A New Agent. (Rewritten!)

Ch. 22

June 13, 2555

It's been 5 years since the fall of Project Freelancer. And 2 years since the end of the Great War.

Tennessee fell back into what he knew most, military. Immediately after the fall of Freelancer, Tennessee enlisted into the UNSC under a fake identity.

Tyson Salem, He wanted to hold a gun and kill things. He still held his A.I. Seraphim.

He became a personal headhunter for ONI. Hunting down Covenant higher ups, and taking out outposts by himself.

He became a feared entity among both sides of the war. And he was proud, it wasn't everyday that your fellow human fears to even have your eyes set on them.

But after a while, ONI decided to discharge Tennessee, with nothing to do Tennessee joined a private army.

He got used to them, became a operator. Sharpened his skills. And he became a killing machine, him and his partners bickered, but there was no denying that on the battlefield, they all made a great team.

But now he was going to betray them. Because, he was currently hunting down a group of simulation soldiers.

He's heard talk of them fighting off Washington and Maine. And for a group of soldiers not even good enough to die for humanity. That was batshit insane.

But it didn't matter, he wanted to find Washington. He tracked them down to a old freelancer facility and he was about to leave.

"Sir? What are you doing here?" A soldier asked him.

"Leaving soldier, is that a problem?" He asked coldly.

"Uh...no sir!" The soldier quickly corrected himself.

"Good." Tennessee walked towards a falcon and hopped in. Starting the engine and routing his gps to the location.

He then flew off to hopefully find the simulation troopers, who would lead him to Washington.

——Shitty Time Skip To Cover Shit Writing——

Tennessee landed the Falcon in the snow, And hopped out. He noticing that there was a warthog with a couple figures around it.

Readying his shotgun, the Warthog exploded.

"Fuck I'm late!" He growls and began running.

——5 minutes before——

Cut to Doc driving Wash and the Meta across a snowy field, perfectly serene except for Church's apparently lifeless body.

"There he is. Something doesn't seem right here. Stop the car." Wash announced.

"Stop?" Doc asked.

"I don't like this. How did he get hurt, why isn't anyone helping him?"

The Meta snarled.

"You're right, this is a trap. Those walls there, perfect for a sniper. We walk in to where he's hurt and suddenly, we're boxed in, nowhere to go."
Washington observed.

"You think the Reds are tryin' to ambush us?" Doc asked.

"The Reds? Hahaha! No. This is an actual military tactic. We drilled it all the time in training. No, whoever set this up is a Freelancer."

"Yeah, but if a Freelancer set this up, wouldn't they know that you guys were Freelancers, and that you would recognize this as soon as you saw it?"

"What? No, you're overthinking it. That's just-"
10 landmines begin to light up in a perfect circle around them.

"Oh, son of a bitch."