(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about the delay for this chapter, I was unfortunately taken out of action by a bout of the 'flu for the last few weeks. Thankfully though, I have recovered somewhat - dying of a cough, but at least I'm able to go and get some editing done now. Have a Wyoming chapter here now for your perusal, written by Xehanorto, and since we haven't updated since I just want to say that I hope you all enjoyed the end of Season 12! Big reveal at the end which obviously will be very important for our future work, and it's been pretty fun planning the next couple of stages!
In case you're still not aware, we're coming to the end of our Connecticut application period, so if you're at all interested I'd recommend checking out the application form on our forum ASAP - The Freelancer Collaboration. I'd hurry though, as it'll close in less than three days, and we'll be announcing the successful applicant by the 16th of October.
Enjoy!
Chapter Eighty-Two - Brewing Discontent
Agent Wyoming
Written by Xehanorto
"You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment unless you trust enough." ― Frank Crane
"Round complete; a 2.5% increase in accuracy that round, Agent Wyoming."
Wyoming sighed as he emptied yet another used clip of ammo onto the floor, rubbing his visor with his fingers. Half an hour now he had spent on the training room floor, readying himself for what was to come over the next few days. He had thought things would be different when he was back at Freelancer, rather than being on his own, but he found himself slipping into the same kind of solitude that Florida had attempted to wring out of him before, shunning the company of others almost subconsciously, happiest when he was by himself.
He sighed again as he fired another clip at the firing range, dropping the empty clip to the ground before reloading. He had been here for hours, only stopping when the staff needed him to step back for a bit to open up a lane, or when he needed to eat or breathe for a moment.
It had been a week since the Director was forced to put a freeze on the Project, after they had managed to break the rookies out of the prison cells Ark had locked them away in. Time to take stock and re-evaluate the situation, the Director had claimed. After all, in one fell swoop almost half their agents had been kidnapped by the enemy. Clearly there were problems in their infrastructure that had to be dealt with before they could meet the Crimson Sun in battle again, and until that point they were going nowhere. Wyoming had taken it harder than most of the others. He didn't want to stay here on the MoI, halted, unmoving, falling behind - he needed to finish the job that he had sworn to do.
He needed to find Arkansas, Penn, and Harper and put a bullet through each of their heads, just like these targets that he had vented into for hours on end. And as long as Project Freelancer was forced to the sidelines, he could never have the chance. Or even worse, if things remained on hold for too long, someone else could kill them before he had the chance to pull the trigger on them.
That feeling of failure, that guilt, of betrayal all came rushing back to him, and he gritted his teeth in anger, though his hands remained as steady as ever. Cool, calm, detached - that was how he always handled himself. Unruffable, unshakable, the killer that he needed to be. So why was it becoming harder than ever to maintain this facade?
He growled to himself for a second, before firing off another clip after reloading his pistol, all six shots piercing the heart on the sheet. "I will kill them," he promised himself, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip on the gun in his hands. "No matter what, I'll find a way to put them down. It's the least that they deserve."
He had thought, back when the Director had been reinstated as the head of Project Freelancer, that this would give him his opportunity, but, in fact, things had only gotten worse. The Crimson Sun had taken down some of their targets, strengthened their positions, and even somehow managed to convince Nevada to go rogue and join them. The Freelancers where falling behind, and none of them felt this more keenly than Wyoming, not even Carolina. His entire life had revolved around viewing his battles from afar - that's the only way to get a true reading on them. And what he was seeing, at that moment, was that Ark and Pennsylvania were going to get away.
He twitched uncomfortably, anxious - desperate even - to get back into the field. He knew that the new Freelancers needed to recover, but Nevada had joined Arkansas's little band of rogues and yet they were just standing around, waiting for the Crimson Sun to make the next move. To Wyoming, this was unacceptable.
And what was their dear Number One, Carolina, doing? Pacing about the ship, training, arguing - in short, the exact same thing that he was doing. However, that was the important thing - he was doing just as much as she was. Their mission to rescue Dr Grace had told him a lot about the state of affairs at Project Freelancer, the main thing being that Carolina would no longer suffice as the leader in hunting down the Crimson Sun. She was too soft, he knew, he had always known. If push came to shove, and she had the chance to finally kill Ark, he wasn't sure if she'd take the shot.
And that simply wasn't good enough.
Sure she was strong enough, clever enough, and resourceful enough, but she didn't have the one thing that Wyoming had going for him: the desire, the need to but those bastards six feet under. Sure ,she had a personal score to settle with Penn, and sure, she wanted to avenge Michigan and Massa, but she didn't want to see their corpses beneath her feet the way that he did. Carolina was too concerned with doing the right thing to do what needed to be done. She couldn't see the forest for the trees, but Wyoming could.
He could spot a bloody forest a mile off, especially if that's where his target was hiding out, and he had a sniper rifle to hand. And if the forest wasn't bloody when he got to it, it sure as hell would be by the time he finished with it.
This train of thought was suddenly interrupted as he heard the doors to the training floor open, with F.I.L.S.S. announcing a long expected arrival. "Agents California, Maine, Nebraska, Colorado, Minnesota, and Alaska are now entering the training room floor. Agent Wyoming, would you like me to set up the training room for-"
"No, that will be all, F.I.L.S.S. End training simulation."
No reply from the overly cheerful A.I. was heard as the red holographic targets that littered the room blipped out of existence, leaving only bullet shells in the room as testament to the past half hour of practice. All of the agents that had just entered the room were in full armour, obviously not entirely sure why he has asked F.I.L.S.S. to send for them, prepared in the event that the Director has asked him to issue a call to arms for a new assignment. He could tell that they were all tired from the ordeals of the past few days, from their body language alone - especially 'Rado and Nebraska, who had, no doubt, gone through several dreadfully dull and tedious sessions with the Counselor.
Then again, it would be hard not to be emotionally drained, to be at your limits, after what they had been through. While none of the agents had died, they had been captured, in 'Rado's case, tortured, and some of them didn't come back completely whole.
Still, they had survived; they managed to endure both physically and emotionally, never compromising themselves or, more importantly, the project. And considering just who they had to resist against for so long, Wyoming could admit that these third wavers had the fire now; they had obtained what they all had lacked in one point. Experience, knowing the sting of betrayal, losing your comrade to the enemy and being left with that empty feeling that you can't even mourn for them - they all now shared that with him, and he could respect that.
Now however, he could use this. He could help them get what they all wanted, what they all needed - a chance at revenge, a chance to wipe their slates clean. However, he just wouldn't be true to himself if he didn't start off this little meeting in true Wyoming-style.
"Everyone, so glad you could join me. Now, I'd like to start things off with a nice knock-knock joke. So, knock-knock."
Colorado sighed a bit before she glared at Wyoming, her hands curling into fists. "Wyoming, I swear to god, if you called us down here at this hour to tell us another one of your goddamn knock-knock jokes, I am going to have F.I.L.S.S. set up a six on one and we will each take turns beating the stuffing out of you!"
Wyoming made a small tsk at that comment, frowning mournfully beneath his visor. "Some people never can take a joke," he murmured sadly to himself, before facing down the smaller Freelancer. "Very well then, to the point we go. I've gathered you all here to discuss a very important matter - our current position on the Crimson Sun."
They all looked at Wyoming, suddenly attentive. Alaska was the first to speak up, looking at the British Freelancer carefully. "What is there to say? The Director's ordered us to stand down and recoup. Unless the rooks here overheard something they didn't share with Command, there's not a lot that we are capable of doing."
Colorado sighed in response, shaking her head at Alaska's question. "I didn't hear anything while we were in their custody. You know, I was kind of busy being tortured. Maybe you didn't get the memo? And as far as I know, no one else did either, other than that bitch Nevada, of course."
Wyoming nodded, having figured as much, otherwise the Director would already be preparing a team to investigate any leads He hated waiting now, waiting for the next piece on the board to be moved. And with their side losing more and more pieces, more teammates, it was getting to be too much for him.
"We don't need information, not for what I have in mind. All of us here, we all want the same thing, to see those who betrayed us dead. Not captured, not imprisoned, but executed. We all know that the others, from Carolina to Georgia to York, and hell, even to South, will want to take them alive. At the end of the day, they won't have what it takes to put a bullet through Ark and Penn at the first available opportunity. But we're not like them, chaps," and, with a nod towards Colorado, "and ladies. We can do what needs to be done."
As Wyoming spoke, his voice grew thick. He was done following Carolina; she had proven that she didn't have the backbone for dealing with the traitors. She might be their Number One, but the Leaderboard only counted as much as you allowed it to. Wyoming was fully capable of making his own decisions, and after the last few months, he felt that any order issued by Carolina deserved to be called into question.
When none of the others responded, Wyoming looked at each of them in turn, before removing his helmet and dropping it onto the floor. His eyes were reddened dark circles underneath them, clearly showing the strain that he had been under over the last few weeks, as they hunted down the missing Freelancers. However, he didn't feel exhausted; he didn't feel anything except the drive to succeed.
"Carolina may well be our Number One, but she has done more than enough to show us why she isn't qualified to lead the hunt for Ark and Penn. She has the skills, but she doesn't have the drive, the same anger that we all share, and it's made her soft, and worse, a liability. That's why I asked you all to come here today - to put one simple proposition to you.
"I'm no longer content with following Carolina. I am no longer willing to just stand back and let her try and take out Arkansas and the others. We need results; what we need is for the Crimson Sun to taste the same bitterness that they have given us time and time again. It will take time, and it will take all of us, but if we work together, we can do what Carolina and the others can't. We can end this."
Cal chuckled darkly beneath his helmet before saying "It's about time someone got serious about dealing with them. If you're ready to spill some blood, then I'm on board, Wyoming."
Sota glanced at Cal for a moment before looking at Wyoming. "Whatever it takes, Wyoming. If there's anything I can do to see Ark and Penn dead, I'll do it. You won't even need to ask."
"Me too," Maine growled after a moment, nodding at the Brit.
Wyoming grinned and glanced over at Alaska. "We lost two people that day; both were dear to all of us. Penn and Ark are still out there - I say we take two lives for the ones taken from us. An eye for an eye, and all that lark."
"A more direct approach may prove more...fruitful, Wyoming. I say we go for it," Nebraska said after a moment, with a hint of a sigh, looking at 'Rado even as he spoke, and Alaska nodded afterwards, though he remained silent.
All eyes were on 'Rado now, the last person of the group yet to speak. She and Neb were the only two present from the Third Wave of recruits, and their relative inexperience was still evident in the way they held themselves. 'Rado smiled after a moment and said, "It's about goddamn time someone decided to stop pussyfooting around. I'm with you, but only if you lay off the knock-knock jokes."
Wyoming chuckled a bit, very amused by 'Rado's comment. "I can't make any promises in regards to that; but I'll see what I can do. I've been considering moving into the pun-business for quite a while now, so maybe that'll prove a nice compromise for us both."
'Rado paused, clearly unsure if he was being serious or not, before sagging slightly. "On second thoughts, I think I'd rather the knock-knock jokes."
Wyoming looked at his team and nodded to himself, feeling content with what they had just occurred. Any of the others would either get in the way or would offset his team, or bring in personal problems with another Freelancer. And that was the last thing any of them needed right now; they didn't need to be fighting each other over petty squabbles. Florida would have been a prime candidate, naturally, but he was too soft for this kind of thing. Ditto York and North, and by extension, South. Wyoming couldn't tell how she'd behave if North asked her not to do something. He couldn't rely on her.
As this crossed his mind, his gaze went to Cal, knowing full well the sort of stunts he had pulled before 'Rado, Nebraska, and the others had gotten captured by Arkansas. If that ever happened again, he would have to put him in line by force, but for now he had to trust his teammate.
"I'm only going to say this once, and no more. Do not trust anyone else with what's transpired today, not even those within the project. They will try to stop us, they will try to convince you that this is not the right route to take, but we know differently. They've got to die."
Wyoming took a breath, to let his words sink in for a moment, before continuing on with his speech. "The others might try to stop us, the Director might condemn us for our actions, but at the end of the day, the only way for this project to continue is with Ark and Penn, and Harper and Nevada, dead and buried. Only then can we move on. And let's not forget, old chaps, there is a bigger war going on, after all."
As Wyoming felt his blood pumping up again, he grabbed his helmet from the ground and donned it once again. He couldn't afford to attach himself emotionally to anyone, not even this team. As for the Director, well, Wyoming was no fool. Trusting the Director would be asking for trouble, and Wyoming has enough trouble in his life at the moment.
"Knock-knock."
'Rado sighed, but she gritted her teeth in response and turned away. "Who's there?"
Wyoming grinned underneath his helmet as 'Rado finally played along with one of his jokes, though this wasn't going to have much of a punch line. Sometimes the quality had to be sacrificed in order to make a point. "Lettuce."
Neb seemed to grin, as far as Wyoming could tell from the tone of his response. "Lettuce who?"
Wyoming just laughed, and began to walk back towards the firing range. "Lettuce begin."