(A/N) Hey guys, time for the next update in Phase Two: Betrayal, this time written by the wonderful RocketTortoise, and featuring the relentless Agent Carolina. It's pretty late, so I'm going to keep this short and sweet and leave the rest up to you!
Enjoy!
Chapter Fifty-Four – Dead End
Agent Carolina
Written by RocketTortoise
"If at first you don't succeed, call an airstrike." ― Banksy
This is a private document. Unauthorized access is not welcome. Cease immediately or we will be forced to act accordingly to protect our property. Continuedunauthorizeduseof this document will lead to prosecution and/or death. You have thirty seconds to comply. Have a nice day.
The grey-armoured soldier wasn't the biggest fan of sniper rifles.
It wasn't that she couldn't use one if she had to, but if the option offered to her was between a sniper rifle and a different weapon, a DMR for example, then on most occasions the sniper rifle would be gladly discarded.
Authorization code accepted... Level one access granted... Welcome...
An obvious gripe with the sniper rifle was ammo capacity. A four-bullet magazine meant that one couldn't afford to waste bullets when faced with multiple enemies. Each bullet had to be utilised for maximum efficiency, and anything less could mean death for the sniper rifle's wielder.
Another gripe was how easy it was for enemies to sneak up behind her while she was staring down the scope. The 360° sensor, that came standard issue with her armour, didn't seem to work when she was occupied with the sniper rifle. The grey-armoured soldier was forced to rely on her other senses to detect enemies.
Excerpt from Project Freelancer mission briefing 9-0-Alpha-7-Bravo.
The grey-armoured soldier stretched the fingers of her left hand and felt the joints click with relief. She then rolled the wrist and more clicks ensued. Ugh... she had been immobile for too long. The soldier and her team had been left waiting, doing recon for hours, and she could feel the effects of the cold even through her armour. Normally it was left to others to carry out reconnaissance, but when the enemy was as dangerous as theirs was, you could never be too careful.
Local surveillance on the planet Arcite reports hostile forces active on the planet surface. Locals claim seeing armed soldiers concentrated around a very precise location. Informants on the ground have confirmed these reports and have procured photographic evidence of the soldiers. We believe that the new presence on Arcite is the Insurrectionist organization known as the Crimson Sun.
The grey-armoured soldier scanned the area again. The sun was dropping behind the skyscrapers behind her, and long shadows were stretching across the snow-covered field below the thirtieth-floor room that the grey-armoured soldier was using as her sniper nest.
Her eye covered the old building in the centre of the field. Unlike the modern skyscrapers that were commonplace on Arcite, this building was old, bordering on decrepit. It was merely an old storage warehouse. There were no windows that let light into the building, only a solid-looking door that stood at the entrance.
Surrounding the building just inside the edge of the field was a large fence that was electrified. Apparently there was something inside that old warehouse that was worth protecting with an electric fence.
The concentration of armed soldiers in the area, and an abnormal spike in power consumption, have led us to believe that the Crimson Sun is using an establishment – designated 9-45-B – as at least one of their safehouses on this planet.9-45-B has been inactive for over 36 months, and had been scheduled for demolition twice by the local council, but on both counts the building had been saved by the act of demolition being postponed due to "unforeseen circumstances". It is likely that 9-45-B has been an Insurrectionist safehouse for at least three years.
Apart from the electric fence though, there didn't seem to be any other form of defence protecting the warehouse. She hadn't seen any guard patrols, scans had shown no traps, or sensors, on or around the warehouse. It was extremely suspicious.
Attempted surveillance inside 9-45-B has thus far been unsuccessful. Thermal imaging and other forms of distance reconnaissance have failed to penetrate inside 9-45-B. Enemy strength and numbers are therefore unknown. Sorry about that.
The grey-armoured soldier was concerned about the lax security around the building but this was an opportunity that they couldn't pass up without checking out first.
She moved her head away from the scope to get a more distant view of the building maybe there was something she had missed, something that made all the pieces for together in a way that made sense. Her instincts screamed at her that it was a trap.
"Yeah, I know," she muttered to herself. If there was the slightest chance that he was in there then she had to check it out. It wasn't just the mission. This was personal.
Attempts to capture enemy movements on video have been almost entirely unsuccessful except for one CCTV recording of a very large man meeting with an unknown partner. It is not a hundred percent confirmed but we believe we have discovered footage of fugitive and former Freelancer Agent Pennsylvania a.k.a. Name Withheld.
A courageous sparrow had braved the harsh weather and landed on the windowsill beside the grey-armoured soldier's sniper rifle. It poked around the rifle and the soldier considered shooing it away, but decided to leave the bird be; not much point in spooking the wildlife. The sparrow took a step closer to the rifle and lost its footing. Do sparrows lose their footing? Apparently it doesn't happen often, as the sparrow seemed extremely surprised as it tumbled down the side of the tall building. Just before it hit the ground it managed to level itself, and, with the frantic flapping of its wings, the sparrow slowed its plummet and began to gain altitude. That's confidence-inspiring,Carolina thought. As the sparrow flew into the distance - presumably back to its hideaway from the snow - the grey-armoured soldier returned her attention back to the snow-capped building below.
This footage was taken less than 48 hours ago so there is a considerable possibility that the former-Agent Pennsylvania is still on-planet.
The building was still as quiet as ever, and it still held that malevolent feeling like it was daring them to venture inside. Come on, I want you to do it, come on give the order. Come on in and see what happens.
Your mission is to infiltrate 9-45-B and gather any intelligence on Crimson Sun and its personnel. Information concerning Crimson Sun leader Name Withheld a.k.a. former Freelancer Agent Arkansas, or known associate Lieutenant Ian Harper, is considered extremely valuable. If you locate Agent Pennsylvania, attempt to capture him if possible and bring him in for questioning, in order to face the consequences of his crimes. He is categorised as an S-class criminal, guilty of multiple counts of murder, along with desertion, among other things, and is considered extremely dangerous and therefore should be approached cautiously. He will likely be armed and in the presence of other Crimson Sun forces. Arkansas and Harper are also high-value targets that are wanted by Project Freelancer.
"Well," the grey-armoured soldier muttered, "if you insist."
Due to the lack of reliable intelligence gathered on the Crimson Sun and its members, caution is recommended on the execution of this assignment.
After taking one last scan of the area, concluding once more that the building was indeed silent, the grey-armoured soldier activated her comms and radioed her team.
Rendezvous with Pelican Four-Seven-Niner at 1900 hours with your team prepped.
As the other three members of her team entered the room, the grey-armoured soldier turned off her camouflage unit, transforming her grey armour back to its original light blue. Or aqua. Whatever.
This is a level-one directive. Good luck Agent Carolina.
"Maine, get the zipline ready," Carolina ordered. "Then buckle up. You happen to be heading into this hell-hole first." The behemoth of a man grumbled something about having to do everything, but nevertheless set to work. He lifted up the bazooka-like launcher onto his shoulder and stepped towards the window.
"Georgia, you got anything?" Carolina asked, placing her sniper rifle on her back. She was relieved that they were finally past this reconnaissance stage of the mission. She had already been stuck on the sidelines for months, doing nothing, while Project Freelancer had been out of commission. Waiting around doing reconnaissance just felt like more time-wasting. She understood why they had to spend so long doing recon, but she wanted to burn down Arkansas and Pennsylvania's organization as quickly as possible. It wasn't just professional, not any more. It was personal.
"Still got nothing on the sensors, Carolina," Georgia replied. There was something in Georgia's voice - a sound of determination - that made everything seem just that much more possible. It was the sound of a will that wouldn't be easily broken. It was the sound of grim determination that she heard in her own voice. Like Carolina, Georgia must have felt responsible for the deaths of their teammates - Massachusetts and Michigan - at the hands of Ark and Penn. He must have felt that he should have seen Arkansas' betrayal coming, given that Ark was his roommate, and stopped it somehow. It wasn't a thought he would have been alone in having – she had heard some of the others voicing that same thought, somewhat bitterly, in the weeks and months after Massa's and Mich's deaths.
The months stuck in civilian life must have been hell for Georgia as well, feeling that he had a sin to atone for by stopping Ark. Knowing that a lead that could take them a step closer towards capturing Arkansas – or possibly the man himself – could be waiting for them in the warehouse below, must be taking up all of Georgia's. His motives were different to California's blood-fueled quest for vengeance. More like a quest to right a wrong.
Carolina looked over her team one final time, before announcing, "Let's get started. Maine, hit it!"
Maine let loose the zipline, sending the cable flying out of the launcher in a precise parabola through the window and down towards the snow. The target was not the roof of the warehouse but instead an area of snow and earth behind it. Their element of surprise would be ruined if anyone inside the building heard the sound of a grapple punching through the roof. The metal head of the zipline slammed through the snow and dug into the soft earth. The teeth of the head were angled so that the zipline could penetrate the earth easily but would be much more difficult to extract, Carolina knew, given that Georgia had spent most of the recon yammering on about it.
Maine grumbled, "Done," in his usual gruff way, and Carolina nodded in response.
"Good work, Maine. This is how we're going to do this: Maine will go first on the zipline followed by Georgia who will be followed by Florida. I'll go last. As soon as you hit the roof, Georgia you start the incursion, Florida, you're to aid him. Once we're in, we split up into groups of two and scan the area. Maine, you're with Florida and Georgia's with me. We don't know what will be waiting for us inside, so stay sharp. Scan everything and send it all up to the Mother of Invention for analysis. Maine and Florida, you'll take the east half of the warehouse, while Georgia and myself will take the west half. Sync?"
"Sync," the others replied. Maine secured the zipline to a wall and attached himself the cable, and the giant Freelancer climbed into the windowsill before hesitating.
Carolina immediately noticed and walked up behind Maine. Maine was staring downwards to the ground thirty floors below. "You'll be fine," Carolina assured him. "This zipline can carry a boat without breaking. It can definitely handle your weight." Maine looked back and growled at her displaying his doubt then turned back to staring below. Carolina sighed and kicked Maine off the windowsill, " Oh shut up, you big baby."
Carolina felt a smile beginning to grow at the edges of her mouth. York would have found the Maine's giant form carried down the zipline by his pelvis incredibly amusing. Damn it. Carolina pushed the smile into oblivion. No time for that now.
Maine was now reaching the bottom of the zipline. He caused his momentum to stop by landing his feet carefully against the spine of the triangular roof, and then detached himself from the cable.
"Georgia, you're up," Carolina announced. Without speaking, Georgia attached himself to the zipline. He managed to lift himself up onto the windowsill despite the heavy pack on his back, and, without speaking, plummeted down towards the 9-45-B. Georgia's descent and detachment went without incident, as did Florida's.
Finally it was Carolina's turn. As she climbed up onto the windowsill, she felt the welcome feeling of her quadriceps stretching after hours of disuse. How did people like Wyoming and Virginia stand lying still like that on a regular basis? Carolina took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever was to come, and dropped from the windowsill.
As Carolina made her beeline down to the warehouse, she could once again feel that malevolent feeling, and as she drew closer that feeling grew. Heh, like moths to a flame.
Suddenly the warehouse roof was below her, and her knees rose towards her chin as her boots hit the spine of the roof. She detached herself from the cable and joined her teammates, who were already in the process of incursion.
The darkness was quickly becoming absolute so Carolina switched her helmet's night vision on. Her teammates and the snow-covered roof below them became tinged in green, as did the darkness that surrounded them.
Georgia had already taken the large pack from his back and had pulled out the bulky device from within. A metre diameter circle had been cleared of snow and Georgia's device was set down in the centre of it. Four magnetic clamps were extended from the device and spread out across the circle and attached to the surface of the roof. Finally, one last arm stretched out from the device, the end of the arm hovering centimetres from the metal roof.
Georgia pressed a series of buttons on the device's main console and a few moments later it activated. With the faintest of sounds, a laser was emitted from the end of the device's arm, which started cutting through the warehouse roof. The arm then began to move, rotating in a clockwise circle around the device. The metal arm slipped over the clamps attached to the roof as it continued its journey, watched silently by the team of Freelancers.
Carolina let the laser do its work and glanced around the roof once more. No Crimson Sun soldiers jumped out at her. Apart from the four Freelancers, the warehouse was as quiet as it had ever been since the Freelancers started their recon.
Before Carolina could begin to think on that, the device had finished its job. When Carolina turned back, Georgia was leaning back over the console. The laser had stopped and, with a touch of a button, the arm was retracting back into the console.
Georgia stepped back, whispering, "Maine, if you could..."
Maine stepped up to the device and grabbed the two handles on the console. With a small gasp of effort, Maine lifted the console and, with it, the section of the roof that the laser had cut out.
Maine placed it on a patch of snow to the side and Georgia got to work detaching the device from the section of metal. While he did that, Carolina asked Florida, "What do our sensors see down there?"
Florida peered down through the hole in the roof. "Motion sensors and thermal don't pick up anything human down there," he answered. "Don't look like there's anyone down there. We're all on our lonesome, here."
Carolina considered this. It just felt more and more like a trap. Or maybe this was simply some abandoned warehouse with no connection with the Crimson Sun. Or maybe there was simply no one inside. They still had to check the building out and scan everything for analysis.
"Okay then," Carolina announced. "We're going in but stay on high alert. If the Crimson Sun were here then I doubt they would leave without leaving a parting gift. Georgia, can you detect any trip sensors or anything else I should be aware of down there?"
"Nothing's being picked up," Georgia replied, shrugging slightly.
Carolina nodded and peered into the warehouse. The entire building was essentially one large room. There was a large clear space in the centre of the room with rows of shelves surrounding it. As she peered further inside, she noticed a small manager's office in her and Georgia's half of the room. She would have to check that out.
Georgia had then pulled out a secondary device from his pack. This one was much less sophisticated than the previous machine, as this device was pretty much just a rope reel. Georgia set the single magnetic clamp at the edge of the hole and let some rope drop down into the warehouse.
Carolina decided to descend first this time. The rope dropped her down between two shelves and as soon as the four of them had descended into the building, the rope was called back up by the reel. She gave Maine and Florida a handsign signalling them to begin their investigation of the eastern half of the building. The two nodded and headed off while Carolina and Georgia started their own investigation of the western half.
They were very thorough. They looked through everything on the shelves (admittedly that wasn't a lot), scanning everything with the cameras fitted in their helmets, which sent everything they saw up to the MoI, where teams of analysts would try to sift out possible leads from the rubbish, and make connections that others may overlook.
Once the pair of Freelancers had scanned everything in the shelves, not finding anything that stood out to them as anything relevant to the Crimson Sun, they stepped into the manager's office. The door wasn't locked so breaking the door down wasn't necessary. The office itself was practically deserted except for a few near-empty files in the cabinet and some scattered documents on the desk. They scanned these as well, but from what she had seen, Carolina doubted any useful information would be gleaned. If the Crimson Sun had been here at all, then they had done a hell of a job in making the place look deserted. Perhaps something could be found once forensics has gone through this place.
Carolina looked across at Georgia. She remembered that determination in his voice. It wasn't just the determination of someone trying to atone for his mistakes and clear his guilt. It was the determination of someone trying to save his friend. The idiot thought he could bring back Arkansas, bring back the good old days when the murderers they were hunting weren't former teammates.
For Carolina, it was going to take a hell of a lot to get her to not shoot Ark on sight the next time they met, let alone to get her to forgive him. Georgia always seemed to Carolina to be one of those ones that didn't really seem to fit Project Freelancers. Guys like York, North and Georgia weren't the cold-blooded killing machines that a special-ops unit like Project Freelancer would attract. They were more suited to a different life, a more peaceful while people like Carolina were always destined for Project Freelancer. Where Carolina would shoot to kill Arkansas without batting an eyelash, Georgia would do what he could to save his friend. But she supposed it wasn't exactly a fair comparison. Would she follow Georgia's lead, if it was York in Arkansas' place?
"Doesn't look like there's anything here," Georgia stated, tiredly.
Carolina nodded, "I would have been surprised if we had found anything obvious." This was Arkansas' organization they were talking about. Making foolish mistakes wasn't in his M.O. "Let's meet up with the others."
The four Freelancers regrouped at the centre area of the building. Neither of the other two had found anything worthwhile either. Carolina nodded and started walking back to the spot directly below their hole in the roof, "We'll leave the way we came in. We'll grab our gear and leg it to the extraction zone. I'll call a Pelican on the way—" She lost her train of thought when she heard her boot crunch against a piece of paper. Her eyes flicked downwards. She hadn't noticed it before but now she wished she had. It was a note - one of those Post-It notes – with five words handwritten onto it.
Better luck next time, Carolina.
Carolina's eyes widened. A long, drawn out beep rang out throughout the building, swiftly followed by another.
Damn it.
Carolina turned. All three of her teammates were in front of her. Maine had reacted first and had already begun running towards that boarded window the second the first beep had sounded.
Damn it.
Florida and Georgia weren't so fast to react. They seemed to move in slow motion, with their feet moving like they had bricks tied to them and looking like they were stuck in partial paralysis.
Damn it.
The beeping was getting louder and faster. She didn't have any time left.
Damn it.
She activated her speed unit. She moved forward and grabbed Georgia with her right arm. He folded into her bicep but if he was in pain, she didn't hear it over the beeping and the adrenaline rushing in her head.
Damn it. Damn it!
She sidestepped to the left then pushed forward again, feeling herself picking up even more speed in such a short distance. She crunched Florida with her left arm and dived forward towards the boarded up window. Maine smashed through it, leaving a hole in the wood, but Carolina couldn't take it since her trajectory was off. She aimed for wood and she dropped her shoulder. The beeping had been tuned out of her head by the adrenaline coursing through her body and the thunderous beating of her heart.
DAMN IT!
She dived and felt her own body and that of her two teammates crunching through the wood. Something behind her exploded and she felt the heat cook through her armour. There was a momentary resistance from the wooden barricade but it then collapsed, and that was when the explosion hit her. The shockwave mixed with her speed unit sent her flying, and her grip on Georgia and Florida loosened and they fell from her grasp. Carolina's body was rotated in a one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn, and for a split second she saw the inferno engulfing the warehouse.
Then it was gone and the next thing she saw was snow as her helmet met the ground. She bounced back up and everything seemed upside down for a second, but she didn't have long to ponder on this as something hard slammed into her back almost instantaneously. Her plummet was halted and she blacked out for a moment before regaining consciousness face-first in the snow.
Slowly, she started collecting her thoughts and found that she was able to move her body. She clenched her fist and tried rising, placing her arms beneath her body and pushing up. Her arms trembled and threatened to collapse but she remained firm, and she was able to slowly prop her legs beneath her, allowing her to stand up. She looked around and realised that it was a tree that had stopped her fall. It now seemed to be bent to one side, but she managed to grab a hold of it before her legs gave out, causing her to fall onto her knees. Her armour had protected her from most of the damage but her body was still in pain, her back in particular. She was panting heavily, each breath turning into a raspy, chesty cough. At first her breaths were short and rough but eventually they slowed back to a more normal pattern, and she tried getting back to her feet, this time managing to maintain a standing position without falling over.
She heard shouts to her right and turned, seeing her three teammates coming down the hill she had just fallen down. Georgia and Florida were in the front with Maine trailing behind. and Florida was the first to reach her.
"Carolina, are you okay?" he asked, his voice betraying the worry disguised by his expressionless visor.
He tried to provide some support, but she pushed him away. "I'm fine, Florida, you don't need to worry about me."
"You don't look fine. You got hurled over a hundred metres, and twenty more would have landed you in an electric fence. Girl, you gotta be smartin' after something like that!"
Carolina turned and saw that Florida was indeed correct, for no more than twenty metres away was the fence that surrounded the warehouse, cracking evilly. Good thing the tree stopped her fall. "Don't worry about me. Just look after the others. I'll be fine." Grudgingly, Florida turned and propped up Georgia, who was now struggling to stand. They both had smoulder marks on their armour from the explosion, something Maine had managed to avoid. Whether he had avoided the explosion or whether he had just made use of his overshield enhancement, she couldn't tell, but she was relieved to see that he seemed uninjured.
Carolina activated her radio and found Four-Seven-Niner's voice on the other end. "How can I help you, over?"
"Get us some evac. We'll be located by 9-45-B waiting for pickup, over."
"Copy, you sound like you've had a hell of a night so far, over."
Carolina switched off the radio. She turned back to her team. "Can you guys make it back up the hill?"
Georgia nodded, "No problem." Georgia sounded weak and tired. That determination in his voice was lost and gone, and what was worse, she knew her own voice reflected this too. They were beaten, good and proper.
"Let's get going then."
The climb up the hill was slow but eventually they had dragged themselves back to the warehouse. The building was collapsing within, as the flames roared through it, turning everything inside to cinder. Guess there won't be a forensic team making their way down, Carolina mused wryly. Just as they reached the evac zone, the Pelican dropped from the north and hovered in front of them. The back doors lowered and the four Freelancers climbed wearily inside.
Maine, Florida and Georgia lowered themselves into their seats, but Carolina remained standing. As the pain dripped away, anger began taking its place. The Crimson Sun had known they were coming; they knew that she was coming. How? How were they so many steps ahead of Project Freelancer? Did they have an insider within the program? Carolina and her team never had a chance of finding Arkansas or Pennsylvania. It was all set up for them. Her instincts had told her it was a trap, and that was exactly what it was.
All that time ago at the start of Project Freelancer, Carolina was proud to be part of it. It was one of the most powerful organizations out there, always in the game. This time they were never even players. Just pawns way behind the run of play.
"Damn it!" She focused all her strength into her right arm and swung, punching the wall of the Pelican, leaving a considerable dent in the metal. She could sense her teammates staring at her in surprise. Damn it, she couldn't keep her emotions in check. Time and again, she found herself pouring these pent-up emotions out in flashfloods. How did he do it? How could he control his emotions like he does? Carolina tries but she can never control them like he does.
"Next time will be different," Carolina muttered. She would catch Arkansas and Pennsylvania. She would catch them and she will do it as the leader that she knew she could be. She would keep her emotions under control and every move she makes would be the right one.
It was time Project Freelancer got back in the game. The fight was only beginning.