(A/N) Hey guys, time for another update, this time by the fantastic Baldore, and Private Jervis Voisine's second chapter! Just letting you all know that tomorrow will see the announcement of our Awards Night winners, so I urge you all to vote, if you haven't already! To those who have, I'd just like to say thanks! Can't wait to reveal it, we've had some great fics nominated, and I'm looking forward to giving them the credit they're due! It's late, so I'm gonna head off on this, and just, as always, leave you to it.

*Disclaimer* Any and all swearing present in this chapter will have been due to the editing process, and not the original words of Baldore.

Enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Seven – Promotions and Projects

Jarvis Voisine – Private First Class, Engineer

Written by Baldore

"I make a project and I panic. Which is good, it can be a method. First, panic. Second, conquer panic by working. Third, find ways to solve your doubts." ― Eduardo Souto de Moura

Project Freelancer.

That was the name of the project that was in command of the Mother of Invention. Which was now up and functional again. And Jarvis, who began to work closely with Jones and Rook after the first day of repairs, and after the hard work, tech problems and general mayhem that was repairing the Invention, the mechanics and engineers had gotten the ship back up and running. Jarvis had almost even forgotten about the two A.I.s, just because he was so busy. Almost.

But that was hardly the foremost on his mind when the repairs were nearing completion. Because, when the repairs were completed, that meant going back to the UNSC, being under appreciated by the marines and ODSTs who thought their equipment and ships were fixed by magic unicorns that required no thanks. It meant that he would be leaving the two other mechanics that he actually enjoyed working with, and understood his love of machines. It meant leaving before he found out what had occurred aboard the Mother of Invention. He'd actually settled in and began liking life aboard the mysterious warship.

To summarize, it sucked. The big one.

So when Jarvis was approached by someone from Project Freelancer, who he originally yelled at for interrupting his work – before apologising when he realized it was a superior – and was offered a job at the mysterious project, the brown haired mechanic snapped it up. Perhaps he should've asked for some more information, but station changes don't come too often for mechanics, and maybe Freelancer would be more entertaining than his last stint, fixing up old, totalled warthogs.

As it turned, out Rook and Jones had also joined up, apparently because the trio had gotten a recommendation from their foreman. The same one that was nearly decapitated by the jammed Scorpion shell, and the Jarvis had been under the impression that he hated the mechanic's guts. Well, Jarvis was happy to admit that he had been wrong.

That was a while ago. Since then, Jarvis had adjusted pretty well to life at Project Freelancer. He hadn't encountered many of the agents yet, unfortunately, but he had heard from some other mechanics that not having met them might be something to consider lucky. He'd also met some of the pilots and got along well with most of them, more or less. And then the medics were all polite and friendly, though one in particular always tended to rant about his overtime.

"Private Voisine? Private Rook? Are you available?" The on-board A.I., F.I.L.S.S., called out, jolting Jarvis out of his thoughts, and he paused in the repairs of a derelict Warthog. The ship's A.I. was another thing he had to get used to, but was another welcome change. He hadn't really thought about it much, but it struck him as strange that he hadn't encountered the other A.I. from earlier since the first meeting.

"Yeah, shoot, F.I.L.S.S," Jarvis tossed his wrench to Jones, who pretended to dunk it into the tool box and throwing both his arms up in mock celebration.

"I am unaware of what to shoot at, Private Voisine. Will you please elaborate?" The feminine computer nearly sounded confused.

"No, no." Jarvis laughed. "It's slang. From where I come from, it means 'go ahead' or 'what'."

"Oh. I will note that for future reference." F.I.L.S.S. said with a pause before continuing. "The reason for my interruption was that the Director wanted you and Private Rook on the bridge as soon as possible."

"Gotcha F.I.L.S.S., thanks for telling us." Jarvis got up and fetched Rook, who was currently on break. And not happy about losing said break, either.

"Good luck, guys! Been nice knowin' ya!" Jones yells to them as they exit.

Jarvis rolled his eyes as the mechanic beside him argued with him over which would be a better weapon, a Slipspace drive or a nuke. Obviously a Slipspace rupture could cause more damage, but it wasn't cost effective. The nuclear, probably a SHIVA class warhead, based on their discussion, would obviously give more bang for your buck. Or maybe a MAC round if it was well placed. Trying to tune out their conversation, Jarvis observed the rest of the people that the Director had summoned. About eight mechanics, including himself and Rook, were assembling, making their way towards the deck. He quickly became observed in his own observations of the bridge, which resulted in him missing Rook's question. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you had heard the rumours about 'the mechanics' luck' yet?" Rook asked, and it was now her turn to roll her eyes.

"Nah, what is this bullcrap?" He resisted the urge to roll his own eyes, deciding the daily quota of it had been met, before following Rook down the correct hallway towards the bridge.

"Rumour has it that we – the mechanics of the MoI – are cursed," she said, in a fake spooky voice, glancing out the bridge's giant viewing window as if she expected this 'curse' to materialize and end her right then and there. "A lot of the mechanics have met grisly fates aboard this very ship!"

"Uh huh." The male mechanic was dubious. "Like what?"

"Y'know, that Covvie attack?" A nod in confirmation. "Well, the docking bays were one of the first places hit. Lots of dead mechanics. Working on repairs one second, kicking the bucket the next. Then the training room accidents. And to top it all off, one of the Freelancers killed a bunch of mechanics. Which was why we were pulled in, to fill in the dead guys spots."

"Really? Which Freelancer?"

"The red one? His armour is an ODST variant. I think that's right, anyway. Maybe not. Also heard that he's pretty sadistic. Anyway, he's got one of the weird states for a codename."

"Hawaii, maybe?"

"Nah, Alaska, I think. Yeah, that's right. This Alaska fellow had some sort of mental breakdown and a bunch of people got killed, including a lot of mechanics working on the engines. They stopped him eventually, but most of the workers on the job were killed for some bullcrap reason." She made a throat cutting motion for emphasis. "And thus the curse was born!"

The mechanic beside Jarvis elbowed him in the ribs, speaking with an annoying accent. "So what do you two think we got called here fur? The Director isn't one fur social meetings, 'specially not with an'body who's not one of his precious Freelancers."

"Maybe a commendation for our hard work?" Jarvis replied sarcastically, earning assembled groans and chuckles. After a moment of more serious consideration he shrugged. "No, I've got no idea. Rook?"

"Maybe a new weapon system or maybe an upgrade for the MAC canon?" she supplied, shrugging.

"Nah, I be betting zat eet ez ze armour upgrades," another mechanic chipped in, making Jarvis wonder if he missed a memo that said that all the assembled mechanics must have accents.

"No, no, I'm putting my chips in on an advanced HUD, to get ahead of the SPARTAN Project," another threw out for discussion.

"Or we could be working on those fancy enhancements the Freelancers got." Jarvis put his two cents in, remembering seeing two agents training with odd bubble shaped contraptions. "Or we could be doing something with that white A-"

Suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat was heard behind the assembled mechanics. Jarvis started a half turn that quickly turned into a salute as he saw the Director and the Counselor walk onto the deck.

"You must be wondering why we've assembled you here today," the Director murmured, his signature southern draw making him sound like a character out of an old western movie. "Well, allow me to put those rumours to rest."

The Director stood in front of them, hands clasped behind his back with the Counselor beside him. "Director, are you sure that you want to-"

"Yes, Counsellor, I am." He turned to face the assembled mechanics, who were still standing at attention, looking somewhat nonplussed. "At ease, gentleman. Now, the reason I've called the eight of you here is because of your exemplary skills."

"Does this mean we get a raise?" Jarvis joked, cutting in.

"No, it does not. And you would be wise to learn to keep your quips to yourself when I'm around, Private Voisine." The Director fixed him in place with a cool stare. "No, I've called you all here today to undertake an important mission. But before I bring explain exactly want that is, you will all be receiving special sets of armour. They will allow you to work more efficiently, given the nature of the project at hand, while also allowing us to contact you with ease. They will provide better protection that your ordinary suits, and they've received a few enhancements of their own, which should assist you as you get to work on the aforementioned project."

The group's gaze was directed to eight suits of what Jarvis assumed was their would-be uniform. They were entirely matte black, with the exception of the shoulders, which were white, along several bands of purple broke up the colour scheme, signalling that the wearer of the uniform was a part of...whatever this group was. Maybe they'd get a cool codename too?

The eight of them quickly suited up before getting back into their line to await further instructions. Jarvis was still hoping for a codename. Maybe, since the Freelancers all had state codenames, they could be Project Canada or something.

"F.I.L.S.S, if you'd be so kind as to pull up the projection?" the Director asked, interrupting Jarvis' thoughts.

"Of course, Director." The central hologram projector rippled to life at his command, displaying something that was...well, not big news.

A standard Freelancer Mark VI suit stood inside the projection, slowly rotating clockwise. And it appeared to be completely normal – no modifications of any kind, no updated HUD, no upgrades to the A.I. slot, no extra enhancement segment, nothing was different. Everything was completely normal except that...

"The eight of you will be constructing this armour based on these specifications," the Director ordered calmly, observing their reactions to the projection with a thin smile on his face.

Then the difference became blatantly obvious to Jarvis. The mechanic nearly gasped in surprise at its purpose before busting into a grin. After all, he did like a challenge, though he couldn't help but wonder what the Director needed this for. A few seconds later the others began to realise the nature of the armour too, and their eyes widened in shock as they began to talk amongst themselves, every last one of them considering eager to discuss the possibilities that this project would bring about. And the possible challenges, of course.

What lay before them, were the schematics to build a totally unmanned, fully functioning bionic soldier.