"THE UNSUNG BAD ASSES"
Sep. 7th, 2012 11:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ginbeanNotes: Even the low-ranked freelancers need love.
Bullet wounds stung like a bitch.
Sliding around the corner and rushing into the motorpool, Colorado could hear the bullets ricochet off the wall behind him as he and his team piled into the empty building. Iowa, the first one in, waited until Massachusetts started his dive over the line to activate the lock on the gate, sending 30 inches of heavy steel slamming down into the ground on the green freelancer’s heels, working up a cloud of dust. From beyond, he could hear the sharp pings of more bullets slamming into the metal, indicating they’d made it just in time.
“That should buy us a few minutes.” Iowa said, rather obviously in his opinion, as he approached the group.
“So much for stealth.” Mass grunted as he shoved himself to his feet, clutching his rifle and giving Idaho (what Colorado assumed was) an accusatory glare. Their driver, bent double and breathing hard, looked right back at him.
“It’s not my fault, Iowa said their security was disabled!” Came the immediate defensive whine.
“He said their cameras were disabled, you fucking idiot. That doesn’t count lasers or falling head first into patrol guards.” The fifth member of their group, Oklahoma, snarled.
“This is so not my fault, guys.” Iowa pitched in, his voice hitting those falsetto notes that Colorado hated.
“Later,” the blue freelancer snapped giving a meaningful helmet jerk at the door. “OK and Mass, guard the entrance. Iowa, get that bay door open. Idaho, disable their vehicles so they can’t follow us then man up a pelican, I’ll take care of their anti-aircraft guns. Got it?”
“You got it stud~”
“IOWA.”
“Just leave it to me, I’ll slip right on into their system and leave it limp and use-”
Colorado kicked him.
Once he saw the team was carrying out his orders, he holstered his weapon and started climbing the nearest ladder to get up onto the walkway. From there, he hotfooted it to the control room opposite of Iowa and started working his way into their system. Inside his helmet, he could swear the temperature was heating up as a bead of sweat slid down the side of his temple.
Had computer hacking always been this hard? He was pretty sure it’d been easier the last time he’d done the tests back aboard the Mother of Invention. Then again the last time he’d done those tests had been months ago. Why bother with hacking computers when you could just shoot your enemies first?
Mind, he hadn’t exactly planned on an inept pilot being assigned to his team. He’d figured he’d been too good of a rank for that. Always plan for Idaho.
As DEACTIVATION CODE NOT ACCEPTED flashed on the screen in front of him, he could see OK and MA checking their clips as a large explosion rocked the entrance. They were running out of time.
“… fuckit.” He hissed and picked up his gun and slammed the butt of it into the console. There was a crack, a fizzle and then- miraculously- a red box of text.
ANTI-AIRCRAFT DEFENSES OFFLINE.
“Hell yeah.” Who needed hacking classes again? That complete, he exited the control room and slid down the ladder again to check on Idaho’s progress.
“These ships offline yet?”
“No, I’ve only covered about three.” Idaho grunted as he jumped out of another pelican, holding a starter fuse in his hand.
“What!? What the hell have you been doin’ Ho!?”
“It’s a lot of work to dig through all that wiring and get these, okay!?” Idaho yelped, cringing as he held up the fuses as if they would protect him.
“For fuckssake-” He was going to murder this idiot. Without warning, he slapped the other freelancer upside his helmet before grabbing a grenade, flipping the pin and tossing it inside the cockpit of another ship.
After it had gone off, shattering glass and smoke everywhere, he shoved the rest of them at Idaho. “That’s how you do it.”
“But that’s such a waste of hard-”
Colorado kicked him too.
“Fucking hell, if I do not get a rank up for this bullshit, I’m throwing myself out an airlock.”
“Nobody’d miss ya.” Oklahoma told him, falsely cheerful.
“Eat shit.” He replied as he watched the gate become more and more warped. Apparently they had abandoned trying to open it with torches and were now resorting to the brute force of grenades and rocket launchers.
Colorado could sympathize.
“Iowa, finished!?” He called out, fingering his shotgun and wondering if he’d get to use it.
“Juuuust about… got it!” Iowa chirped victoriously, poking his head out the control panel as the bay door started to open.
“Idaho?”
There was an explosion as Idaho came tumbling out of the second last pelican in the row covered in ash. As he tripped down the steps and hit the ground, he gave Colorado a thumbs up.
“Okay, let’s pile in and get the fuck out of here.” Colorado ordered and, in formation they retreated to the pelican Idaho was raggedly pulling himself into. All except for Massachusetts, he noticed, who was fiddling with something on the floor. As the plane’s jets fired to life, Colorado swore and hung off the cargo door, praying his suit’s magnetized footpads wouldn’t suddenly kick out. That would be just his fucking luck.
“Mass!” He yelled, watching as the green agent gave him the cold shoulder a moment longer before standing and booking it towards the ship that was starting to lift off the ground. As the door behind him finally slammed apart in a burst of fire, sending chunks of steel past the freelancer’s head, there was a moment of dread in Colorado’s mind as he watched the ground fall away, well beyond the height of a casual step. In his sideview he noticed Iowa and Oklahoma open fire on their pursuers as he practically threw himself out of the pelican to seize Massachusetts’ outstretched hand as Idaho pulled them out of the bay and through the shielding that separated the ship’s atmosphere from the vacuum of space.
Once they were inside with the ship’s cargo door sliding shut, he kicked him too.
“What the fuck were you doing?” He demanded as he pulled his helmet off to push back sweat-slicked hair.
“Leaving a present.” Mass grunted back, doing the same. As if on cue, Colorado swore he saw the bright flare of an explosion reflect off of the glass panes in the cockpit.
“… dumbass.” He finally grunted in response, pulling himself up off the floor and into a seat, yanking the harness down. Mass, in response, did the same and treated him to a smug, prick grin.
From the front of the ship, he could hear Iowa’s voice report back to Command. “… mission accomplished, sir. We fucked that bitch up good.”
Sighing a little, Colorado pinched the bridge of his nose before leaning back and closing his eyes. At the very least he could doze off a bit, hopefully enough to take the edge off the pain from the bullet graze he’d taken to the shoulder before he’d have to report back to the Director. That was a conversation for which he’d need all the energy he could muster. And as his brain slowly began to shut down and the adrenaline started to wear off, he thought: ‘could’ve been worse.’
… at least until the pelican gave a sharp jerk, sending Oklahoma barreling into him because the asshole didn’t believe in using the harnesses. As the two of them slammed back into the floor as the ship righted itself, Colorado, with his head spinning, shoved himself away from his teammate and bellowed:
“IDAHO.”
“SORRY, SORRY. THIS SHIP USES A DIFFERENT SYSTEM FROM WHAT I’M USED TO.”
And Massachusetts, in all his harness using, uncrushed smug glory, said in blasé tones: “Gaaaaaaay.”
“What? What are you guys doing in there? Can I join?”
Colorado shot the control for the door and shut off his radio for the rest of the trip.
Bullet wounds stung like a bitch.
Sliding around the corner and rushing into the motorpool, Colorado could hear the bullets ricochet off the wall behind him as he and his team piled into the empty building. Iowa, the first one in, waited until Massachusetts started his dive over the line to activate the lock on the gate, sending 30 inches of heavy steel slamming down into the ground on the green freelancer’s heels, working up a cloud of dust. From beyond, he could hear the sharp pings of more bullets slamming into the metal, indicating they’d made it just in time.
“That should buy us a few minutes.” Iowa said, rather obviously in his opinion, as he approached the group.
“So much for stealth.” Mass grunted as he shoved himself to his feet, clutching his rifle and giving Idaho (what Colorado assumed was) an accusatory glare. Their driver, bent double and breathing hard, looked right back at him.
“It’s not my fault, Iowa said their security was disabled!” Came the immediate defensive whine.
“He said their cameras were disabled, you fucking idiot. That doesn’t count lasers or falling head first into patrol guards.” The fifth member of their group, Oklahoma, snarled.
“This is so not my fault, guys.” Iowa pitched in, his voice hitting those falsetto notes that Colorado hated.
“Later,” the blue freelancer snapped giving a meaningful helmet jerk at the door. “OK and Mass, guard the entrance. Iowa, get that bay door open. Idaho, disable their vehicles so they can’t follow us then man up a pelican, I’ll take care of their anti-aircraft guns. Got it?”
“You got it stud~”
“IOWA.”
“Just leave it to me, I’ll slip right on into their system and leave it limp and use-”
Colorado kicked him.
Once he saw the team was carrying out his orders, he holstered his weapon and started climbing the nearest ladder to get up onto the walkway. From there, he hotfooted it to the control room opposite of Iowa and started working his way into their system. Inside his helmet, he could swear the temperature was heating up as a bead of sweat slid down the side of his temple.
Had computer hacking always been this hard? He was pretty sure it’d been easier the last time he’d done the tests back aboard the Mother of Invention. Then again the last time he’d done those tests had been months ago. Why bother with hacking computers when you could just shoot your enemies first?
Mind, he hadn’t exactly planned on an inept pilot being assigned to his team. He’d figured he’d been too good of a rank for that. Always plan for Idaho.
As DEACTIVATION CODE NOT ACCEPTED flashed on the screen in front of him, he could see OK and MA checking their clips as a large explosion rocked the entrance. They were running out of time.
“… fuckit.” He hissed and picked up his gun and slammed the butt of it into the console. There was a crack, a fizzle and then- miraculously- a red box of text.
ANTI-AIRCRAFT DEFENSES OFFLINE.
“Hell yeah.” Who needed hacking classes again? That complete, he exited the control room and slid down the ladder again to check on Idaho’s progress.
“These ships offline yet?”
“No, I’ve only covered about three.” Idaho grunted as he jumped out of another pelican, holding a starter fuse in his hand.
“What!? What the hell have you been doin’ Ho!?”
“It’s a lot of work to dig through all that wiring and get these, okay!?” Idaho yelped, cringing as he held up the fuses as if they would protect him.
“For fuckssake-” He was going to murder this idiot. Without warning, he slapped the other freelancer upside his helmet before grabbing a grenade, flipping the pin and tossing it inside the cockpit of another ship.
After it had gone off, shattering glass and smoke everywhere, he shoved the rest of them at Idaho. “That’s how you do it.”
“But that’s such a waste of hard-”
Colorado kicked him too.
“Fucking hell, if I do not get a rank up for this bullshit, I’m throwing myself out an airlock.”
“Nobody’d miss ya.” Oklahoma told him, falsely cheerful.
“Eat shit.” He replied as he watched the gate become more and more warped. Apparently they had abandoned trying to open it with torches and were now resorting to the brute force of grenades and rocket launchers.
Colorado could sympathize.
“Iowa, finished!?” He called out, fingering his shotgun and wondering if he’d get to use it.
“Juuuust about… got it!” Iowa chirped victoriously, poking his head out the control panel as the bay door started to open.
“Idaho?”
There was an explosion as Idaho came tumbling out of the second last pelican in the row covered in ash. As he tripped down the steps and hit the ground, he gave Colorado a thumbs up.
“Okay, let’s pile in and get the fuck out of here.” Colorado ordered and, in formation they retreated to the pelican Idaho was raggedly pulling himself into. All except for Massachusetts, he noticed, who was fiddling with something on the floor. As the plane’s jets fired to life, Colorado swore and hung off the cargo door, praying his suit’s magnetized footpads wouldn’t suddenly kick out. That would be just his fucking luck.
“Mass!” He yelled, watching as the green agent gave him the cold shoulder a moment longer before standing and booking it towards the ship that was starting to lift off the ground. As the door behind him finally slammed apart in a burst of fire, sending chunks of steel past the freelancer’s head, there was a moment of dread in Colorado’s mind as he watched the ground fall away, well beyond the height of a casual step. In his sideview he noticed Iowa and Oklahoma open fire on their pursuers as he practically threw himself out of the pelican to seize Massachusetts’ outstretched hand as Idaho pulled them out of the bay and through the shielding that separated the ship’s atmosphere from the vacuum of space.
Once they were inside with the ship’s cargo door sliding shut, he kicked him too.
“What the fuck were you doing?” He demanded as he pulled his helmet off to push back sweat-slicked hair.
“Leaving a present.” Mass grunted back, doing the same. As if on cue, Colorado swore he saw the bright flare of an explosion reflect off of the glass panes in the cockpit.
“… dumbass.” He finally grunted in response, pulling himself up off the floor and into a seat, yanking the harness down. Mass, in response, did the same and treated him to a smug, prick grin.
From the front of the ship, he could hear Iowa’s voice report back to Command. “… mission accomplished, sir. We fucked that bitch up good.”
Sighing a little, Colorado pinched the bridge of his nose before leaning back and closing his eyes. At the very least he could doze off a bit, hopefully enough to take the edge off the pain from the bullet graze he’d taken to the shoulder before he’d have to report back to the Director. That was a conversation for which he’d need all the energy he could muster. And as his brain slowly began to shut down and the adrenaline started to wear off, he thought: ‘could’ve been worse.’
… at least until the pelican gave a sharp jerk, sending Oklahoma barreling into him because the asshole didn’t believe in using the harnesses. As the two of them slammed back into the floor as the ship righted itself, Colorado, with his head spinning, shoved himself away from his teammate and bellowed:
“IDAHO.”
“SORRY, SORRY. THIS SHIP USES A DIFFERENT SYSTEM FROM WHAT I’M USED TO.”
And Massachusetts, in all his harness using, uncrushed smug glory, said in blasé tones: “Gaaaaaaay.”
“What? What are you guys doing in there? Can I join?”
Colorado shot the control for the door and shut off his radio for the rest of the trip.