazed, but undeniably awesome, Gumby1011. This one is really something, and I know that this will go down as one of our best chapters to date. Also, some quick notices (I know, I know): We're currently looking for writers for Agent Texas for this fic, so those interested should head onto our forum and fill out the necessary application forms. We're also currently looking for writers for our X-Ray and Vav fic, and those interested should PM me as soon as possible! Now, without further ado…
Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Nine – Luck to Burn
Agent Kentucky
Written by Gumby1011
"I've found that luck is quite predictable. If you want more luck, take more chances. Be more active. Show up more often." – Brian Tracy
It was way too realistic in the holo-chamber. That was one thing Kentucky knew, not as an opinion, but as an objective fact. There was probably no good reason why it had to be capable of spiking its internal temperatures to around a hundred and ten degrees on a whim, but the demoman was suspicious that it had something to do with the torture fetishes of the a-hole running this project. Ah, well. He could complain about that sadistic bastard in the grey suit later. At the moment, he was laying down prone in the way-too-real sand in full armour beside Jersey and Colorado, his hand clutching his lucky detonator.
"Hey, if you want to just stand up, drop all pretence and stealth and start screaming to the heavens that they made it too damn hot, its fine by me." Colorado hissed.
"I wasn't gonna ask them now!" Jersey snapped, her voice barely above a whisper. "All I'm saying is it's something to ask the Director about before next time." She shifted a little. "No need to be such a bitch about it."
"I'm not being a bitch about it, you can't just ask the sun to 'turn it down just a little' in an actual mission!" Rado shot back, full of venom. "Jesus, you act as young as you look."
If it were possible to scream and whisper at the same time, then Jersey did exactly that when she replied "Pretty rich, coming from the chairwoman of the lollipop guild!"
Kent just sort of tuned them out after a while. They'd stop it as soon as they had some soldiers to blast. The three of them had been baking in the heat for maybe an hour or two, with not a tango in sight… Kent wished he were swimming. He'd only ever gone once or twice, on a couple of shore leaves on some vacation planet whose name he couldn't recall. I wonder how well this chamber could simulate a beach? For a moment Kent smiled at the ramifications of such a plan. A nice sandy beach, cool ocean air, gulls calling, York could probably sneak a couple beers in.
Everybody splashing around in swimsuits…
A familiar British accent grunted "Target sighted," over the radio. Kent frowned at the signal. It just totally figured that the convoy would show its stupid face the moment he managed to draw his brain away from the scorching, dry heat. Off in the distance, through the shimmering in the air, approached a large armoured column of Innie vehicles. The agents had been provided with the rudimentary type of intel they'd have if they were to set an actual ambush: Basic info on typical convoy layout. First would come a scouting party on mongooses, followed by a large convoy of Warthog variants and a few Scorpions, all escorting an Elephant.
Their objective for this mission was to smash the convoy, simple as that. The Elephant was supposedly carrying vital supplies to an Innie base, so they'd turn and burn it, along with anybody who got in their way. And that was just the way Kent liked it.
"Okay, guys, everybody check in!" Florida's upbeat tone shone even through the radio and his whispering. It was actually a pretty large operation, in terms of members involved. Each and every rookie was present, with Florida and Wyoming along to help. But against a vehicular force of this size, a full-on assault would be suicide. Even for a team as badass as ten freelancers. So, they'd had to get… creative.
"Hammer two, checking in," Kent replied. After Colorado and Jersey continued to bicker unbidden, he tossed a fistful of sand into 'Rado's visor.
"Hey!" 'Rado snarled. Then she keyed her radio with an irritated snarl. "Hammer three, checking in."
Jersey stifled a laugh as she called, "Hammer one, checking in. Hammer team is in position."
"Beam two, checking in,"Nevada chirped over the comms.
Wyoming mumbled "Beam one, checking in. Beam Team is in position."
There was a pause for a moment, then the role-call continued with Utah calling "Uh, yeah, Pizza Cutter two, checking in."
An irritated sigh came through from West before she mumbled. "Rotary one, checking in… Rotary team's in position."
"Scalpel two, checking in."That was Connie's voice.
"Scalpel three, checking in."And there was Nebraska, sounding like he was taking the heat in stride.
"Scalpel one, checking in."Florida called, concluding role-call. "Looks like the gang's all here. You all know the plan, now make me proud!"
Kent wiggled in his spot, buried under a thin layer of sand. Every agent was in a similar position, the sand covering up their kind of obviously coloured armour. The caravan had drawn close, and was now crossing between the two sand-dunes the agents had been buried within. It had been decided that the start of the operation would be heralded by the boombringer's hand. A few of his team-mates (namely the un-fun ones, Connie and 'Rado) had protested at first. They seemed to think that he'd spring the trap too early, that he didn't have that kind of patience.
They were only mostly right. He didn't have that kind of patience for boring things. And exciting things were few and far between, as far as he was concerned. But this, unleashing his creations upon an enemy force, caging himself in a battle where one wrong step, one wrong move, one lucky shot from a tank-pilot could spell his demise? Waiting until just the right moment to ensure that his babies bit off as much steel, gas and oil as they could?
There was nothing more exciting in the world.
His mind ran through the reactions and trajectories and blast radii most likely to occur, and charted out the effects of the secondary blasts, and even took a few stabs at potential tertiary detonations. And when the puzzle seemed to fit the best it ever would, then and only then, did Kentucky hit the detonator.
It was a cacophony of light and sound, the heat from the blast somehow apparent despite their already-baking armour. Several clusters of explosions went off in the earth beneath the convoy, and a trio of rockets fired from the sand dune across the path from the agents. The buried bombs took out several Warthogs, a few of their scrapped carcasses flying through the air and landing on or in front of other vehicles. The rockets flew towards a Scorpion, and one of them even managed to graze it, the rest splashing into the ground.
But that was okay, they were all for show anyways.
The enemy soldiers all aimed their weapons and swivelled their turrets around towards where the rockets had come from, blasting chunks of the dune up and scattering the fine, powdery sand into the air. Their reply, along with the initial blasts, soon threw up a shroud of sand that perfectly masked the Freelancer's approach, from the opposite direction than the one they were firing at.
Kent made sure to follow very close behind Jersey as they sprang up from beneath the sand and rushed the vehicles. He glanced back to make sure 'Rado was following, and caught a glimpse of Florida's team vanishing into the heart of the convoy's dust-cloud. He looked back ahead to see Jersey dash right up to a rocket-equipped Warthog. The man in the passenger's seat was standing up, his rifle leaned on the roll-bar, aiming at the dune.
He shouted out "Guys, fucking quit it! Can you even see what you're shooting a-AAAUGH!" He howled in pain as Jersey reached him and caved his knee in with a hydraulic-powered strike from her shotgun.
She blasted him in the chest as he fell, and the driver jumped in his chair and drew a pistol. "Get the fuck out of my car!" he hollered in the exact same voice as the passenger. He brandished the pistol at Jersey, but caught a sniper round through the helmet for his troubles.
Jersey rolled the first body out of the passenger seat and kicked out the second, before saying "Nice shooting, tex!"
"I'm sorely tempted to correct you, given the context," Nevada quipped.
'Rado chuckled at the quip, then shot the warthog's turret operator through the helmet as he attempted to swivel around. He fell to the ground with an undignified "Son of a bitch!"
"What, something funny, 'Rado?" Jersey growled as she slunk into the passenger seat.
'Rado hopped up onto the turret and huffed "No, of course not." Then she glanced down at the expectant green Freelancer. "Can I help you?"
Kentucky just stared, unwavering. "I thought I was gonna be the turret guy?" he asked, sounding hurt.
"Kent, you can drive," Jersey shot over her shoulder "We seriously do not have time for this right now!" As if to help make her point, the dust hanging in the air began to thin, revealing a couple of other vehicles swerving around some wreckage to reach the agents.
"Oh, shit!" the boombringer dashed up to the driver's seat and hopped in, pressing a few pedals to no effect before finally locating the gas pedal. "Ah, okay, HERE we go!" Their vehicle peeled off through the sand, narrowly avoiding two scrapped jeeps and drawing fire from several followers. Bullets spanked off the metal and a few rockets narrowly missed them, most likely due to the erratic, unpredictable way the Warthog lurched under Kent's control.
They wove haphazardly through the column, and for a split second Kentucky could see Utah prying the canopy of a Scorpion open. The giant paused for a moment and radioed in "Uh, Kent, are you okay over there?" He could hear another voice, identical to the warthog's former driver/passenger/turret gunner shout "What the fuck do they feed you!?" in the background.
"Uh, you know me, doing fine and dandy, all part of the plan-" as he spoke, a Gauss blast barely missed the driver's seat. "ALL PART OF THE FUCKING PLAN!"
Colorado was attempting to return fire, but the jeep's movements did about as much for her own aim as for the enemy's. "Dammit, Kent! HOLD IT STEADY!" she hollered, her latest barrage of rockets splashing uselessly into the ground.
"I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING!" Kent screamed defensively. A lucky shot from a pursuing vehicle sent sparks flying into the dashboard. "Fuck!" He put his hands up, apparently forgetting that his visor was already shielding his face. Free of his control, the steering wheel wrenched to the right as they hit a bump, flinging the jeep around in an uncontrolled spin as Kent's flailing pressed the gas pedal to the floor. Colorado barely managed to keep herself from getting flung from the turret, her hands holding the firing trigger in a deathgrip, unleashing a torrent of rockets whose recoil did absolutely nothing to stabilize the jeep.
Jersey, meanwhile, had her robotic hand digging into the roll-bar, holding on for dear life. "Christ on a cracker! The break, Kent! Hit the break! AND SHUT UP, WYOMING!" she screamed as she heard the Brit's uproarious laughter on the radio.
The boombringer just sort of started mashing the controls, throwing every switch and pulling every lever in the hopes of stopping the spin. In a way, it kind of worked. A lucky button press released the Hog's tow-winch, and the weight of the hook with the speed of the spinning sent the cable lashing out. It whipped around and around until it lashed out far enough to grab hold of the lead vehicle in the pursuing group. Their own Warthog's spin wound the now-taut cable around their tires, slowly bringing them to a train-wreck of a halt that was probably the worst spot of luck Kent had had for at least three months. Well, at least now he had luck to burn!
The pursuing vehicle had been pulled over into their wreckage almost as if it were simply parked hazardously close, its crew stunned by the sudden turn of events. "Are you guys fucking retarded?" the driver asked, moments before Jersey shot him in the face with her shotgun.
"I am so over these smart-ass holograms," Colorado growled. Then she vaulted over her own turret and drop-kicked the hostile off of the other vehicle's gun. Looked to be some sort of gauss cannon. "Guys, let's get a move one, I'm not losing ranks for this!"
"Yeah, me neither…" Jersey pushed the driver out of the other vehicle and very quickly took his seat. "Grab the winch hook," she ordered as Kent went around the front of the hogs.
The boombringer nodded, before yanking the tow hook out of the Gauss-hog's grille. "Do you think I'll lose ranks fo-"
"YES!" 'Rado, Jersey, and several voices over the radio all snapped back.
"Awww…" Kent climbed into the passenger seat, only to realize they'd all been a little too slow. Amidst the gunfire and the shouting voices, a pack of mongooses shot over a nearby dune and quickly surrounded the car-wreck. Almost all of the ATVs had passengers, most of the passengers were armed, and a few of them had such weapons as rocket-launchers. The boombringer turned back to his fellow agents. "Man, today just isn't our lucky day, huh?"
Colorado lifted a foot and kicked Kent in the back of the head. "You are the worst kind of soldier."
"Hey, assholes!" one of the Mongoose gunners shouted. "Put the fucking guns down, now!"
"But I don't wanna!" Kent shouted back, clutching his grenade launcher like it was a favourite stuffed animal.
A shot rang out before the gunner could reply, and a contrail streaked into his chest. Which then promptly exploded, essentially vaporizing the gunner's torso with such force that time actually seemed to lag for a couple moments. Nearly every remaining hostile yelled "Woah! Son of a bitch!" and turned to face Wyoming, who was lying prone on top of a nearby dune.
"Bloody— What? What was that!?" Wyoming radioed in.
"You must've found the hot shots! I slipped a clip into your ammo baaaAAAAAGH!" Kent replied as Jersey peeled out of the ring of ATVs. "How ya like 'em, they shoot okay?" he pried as he righted himself in his seat.
"It damn near took my bleeding arm off at the shoulder!" The Brit growled back.
"Oopsie! Must've overdone the powder!" Kent quipped, before readying his grenade launcher and leaning out of the side of the jeep. He looked back to see several contrails crisscrossing the dunes, pelting into mongoose tires, engine blocks, and drivers. Colorado was pouring her own rockets into the fray, and Kent fired back a grenade or two, flipping cars and ATVs with expertly timed detonations.
"How's it going on your end, Florida?" Jersey swerved and dodged fire with much more ability than Kent had managed, pulling the Jeep between a pair of Scorpions. One of them fired and luckily missed, striking the other thank square in the cockpit. "Suck it, you team killing fucktard!" she shouted in satisfaction.
After a pause in the radio chatter, Florida answered "We're doing just fine, Jersey. Sounds like you're just having barrels of fun! Connie's almost finished, we'll need a pickup."
"I got it!"Utah replied. As he spoke, Kent noticed the Scorpion from earlier come trundling around a pile-up of scrapped vehicles. Its hatch had been bent open and hung a bit askew, like a defective part on a plastic model. He could make out a white helmet in the cockpit, as well as West's green and orange armour sitting on one of the booster-seats, toting a rocket launcher.
West waved as the jeep cruised past the tank. "Hey, guys! Great run so far, huh? At this rate, we'll be on the top half of that leaderboard for sure!"
Colorado just chuckled darkly. "Yeah. At least some of us will."
"Hey, I think I've recovered pretty well!" Kent whined, before launching a grenade at another foe. They had taken quite a chunk out of the enemy, but at this rate they'd run out of ammo before the entire convoy was dealt with. "Sure would be nice if we had some support though!" he shouted into the radio.
"Sure would be nice if we had a ride, too!" Nebraska snapped back. "…Finally!" The tank pulled up behind the Elephant, where three figures ran out to meet it. When they finally reached it, Florida, Connie, and Nebraska hopped up on the jump seats on the Scorpion's treads before adding their own weapons to the barrage that was keeping the soldiers inside the Elephant from leaving.
Another voice chimed in on the radio. "Nevada? Connie. We're all set, let's teach the new pet some tricks." You could hear the smugness dripping from her voice.
"I think I've got just the thing," Nevada replied, before the line went silent once more. Utah's tank pulled away from the elephant, the enemy vehicles reluctant to take on the juggernaut that was four heavily armed super-soldiers camping on a friggin' tank. They much preferred to keep harassing Kent's warthog.
While Jersey's driving was good, her skills were far from perfect. In the course of the battle their jeep had taken a fair deal of punishment, now made evident by the hood smoking profusely. "Shit on a stick guys, can I get a little help here? Seriously?" Jersey hollered into the radio.
"Ask, and you shall receive! Go, Fluffy, go!" Nevada commanded into the radio with the enthusiasm of a thousand corgis.
FWOOM, FWOOM, FWOOM!
At her command, the hulking, massive anti-air cannon on the Elephant's back had swung around and opened fire on the pack of vehicles chasing the wounded jeep. The massive blasts tore open huge gashes in the sandy landscape, once again filling the air with fine, powdery sand. But when the dust finally cleared, there was nothing remaining of the remnants of the convoy but a pile of scrap.
Damn good thing too, because not a moment later did the agent's Warthog finally break down with a tormented, clattering sound. They slid to a halt on the sand, and Kent immediately fell out of the jeep, exhausted. "Well, we're done here." He muttered, visor still pressed to the sand. "Who's hungry? I tell ya what, I am FAM-"
FWOOM!
The Elephant fired off another blast, flying clean over the top of Utah's tank and impacting harmlessly with a sand dune.
"Nevada." Kent growled, "Keep it in your pants, will ya? I was kinda in the middle of something."
"That wasn't me! I… Shit, I'm locked out! One of the soldiers Scalpel team locked on the upper levels must've toggled a manual override!"Nevada sounded more than a little panicky. "GET OUT OF THERE!"
FWOOM!
That round was closer, tossing some sand up at the scorpion, but otherwise leaving it untouched. Utah finally seemed to get the message, and the tank started pulling away towards the nearest sand-dune. "What the fuck is wrong with this thing!?"
Kent didn't recognize that voice. "Who be talkin' on our channel?"
"I set up an audio link to the Elephant's bridge, they've locked me out of the weapon controls, but I've got some other systems available," Nevada explained.
That would explain why it had sounded like every other soldier he'd blown up today.
"Guys, if anybody's got any ideas, now would be a great time to share with the class!" Nebraska shouted.
"Like what?"Connie replied. And while he wasn't a fan of the hacker's constant pessimism, Kent had to admit that their current situation looked pretty hopeless. The boombringer looked around, trying to come up with any half-baked plan he could use to take the beast down. His eyes fell upon a Mongoose, which was overturned but otherwise intact.
"Kent, what are you doing?" Jersey shouted. She and 'Rado had already climbed out of the wrecked jeep and were sprinting for cover. "We gotta move!"
The demolition specialist looked down at his waist. There sat a familiar form: a gun-metal green orb with a red ring on opposite ends, almost the exact size of a Grifball. An extra bomb he'd kept. For good luck. "Jooooiiiseeeey…" he sang into the radio. "I've got an idea… but it's pretty bold." He scrambled out of the jeep and bolted towards the mongoose, flipping it around the right way and tucking the bomb under one arm.
"Uh-oh, what's that lil' rascal up to now?" Florida asked over the radio.
Jersey didn't quite seem to notice the inquiry, instead she just screamed "KENT! You better not be thinking about doing what I think you're thinking about doing!"
"Was that a sentence just now?" Colorado mumbled.
"FUCK YOU!"
But it was sort of too late to stop him. Kentucky hopped on the Mongoose and took off. Now, he may not be the best at driving cars, but ATV's were a whole different story! He'd had a habit of sneaking off and practicing sweet-ass stunts with them back at basics, eventually the higher ups even gifted him one! True, it was a little too banged up by then to have any tactical value… But hey, that's just semantics!
You see, the problem with fighting an Elephant is that it's too honkin' big for nearly any other ground mounted weapon to scratch its nigh-impervious armour. That said, if someone could find a way around the armour, it was nothing but smooth sailing! Once you realize that, the tricky part becomes approaching the Elephant without getting vaporized by that huge cannon-
FWOOM!
"Fuck!"
-Which became simple if the gunner was incompetent enough to repeatedly miss. With that taken care of, the first factor can be easily accounted for, as long as you know how to- "Throw that fatty into full maintenance cycling mode, will ya Nevada?" Kent was almost laughing already.
Nevada hesitated before replying "Um okay, sure, that should buy us some time to-"
"BLAST THE FUCKER TO KINGDOM COME!" Kent shouted, then he teased as much speed out of the mongoose as he could, charging the monstrous war-machine head-on.
"Think he'll make it?" That was Utah.
"Hell if I know." Wyoming, that one.
"Hm… Good thinking, Kent…" Florida.
"Five bucks says he crashes and burns." Nebraska.
The boombringer pulled from the dead-centre of the Elephant, off to the left, where the AA-gun just sat, waiting for him. The entire vehicle has begun releasing steam and hissed with the sounds of relaxing hydraulics. The Elephant's suspension lowered as close to the ground as it could, just low enough that when Kent used the scrapped Scorpion's treads as a ramp, it launched him up, up, and onto the top of the Elephant tread's armour plating. Kent forced the mongoose up and over the edge of the slope, so that he was in the large platform on the back of the beast.
He buzzed over to the AA cannon (which had scattered a good amount of unfired rounds out of its magazine on the ground) and scrambled up it, using the now-exposed inner workings of the gun to climb up to the top of the barrel. He positioned himself over the ejection port of the huge canon, which now hung ajar. Then he lifted the bomb above his heads. "THE BOOM GODS DEMAND A TRIBUTE!"
Then he stuffed the bomb in the port and went back down to the bed as fast as he could. "Nevada! Wake this beast! The gods demand their sacrifice!"
Even as he spoke, the Elephant began to rumble and shudder as all of the systems roared back to life. That included the main canon, which gobbled up the bomb like a hungry toddler when all of its armour plates slid back over the firing mechanism. This was awesome! Likely one of his greatest capers! There was absolutely no way anything could go wrong! Kent almost hopped on his Mongoose, but then the command booth door came back online. A full squad of troopers led by a soldier in cobalt blue, Mark Five armour ran out onto the deck. "Freeze, jackass!" the leader shouted.
Welp, I guess I did overtax the ol' luck this round. Kent shrugged as his armour went rigid from the simulated gunfire. He didn't mind too much. Still got the fuckers. Then the world went white and mute, and the boombringer felt himself flying through the air. Then he felt himself hit the ground. Slowly, the world went from blinding light to blinding darkness, and from silent to very muffled. After a while he felt a meaty hand wrap itself around his ankle, then pull him up into the light. Sand fell out of the gaps in Kent's armour, and he was greeted with the sight of Utah holding him up, upside down, with every other teammate clustered around him.
He could see the smoking wreckage of the Elephant off in the distance. Looked like the blast had reached the primary ammo canisters, just as he thought it would. But the more immediate concern was Jersey, who peered down at him with her helmet off, a judgmental look on her face. "We almost had a perfect sweep Kent. Almost."
Kent would've bowed his head if he could've through the armour lock. Instead he just sighed. "Yeah, sorry, guess I sort of pushed my luck with that last one..." Then he asked, "Say, think we can get this box to simulate a beach?"