Looking back on this chapter, I understand why some of you guys would say this is lazy writing. After all, it's practically the novelization of the Freelancer parts of Season 9's 'The Twins' and 'Number One', but with Donut, Grif, and Caboose replacing North and South Dakota. The sequence of action is practically the same, what causes the alarm is mostly the same, and the finale is almost the exact same. But at the same time, I still think it works well as an introduction to Agent Carolina. My choices for this are to bring her in now or wait at least a dozen or so more chapters to introduce her. Trust me when I say the second choice would've been a little much, as I already have plans for future surprises. Besides, she's going to impact the story a pretty decent amount as it stands.
If it makes anyone feel better, I will do my best to avoid making any... unoriginal content... in future chapters.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter! :D
Déjà Vu
Location: Lyria Insurrectionist Polar Research Facility
Local Time: 2200 Hours
Date: June 17, 2557
Kent was running his mouth again. Again he was bitching about how his patrol duty wasn't fair. Again he was complaining about the cold. But worst of all, he was complaining about his CO. Again.
Morgan held his battle rifle loosely in his hands and he continued to listen to his partner without any interest. The Insurrectionists had been walking around the base for quite some time now and they had nothing better to do than talk about the usual: how boring the base was, how much everyone sucked, how they got to where they were now, how their family was doing, their past, and whether they would actually win the war or not.
"Damn, why is it so cold here?" asked Kent through the cloth over his mouth.
"I don't know, Kent. Maybe it's because it's ten o'clock at night and we're at a polar research station in the middle of fucking nowhere," hissed Morgan, cloudy fog coming out from in front of his own covered mouth.
"But still, why the hell do we have to stay out here?" he repeated. Morgan glared at the whining Insurrectionist soldier. Like him, Kent had a set of marine armor modified for arctic-cold temperatures, with warm clothing, insulated armor, and arctic-camouflaged gear. He also sported some red armor permutations for identification purposes, goggles to protect his eyes from any deadly ice particles, and a cloth that served as a mouth cover to protect his face. His teammate, however, sported nothing but a chrome-skinned magnum which was hanging in the holster at his side.
Morgan didn't respond to his comrade's question that time and they just kept on walking by. From their view, the Insurrectionists could see a whole swath of the facility, including storage bays, research rooms, control centers, and lots of catwalks, long, supported, steel catwalks. Everything had ice on it, even with all the salt they were laying about.
"Ya know, sometimes I get the impression that you aren't even listening to me," continued Kent.
"What makes you say that?" asked the Insurrectionist as the pair walked into a nearby security station. They had to do a routine checkup on the equipment to make sure nothing had frozen over in the middle of the night.
"Well, it's just that you don't respond almost at all to whatever I'm saying and when you do you say 'huh', 'yeah, sure', and 'okay'." Kent walked over to a nearby terminal and punched in a key code. The other soldier continued to walk away from him onto another catwalk.
"That's because you keep talking about the same thing over and over again. What do you expect me to say? 'Wow, that's pretty interesting, Kent', or 'That's quite revolutionary, man', or even 'I never even thought about that'. Give me a fucking break, will you?"
"I'm just saying. You used to be a lot more talkative than this. Now you barely say a word anymore around here." The Insurrectionist turned around at a leisurely pace. But then he stopped. The other rebel soldier wasn't with him anymore. That was strange, knowing Morgan. He walked over to where he saw his teammate last and peeked around the corner to the next terminal.
"Morgan?" he called. The cold polar air answered back.
"Come on, Morgan," Kent continued. He started getting nervous and pulled out the pistol from its holster.
"This isn't funny, man." Only the sound of air answered him.
"Morgan, you'd better stop messing around," he said, his voice quivering a slight bit. He aimed his pistol in front of him, his hand firmly held onto the grip.
"Morgan?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. Kent walked around the corner and let out a sigh of relief. His partner was just checking the next terminal.
The Insurrectionist turned to face Kent. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," replied the soldier as he brought down his gun. "Answer me when I call you next time. Okay, Morgan?"
"Fine," the second Insurrectionist answered in an unconcerned manner.
"I'm serious." Kent's voice pitched as he continued. "I almost shot you, man."
The men walked toward the nearest exit, continuing their daily patrol. "Ya know," continued Kent, "my cousin was doing patrol like this before on a station like this. Several years ago."
"Yeah," said Morgan. "On the one that blew up in the Arctic Ocean, right?"
"The exact same one."
"I heard that the whole crew died there. Taken out by a bunch of Freelancers."
"It did. I also heard that just before it blew up a bunch of guards went missing."
"You mean like right now?" suddenly asked another voice. The pair jumped in surprise and turned around. They thought it was another one of their friends coming to talk to them, perhaps pulling a practical joke on them. Instead of another marine, though, a pink-armored Spartan stood in the middle of the room.
"Holy shi-" started Morgan, though he never got finish his sentence. In a flash the brightly-colored trooper stepped up to them and punched each of them in the Adam's apple. The Insurrectionists dropped their weapons and gagged, their hands clutching their throats. Without stopping, the Spartan twisted around and roundhouse-kicked the guards off of the catwalk and down to freezing ocean far below. Immediately following that he swept up the fallen weapons and dropped them off the base, sending them down with their owners.
The pink soldier dashed over behind a nearby wall upon completing the task. He let out a small pant and brought his hand up to the side of his helmet, touching the built-in radio set. "We good, Grif?"
Up on a nearby tower, Grif was crouched down, battle rifle in hand and scanning the area through his visor from his viewpoint. Behind him a few steps away was none other than Caboose, his assault rifle hanging loosely and his helmet snapped firmly into place. He was staring at the view around him, acting surprisingly quiet.
"You're good, Donut," replied Grif. "But be careful. This tower is good for overwatch and overhead reconnaissance, but I still can't see the whole base. I won't be able to provide fire support for the most part."
"I just need you to make sure you and Caboose are ready if or when we have to move out." Donut started walking towards a nearby ledge. His walking soon became a full-on sprint and soon enough he jumped over the edge. The pink soldier fell and landed on top of another guard, crushing the Insurrectionist with the weight of his armor. Stepping off the crumpled body, Donut dashed across the walkway and into a nearby building.
Meanwhile, Caboose continued to stare out into space and Grif continued to scan the base from his vantage point. The Blue turned around and started staring with wonder at his comrade, not so much the orange soldier himself, but what was on his back.
"Hey, Grif?" asked the lumbering Blue.
Grif turned his head slightly right and watched Caboose from the corner of his eye. "Yes Caboose?"
"What's that thing on your back again?"
"I told you, it's going to be a surprise." He referred to the large object magnetized to his back. It had the makings of a heavy weapon, with a large body and a handle on top of the barrel. Where there should have been a hammer and firing mechanism was instead replaced with a wheel-shaped structure with several hollow marks and a trigger on it. Right below it, instead of a grip and trigger, was a large, menacing-looking blade that curved around to the back of the gun at a point.
"Ooh, I like surprises." Caboose turned away from the Red and went back to looking up into the air, staring at the twinkling stars that had filled the night sky.
While that was happening, Donut dashed into a nearby security center which had a great number of computers and terminals placed in the room in a similar fashion to an office building as well multiple guards standing by, about six or seven of them. Each of them stood around nonchalantly, some with weapons in their hands, some leaning against the machinery, and others seated on four-legged chairs.
Donut snuck around the perimeter of the room, carefully trying to not catch the attention of its occupants. He moved swiftly towards the opposite corner of the room from the edge of the wall without making so much as a sound, placing his feet in positions that made minimal noise. The fact that there were modules blocking his view of them and the overhead vents were churning at a decently loud volume also helped. All the parts needed for someone who needed to have both speed and stealth.
After sneaking past the cluster of Insurrectionists, the pink infiltrator turned right towards another set of terminals. The flashing-blue computers were lined against the wall to his right, each screen filled with scans and data layouts. Donut walked towards the center computer, its own screen flickering with blue light, words and icons printed across the screen. He reached down to the side of his armor and pulled out a small silver card. A closer look at the card would reveal that it was a portable data chip, visible with etched-in codes and the Freelancer symbol stamped across it.
Donut placed the card into a slot located on the computer. It slid smoothly into place and the machine beeped positively. A loading bar appeared on screen and began to fill up.
Suddenly, the soldier's radio flared with activity. "Donut, I've got movement near your position," crackled Grif's voice.
"It must be one of the guards in the next room," responded Donut, continued to check the status of the download.
"No, Donut, it's not them. It's coming from the door behind you."
The pink soldier reached for a silenced magnum on his thigh. The pistol slipped easily from the magnetic lock and Donut snapped 180 degrees behind him, bringing up the sight of his weapon directly in front of him.
To his surprise, an unarmed guard stood several feet ahead of him. Behind the guard a metal door slid closed. In the guard's hands were not weapons, but a number of MREs, no doubt for the rebel's comrades in the next room.
"Aw, are those for me?" asked Donut in a semi-sarcastic tone, continuing to aim his sight at the Insurrectionist.
The guard didn't answer the question, but instead mumbled to himself, "Oh shit. I knew I shouldn't have gone to get the food." He bolted his head quickly to his right, noticing that there was a large red alarm button on a nearby support beam.
The Insurrectionist looked back at the Red in front of him. "Try it and die," hissed Donut.
Literally disobeying the order, the guard began moving towards the button. Only a few milliseconds into the action, Donut immediately squeezed the trigger and shot the magnum at the rebel. His shot penetrated, going right through the guard's throat. Blood splattered out behind him and his body continued to fly towards the button.
"Oh shit," realized Donut, immediately turning back to the terminal loading the information. The screen read '100%: Upload Complete' on it. He pulled the data card from its holding and began sprinting toward the door the guard had come through. "Grif, move. Right now."
"Wait, why?" asked the orange soldier. Almost as if on cue, the body of the dead guard hit the button and alarms started ringing across the whole station. Sirens blared to life and red lights started flashing across the whole station. From Grif's view, he saw guards all across the station rushing from their spots, following lockdown procedures.
Grif looked over to the Blue that was standing with him. "Caboose, let's go," he barked.
"Okay," said the lumbering idiot. Caboose turned, magnetized his assault rifle to his back, and jumped off the ledge Grif was standing closest to. He landed to find two guards standing at attention side-by-side, their backs facing him. The Blue stepped forward and brought his hands next to the outsides of both soldiers in a manner that looked like a sandwich, with Caboose's hands as the bread and the Insurrectionists' heads as the meat and condiments. Appearing effortlessly, the simulation trooper touched the sides of the helmets and knocked them harshly against each other, rendering them unconscious.
Grif followed suit, landing right behind his teammate. "Donut," he radioed, "get to the helipad for extraction. We'll meet you there." He started sprinting forward, swapping his battle rifle with the heavy weapon on his back.
In a separate part of the facility, the pink soldier continued sprinting down the catwalk. While Donut was doing so he snapped the easily-detachable silencer off of the magnum and brought his left hand up to the side of his helmet. "Roger, Grif. Give me a few seconds."
Donut immediately jumped off a nearby ledge and landed on top of a pair of unsuspecting rebels, his boots digging into their backs. The men fell to the floor with a crunch and the Red looked to up in front of him. A trio of guards had noticed his entrance and brought their rifles up with panic.
By the time the men had started firing at the intruder he had already taken cover behind a large support beam. Their bullets bounced against the steel, causing loud chimes to resonate across the platform. Rather than waste time by engaging in the firefight, Donut instead reached for his belt and pulled out a Covenant plasma grenade. He thumbed the activation button and threw it among the group. The rebels had little time to realize what was thrown at them before a bright blue explosion engulfed them.
Finished with his assault on the troopers, Donut turned right and continued running across the catwalk that led to the facility's helipad. He reloaded his pistol as he got to a three-way intersection. He turned right and continued on. But he noticed, a little too late, that there were rebels right behind him and he wouldn't be able to get to cover or return fire.
In the nick of time, Grif jumped down from a nearby balcony. He had the strange heavy weapon, a Covenant Brute Shot, the one directly taken from the Meta all those years ago, in his hands and fired what appeared to be four large rounds at the oncoming defenders while still in midair.
But instead of impacting and tearing, as most people would predict, the so-called 'rounds' exploded upon hitting their targets, for they were not extremely large bullets, but impact-reactive grenades. Two of the eight Insurrectionists explodes into red mists from the direct impact of said explosives. Another four that were there were flown into the air as grenades detonated.
Grif landed on the walkway Donut was on and rolled forwards. Just behind him, Caboose jumped into the fray, blasting away at more guards that were appearing just around the corner with his assault rifle. As the orange soldier completed his role, he brought the blade on his weapon up on a seventh soldier and sliced it in an upward arc. The massive blade cut right through his opponent's chestplate and soldier flew backwards. Grif brought his weapon down on the eighth guard, slamming the man to the floor.
The pink Red picked up movement from just beyond his vision on his built-in motion sensor. Knowing he wouldn't have enough time to reload, he quickly drew a second magnum from his left hip. He whipped the pistol around to his left and shot another three guards in the face with it.
Donut brought both of his pistols up and started blasting away at more guards as they came. Caboose and Grif had also started firing at the defenders that continued to approach their position. The pink soldier killed four more enemies in a frenzy of sweat and blood while the Blue swept his rifle across the walkway and killed three of the oncoming guards, bullets spraying and penetrating flesh all around. Grif continued his punishing assault, shooting the last of the guards with two more grenades.
A spray of sniper rounds flew around the trio and they ducked behind a pair of support pillars. "Snipers," called Donut.
Grif peeked his head out quickly. From the looks of it, there were about five or six of them at the top of a balcony. Below that balcony there was a giant sealed door and behind that there would be the helipad they needed to get to. He quickly marked their locations before bringing his helmet back out of sight as another flurry of sniper rounds whizzed past them.
"Targets spotted. Guys, go on my mark," said Grif. Donut nodded and, behind the orange grenadier, Caboose did likewise. The three of them reloaded their weapons, Donut bringing his pistols down to his thighs where more clips were ready to be loaded into place, Caboose switching out his spent 32-bullet magazine for a fresh one, and Grif placing a whole string of explosives into his launcher through the top hatch.
"Now!" he ordered. Upon giving the command the three former simulation troopers sprinted around the pillars and advanced across the catwalk towards the steel door. As they did the snipers continued to rain fire on them. The troopers jumped, ducked, twisted, and turned around the bullets and continued to advance. Not once did they get hit by the lethal anti-materiel fire.
In less than ten seconds the three attackers had made it to the door, and underneath the snipers' balcony. Donut brought his pistols up and shot at the guards that dared to look below them, which, in that case, was all of them. They fell down, some of them hitting the catwalk the three armored warriors were standing on before tumbling to the icy waters far below.
Grif and Donut had their backs to the door while Caboose faced the steel entrance. The pink trooper saw another group of soldiers advancing from behind them. "Caboose, get the door," commanded the pink soldier. He holstered one of his pistols briefly and pulled out another plasma grenade.
"Okay," said the large Blue soldier. He place his rifle on his back again and, with as much force as he could muster, Caboose charged at the door. Grif fired the remaining four grenades at the approaching group and sent the rebels flying, instantly killing them. Donut followed up with his own explosive, tossing the grenade and ensuring their pursuers truly were dead.
Caboose smashed his way through the reinforced portal, bringing up his assault rifle at another group of approaching enemies. The Reds needed no further prompting before following him.
The three of them charged forward, spraying bullets and explosives at them. Four of the rebels fell to the furious assault and the attackers got within melee distance.
Donut jumped ahead of them and fired the pistol in his left hand, killing two more guards. Immediately following that Grif sliced his gun at the next closest guard. The blade rammed into the rebel's chestplate, sending him rolling back. Upon completing the maneuver, Caboose jumped in front of them and crouched. He pulled the trigger of his assault rifle once more and swept it across the catwalk, killing three more defenders.
In one final rush, Grif sprinted ahead of his teammates and fired all six of his grenades into the remainder of the squad while consistently keeping his pace, blowing them all to pieces. The two other members of his team kept up.
They reached the helipad and stood on top of the giant white 'H'. The troopers reloaded their weapons as quickly as they could and looked up.
Apparently, going to the helipad hadn't been such a great idea. In their haste, they had neglected to see all of the other Insurrectionists in the facility setting up defensive position. Instead they had been focused on the groups only immediately in their path. On top of three balconies that stood around and above the landing point were multiple squads of guards. They had their weapons raised at them: shotguns, battle rifles, assault rifles, sub-machine guns, and even a few Designated Marksman Rifles.
"Oh, come on," complained Grif. The situation had turned sour. Now that they had made it to the helipad, they had become completely surrounded. They had a disadvantage in position, numbers, and tactical superiority, plus no ability to gain any leverage whatsoever through skill or device of any kind. Practically almost all of the guards had arrived at their location and were aiming their guns directly at the intruders who were, in this case, them. They were trapped.
The team stood in their spots as they assessed their surroundings. After careful analysis, Donut spoke up. "I don't know about you guys, but I think we pretty much screwed ourselves."
"Looks that way," replied Grif.
"I've got an idea," said Caboose. "How about we ask them nicely to not kill us. That way we won't have to shoot them and they won't have to shoot us."
"Caboose," answered his orange teammate, "that will work about as well as asking them to become friends with you after you killed their friends."
"How did you know I would try that next?" he gawked.
"Hey guys," interrupted Donut, "I don't think now is a good time to discuss this sort of thing. We've got bigger issues."
Up on the center balcony, a steel-grey and crimson-colored ODST with bandoliers of grenades and rifle bullets across his chest, arms, and thighs. He was manning a machinegun turret, all three barrels pointed towards them. This was, presumably, the commander of the facility. There were at least a dozen guards flanking him, their weapons also trained on the men on the landing pad.
"Attention, UNSC assholes," called out the ODST. The three troopers turned to face the one who spoke to them. "Stand down, you're surrounded." He had a somewhat grouchy, sneered tone in his voice that helped emphasize his threats. He sounded almost like a boss at work that demanded a lot from his employees and respected none of them.
Grif scanned his enemies, attempting to come up with some sort of plan. Each and every one of them looked ready to kill upon command, a steely gaze that spoke of hatred emanating in their eyes. Except for one. This trooper seemed to have a more lax pose than the rest, eyeing them with a blank express. He couldn't see that one's eyes.
"Drop your weapons and give us the data you stole," continued the leader. "You can do that or suffer for your insolence. Your choice."
Grif looked closer as the odd trooper as she pulled out what looked like a demolition switch. His pupils dilated as the trooper thumbed the trigger. The balconies around them exploded and the trooper jumped. Upon further inspection, the Insurrectionist actually looked like a Spartan, and a female one at that. She jumped off the falling balcony and landed among the simulation troopers. Yes, it was definitely a female, judging by the thinner, lither body and the way the figure landed. 'She' wore a set of MJOLNIR armor Grif hadn't seen very often, but knew which variant it was, composed of a set of Recon-pattern shoulder pads and chestplate. Her helmet looked to be of Rogue type, part of the armor covering what was usually the lower half of the visor and the rest of the visor slit shaped to the point where the user almost looked angry. Her armor shimmered from snow white to cyan blue, only mildly lighter than Tucker's blue armor.
The three soldiers stared at the one that may have just potentially just saved their lives. "Holy shit!" said Grif.
"What the hell just happened?" asked Donut.
"It's a Freelancer!" stated Caboose, pointing at the blue figure with his right hand.
"A Freelancer? What's he doing here?" asked the pink soldier, apparently unaware that their savior was most likely a woman.
"Who cares," replied Grif. "Let's help her out."
The light-blue woman sprang at the guards that had dropped from the other platforms and landed on the helipad. In sequential order, she started by punching the nearest guard in the face with her left hand, then moved to two more guards and roundhouse-kicked them off to the side. The Freelancer then flipped backwards before landing in between two more Insurrectionists. They were immediately hit by her forearms. Upon completing the maneuvers, she dashed over to her right and punched another pair of guards in their faces as they tried to bring their shotguns up to shoot her.
Realizing that things had suddenly just gotten hairy, Donut ran at the nearest group of guards who were trying to stand back up after the attack. Grif and Caboose followed suit, bringing their weapons to bear against the now-scattered Insurrectionist forces.
In all his years of fighting, Grif had never been through fighting as blood-pumping as this. Yes, he had dashed through squad upon squad of rebel forces before, but it had always been with Simmons and they had always had a warthog or some sort of backup unit with them and the enemies were always less numerous than this. This was perhaps the first time where he had to do this truly on his own, even with his teammates by his side. This was the first time he had been, in a sense, independent. He would probably be in more fights like this in the near future, but, for the moment, this was a whole new experience for him.
As the four assault troopers continued to slash, blast, and beat their way through the Insurrectionists, the ODST commander inched his way over to a fallen heavy machinegun turret. He stood, lifting the large weapon system off the ground and squeezed the trigger.
Grif had just finished pulling the body of another Insurrectionist off the end of his alien grenade launcher when he noticed that the grey-and-red trooper had begun to spin the barrels of the turret.
He looked over to where the barrels where pointing. Near the center of the helipad, Caboose had started shooting wildly with his assault rifle at a team of guardsmen.
Without putting much thought into it, Grif ran at his teammate, arms spread. He shouted, "Caboose, look out!" The Blue turned to look for the source of the noise, but not before being tackled to the ground by his orange comrade.
A fraction of a second later, the machinegun began spitting out bullets at the area Caboose had only just recently vacated. In a sweeping arc, the ODST turned his gun left and right, trying to catch at least one of the attackers with his flurry of rounds.
When the arc came around to the woman, instead of ducking down or running away, she flipped backwards several times until she was a good thirty yards further away from the turret. She quickly reached down to her thigh with her right hand and pulled out what appeared to a standard-issue magnum, but with a large, strangely-shaped muzzle on the front of it.
The light-blue armored soldier aimed the oddly-shaped pistol at the turret, just above the machinegun's own sight to be exact. She pulled the trigger and a four-pronged grapple hook shot out of the end of the gun, a long, black wire attached to it, connecting the hook to the muzzle.
The hook latched itself onto the top of the heavy armament with ease. The ODST looked it strangely, pausing at the placement of the grapple. With a tug, the woman pulled back with two hands on the grapple gun and the turret was yanked out of his hands. She gripped the grapple gun in two hands and swung around, making the turret gun fly through the air. With a sharp crack, the weapon slammed down onto the ODST. From what they could see, the Drop Trooper was dead, his armor cracked in multiple spots, blood oozing out, and his limbs sprawled out at unnatural angles.
In short order Donut, Caboose, and Grif formed up on the edge of the helipad where the ODST was just at. Even as they did so, although the majority of the Insurrectionists had been dealt with, more guards continued to approach them from the catwalk connected to the helipad, their weapons blasting out sporadically at the regrouping hostiles.
Grif brought his hand up to the side of his helmet and activated his radio. "Wash, this is Grif. Come in, Wash," he shouted, trying to hear himself over the consistent shooting. "The data is secure and we need immediate evac, over."
However, instead of the male Freelancer, a female voice replied. "Solid copy, Grif. This is Four-Seven-Niner, approaching your location with evac transport, over."
Off to the group's left, a pelican could be seen flying towards them. Nearly half-a-second later, missiles streaks were seen approaching at high velocity.
It took the missiles only two seconds to get to their destination. In a cacophony of explosions, the missiles struck the front of the helipad and exploded, wiping out at least a dozen guards instantly.
The pelican swooped in at the rear of the deck and pointed its rear at them. Its ramp opened up and gracefully touched the edge of the deck. Caboose and Donut were the first ones to enter, rushing to find their seats and prepare for takeoff. Grif enter in next, placing his heavy weapon on an empty seat.
He turned around, feeling as if he had forgotten something. Back on the deck, the woman that had joined the fight only two minutes ago was beating down a pair of guards with her bare fists. "Come on," he shouted, motioning towards himself.
The light-blue Freelancer faced him and began sprinting as fast as she could at the pelican's rear exit. The woman made it to the far side of the pad and jumped in through the ship's back. She rolled on through to the hatch leading to the cockpit and stopped; her left leg kneeled down and left hand on the floor of the ship.
The transport's hatch began to close and Caboose looked outside of the hatch one last time before they left. "Bye enemies!" he shouted happily, waving his hand back and forth. His teammates just ignored him, Donut pulling down the safety harness above his head, Grif moving to take the copilot's seat at the front of the pelican, and the mystery woman taking her own seat opposite Caboose and Donut.
As the pelican flew away from the facility, the pilot called to Grif as he climbed into the seat at the back of the cockpit. "Are the charges set?" the pilot asked. Grif recognized the voice as being the woman's that responded to his distress call.
"Affirmative," he replied. The orange soldier reached down to his hip and pulled out a detonator with one large red button. "Preparing to blow charges on my mark."
Grif hovered his thumb over the button. All it would take was one action, one push, to destroy dozens upon dozens of tons of steel and electronics. It was all in his grasp, the power to destroy what needed to be destroyed. It wasn't entirely necessary, but their tracks would need to be covered. They needed to make sure no one, especially the Director, would get any ideas and try to evade their grasp or slow them down.
Exhaling slowly, the Red said in a monotone voice, "Mark." He pushed down on the button. Although no one could hear it, everyone in the back looked behind the ship as the oil-rig-like facility exploded in a plume of white and yellow light, completely engulfing the skeletal structure.
Soon enough, everyone in the ship went back to doing what they were doing before, which was mainly just sitting in their spots and doing nothing. The pelican fell quiet and stayed like that for several minutes as they sped up into space and onward to the All or Nothing.
The woman radioed to the pilot, "It's good to see you again, Four-Seven-Niner."
Although she wanted to ask so many things right then, she only needed to say one thing. The pilot said, "It's good to see you too, Agent Carolina."
Thank you for reading! Be sure to favorite and comment to tell me what you think of the story so far!
