PRESENT DAY...

Wash and South walk up to Carolina, who is standing by a generator.

Wash: Looking for something?

Carolina: Leads, information, anything. You said Maine had been through here, right?

South: Well, yeah, but that was years ago.

Carolina: Then look closely. Don't tell me hanging around those morons has turned you both soft.

Slade, Tucker, and Epsilon sneak up on an upper platform and look down at them.

Tucker: Hey, she said morons, that's us.

Epsilon: Tucker, shut up, let me listen.

Slade: How 'bout you both shut up? Your mouth is bigger than his anyways, Church.

Wash: The Meta was attempting to transfer energy from these turbines into his suit. It was the only way he could keep his equipment running.

Carolina: Huh, poor Maine.

Wash: Carolina, it wasn't your fault.

Carolina: But it was my AI.

South: Yeah, and once Sigma and Omega and the others got wiped out by the EMP, Maine could've turned it all around, but he didn't. He CHOSE to go back to being a walking death-machine. His death is his own fault.

Carolina: Cal was the one who killed him.

South: And what? You think he enjoyed it?!

Wash: Besides, none of us could have known what would happen when you gave Sigma to Maine.

Carolina: Yeah? Well sometimes I'm not so sure.

Wash: What?

Carolina: We were told that the AI were specifically designed for each of us, right? North was chosen for Theta, York had Delta, Cal had Rho, but Sigma was mine.

South: Cut the cryptic shit and get to the point.

Carolina: You really think the Director didn't know what would happen?

Wash: Carolina, that's ridiculous.

Carolina: He always had his little experiments. He just forgot to take a few extra variables into account.

Wash: And what about now? The whole world thinks you're dead. Do you think he knows you're coming for him?

Carolina: Yes, I do. And for once, I look forward to proving him right.

Wash: (sighs) The Director was always hard on you.

Tucker: Dude, he said hard on. Bow chicka-

Slade covers his mouth.

Epsilon: (whispering) Shut up. They're gonna hear you.

Carolina: He was hard on all of us.

Tucker: Oh come on, you've got to let me have that one.

Slade: How about I jam my fist up your arse?

Epsilon: Quiet, you're going to give away our position.

Tucker: I've got about five positions in mind for her. Bow chicka-

Slade: Shut. Up!

Epsilon: Yeah, Tucker, seriously.

Wash: Yeah, you're right. But you have to admit, he was also pretty hard Cal, mostly.

Tucker: That's it, I'm doing it.

Epsilon: Tucker!

Tucker: BOW CHICKA BOW-

Slade yanks Tucker down, making the bullet miss and knocks Tucker out from the force of yanking him to the ground.

Carolina: What, are you doing here...?!

Epsilon: Okay, take it easy, Carolina. We just wanted information.

South: Church? Cal?

Epsilon: Look, if you guys are planning on dragging us around wherever you want, the least you could do is fill us in.

Carolina: You and your squad are on a "need-to-know" basis. And right now, you don't need to know anything.

Epsilon: Wha- Seriously?! Jesus, you're worse than Tex...! (gunfire passes through Epsilon)

Slade: Like I said: you got a big mouth, mate.

Carolina: GET. OUT...!

Epsilon: Fine, we're leaving already. (Epsilon starts walking away) Hey Slade, I need you to grab Tucker, I can't actually do it on my own, seeing as how you knocked him out.

Wash: Carolina, you've got to calm down.

Carolina: Don't tell me how to lead my squad, Washington. Now, sweep the area and report back to me when you're done. (walks away)

Washington: (sighs) On it, boss.

South: Let's go, Wash.

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

DURING FREELANCER MANY YEARS AGO...

Counselor: And as the Director accurately predicted in his thesis on the subject, we see that cognitive impression modeling can be separated from the host. Naturally, this remains an inherently deconstructive process. But most of all, the biggest concern of any full A.I. entity is the prospect of rampancy, which we covered last week.

As the Counselor speaks, the Freelancers are in a classroom-like room where Wyoming, North, South, York, Carolina, Cal, Maine and Wash, all helmetless, sit with Delta, Theta, Rho, and Sigma at desks. The Counselor and the Director stand at the front of the room.

Director: Of course our AI units are what we call fragments, so there's very little chance that a personality subroutine can run off unchecked.

Counselor: Are there any questions?

South: Yeah, I got a question. Why do we need to learn all this stuff?

California: (drops his head on the desk) Christ Almighty...

Carolina: AI theory is like vehicle maintenance, South. If we're going to use this equipment, any equipment, we need to know how to care for it.

South: Oh yeah, Like a coffee maker or a vacuum cleaner.

Theta: Uh...

Delta: That was rather rude.

South: Oh, cry me a river, lightbulb.

Carolina: No, not the same as that.

South: I don't even have one because someone didn't bring enough to share, so why am I sitting through this elementary classroom bullshit?

Rho: Maybe because you constantly talk shit to everybody whenever the whole roof comes down on your big, blonde head?

South: I'm beginning to see why you got assigned to Cal. You're both pricks.

Carolina: I don't have one either, South.

York: That's only because you gave yours to Maine.

Carolina: He needed to be able to communicate after his injury.

South: Oh yeah. That's the only reason you did it. You're a real hero, Carolina. It's not like Maine has much to say anyway.

Maine: (Growls)

Sigma: I would like to say just how appreciative the two of us are for Carolina's sacrifice. Agent Carolina, Agent California, if anyone can excel without an A.I. unit, it is the both of you.

Carolina: Thank you, Sigma.

Sigma: And Agent Texas of course. That goes without saying.

Carolina: Right.

California: Way to kill the mood, Sig.

South: I notice she doesn't have to attend class.

Director: Agent Texas doesn't need this training.

Counselor: What the Director is trying to say is that Agent Texas has already completed her A.I. theory course work. I think that's enough for today.

California: What? Is she takin' some online class you didn't tell us about, Counselor?

Wash, York, and Wyoming all chuckle until the Director glares at them, making them stop.

Sigma: If I may, Counselor. I have just one last question.

York: Oh, come on.

Sigma: On the different levels of A.I. awareness and rampancy.

Counselor: Melancholia, anger-

Sigma: Specifically in the fourth stage of rampancy.

Counselor: Meta-stability.

Sigma: Yes, the meta stage, in which an A.I. can be considered fully human.

Counselor: That is only theoretical, Sigma. No A.I. has ever achieved such a state.

Sigma: But it is possible.

Counselor: In theory, but-

Sigma: But possible. I find that very interesting.

Counselor: Remember, Sigma, you're not even a full A.I. You are what we call a fragment, so something of that magnitude would be even more difficult for an entity such as yourself.

Sigma: Well, as the Director always says, it is important to have ambition.

Director: Why yes it is. Class is dismissed.

The Freelancers, Delta, and Theta leave. Rho goes to follow, but stops as Sigma watches the board at the front of the room.

Rho: Sig, you comin' or what?

Sigma: Yes, yes. We will be joining you shortly.

The board at the front of the room cycles though several symbols made of combined Greek letters before stopping on a particular combination, the future symbol of The Meta.

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

PRESENT DAY...

Outside the facility, Carolina gets stopped by Caboose.

Caboose: Um, hey, hi Caroline. Yes, um, excuse me, um, have you seen Church lately. Uh, he and I were supposed to hang out after we rescued him.

Carolina: Tell your friends to stay out of my way, or else.

Caboose: Or else what?

Carolina: Or else they'll bring out my ugly side.

Caboose: Oh, oh come on Caroline, I bet you are really pretty under that armor.

Carolina: What?

Caboose: Um, I mean, you know, I mean I understand that there's some helmet hair. We all have helmet hair from time to time, but you know.

Carolina growls, glaring harder at the blue Sim Trooper.

Caboose: Yes, um so anyways, what did you want me to tell Church and Tucker again?

Carolina pulls out her pistol and aims at Caboose put her hand gets twisted and she drops her pistol, meeting the gaze of Slade.

Slade: Try and aim at him again, and I'll make sure I slice off each and every single one of your fingers shoving them down your throat.

Carolina: (darkly) Get your hands off me.

Slade: Say you understand, and I will.

Carolina: LET. ME. G-

Slade yanks Carolina over his shoulder and flips her on her stomach. He twists her arm behind her back and places his knee on her back as well, pinning her to the dirt.

Slade: DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME, RACHEL?!

Carolina growls and yells trying to get out of his grip, but fails.

Carolina: FINE! I GIVE!

Slade: Say the goddamn words.

Carolina: .... (hesitantly) I understand.

Slade: There. Was that so hard?

Slade gets off her and Carolina quickly rolls onto her back and grabs her rifle to shoot him, but Slade grabs the barrel of the rifle, keeping it to the left and glowers down at her.

Slade: I honestly can't believe I used to care about your selfish and pathetic arse.

Slade yanks her rifle away and throws it to the side, before walking away.

Carolina gets to her feet, huffing in anger and let's out a roar of anger before punching the wall next her, leaving a huge hole that slightly cracks as she retracts her fist.

Carolina grabs her weapons and passes by a Warthog, which the Reds poke out from behind it after she's gone.

Grif: You know, I'm beginning to think Simmons might have had the right idea about this Carolina chick.

Simmons: See, I told you!

Sarge: Normally I would agree with Simmons, but in this case it would also cause me to agree with Grif. Therefore, I will simply grunt ambiguously. (grunts)

Wash walks up to the Reds, who are now congregating by the windmill.

Wash: Hey, did Carolina come this way? We've got to get going soon.

Grif: Right, we've been meaning to talk to you about that.

Wash: About what?

Grif: This whole "finding the Director" thing.

Wash: You mean the mission.

Grif: Yeah, that.

Simmons: We were thinking. Now that we've helped you find Church, we should just let you handle the rest. You know, wouldn't want to cramp your style. That whole Freelancer thing. You're good at that.

Wash: So you're abandoning the mission.

Sarge: Red Team never abandons the mission, we're just accepting an alternate mission, of different risk.

Wash: Less risk.

Simmons: Less is different.

Sarge: Securing the front lines of Red Base.

Wash: Going home is risky? On what scale?

Sarge: Well, we haven't been there in ages. Who knows what kind of nefarious ner-do-wells have moved in on our territory.

Wash: Hmm, I guess you're right.

Sarge: What?

Wash: Well, you are wanted criminals of the U.N.S.C. I wouldn't be surprised if they were setting up an ambush for you right now.

Sarge: What?

Wash: I suppose I can't stop you. Anyway, I'm going to go find Carolina. Good luck.

Wash walks away.

Sarge: On second thought, you could probably use the extra help.

Grif: Yeah, we're sticking with you.

Simmons: Never abandon the mission.

Grif: Semper, the sempering thing. Semper, ah fuck it.

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

Cal walks down one of the halls of the ship, talking to Rho.

California: What's happening to this Project, Rho?

Rho: You mean everybody instantly getting pissed for no reason?

California: Yeah, well, Carolina, South, and Tex are always at each other throats, Maine's been acting more weird ever since he got Sigma, and a ton of other shit I don't even wanna talk about.

Cal enters his room and takes off his helmet, running a hand through his hair.

Rho: Weird unrelated question: ever thought of leaving Freelancer?

Cal looks at Rho, incredulously.

California: Why would I wanna do that?

Rho: I don't know. Just something I had on the brain.

Suddenly they both hear beeping, and see Cal's computer blinking red.

All the Freelancer's bedrooms are outfitted with their own computer systems and are used for communication and doing certain assignments.

California: Who the hell wants to talk this late at night?

Rho: Something tells me it isn't your red-headed girlfriend wanting to say sorry.

Cal sits down at the desk, and the screen shows CT without her helmet.

CT: (on the computer) Hello, Travis.

To say Cal was surprised, would be an understatement.

California: (shocked) Connie?! Where the bloody hell are you?! Why would you turn on us?!

CT: (on the computer) Cal, I need you to listen to me-

California: Give me one good reason why I shouldn't tell the Director you're contacting me?

CT: Because you and I both know that you hate the Director with a passion.

Cal remains silent for several seconds before turning to Rho.

California: Rho, make sure this channel's secure.

Rho: Hang on. (disappears for several seconds then reappears) Secured.

California: Okay, spill it, Connie. Why the hell would you turn on us for the Insurrectionists?

CT: Because WE'RE the bad guys, Cal!

California: Obviously!

CT: No! Not- I meant Freelancer! The Director is corrupt! He's been doing a ton of shit you wouldn't believe! Breaking laws and getting countless people killed to further his own goals!

California: Major laws?! The Director may be a hardarse, but a criminal?

CT: Travis, it probably won't be long before they find us, and the Director will want to have me executed as a traitor. You are the only one I can count on to do the right thing.

California: Why me?

CT: It's like you always said: You care about people, not numbers.

Headcase: (audio only) Connie, you in here?

CT: Gotta go... take care of yourself, Travis. When you find us, I'll explain everything.

California: Connie, wait! What about-

The screen shuts off, making Cal sigh in frustration.

Rho: Well... that was somethin'.

California: We have to get her out of there.

Rho: Cal, we don't even know where she is! CT said they were close to tracking her. And she wasn't wrong about the Director probably wanting to kill her.

California: We'll figure something out, mate. For now, log off. I... need some time to think.

Rho: You're the boss.

Rho logs off as Cal drops his head in his hands.

California: What am I gonna do?