Over time, Aiden Price had become very keenly aware of how to survive in situations that were dog-eat-dog. And he very much understood, staring at the two mercenaries before him, that he was in one of those situations.
“What can you give to us?” the one named Felix asked slyly.
“We have all of the files and information from Project Freelancer already,” Locus clarified, as if that was all Price would have been good for to begin with.
“Yeah, we’re done here,” Felix said dismissively, twirling a pistol around his finger.
“You haven’t heard my offer,” Price corrected them.
“We don’t need to,” Felix said, the pistol no longer twirling but firmly held in his hand at the ready. There was a dangerous lilt to his voice. “There’s nothing you can give us that we’d want.”
Seeing that the attention spans of who he was dealing with was, at best, limited, Price cut to the chase.
“I can give you Agents Washington and Carolina,” he informed them.
The two looked at each other before breaking the stare, Felix snorting and laughing.
“You can give us the Freelancers?” Felix mocked.
“How?” Locus asked, far more seriously.
Price could not help but smile. “It’s as simple as a turn of phrase.”
Locus was insistent on going after Agent Washington first, much to Felix’s chagrin.
“You can be a real fixated motherfucker, you know that?” Felix had laughed at him, like it was a clever thought and not utterly obvious and benign.
Of course Locus was fixated. It was the only thing that kept either of the mercenaries on track.
In truth, considering her higher likelihood of going out alone, it might have been more advantageous to go after Agent Carolina first. But with a few adjustments, their plan could have been much larger than even that. And Locus greatly looked forward to implementing it.
They set a series of small charges near the equipment stockades for one of the troops that had been reporting in to Agent Washington. They intercepted the radio and watched impatiently as the charges set off, destroy some equipment and one of the vehicles.
It looked like one of Felix’s patented smash and runs, and a superior officer would have to come and assess the damage considering their continuously dwindling supplies in Armonia — a fact that Locus’ time as righthand to Doyle had ensured.
And surely enough, he came.
“Fucking hell, you were right,” Felix nearly preened. “And by himself. This is almost too perfect. You lucky sonova—“
“It was not luck,” Locus said lowly. “I studied Agent Washington. I am aware of his methodologies.”
“That why they got one up on us at the radio—“
“Silence,” Locus snapped sharply. He looked back, watching as Washington began speaking to some of the younger soldiers to get their assessment of everything that had happened. Then he looked back to Felix. “Cover me but do not follow. I will capture Agent Washington.”
“Sure, of course you will,” Felix replied insincerely. “Oh, and Locus? Remember we only need one witness to tell the others and draw Carolina out.”
Locus didn’t even give Felix the satisfaction of responding, opting instead to turn on his active camouflage and steadily make his way toward Washington and the group of soldiers.
He moved in silence. Including Washington, he only had four targets as the majority had salvaged the decent supplies from the explosions and already moved them back to the capital. That gave him three which were disposable. And Locus begun that count by aiming directly for the head of the soldier standing next to Agent Washington talking.
One shot and the soldier fell to the ground in a heap.
“SNIPER!” Washington warned the others only for Locus to take his second shot, sending a soldier down to one knee.
Predictable as ever, Washington raced toward the injured soldier to pull them to safety, he still had not figured out just how close Locus was. Even as he pulled the injured soldier behind a warthog.
One soldier in FAC armor was racing toward the nearest Amonia gate, but Locus took a shot of them to the back, sending them down in a single shot.
“NO!” Washington roared just before Locus turned off his cloaking device. Suddenly, Washington stood up in rage. “You!?”
Locus quickly leaped over the warthog and landed a kick to Washington’s chest. It was enough to send the Freelancer hurdling back, but after tucking a roll, he landed on his feet and produced a bowie knife. He seemed to be more cautious about hand-to-hand with Locus since the previous encounter.
It would do him no good.
“Agent Washington!” the injured, bleeding soldier cried out from being slumped next to the warthog.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you!” Washington yelled back, apparently attempting to be reassuring, but ultimately wasting his breath.
“No, Agent Washington,” Locus said lowly. “I have you.”
The Freelancer let out a frustrated noise and dove forward, lunging with the knife. “Shut up!”
Stepping to the side quickly, Locus was missed by the knife, but it still scraped against the metal of his chest plate. He sent an elbow into Washington’s helmet in response. It connected, but at the cost of letting Washington land a kick to Locus’ open side.
Reflexively, Locus reached for his side and pivoted it away from Washington’s angle of attack, but that merely left him open to a swipe of the knife.
Without thinking or flinching, Locus reached up and grabbed the blade of the knife in his hand, letting its teeth grind through the kevlar of his gloves and even into the skin of his palm, but not letting go of Washington’s weapon.
Washington’s arm was shaking with the force he was applying into the knife, and as it slowly progressed as a result. The blades dug further into Locus’ skin and he gripped it all the tighter.
“You almost let one get away,” Felix called from behind Agent Washington, causing the man to drop his guard just for a moment.
When the Freelancer glanced back to see that Felix was holding the remaining soldier’s arms behind his back, shoving him along, Locus took his advantage and he swiftly punched out with his free hand, knocking Washington to the ground.
“NO!” Wash roared, hitting the ground and immediately trying to get up. Locus stopped that instinct by firmly holding the barrel of his gun to the back of the Freelancer’s neck.
“We only need one alive,” Felix reminded Locus unnecessarily, nodding to the soldier in a heap by the warthog.
“The injured one would give us more time,” Locus surmised quickly.
“Just what I love to hear,” Felix laughed before swiftly using his own knife to slice the soldier’s throat from behind.
“You monsters!” Washington snarled, pushing up despite his best self interest.
“Agent Washington, you have yet to learn the meaning of the word,” Locus said lowly before using the butt of his sniper rifle to knock the Freelancer out.
Washington didn’t dream while he was unconscious, he was just awash in the compete darkness of it, unprepared when the cold water harshly slammed against his face and caused him to choke and gasp for air as he was rattled awake. There was no time for adjustment, not even time for collecting air. He was just instinctively searching out air.
And what he got was a rude awakening.
“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Washington attempted to lunge toward Felix, only then discovering the restraints and the way Felix was just out of range despite his greatest pull against the chains keeping him restrained in his chair.
“Wow, talk about not being a morning person,” Felix laughed darkly. “Better watch your fingers, Doc.”
“Doc?” Wash asked, utterly confused.
It was enough to let his guard down and Locus to take the advantage yet again. The mercenary ruthlessly grabbed Washington by the chin and the back of his head, making Wash realize for the first time just how exposed he felt dressed down to his basic underarmor and with no helmet. Locus held Wash’s head in place no matter how much the Freelancer pulled against him. “Let— Go— Of me— Fucker—“ he ground out.
Slowly, the third captor in the room walked forward from the shadows. When he revealed himself, Wash felt a disgusting, horrified churning in his guts. He knew that doctor more than he could have ever possibly wanted to know anyone.
“Greetings, Agent Washington,” the man from Wash’s almost forgotten nightmares said in that slow, calculating voice he hated so much. “Or is it alright to call you David again?”
“It’s n—“ Wash’s jaw was slammed shut, biting the tip of his tongue. The coppery taste very quickly began to fill his mouth, spreading out over his senses.
“Very good,” the Counselor said, pulling up a stool to sit directly across from Washington. “We can begin.”
“I’m so fascinated by this,” Felix nearly cooed from behind the psychiatrist, leaning over the man’s shoulder to look at the notepad the man had out.
“Silence,” Locus warned. “David needs to be able to hear every word.”
Wash jerked against Locus’ hold but the man was like a steel trap, unwilling to budge or relent.
Slowly, the Counselor looked up from his notes and looked hauntingly into Washington’s eyes. “You are David. You are Agent Washington.”
No shit! he snarled in his mind given the limitations of response.
“You are an Agent of Project Freelancer.”
Not anymore.
“You are David. You are Agent Washington. You owe your life to the benevolence of the UNSC.”
The opposite—
“You are Agent Washington. You are an Agent of Project Freelancer. You owe your life to the benevolence of the UNSC. You are Agent Washington. You are an Agent of Project Freelancer. You are nothing without Project Freelancer.”
Washington momentarily stopped struggling against Locus out of complete confusion. He wasn’t even remotely certain of what the point of these nonsense sentences were.
“You are Agent Washington. You are an Agent of Project Freelancer. You are nothing without Project Freelancer. You are nothing without me. You are Agent Washington. You are an Agent of Project Freelancer. You cannot think without my instruction.”
Unable to stay quiet much longer, Wash went against his best interests and spoke up. “What the hell are you trying to do—“
The Counselor nodded, which served only to confuse Wash more until it happened.
Grabbing Wash by the hair, Locus jerked his head back, feeling at first like he was going to snap it over the back of the chair. But as Washington was forced to stare at Locus’ helmet he did something far worse.
The tool brushed against the back of Wash’s exposed neck for only a moment. Enough to make him flinch.
Then, without any sort of notice, a sharp, piercing pain shot up through the implants of his neck. It was hot and it was spreading.
“What did— Ah. AHHH. What is th—AGH!”
“You are Agent Washington,” the Counselor continued.
That’s true. Washington cried out as a surge of something went down his spine. He felt it scorching him from the inside out. That’s true. It’s true. I’m Agent Washington. I’m Agent Washington. That’s true.
Locus began twisting and the pain seared more.
“S-s-stop goddammit!”
“You are Agent Washington. You are an Agent of Project Freelancer. You are nothing without Project Freelancer. You are nothing without me.”
I am Agent Washington. I am an Agent of Project Free—
The man holding his hair, he was growing fuzzy and Agent Washington felt tears sweeping down his cheeks.
Can’t think. Can’t think—
Twist again, he howled.
“You are Agent Washington. You are an Agent of Project Freelancer. You are nothing without Project Freelancer. You are nothing without me.”
Those words. He knew those words and that voice. Everything else faded away, wasn’t important.
Those words were true.
“You are Agent Washington. You are an Agent of Project Freelancer. You never were anything without Project Freelancer. You never will be anything without Project Freelancer. You are nothing without me. You listen only to me. You hear only me. You are Agent Washington. You are my Agent. You are my Agent, Agent Washington.”
It hurt. It hurt so much, everything but those words.
Suddenly he was weightless, the pull was released from his hair, his neck no longer strained. The throb throughout his body felt distant. All things were distant. The coppery taste in his mouth didn’t seem important anymore, even as it ran over his lips.
His chin was held up — he stared into familiar eyes.
“Who are you?”
“I… am Agent Washington,” he answered, a fuzz clouding thought beyond his answer.
“Who are you an agent of?”
“P…project… Freelancer,” he answered, the fuzz growing larger.
“Whose agent are you?”
The cotton balls of his mind shuddered out all else and he could think of or even care for why. “Yours.”
Kimball had told her not to go to the negotiation — that there was no way they were interested in exchanging Washington for just a few captured pirates. But Carolina didn’t care to listen.
She arrived two hours early, no prisoners in tow, and waited for the drop off.
If it was even going to happen at all, she was going to get the drop on them.
Can I just be noted as saying that this is a fucking terrible idea from the start and I never endorsed it? Epsilon asked her.
“So noted,” Carolina responded before hearing the hover of a drop ship overhead. She looked up, standing her ground.
And to her amazement, the first to land was Wash himself.
“Wash!” she let out in relief.
Holy shit, Epsilon muttered. I didn’t actually think it’d happen. You know. Especially since we didn’t hold up our end of the deal.
He stood where landed, forcing Carolina to go against best instincts and move toward him instead. The relief she felt flooded her system and she could hardly wait to express it to him. But as soon as she got in closer, she could feel that something was off.
“What…” she began lowly only to be met by a firm kick from Wash. She easily ducked underneath it and felt herself grow a snarl. “Tricking us? You fuckers don’t know when to quit!” she snapped, dodging another kick only to plant a kick of her own. “Epsilon scan—“
I am, Cee and it’s not good!
“It’s not Washington?” she said, anger boiling.
No! Epsilon cried out. It is Washington! That’s him, I just don’t know what the fuck he’s doing!
“What!?” Carolina snapped before realizing too late she had opened herself up to a punch. She backed away, getting distance between them and clenched her fists. “Okay, Wash, explain just what the fuck is going on here. Do you not know who I am?”
“He doesn’t,” a deep and familiar voice said from behind her only to give her no warning for the percussion pulse that slammed into her from behind, knocking her to the ground. “But he does not need to.”
H…lp… s…stems… down… scrambled… Cee! H…ld on!…j…st
Carolina ignored Epsilon and tried to use to her feet, only to feel her entire world spin as she came back down to her knees. “L-Locus,” she spat out.
“Everyone, always so concerned with you, never enough with me,” Felix’s voice said, sounding immensely disappointed.
By the time Carolina looked up, she was surrounded, but among her attackers was someone she never expected to see again. “Price?” she gasped, looking at the former Counselor of Project Freelancer. “What the hell did you do to Washington—“
“Resolution Protocol,” the Counselor said simply. “You will be reminded of it soon enough. A latent program geared toward the safety and protection of the highly classified assets and equipment of Project Freelancer. Our armors. Our AI. Our implants. And our specially trained, highly engineered super soldiers.”
“You’re a bastard,” Carolina snarled. “We’re more than your toys.”
“You’re right,” the Counselor said ominously. “At the end of the day… you are my agents.”
And with that, Locus lifted his percussion rifle toward Carolina head again, and pulled the trigger.