Director: Dear Chairman. I don't give a damn about your committee and its opinions of my work! Have you forgotten sir, we were at war? A fight with an alien race for the very survival of our species? I feel I must remind you, that it is an undeniable, and, may I say, a fundamental quality of Man, that when faced with extinction, every alternative is preferable!

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

Slade motions Wash and Church inside.

Slade: Get in, get in, get in!

Soldier: Over here, over here!

Washington: Get that door!

Slade throws a grenade through the doorway and it explodes as he shuts it and shoots the keypad.

Church: What's the status up here?

Grif: Fucked up, 'bout to die, Simmons is a nerd... the usual.

Sarge: Looks like we've got at least half a dozen squads out there. They know our position, and we're outgunned.

Washington: So, what's the plan?

Sarge: Well we were gonna retreat down the hall until you just brought more guards up that way, so now the plan's pretty much to go down swinging. You first.

Grif: Hey Simmons, can you get back on that computer and change my affiliation from Red to Freelancer?

Simmons: Traitor.

Grif: Hey, you gotta go with the winner.

Caboose: Um, could you change my job title to something more important like astronaut-oh, I know, Space Marine!

Church: What are you idiots doing?

Simmons: This computer has all of Command's records.

Church: It does? Records on everybody?

Simmons: Yeah. You know, theoretically.

Simmons alt-tabs the screen to from BLUES DELETED to something else.

Simmons: Hup du-doo, doo doo, nothin' to see here, doo doo doo doo...

Church: Oh great, now I'll show you that you're wrong.

Washington: What an excellent idea.

Simmons: Wrong about what?

Church: Wash and Slade have been trying to convince me that I'm an A.I.

Grif: Huh? Why would they do that?

Slade: Because he's bloody transparent? He can take over other people, you know, that kind of stuff?!

Grif: That's because he's a ghost, dude.

Church: Thank you, that's what I said.

South: How the hell is Hawkeye over here an A.I.?

Slade: He's the Alpha, lass.

South: WHAT?!

Church: What part of 'ghost' refuses to enter your skull?

Slade: Says the guy who still has yet to accept the fact that he still can't see his face nor even take off that helmet?!

Washington: If he's a ghost, why aren't any of the other soldiers turning into ghosts?

Church: Okay fine, why don't we just settle this? Simmons, look me up in the database.

Simmons: Yeah I'd like to help, but we may have just kind of, you know, deleted all that stuff for the Blues.

Washington: All of what stuff for the Blues?

Simmons: The everything stuff?

Slade: When this is over Simmons, I am shoving your head up Sarge's arse. That way you can kiss it permanently.

Washington: Didn't I tell you not to touch anything?

Simmons: Yes. But, you also told us to break stuff. This seemed like an excellent compromise.

South: He kinda has you there, Wash.

Washington: Not helping, South.

South: (shrugs) I'm not trying to help.

Church: Alright, great, that's fantastic. Now I can't prove them wrong, and I don't get a paycheck. Fucking great, thanks guys.

Sarge: And your side never existed! Which means Red wins. Suck it you non-existent losers!

Church: Doh, nobody gives a fuck about that.

Sarge: Sour grapes.

Slade: (sarcastically) The senile sergeant strikes again! Well done, Sarge! Another brilliant plan from Red Army's most crazy sergeant in existence!

Sarge: That's it! You're demoted to private again, Slade!

Slade: Nobody. Fucking. Cares. You insane, old man.

Grif: No way, Church isn't a computer.

Sarge: How can we be sure?

Caboose: Maybe we should ask him something only a computer would know.

Simmons: Like what?

Caboose: What's nine times eight?

Everyone: Seventy-two.

Caboose: Oh my God, it's spreading.

Grif: How 'bout this: show me some porn.

Church/Simmons/Sarge: What?

Grif: That's what all my computers do. Oh, oh, uh, uh, steal some music for me. Oh, or uh, uh, talk about politics and bore the shit out of me.

South: A.I.s aren't apps, fuckwad.

Caboose: Do you have any pictures of cats in serious situations?

Washington: Because of the trauma he's been through, he's not going to be able to access most of his functions. He may not even realise his full potential.

Sarge: Not living up to his potential? That means Grif's a computer too.

Washington: It doesn't matter. We don't need him to believe. Until the next time we encounter the Meta.

Something then lands on the roof.

Washington: What the hell was that?!

Sarge: Come on, do you even need to ask?

The Meta materializes on top of the building and the soldiers stop firing.

Soldier: Primary target has arrived. Engage, engage!

The soldiers open fire on the Meta.

Kan: (to Slade) What was that one sentence you taught me, Leader? "Speak of the devil and he shall appear?"

Church: The Meta! How'd he get inside the compound?

Simmons: What do you mean, how? It took us like ten minutes. Not that hard.

Washington: Perfect.

Church: Perfect?

Washington: He's been following us since I found Caboose. I knew he couldn't resist getting his hands on all the stored Command A.I.s. Especially Epsilon.

Church: You knew about this?

Washington: Knew about it? I planned on it. Still have Epsilon?

Church: Yeah, of course.

Washington: Good, let's get it to safety. Then we can finish this. Once and for all.

Church: You know, I'm starting not to trust you.

Slade: You don't trust anybody, arshole.

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

The Freelancers and Reds and Blues arrive at a garage with several jeeps.

Grif: What is this, the motor pool?

Washington: Yes. Looks like everyone is outside fighting the Meta. Still, be careful. Reds, you grab a vehicle. Kan, grab a Mongoose and cover their rear. Caboose, somehow I hate to ask this, but, can you drive?

Caboose: Yes. But not an automatic; only stick.

Washington: Why can't you drive-

Grif: We're in a rush, come back to it later.

Washington: Right. Caboose, grab that car. Church, put Epsilon in Caboose's jeep. You guys are gonna make a break for it. Take Epsilon and turn him over to the authorities. They'll know what to do with him. South, Cal, go with them and make sure they get out of here.

Sarge: You're not comin'?

Washington: No. Church and I are staying. Project Freelancer had one last resort failsafe: a high power E.M.P. that can wipe out all the A.I. in this facility. Now that the Meta is here, we have a chance to take them all out at once and put this entire project out of commission.

Slade: Wash, no.

Washington: This is MY fight, Cal. I dragged you and South into.

South: So what?! We're not leaving you to die!

Washington: This is my mission and it's my job to finish it. Cal, you need to get Delta and Theta out of here. They'll get destroyed if you don't.

Slade: Wash, it's like you said on the Pelican! You're my best friend! I won't-

Wash grabs Slade by his shoulders.

Washington: Travis... trust me.

Slade looks down and huffs, before looking up and nodding up.

Slade: You better not die. That's an order. When that E.M.P. goes off, come find us.

Washington: (nods) I will.

Grif: What's an E.M.P.?

Washington: It's an electo-magnetic pulse. It wipes out all circuitry and computers it touches. It will destroy the A.I.-

Simmons: Oh, you mean an Emp.

Sarge: Yeah, I was just about to say. Sounds like he's talkin' 'bout an Emp.

South: (irritated) That's not how you say E.M.P., you morons.

Sarge: That's how most people say it. "Emp."

Washington: No, they don't.

Church: I say it that way.

Washington: It's initials for Electro. Magnetic. Pulse. That's E.M.P.

Grif: Right. Which spells Emp. Durr.

Washington: We don't have time for this. You're wrong.

Simmons: Why don't we take a vote?

Slade: E.M.P.. End of story.

Caboose: Not very democratic.

Washington: Being wrong isn't a Democracy. Church and I will work our way down to the Director's lab while the rest of you escape.

Sarge: What if the Meta follows us?

Washington: No chance. There's no way he can pass up all the A.I. in here. Put Epsilon in the car and let's get moving.

Church: I'm leaving. I'm going with them.

Washington: What?

Church: Wash, I don't give a shit about any of this. I hate you, I hate the Freelancers, I hate everything about you guys. This isn't my fight; it's yours.

Slade: (quietly) Fucking typical. He REALLY is a copy of that fucker.

Washington: It's your fight more than anyone else's!

Church: I don't care what you say. No, it isn't.

Washington: Church, you'll never get another shot at fixing all of this. I know you don't believe what I've told you, but you need to ask yourself, what if I'm right? If I am, or if you have any doubts, not finding out will haunt you for the rest of your life. Not just finding out about you, but finding out about everyone close to you as well. It's your choice. What's it going to be?

(FINALE OF SEASON 6 IS UP NEXT AND THEN THE 'RELOCATED' SERIES AND THEN SEASONS 7-8!)