(A/N) Hey guys, so we've been suffering a bit of a delay recently due to some people not getting chapters in, and missing deadlines. Unfortunately, since we don't want to keep you guys waiting even longer, we've been forced to skip a few, but thankfully none of them dealt with major plot points, so you won't be missing out on anything! We'll hopefully be able to remedy this soon, so don't worry yourselves! Also, just taking this opportunity to mention that we have closed applications for Agent Texas, and have selected Gumby1011, our writer for Agent Kentucky, among other things, as our new Tex! You'll be seeing the results of this in the future!
Enjoy!
Chapter Forty-Two – Beat Him to the Punch
Agent Maine
Written by Jerem6401
"Why is it," he said, one time, at the subway entrance, "I feel I've known you so many years?"
"Because I like you," she said, "and I don't want anything from you."
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
"Agents, prepare the floor for the next training session," F.I.L.S.S. began, catching Maine's attention. "Agent Maine, please report to the training deck immediately. Your combat session will begin in five minutes. All other agents please report to the observation deck…"
The noise drowned out as it became less and less important. Maine was still sitting on his bed in his room, hunched, and his hands folded in front of him. The weight of him, dressed in his full armour, made the cot sag in the centre and bend out of shape. His thumbs rubbed against one another as his domed helmet seemed to overflow with thoughts and memories. A fallen giant, who all these years later, still found it hard to believe it was possible for him to feel pain. His HUD started to flash a small red light on the left side, alerting there was movement out of his vision. Despite the notification, he had no intentions of looking to see who was there.
"Hey, tough guy," a voice murmured, as someone entered the room. Maine grunted and stopped twiddling his thumbs. "Training session is about to start. They're calling for you, you know?"
"Let them," Maine growled. Utah leaned against the wall next to Maine's bed and folded his arms.
"C'mon. You're not still down from the Danger Room disaster, are you?" 'Down'? That's what Utah was going to call it? Maine could only think of one moment in his life he hurt more than that training session.
"Saw things from my past," Maine replied. "Fought against Ark and Penn, wearing the blood of my family. Fitting image, really."
Utah nodded and then looked away from Maine. "I guess you Freelancers really don't like those guys, huh? Guess things were pretty bad here before I showed up."
"Took two friends away from us," Maine looked up at the cot across from him, where Penn used to sit as the two talked about the day's mission, and how they could improve. Conversations Maine actually used to enjoy. "Maybe three," he muttered.
Utah looked at the bed as well before slowly nodding. "So, you really trusted him, didn't you?" he asked.
"Agent Maine. Please report to the training floor immediately."
Maine sighed and slowly pushed himself to his feet. "We were the same. Both orphaned young. Both taken in. Both shunned from the UNSC. Both ended up here."
"Well," Utah groaned as he pushed off the wall, "something separates you two. You're still here with the Project… he isn't. I guess it's a shame you two didn't get taken in by the same people. I mean, what could have gone wrong in his life that didn't in yours?"
"He never told me." Maine exited the room, with Utah close behind. "Said he was raised to be a weapon, but never said who did it. Don't think he even knewwho it was."
"Did you try to find out?"
Of course. "Not my business."
"With close teammates, sometimes it is, Maine. Especially friends."
"Don't get involved." Don't have friends.
"But why not, Maine? That's what having teammates and friends is all about." Maine turned and squared off with Utah, standing only inches from him. The two stared into each other's eyes as Maine clenched his fists.
"Because friends are like shotguns, Utah!" Utah took a step back as Maine growled down at him. After a moment, Maine thought about what he was doing. He sighed and turned his body away, but kept his eyes locked on Utah's. "The closer you let them get, the more damage they can do to you. If you went through what I've been through, you'd know that by now."
Maine turned away and made his way towards the training floor. He walked past the other Freelancers, gathered in the observation deck and waiting for a show. Things had been tense ever since North, South, Connie and Georgia had returned, reporting the ODSTs dead, and Ark, Penn and the rest of the Crimson Sun long gone. Maine had taken the news about as well as could have been expected.
"Feeling better big man?" York asked.
"Piss off."
"Yup," York nodded, smiling in return. "I'm good, too. Thanks for asking. And good luck down there."
"Cheerful as always, isn't he?" Wyoming added, as the giant disappeared from sight, entering the training room.
"Hey," Georgia started, "The guy's been through a lot. Give him a break."
"Or some time, at least" Virginia added, chipping in her own two cents. Maine got into the lift and descended down to the training floor, and all his fear and anguish was now turning into focused rage. He didn't know if the Director planned to shove him back into the Danger Room, but Maine would be ready this time. Clear head, clear mind, and nothing but destruction on his brain.
The doors opened onto the training floor… completely empty. Maine stepped out of the small elevator and towards the white circle in the centre of the floor. The stillness of an empty training floor was like nothing else. No sound, no wind, no movement at all.
Just Maine, prepared for whatever they threw at him.
"Competitors, prepare for combat," F.I.L.S.S. spoke. Maine looked around the training floor, but again, nothing.
"Competitors?" he asked. The silence was broken by the grinding of the metal door opening across the way. Colorado, New Jersey, and Nebraska stepped out of the opposing elevator and onto the floor. Each of them held a staff in their arms, which was held in a tight and purposeful grip. As they got closer the ends of their weapons began to spark with electricity. Maine growled and clenched his hands into fists. He knew what their menacing approach meant. They were working together, and he was alone. They had pre-planned a strategy, and he hadn't. They had weapons, and he didn't… or at least, that's what they assumed.
"Hey, Maine," Nebraska spoke out in greeting, his smirk evident in his tone of voice. "Three-on-one, huh? Must've pissed off the Director somehow."
"Maybe we should do this one at a time?" 'Rado suggested. "You know? Give the guy a fighting chance?" The reflective dome might have been Maine's best weapon at this point. That way none of the three could see the anger and drive washing over his face.
"Jeez," Kent began as he peered through the glass, "wouldn't want to be in his shoes right now. I mean there's no way he can win this. He's gunna get the shit beat out of him."
"More than likely," Alaska added. "But he has Jersey and 'Rado backing him up, so maybe he'll be okay."
Kent turned to look at his teammate, raising an eyebrow as he did.
"What?" Alaska met his gaze, before snapping his fingers in realization. "Oh… sorry. Thought you were talking about Nebraska."
Kent slowly shook his head as Florida came up and slapped him on the shoulder. "Kid… you're about to see something you might not be ready for."
Maine dug his back foot into the ground. At the end of his last training session, he was on his knees on the verge of tears, cradling a broken arm. He had everything to prove this time around, and fighting the close-quarter expertise of the trio in front of him, was the perfect way to make a statement.
"Training session begins in 3. 2. 1."
Maine leapt from his position and charged towards the trio, like a truck with no wheels and nothing but purpose. He had studied the three Freelancers very closely. He knew Nebraska wouldn't rely on the other two. There was much more to him than he let on, much like Maine himself. Colorado wouldn't mind fighting head-on, but was most likely too headstrong to follow any pre-made strategy for very long. New Jersey was the one most likely to involve strategy in the mix, but unfortunately wasn't as skilled in close-quarter combat as the other two… which made her the perfect target.
Maine ducked under Nebraska's initial swing before catching Colorado's staff. He kicked her in the shin, knocking her to her knees before throwing the staff, and its user, away. Maine tried to focus his assault on Jersey, who was, so-far, reading his moves like a book. Each punch was skilfully parried and answer with a swing of the staff. Maine would jam his gauntlets into the staff to avoid each shot, careful not to hit the electrified end. Maine leaned back as 'Rado and Nebraska each took an over-the-head swing at him. Maine snatched the two staffs mid-attack, and held them firmly in his hands. Nebraska and 'Rado pressed down with all their might, trying to drive the electricity into Maine's domed visor. Maine held strong and peered forward, seeing Jersey getting to her feet and ready for another strike.
He stepped away and ripped the staffs downward, causing 'Rado's staff to hit Nebraska's helmet, and vice-versa. The two Freelancers shook from the electricity and lowered their guard as a result. Maine snapped back forward, unleashing a flurry of shots into both of his opponents. Their bodies ripped back and forth as each blow made them jut in a different direction.
"Three on one," Maine thought to himself. "Need to take them out quick. Make sure they don't get back up." Maine threw his boot into 'Rado's ankle and as she fell he threw a massive uppercut that combined with her downward motion, causing her to fly into the air, backflipping, before slamming down onto her chest. He grabbed the back of her armour and tore her off the ground, using her body to block a swing from Jersey, mercilessly shocking her in the process.
Maine tossed 'Rado away and tried to begin his assault on Jersey. Her next attack was blocked by Maine's forearm, as were the two kicks she threw as a follow-up. He pushed her leg out of the way and grabbed her staff, pulling her in and smashing his elbow into the side of her head. A spiderweb crack shot across her visor as Maine took control of her dropped weapon. He grabbed Jersey's shoulder with his free hand and ripped her down into a knee, throwing her into the air. She slammed down onto the metal floor in an eruption of friction-caused sparks.
"Holy shit!" Georgia shouted. "Is it just me… or is he getting stronger? Might give Penn a real workout, next time around!" Carolina rolled her eyes, but leant in towards the window, watching the fight even more closely.
Maine snapped Jersey's staff in half over his knee like a twig and turned to see Nebraska loading up a huge downward swing. The giant Freelancer threw his hands together, smashing both electrified ends of Jersey's broken staff into the sides of Nebraska's head, who convulsed violently as sparks flew from his armour. Maine stepped away before launching his foot forward into Nebraska's chest, throwing him across the room into the wall.
The winded Freelancer slowly peeled off the metal and took a moment to get his breath back. By the time he had looked up again, Maine was already rocketing towards him. His massive hand wrapped around Nebraska's visor, and using his full momentum, jammed the back of Nebraska's head into the metal wall, knocking the younger Freelancer out instantly. Nebraska went limp and fell to the ground as soon as Maine released him, and the giant took a deep breath and dropped the broken staff to the floor.
"Competitors One, Two and Three are unable to compete. Agent Maine, please incapacitate Competitor Four to complete the session."
"Four?" Maine asked cautiously, breathing heavily, face flushed and hands trembling slightly with adrenaline. Before any more thoughts filled his domed visor, a fist slammed into the side of his head, throwing Maine to the floor and making him skid a dozen or so feet before he finally came to a stop. Maine shook off the attack and forced himself to his knee, and his blurred vision started to form a clearer image of his attacker as he grew closer.
"Ready, big guy?" Utah asked. "One on one. That's the way you like it, right?"
Maine tightened his hand into a fist and slowly rose to his feet. Utah stretched out his shoulders before stepping back and putting his own hands up, on guard. "Well what are you waiting for? Show me what you got!"
Maine growled as he took off towards Utah, who threw a swift right hook, which Maine bobbed underneath before throwing two jabs and a left cross straight into Utah's helmet. He then hiked up his boot and smashed it into Utah's chest, launching him backwards, but Utah managed to keep his footing and charged forward again immediately.
"Anyone here know what's up with that new guy?" York asked, somewhat bemused, looking down on Utah. "Almost seems like he's got a death wish or something. You don't really taunt Maine if you can't then get away from him."
Maine threw his fist into the air and smashed it down on the back of Utah's head, knocking the soldier to his knees.
"Apparently you don't know Utah very well," Jersey stated, examining her damaged helmet with an appraising eye. York turned to her, raising an eyebrow, but she merely shrugged, walking out of the lift from the training floor and taking a seat on a bench.
"What? Banter is something the guy's known for?"
Maine grabbed Utah's chest plate and lifted him off the ground, pulling his arm back, preparing to unleash another strike straight into Utah's visor.
"Hmph," Jersey chuckled, shaking her head derisively. "That's not all he's known for."
Maine threw his fist, but stopped dead when Utah caught it and held it firmly in place, before throwing Maine's hand off of him and kicking out at his opponents legs. As Maine dropped, Utah unleashed three quick, hard shots into Maine's stomach, knocking the wind from the giant.
The younger Freelancer then spun around and drove his heel up into the air, landing the massive wheelkick on the side of Maine's domed helmet and slamming the giant into the floor. As Utah leapt in the air to strike down, intent on capitalising fully on his advantage, Maine rolled back and sprung forward, tackling the other Freelancer mid-air. Time slowed as Maine continued through the attack, causing Utah's momentum to change direction from the impact, knocking them both towards the far side of the hall. As Maine landed he reached forward, catching Utah's ankle before he was allowed to get too far away, before ripping his arm back, preparing to throw Utah like a baseball.
Utah quickly slammed his other foot into the floor, stopping Maine's pitch. He grabbed Maine's shoulders and ripped him down into a powerful knee, before landing several more punches on the giant. Each one put a new dent in Maine's armour, causing Maine to growl in irritation, before jumping forward and tackling Utah onto the ground. He sat on his chest and started ramming his fists down into Utah's helmet, who held his guard, taking the shots in his forearms. Eventually he threw his legs into the air, hooking them around Maine's helmet and ripping him off.
"Impressive, isn't he?" Wyoming asked, a touch of admiration in his voice.
"Very," Carolina muttered quietly, almost to herself. "Not a lot of people can go toe-to-toe with Maine."
"Especially not close-quarters," Florida added, the sound of a man who knew this from personal experience.
"I know one soldier that could," South swiftly replied, sharply, but Florida ignored her tone. The other Freelancers glanced towards her, but she kept her focus on the match. "Maybe we should keep our eyes on Utah from now on."
"Strength doesn't lead to betrayal, sis," North remarked, his own voice holding a clear note of warning for his twin sister.
"It takes a certain kind of mentality to do what Penn and Ark did," Alaska added, confidently. "Utah isn't like that."
"And what proof do you have?" South asked, turning to face the red Freelancer, but another voice cut in, coming from York.
"Look at him," the tan agent replied, nodding to the training room floor. South looked down and saw Utah take a step back, before motioning to Maine to bring it on again. "He knows he's got a huge challenge in front of him and he's still acting like that."
South shrugged and looked at York. "So? He's cocky."
"No. He's smiling under that helmet. I can tell." York nodded a few times and chuckled to himself. "He's having fun with Maine right now."
Maine pushed Utah's arm to the side and lashed out, growling as he did so. He rammed his fist into Utah's chest, shoving the Freelancer back about ten feet. Utah pounded his fist into his hand before running in again, and Maine mirrored his actions, before they both threw two massive punches, slamming into each other with a deafening thud, clearly audible to all those present.
"Well," Wyoming began, "The chap has a bloody funny way of enjoying himself."
"How can Utah hold him off when we couldn't?" Rado asked, joining the team, a fresh bruise running along her left cheek, and a note of irritation mixed with awe in her voice.
"Utah is real strong," York replied, then rolled his eyes as the others snorted at his stating the obvious. "And Maine is nearly impossible to keep down. You guys would've needed serious teamwork to stop him. A weapon is only as good as the person wielding it, and team is only as good as the sum of its parts."
"Maine somehow seems to understand that more than anyone here," Carolina noted wryly. "No wonder why he always tries to fight alone."
Maine let out a deep clicking growl before pushing Utah's fist to the side and jetting forward. He smashed his forearm into Utah's head, dropping the soldier to the ground, and allowing himself to take some deep breaths as Utah slowly pushed himself back up.
"Why won't you stay down?!" Maine roared, disbelief evident in his voice.
Utah shakily got to his feet and raised his hands, on guard again. "Not something I'm used to doing," he replied after a moment, still as cheerful as ever. "I guess the same could be said for you. So I guess were pretty similar, huh?"
Maine stopped for a moment. So similar. So alike.
Utah ran in again, but the last attack had definitely taken its toll. Maine charged forward, managing to hook his massive arm over and clothesline Utah, causing him to backflip in the air before slamming down onto his chest. Maine stopped his run and spun around as Utah got to his knees, shaking his head angrily and smashing his forearm into the other Freelancer's head. Utah's visor shattered on impact, and his helmet came rocketing off, clattering to the floor a few feet away.
He fell onto his back and crashed onto the ground, and Maine quickly threw himself on top of him, pulling his hand back to throw another punch into Utah's now-exposed face. Dozens of voices in Maine's head screamed for him to do it and make sure the bastard wouldn't get up again. Serve him right for thinking he could take me on.
Suddenly, Maine heard something else, another voice in the back of his mind. He examined Utah's face, unresponsive and still, and slowly lowered his arm, taking his knee off of the Freelancer's chest. He looked up at the observation deck and then at the destroyed helmet laying twenty feet away, before looking back down and nudging Utah slightly with the toe of his boot.
"Utah?" he asked. No answer. Maine knelt down next to his teammate, and lifted him so he was sitting upright. "Utah? Can you hear me?" Still nothing. Maine thought to himself for a moment. How long would medical teams take to get here? Maine finally hook his arm under Utah's knees and lifted him up. He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to get Utah to medical right away, but as he got the soldier into the air he heard a slight giggle. Maine looked down to see Utah grinning, a bit of blood on his teeth.
"And here I thought you didn't like me," he laughed. Maine growled before dropping Utah back onto the floor, who fell onto his back and grunted when he hit the ground, though this did little to dispel his mirth. "Oww!"
He smiled and nodded slightly at Maine, raising himself into a sitting position. "Now… I'm not saying I didn't deserve that…" Maine sighed and shook his head, before offering his hand to Utah. The Freelancer took it and let Maine help him to his feet. "Thanks."
Maine grunted before quickly turning away, and Utah immediately put up his hands and shook his head in exasperation. "What? That's it? C'mon!"
Maine stopped before entering the lift out and turned his head back to his teammate, a trace of a smile on his lips, hidden by his visor. He nodded slightly.
"Good match."