Chairman: Dear Director. Please do not attempt to recast this investigation as some type of personal vendetta. Our questions to this point have been fairly standard. Your reactions have not. As such, we have secured all your records and logs by the authority granted us by the UNSC. Now we shall see exactly what it is, that you have to hide.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

In Freelancer HQ, everyone is gathered in a room with a long window overlooking outside.

Washington: Alright, we got in, but that's only part of our mission. So, no celebrating yet.

Grif: (sarcastically) Aw shit, and I was gonna be in charge of confetti.

Slade: Oi, not the time, Grif. Knock it off.

Washington: We still need to reach the A.I. storage facility. Security's tight since the Freelancers tried to break in here.

Church: You mean when they tried to steal the Alpha before?

Washington: Exactly.

Grif: The Freelancers tried to break in to their own command facility? That's dumb.

Simmons: That's what we're doin' right now, you jackass.

Grif: So? Just because we do something doesn't make it smart.

Simmons: (sighs) Tell me about it.

Washington: I have the necessary clearance to get close to the storage hall. The plan is: I'll take Church as a prisoner. If I take more than one of you it won't be believable. Though, Cal will be with me to back me up, cloaked.

South: And let me guess: to stay back and watch the idiots?

Sarge: Hey there, little missy! I am not-

Slade: Sarge.... just don't.

Sarge: You know, it's times like this that make me think back to why I made you my second-in-command.

Slade: Yeah? Well you have no idea how many times I asked Command to transfer me out or labeled you as senile on the reports.

Sarge: Excuse me?!

Caboose: Agent Washington, I want you to take me instead.

Church: What're you talkin' about?

Caboose: I will be your prisoner. Let Church go. He doesn't have anything to do with this!

Church: Caboose, I'm not actually going to be a prisoner. I'm just gonna pose as one so that we can get past-

Caboose: Have a good life Church. Don't worry. I won't tell them anything. They won't get any information out of me. No matter how nicely they ask.

Church: Oh my God, just shut up.

Kan: Church, need you be reminded that you are the one responsible for Caboose's mental state?

Church: I REALLLLLY liked you better when I couldn't understand you.

Sarge: Sacrificing himself for his CO. What a good soldier. Why can't you three be more like him?

Grif: What, braindead?

Simmons: I would sacrifice Grif for you, sir.

Sarge: I know you would, Simmons. But it's just not the same thing.

Simmons: No, but seriously I would. Just give me the word. I'll do it right fucking now, let's go. Bring it.

Slade: I'd sacrifice you three in a heartbeat.

Simmons: Oh, yeah? Then why do you keep saving us?

Slade: .......

Simmons: Cyborg got your tongue?

Slade just backhands Simmons to the floor.

Slade: Fist got YOUR bloody tongue?

Grif: Why are you taking Church? What about the rest of us?

Washington: We're sneaking past seven levels of armed checkpoints. Are you volunteering?

Grif: Uh, it was a hypothetical question?

Slade: South, Kan, make sure they don't do anything stupid.

South: Preach to the choir much, Cal?

Slade: (scoffs) I'm more religious than a priest surrounded by hundreds of versions of the bible.

Washington: The rest of you hole up and wait for us to finish. And don't touch anything.

Sarge: How will we know when you're done?

Washington: When you see every guard in the base running in one direction? That means we're probably in trouble.

Church: All the guards? Whu- yuh- wait, wh-why are we taking Church, again?

Slade: Would you grow a fuckin' pair?

Washington: Just keep the guards off of us, and we'll radio when we're in position. This will be our extraction point.

Grif: Keep them off you?

Washington: Yeah.

Church: Distract them, dipshit.

Grif: How?

Washington: Well, this is the center that came up with all the ridiculous scenarios you guys have suffered through over the years. So have fun. Break some shit.

South chuckles, cracking her knuckles.

South: Now I can get behind that.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Washington walks Church up to a checkpoint with two guards in front of a door.

Guard 1: Hold on, don't come any closer. I need you to stay right there, sir.

Washington: Understood. I need access to the next level. The Councilor wants to interrogate another survivor from Outpost 17-B.

Guard 1: What? I thought all the Blues at Valhalla were dead. Where'd this one come from?

Washington: I don't have to explain anything to you, soldier. Stand down.

Guard 1: Sorry sir, I didn't mean anything by that-

Washington: Fine. I'll let it go. As you were.

Guard 1: Something doesn't seem right to me. I'm gonna have to call this in.

Washington: Absolutely. Call it in. Let me just... NOW!

Washington drops one guard, and Church drops to a knee and empties his entire clip at the other guard at point blank range; the guard still stands, unscathed.

Church: Uh, hey can I get a little help? I'm... out of bullets.

Suddenly the second guard's neck snaps and his body falls to the ground as Slade decloaks in front of them.

Church: Thanks, Slade.

Slade: "My aim is fine", he says. You are the GALAXY'S worst shot in existence.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Back with Reds, South, Kan, and Caboose, Simmons watches several guards walk past outside.

Simmons: This patrol was seventeen seconds late. Who's runnin' this place? How inefficient. Sloppy...

Sarge: I'm bored outta my gourd.

Grif: So what? Bored is good. Bored means we're not dying. Boredom I can deal with. I have years of practice.

Caboose: Yes! Grif talked, I won, I won the who-can-be-the-quietest game again!

Grif: Yeah, good job. That's ten in a row for you Caboose. Hey, you know what? We should play again. Best eleven out of twenty-one.

Caboose: Yes. You're all going down.

Simmons: Heh. We should try holding our breath next.

Sarge: Well, that's it. I can't stand just sittin' around. I'm goin' mad with anticipation.

Simmons: We've only been here twelve minutes.

Sarge: Are you sure? My mission clock says three days.

Simmons: (sighs) That's because you wouldn't synchronize at the start of the mission, remember? I said we should synchronize, and you said "Why would we synchronize? It's like we're in the future, seeing what the enemy does before they do it. Why would we give up the advantage?"

Sarge: Come on, Simmons, who could possibly remember an annoying conversation we had three whole days ago?

Simmons: Twelve minutes ago.

Sarge: Grif, what's your clock say?

Grif: Um, actually mine's a countdown to the next episode of Battlestar Galactica. Priorities dude.

South: (groans loudly in annoyance) How have you idiots survived all these years? Literally, all you do is stand around and talk!

Grif: Hey! It's our method, lady! You don't fuck with the method!

Caboose: Ah- ah- I just won again! Man, you guys are really bad at this game! It's- it's like you're not even playing at all!

Kan: I am going to go start striking panels with my sword.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Wash, Slade, and Church walk into a large room with holographic symbols shimmering on the walls.

Washington: Here. This is it.

Church: Whoa. What is this place?

Washington: It's the storage facility for all the A.I.s. The rejects, the bad variants... everything is here. Everything.

Church: Dear lord, what're all these lights on the walls?

Washington: It's holographic storage.

Church: And one of these things is Alpha?

Washington: You work on closing that door. Me and Cal will find what we're looking for. And when we do, every soldier on base is sure to come running. So be ready.

Slade: You find Alpha. I need to go get something else...

Washington: What? Cal, you have to help me-

Slade grabs Wash calmly by the shoulders.

Slade: David.... trust me.

Slade then walks off, leaving his comrade and Church.

Church: Where the hell is he going?

Washington: Don't worry about him. Just get that door shut.

Wash approaches one of the walls as he hears it whispering his name. Later on, Church messes with one of the holograms, waving his hand through it back and forth.

Washington: Church I got it, get over here. Here, this is it.

Church: (rushes over) Oh, great, you found it already?

A loud reverberating boom comes from the wall panel, making Church holds his head.

Church: Ah!

Washington: What's wrong?

Church: Nothing I just had like a weird flash- uh, ah!

Washington: Are you alright?

Church: Yeah, I think it's this thing. It's like, sending out images. Is this the Alpha?

Washington: No. This is not the Alpha.

Church: No? Then what is it?

Washington: This is Epsilon.... this is my A.I.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Slade enters a large chamber with tons of walls of holographic symbols and lights.

Slade: It's gotta be somewhere. You three getting anywhere?

Tex, Delta, and Theta then appear next to Slade.

Tex: Head down three and then turn right.

Delta: It will be next to this symbol. (displays it for him)

Slade follows their directions and finds the symbol. Slade opens the giant metal droor and a red light shines inside and illuminating all around the walls.

Slade then reaches inside and feels his hand jolt for a few seconds. Slade then opens his palm.

Slade: Rho?

A red hologram of armor then appears in his hand.

(IMAGINE HIM LOOKING MORE TRANSPARENT)

Rho: It's good to see you again, Cal.

(AND SLADE GOT BACK HIS OLD A.I. BABY! MORE COMING UP SOON!)