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Language:
English
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Published:
2013-02-28
Updated:
2013-02-28
Words:
916
Chapters:
2/50
Kudos:
3
Hits:
200

Monstres

Summary:

"We create monsters and then we can't control them."

Fifty drabbles for Fifty states for Fifty Freelancers.

Notes:

We all know Agents Carolina, York, North, South, Maine, Connecticut, and Wyoming but what about everyone else? As far as we know there are Fifty states and fifty Freelancers to match. This is their story.

It came up in a conversation with Rachel one day that we know next to nothing about the other Freelancers, so we decided that we'd each write a set of fifty drabbles about them all. Later on Alex joined in as well and both of their sets can be found under hellelf (Rachel) and Leechman (Alex). Enjoy.

Chapter 1: Alabama

Chapter Text

 


Prompt: Divided

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Let the floods cross
The distance in your eyes
Give me reason
To fill this hole
Connect this space between
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies
- New Divide, Linkin Park

///  

fill this hole

 Smacking her lip-glossed lips together, she sighed, noticing a smudge on one corner of her mouth. Alabama moved her pinky to wipe the excess gloss away, straightening up once she had done so and admiring her blond curls in the mirror. They bounced slightly as she swayed to the side causing her to smile. Her eyes moved away from her reflection and up above the mirror she kept in her locker to a picture.

 It was before Freelancer, before the war, before the training and the fighting and the blood and these AI everyone was always going on about. She's standing with her family at a barbeque; it was after she won the state beauty pageant, a few weeks before her brother died. He was an Insurrectionist and the only reason Alabama had opted for joining Freelancer was to carry out revenge on the soldier who'd killed him.

Yet now she wasn't so sure. The Director made a pretty good case and everyone here in the program seemed to think so too, and with these AI rumors floating around Alabama wasn't so sure that seeking revenge was the primary objective anymore. After all she'd won every beauty pageant she'd ever competed in at home, what was a little competition to make it to the top of the leader board. Of course she'd have to train harder, practice more, perfect her skills, but that was all part of winning, of being the best.

Eyes moving from the picture to the locker shelf, Alabama reached for a sparkling crown sitting there. Adjusting it on her head, she smiled again, her pageant smile, her winning smile. Most of the time, she felt divided between herself. Sometimes she was this Alabama, the one that had a goal here, the one that would avenge her brother and finally go home to where she belonged. Other times she was Freelancer Alabama, the one who could carry out orders as directed, the one who had no problem getting her hands dirty, the one who wanted to be at the top of this program.

And most of the time, Alabama didn't know who she was. Couldn't tell the difference between real Alabama and Freelancer Alabama. Who is she? Trying for another smile, she sighed taking the crown from her head and putting it neatly on the shelf, with one last glance at the picture and no more at her reflection, Alabama shut her locker.

Wouldn't want to be late for training.