Unlucky

Sergeant Robert Fisher walked nonchalantly along a street in the city of Avarin on the colony of Gilgamesh, looking down to ensure he didn't step in any broken glass, dirty syringes, or who knew what else that littered the ground in this part of town. Every once in a while, he'd look up, keeping tabs on the suspected ONI deepcover agent he was tailing back from one of the city's many nightclubs that were holding New Year's Eve celebrations. 
Who knew if she had noticed that he had been tailing her ever since the club, and if she had, maybe she wasn't that suspicious of him. "Probably just thinks I'm some creep who found her attractive. Not that hard to, that's for sure. Probably gets it a lot." he thought to himself. But he hoped that she wouldn't get spooked. While this wasn't his first hunt for an ONI agent, that had been with Colonel Wright in the 2550s, he also wasn't sure exactly how paranoid this one was. In a fleece jacket, T-shirt with the name of some shitty flip music band, and athletic pants, he certainly wasn't dressed like a soldier or anything other than some trashy 'dudebro', as they had been called in the Free Army.
Suddenly, he looked back up again, realizing he had gotten lost in his head analyzing the situation he was in, and had also inadvertently begun catching up to the agent as he had increased his stride to its normal length. "Shit." he thought as he saw her head turn ever so slightly back towards him. 
A pit formed in his stomach, and he felt a slight sense of embarrassment. If she didn't recognize him as a rebel militant, then he'd just be stuck in a very awkward position that the other six, wherever they were, would have to bail him out of like they had to do many times before in New Belgrade clubs. He didn't know the agent's name, and he honestly preferred not to. He was still a young man, and while she may have been ONI, she was attractive, and he found himself kind of wishing she wasn't ONI or he wasn't out to snatch and grab her so he actually could get to know her. But he forced those thoughts into the back of his head. This wasn't the time or the place to be catching feelings, especially for an Oonskie. 
He stopped walking for a moment, and drew a cigarette and lighter. Flicking it on, he lit the 'deathstick' as his former instructor had called them, and pretended to smoke, looking up to see how far the target had gotten from him, and continued walking after about ten seconds of smoking.
Continuing to walk, he looked down at his watch. 1:59:12. Wasn't gonna be any time for this situation to become awkward in about forty eight seconds. He felt for his M6C/SOCOM, tucked in an armpit holster beneath his fleece jacket, trying to make like he was feeling for his wallet or Chatter. 
Suddenly, as he was drawing his hand out of his jacket, one boom sounded, the shockwave shaking the ground. Within seconds afterward, another detonation sounded, and right after that, two more. 
Drawing his M6, he pointed it at the ONI agent, who was about 10 meters away. "Halt!" he called out. On cue, the rest of his six comrades emerged from the nearby alleys, their black M7S submachine guns and silver badges on their tan berets glinting in the moonlight. The agent slowly began to raise her hands, and in conjunction, the six began moving towards her, slowly and deliberately. There were more pressing matters on the mind of local law enforcement if the gunfire was anything to go by.
As they did so, the six submachine gun-armed operators moved about, not quite encircling her, but forming an almost-semicircle. After several seconds of silence, First Lieutenant Nicholas Pavelevski piped up. "Roman, cuff her."
Holstering his pistol, he drew a flexicuff out of the pocket of his sweatpants and hesitantly moved towards the agent. "Hands behind your back." he said, and she obliged. Grabbing hold of her right arm, Fisher moved to restrain her. Suddenly, he regretted letting his guard down as the agent elbowed him straight in the abdomen. Without having prepared for it, he lost his grip and stumbled back gasping. 
Immediately, he responded as with muscle memory, reaching into his jacket and drawing his M6. But he was still within arms reach, and she grabbed hold of the barrel, twisting it away from her, breaking his trigger finger in the process. But as she began to wrench the pistol out of Fisher's grasp, the other six operators retaliated, and two quick coughs sounded in conjunction with two red spurts coming out of her knees. She buckled to the concrete, shrieking in pain. The sound still made Fisher cringe. He had heard the sounds of wounded soldiers before, but when it wasn't muffled by the sound of gunfire, it was so much more jarring.
But he quickly forgot that as his looked at his contorted finger, and his body finally registered what had happened. "Godfuckingdamnit!" he grunted as he felt his broken finger and brought himself to his feet. Looking over at the agent, she was now face-down on the sidewalk, Corporal Yuri Samuels' knee on her back as Pavelevski flexicuffed her hands and feet.
"Come on, let's go." he said as he finished. "Fisher, we'll deal with your wounds once we're back at the safehouse." he continued. Pavelevski and Samuels lifted the agent up, taking off their berets and stuffing them in the cargo pockets of their battledress trousers. With her head hung down, the agent looked more like a drunk being helped home from a club then a kidnap victim. 
Disappearing into a nearby alleyway, the rebels walked up to an older Capri luxury SUV. In this part of town, no one was going to dare screw with someone driving a luxury car, not if they didn't want to get involved in a gang war.
Drawing the key fob out of his pocket, Fisher clicked a button, and the trunk began to open. "Alright, get her in there, and Samuels, you're in charge of security." Pavelevski said. The corporal silently nodded and obliged, climbing into after the thump of her being thrown haphazardly into the back.
Closing the trunk with a much louder thump, Pavelevski motioned to the car with his M7S. "Get in." he said. "Shotgun!" Fisher jokingly yelled. The lieutenant cracked a smile. "I think you've earned it." he said. Opening the door with his good left hand, Fisher got in, as Pavelevski got in the driver's seat.
As he started the SUV and began driving, he struck up a casual conversation as if they hadn't just carried out a kindnapping in the middle of a bunch of bombings and raids. "You good there Fisher?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine, just gonna need this fixed up. Hurts like hell."
"Can imagine. Samuels will deal with that, right Corporal?"
"Uh huh, sure, give it to the junior NCO." Samuels yelled from the trunk.
"So who is this person we nabbed anyway?" Fisher asked.
"Not fully sure. Field intel says she's possibly an ONI mole, but one of the former Intelligence Battalion guys says-."
"Then why'd we nab her? Hearsay from some men on the street that she might be ONI."
Pavelevski sighed. "Fisher, I know you were a soldier, and it's harder to see the average civilian, and an attractive one at that, as an Oonskie agent, but believe me, they're wolves in sheep's clothing. And besides, it wasn't fully hearsay. One of the old boys from the Intelligence Battalion confirmed that even if she isn't ONI, she was, or is, a Freelancer."
"A what? Sounds awful familiar."
"Yeah...it should be, to all of us."
"Why?"
The officer obviously shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not sure if he should say something. "Well, you really want to know?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Sir."
"Well, you remember what happened in 2555? The Pelican shootdown that killed the Marshal?"
"Of course I remember it. I nearly died going searching to recover the bodies or any survivors."
"So you've told us. Well, the Freelancers were the ones who did that shootdown, and probably the ones who attacked your unit. The intel guys confirmed that before the invasion started. And if you hear our intel contacts tell it, this one was the leader of all of them."
Fisher took a deep breath. He was finally coming to understand Ulan. He wasn't torturing or killing for kicks, he was killing because he had a one-track mind to kill Freelancers. He had gotten them before, but he wanted them all gone. It made sense, sort of.
"And what, you thought I was gonna freak out and try to strangle her?"
"Well, you never know."
"Not right now. Maybe later." Fisher said with a chuckle.
----
It was light out now on New Year's Eve, and Fisher rubbed his face as he swung himself out of bed. Once the medical treatment on his finger was done, he had gotten some well-deserved uninterrupted rest. The rest of the unit had graciously taken up the slack of him being unable to effectively guard the prisoner. 
But now it was time to get back to business.
He threw on a pair of civilian clothes, and grabbed his black beret off the nightstand. Stuffing it in his pocket, he moved downstairs to the home's dining room, where Pavelevski and three others were sitting at the table enjoying some real food, not the MREs they had lived off of for months at a time back in 2555. 
Helping himself to some eggs and sausage, Fisher sat down at the table, grabbing a biscuit from a bowl in the center, and began chowing down. "So, what happened last night? Any progress?" he asked between bites.
Pavelevski looked up from his Chatter. "Barely." he said. "Only worthwhile info we got out of her was her name. Victoria O'Connell, and even that was like pulling teeth.". He looked up as Fisher gave him a sideways look. "No, we didn't pull any teeth, we're not Colonel Wright. Well, not yet anyways."
"Not that I'd object considering who she is and what she did." he responded.
"According to our intel friend, the name matches to reports of Freelancers, and corresponds to Agent Carolina, their leader, if you could call her that. Denies being ONI though."
Sergeant Harvin, sitting at the end of the table, piped up. "Tried everything, including truth serum. Made her delirious for a few hours, still couldn't get shit out of her. The fact she can withstand everything we've thrown at her should be enough to confirm she's ONI."
"Can't confirm that Harvin, and plus, we need something worthwhile out of her. Speaking of which, may as well go check on her."
Fisher stood up, and followed after the other four. Coming up to a basement door, Pavelevski placed his hand on a biometric scanner, and the lock whirred open. "After you." he said, motioning down the steps.
Stepping down the steps into the surprisingly well-lit basement, he saw the agent, under guard by Corporal Samuels and Private First Class Kevoli. She was restrained to a chair, with a table between her and another chair. Her head was hung low, hair was messed up, and there were some obvious marks on her cheek, whether they were from when they grabbed her or from Pavelevski getting frustrated, he didn't know.
As they came down the stairs, the agent lifted her head, tracking Pavelevski and Fisher, giving both the evil eye, though if Fisher had to guess, it was probably aimed more at the former.
She wasn't begging for her life, or showing any sort of emotion at all really. Fisher wondered whether it was because she had faith that the rebels would release her when they found out she wasn't ONI, or because she was and would be defiant to the end, just as he and the rest were. 
Fisher sat down in the chair across from the agent. "Let's leave the two of them alone, shall we?" Pavelevski said, and the rest of the soldiers walked up the stairs, leaving just Fisher and the Freelancer together. Fisher leaned back in the chair, staring back into the Freelancer's green eyes. "Well?" he asked. "What'd you think I was last night? Just some creeper?" he continued with a smile. 
"No. You hadn't hit on me at the club, so I knew there was something off about you."
"And it seems you were right. But evidently you weren't good enough to stop some rebel scum."
She didn't initially respond, but her face contorted, first in a flinch as if someone had struck her, which then turned into an expression of pure rage. "I wouldn't be so proud, I've beat you all before."
Fisher sat back again, "Well then, go on. When did you beat us?" he asked.
"I've killed more of you rebels than anyone can count, I wouldn't be proud about temporarily besting me. I'm the best there is, and I proved it in 2555 against you all."
"I doubt that."
"Oh really, would you if I said I killed your leaders and then a bunch of your best soldiers?"
"Yes, you couldn't have, I know that. The Marshal died in a Pelican accident. It was a tragedy, but no one could best him."
The agent let out an audible laugh. Fisher smoothed over his eyebrow. This was not who he had expected. She was callous, competitive, wanted to do anything to prove that she was the best, especially if he egged her on. He had to play the rebel fanatic. Shouldn't be too hard. 
She spoke again, "Is that what they told you? We shot him down. The UNSC told us where he would be, and so we slipped into the Free State, past your border guards and all of your soldiers, and shot him down. I commanded my team to do things that you and yours would never be able to do. If that doesn't make me better, then I'd gladly demonstrate to you why I am."
"No need, we already proved to you why we're better last night. We've stopped you, and we'll stop everyone. We'll become a nation once again, no matter what you do."
She scoffed. "Please, you won't become anything ever again than a band of terrorists. There's not just me, there's other agents all over Gilgamesh that will stop you, and when I get out of here, and I will, I'll bring more with me to kill all of you! We'll see who's better then!" she said, her speaking eventually turning into screaming.
"Well then, I'd like to see you try. Thank you." Fisher responded, standing up and heading for the stairs as she began hurling abuse at him again. But he didn't pay it any mind. Poking his head out the basement door, talking over her tirade, he turned to Pavelevski. "We got what we needed. Either she's ONI or some other intelligence agency, but we've apparently got agents all over Gilgamesh. Nothing else of value." he said.
"Good." responded Pavelevski. "Let's end this little charade then. You want to do it?" he asked.
"Be my pleasure."
"Alright, let's go." he said, walking down the stairs with Pavelevski and the rest. As they reached the bottom, it was obvious the agent had realized the terrible mistake she had just made. Her face had obviously paled, made all the more striking in contrast to her red hair, and she knew what was about to happen.
Pavelevski cleared his throat. "Victoria O'Connell, you have confessed and plead guilty to the following crimes. Murder in the case of officers and men of the Gilgamesh Free State, murder in the case of citizens of the Gilgamesh Free State, conspiracy to commit acts of violence against the Free State, commission of acts of violence against the Free State, and count of spying against the Free State. Under the code of military justice of the Free State, which is currently in effect due to a state of emergency, you are hereby sentenced to death." he said.
He nodded to Fisher. Fisher raised the matte black pistol, and took aim at her chest. "This is for the boys of the Life Guards." he said, before pulling the trigger three times. The rounds tore through, leaving three distinct crimson stains, and the agent went limp. He felt almost a pang of regret, but then he remembered why. 
He remembered the dead and twisted bodies of his fellow Life Guards, the corpse of Marshal Garan and other generals and officials, the stories of the attacks. He wondered if he felt the same way as Ulan had. Was it really that good he had killed this Freelancer? Was it that lucky that they had gotten her? It was good for the Free State, she couldn't be let live, but he remembered a quote from his literature class in highschool. He couldn't remember it exactly, but it was something about monsters.
Category:Safe Havens