Chapter Text
Washington moved quickly and cautiously. He had to get to the area fast to secure a way for the others to get to the ship engine. Bitters had said the area was being hit hard; sniper fire coming out of nowhere. As soon as the words were said, he immediately knew where it coming from; Locus. And he knew he was the only one that could handle him, other than Carolina, but she wasn’t here right now. The last time he’d fought Locus, he ended up getting the life beat out of him; even though it was part of the plan he didn’t count on getting his ass kicked that much. This time he wouldn’t hold back. No hesitation.
Crouching behind rocks, he observed the area in front of him. It was a cluster of Rebels, Feds, and Pirates; the Feds and Rebels not looking good. More and more fell at just what Bitters had reported; sniper shots from seemingly nowhere. Following the path of the shots, he picked out where Locus was hiding. Taking careful aim, he fired off one shot. He could tell he’d come close, because the air seemed to move after the bullet hit. Moving quickly again, he headed forward behind more rocks. He looked out again, but there were no more sniper shots. He cursed under his breath. Locus could be anywhere now. As he was about to move again, a shot hit the wall of the rock just to the side of his head. Turning his head sharply, Locus materialized above him, the familiar sound of the cloaking unit lingering.
“Once again, you surprise and disappoint me, Agent Washington. I didn’t think you would come marching to your death like this.” Locus raised his rifle again.
Washington dove over the rocks to the other side, just narrowly avoiding the bullet. Crouching on one knee, his gun resting on it, he prepared himself. He had to be careful, with Locus’s cloaking equipment he could come from anywhere. That was his mistake last time, he didn’t pay attention enough to see Locus coming straight at him. He wouldn’t hold back. No hesitation.
He fought. He fought hard, and made sure to put all his skills to use. This was the point of no return. One of them probably wasn’t going to walk away alive. He was hoping that wouldn’t be him. There’s was something different, though. Something different from the last time he fought Locus. He wasn’t monologuing. Last time he’d talked all about being a “perfect soldier” to Washington. There was nothing now. Taking the chance, he called out.
“What’s wrong, Locus? Not going to tell me about how you’re a ‘perfect soldier’ this time? What, you don’t want to talk?” There was a few second of silence, before Locus’s voice cut through the air.
“We’re past the point of talk, Agent Washington.” Another shot bounced off next to him, shooting tiny shards of rock into the side of his helmet. He got up quickly, and backed up, keeping his gun raised and cocked. Things were definitely different with Locus this time. Turning, he jumped over a wall of sandbags for more cover. Looking up, he scanned for Locus. Where could he be hiding? He was doing a damn good job. Focusing, he listened closely. Footsteps sounded to his left. Jumping up quickly, he fired; his shots, at least one, finding exactly what they were looking for.
Locus’s form shuddered in and out of the cloaking at the bullet hitting him. Taking no chances, Washington fired again. Locus stumbled back, still saying nothing; only his ragged breathing leaving his mouth.
He had him.
“You know,” Washington started, somewhat trying to hold back a smirk, “You really should have killed me when you had the chance, Locus.”
No hesitation.
Locus glared at him. “Hmph, If I would have killed you Agent Washington, I wouldn’t have this opportunity right now.” It sounded like he was trying to contain laughter.
It confused Washington. “What? What oppur-” And that was his mistake. He let his guard down, and before he knew it, a pirate had knocked him square off his feet. Washington tried to scramble up, but Locus was already upon him, tearing off his helmet and throwing his gun aside. What was he doing? Washington struggled, but Locus held him tightly by his throat. Squeezing firmly one last time, he threw Washington into two pirates, who immediately held his arms behind him. There was no getting away, no matter how much he fought their grip. Locus menacingly stepped toward him, pulling something out.
“I’m talking about this one.” He purred.
Looking at Locus’s hand, his eyes widened in horror. His heart stopped and quickened. He stopped fighting their hold on him.
He hesitated.
“No...No.” He stammered. "That can't be.....you couldn't have...."
“You know what this is, Agent Washington.” He gingerly held it, turning it over in his fingers. “A certain someone was kind enough to tell us about your….views….on artificial intelligence.” He took another step toward him.
Washington finally came to his senses again. He thrashed against the pirates, trying anything he could. Locus swiftly sent a punch into his stomach, stealing all the air from his body. Locus wretched him by the nape of his neck and slammed his head down onto the top of the sandbags.
“I have a feeling you’ll feel quite close with them, Agent Washington. It was specially made for you.” Holding him there, he rigorously inserted the AI chip into his neural implants.
“NO!” Was all Washington was able to scream out before his mine erupted into pain; the AI slowly melding itself into him. Locus stepped back and watched as the freelancer began to scream and thrash.
The pain from years before came exploding back. All his memories, Epsilon’s memories, and the new AI’s memories all raged and spread through him like a wildfire. It felt like his entire head was on fire. So many memories and scenes were playing at simultaneously. One over the other.
“Leonard, stop it. Put that thing down!”
“He lied! You were dead!”
“Our enemy does not care about rules on the battlefield, Agent Washington!”
“You’re gonna make me late.”
“I know! That’s why I’m trying to help you!”
“He tortured us! He used us!”
“What in the hell makes you think i’m going to ask for it?”
A little girl with red hair running around in the front yard of a house.
“I was just following orders……”
"Don’t say goodbye….."
Then the new AI, began to overtake the other memories. Why did the AI have memories? Whose were they? He saw himself for some reason. And the other freelancers. A mission. The sarcophagus. No…..it couldn’t be! How?!
Falling from a roof on a rope….
Stealing a car….York and Carolina are in it
A sniper bullet shot into their chest….
Fighting on the back of a semi…..
An entire gun clip shot into their throat…..
A fiery AI…….
The Mother of Invention crashing……
Tearing out Carolina’s implants….throwing her off a cliff
“I need the other fragments!”
“We can reach metastability.”
“We need the others. We need Alpha.”
A snowy cliff……
A red shooting at him…..grasps him by the throat…
A tow cable is hooked to him…….
The world speeds by….he grabs for anything
He falls….
Cold water rushes in…… darkness….
Washington continued to scream, as they played over and over again. The new AI’s memories slowly diminishing his. It hurt. It hurt so much. Knives being stabbed into his head. His head on fire. He clawed for the back of his head, searching for the neural implants. The memories distorted his thoughts. The world tumbled and spun; Locus’s blurry form behind the raging scenes.
Who was he? Why can’t remember?
No! My name is David Washington!
“We are the Meta….”
No!
"Agent Maine……”
No!
growls…..
This isn’t me! Is it……?
His screaming turned to loud painful groans. Who was he? Why couldn’t he remember? He fell to his knees, grasping his head, pulling on his hair. The memories took over, all blurring together til there was nothing.
I am Agent Washington….
We are the Meta……..
The pirates and Locus watched him, standing again. Washington had stopped screaming and just stood still staring upward; his eyes cold and dead-looking.
One of the pirates nervously spoke. “What’s going on? Did it work?”
Locus stepped forward, intensely studying Washington. “Do you know who you are?”
His head slowly tilted down, staring at Locus’s helmet. There was silence for several moments. “I am…..Agent Washington. We are the Meta.”
Locus devilishly smirked underneath his helmet. “Excellent.” He turned back to the pirates. “Take out the rest of the Feds and Rebels. I have this under control.” They left without a word. Locus turned back to Washington. “You. Your mission is to kill the Red and Blue soldiers, along with Vanessa Kimball. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Washington answered. He picked up his helmet with one hand, the tip of the gun falling from the inside of it. He face remained emotionless, and his eyes still held their cold, dead look.
“Good. Complete your mission and report back.” Locus ordered, before activating his cloaking unit and disappearing.
Smith jumped up from where he had been working. “There. It’s up and ready to go.”
“Good work.” Kimball said. “Let’s contact Agent Washington and get everyone out of here.” She turned on her radio. “Agent Washington, this is Kimball. The ship is ready, where are you?” There was no answer. Only static. She tried again. “Agent Washington, this is Vanessa Kimball. Do you read me?” Still no answer. “Dammit…he’s not answering.”
Simmons spoke up from behind her. “Here, my HUD indicates he’s right over there.”
“Is he alright?” Kimball asked.
“It says he’s fine, he’s just…..not moving….”
“Unconscious?”
“I don’t know. Possibly.”
“Alright, you three go get him, while we round up everyone else.”
The Reds ran up the hill towards where Washington was. Grif spotted him first. “There he is. Hey! Wash! Kimball says it’s time to go!” Washington didn’t move. He was just standing there, his helmet in one hand. “What is he, deaf?”
Simmons ran up to him. “Wash, glad to see you’re okay. The ship is ready, we need to go.” Washington slowly turned to face him. Simmons noticed Wash’s blank expression. “Um, Wash, are you okay?”
“Simmons, let’s go already!” Grif yelled.
“Alright, we’re coming!” He yelled back. “C’mon, Wash let’s-” He was cut off by Washington’s hand shooting forward, wrapping itself around Simmons’s neck tightly.
“Simmons!” Grif yelled in alarm.
Slowly, he was lifted off the ground, Washington’s hand crushing his throat even more. Black spots slowly starting filling his vision, sounds became muffled and distant. What was wrong with Washington? Why was he doing this?
Kimball appeared suddenly, hearing Grif’s yell. “Agent Washington, stop! Let him go!” She demanded.
Washington paid no attention to her, and continued to choke Simmons harder.
“I said stop! That’s an order!”
Simmons’s hands began to go limp and loosen from around Washington’s wrist.
“DROP HIM!” Kimball screamed, this time raising her gun. The cock of the gun gained Washington’s attention. He glanced over at her form shaking with anger. With no reaction, he dropped Simmons to the ground. Simmons coughed and sputtered trying to catch his breath. Even though she never took her eyes off Washington, she still barely avoided the knife thrown at her head. she dove down to the ground, the knife embedding itself in the wall behind her. Before she could try to get up herself, Washington had wrenched her up by the nape of her neck, forcing her to stare straight up at him. He pulled the knife out the wall and held it his other hand.
“Agent Washington, what the hell is wrong with you?! Why are you doing this?! We’re your friends!”
He narrowed his eyes in frustration. In his mind, her words and the memories clashed against each other. Were they his friends? No, the memories show they’re his enemies. Are they? Who are they to him? Wait, who was he again?
I am Agent Washington.
We are the Meta.
Who is we?
It is us, Washington. We are the Meta.
No, that can’t be right.
He released Kimball, holding his head in pain. It all hurt. He didn’t understand. Who was he? Who is his enemy? He groaned in frustration.
No, they’re my friends.
They are the enemy. We are to kill them.
We?
We are the Meta. It is our mission.
No, my name is…...my name is…..
Kimball called out to him from where she kneeled on the ground. “Agent Washington, can you hear me? You need to snap out of it. This isn’t you.”
Washington lowered his head, his hand slowly falling away. A light suddenly flickered next to his shoulder. It’s voice and Washington’s voice sounded together.
“We are Agent Washington, and we are the Meta!” He brought the knife up, and swung it down towards Kimball’s head. She gasped as hands grabbed her around the shoulders and tackled her backwards.
“What was that?” She gasped out. She glanced over to see it was Grif that had saved her.
“What do you mean?” He asked confused. Simmons appeared behind them, finally recovering from being choked by Washington.
“I saw it. I think it’s an AI. It appeared on his shoulder like Church does with Carolina.” He said.
“But why is he saying “We are the Meta”?” Grif asked.
“The Meta?” Sarge said. “But, that guy’s dead.”
Suddenly, the lieutenants showed up.
“What’s going on?” Palomo said. “Agent Washington?”
Washington had taken his pistol out and was aiming it at them.
“Get back!” Kimball yelled at the lieutenants, grabbing her gun and shooting the pistol out of Washington’s hands. He glared at her, growling under his breath. They all ran back to the ship.
“What the hell is going on? Why is Agent Washington trying to kill us?” Palomo shrieks.
“We don’t know. Simmons say there’s an AI, that could be the cause.”Kimball answered.
“Well, what do we do? We need to help him.” Jensen said.
“We might have to call Carolina on this one,” Grif states, “She and Church know a lot more about this AI stuff.”
“Alright, I’ll call Carolina.” Kimball said. “Grif, Simmons, and Colonel, you three distract Washington while I do. Lieutenants you are to stay here.”
“But-” Jensen protested.
“That’s an order. This is your commanding officer…...I don’t want you to have to fight him….”She trailed off. “Just continue to get the ship ready…..”
“Yes, ma’am.” They all said reluctantly.
Kimball turned on her radio, “This is Vanessa Kimball at Crash Site Alpha, calling Agent Carolina. Do you read?”
“This is Agent Carolina, I read you Kimball.”
“We have a serious problem. Agent Washington went to handle Locus on his own, now he’s attacking us. And we have account to believe there is an AI in his head.”
“What?! What do you mean there’s an AI!?”
“We only saw it for a second, but we saw it. An AI. It said “We are Agent Washington, we are the Meta”.”
“The Meta? That couldn’t be possible unless….”
“Unless what?”
“Nevermind.”
“Carolina we need your help, what should we do?”
“You need to get it out of his head. You have to.”
“Alright, but-”
Suddenly Doctor Grey’s voice popped in, cutting Kimball off. “Excuse me, but if I may interject. Did you say Agent Washington has an AI in his head?”
“Yes,” Kimball answered.
“Kimball, you need to get it out of him.”Carolina repeated sternly, with panic on the edge of her voice.
“Yes, you do need to get the AI out of his head,” Grey interrupted, “But, you can’t just take it out.”
“What do you mean?” Kimball asked.
“I need you to subdue him. Preferably, knocking him unconscious. Do that, and bring him back to Armonia where I can remove it properly. Removing it from his implants any other way could be dangerous.”
“....Alright. Kimball out.”
“Wait, Kimball.” Carolina said.
“What is it?”
“Be….be careful with him…...it’s not his fault….”Carolina said quietly.
“I understand, Carolina. We’ll do our best, but I can’t make any promises with the current situation.” Kimball turned off her radio. Quickly, she ran outside the edge of the ship, meeting with Grif, Simmons, and Sarge.
“What’s the plan?” Sarge asked.
“I got of hold of Carolina. She said we need to get the AI out of his head, but Grey instructed that we subdue and bring him back to Armonia so that she can do it herself.”
“How are we going to do that?” Grif asked. “We haven’t exactly been doing well out here already.”
“You guys took down Wash before.” Simmons said.
“Yeah, when he didn’t have a crazy AI in his head that wanted to kill us.”
“Technically, he still wanted to kill you then.”
“Well…..” Grif looked at Sarge. “Shotgun?”
A smirk played on Sarge’s face beneath his helmet. “Shotgun.”
“Shotgun?” Simmons and Kimball asked confused.
“Simmons, you and Kimball hold off Wash, while Grif and I get things ready.” Sarge instructed.
“Get things ready?” Kimball questioned.
“Don’t worry, Kimball, we’ve got a plan.” Grif said. “We don’t know if it’ll work but it’s still a plan.”
"Well, it’s all we’ve got. So, we’ll go with it.”
Washington treaded along the area, scouring it for the Reds and Kimball. He held his rifle, ready to fire it at anytime. His mind was now a complete meld of the AI and his own. He couldn’t remember who he was anymore. There was no David. Only Agent Washington, and your mission is to kill the Reds and Blues and Kimball. They were the enemy. They were the only thing in his mind.
Rustling grass sounded to his right. He immediately raised his gun, and walked toward it. Suddenly felt a gun pointed at his back. It was Kimball.
“Don’t. Move.” She said, venom in her tone. “Drop your weapon.” Washington let the rifle slip from his hands. It clattered to the ground in front of him. He slowly raised his hands, and turned to face Kimball. She gripped her gun tighter, staring him down from behind her visor. He smirked down at her. Before she could even think about pulling the trigger, Washington grabbed the barrel of the gun. The two struggled, Kimball trying to gain control of the gun and Washington trying to pull it away. Kimball finally managed to wrench it out of Washington’s grip, stumbling backwards.
Recovering, she saw Washington pick up his rifle from where he dropped it. Quickly, she ran behind a rock, taking cover from the bullets. She yelled into her radio, through the gunshots. “Grif, where are you?”
Sarge’s voice sounded on the other end, “Almost ready, keep him busy for another minute. And by the way, you may want to stand back a few feet.”
She gritted her teeth. “Copy that. Simmons, get ready.” Taking a deep breathe, she ran out from behind the rock, immediately taking aim and shooting. They all missed, but it put his attention on her. He was about to fire at her, but a bullet flew right by his head from behind him. Alarmed, he turned around. Simmons stood behind him, pistol in hand. Kimball stepped closer, behind him; gun still pointed.
“Try and shoot him, and it won’t be pretty.” She said.
The AI flickered to life, as he glanced over his shoulder at her. He chuckled. “You really think, I’d believe your threat. You wouldn’t shoot. I know you won’t. You’ll hesitate.”
Simmons looked worried. Kimball gritted her teeth in frustration. He knew. The AI had taken over, but it could still see that they were actually his friends and wouldn’t hurt him. Where were Sarge and Grif? They needed to hurry.
Washington turned towards her more. “Unlike you, though, I won’t.” He pulled out his knife and charged straight for her. Kimball panicked. She couldn’t shoot. If she did, It would go straight into Washington’s chest; possibly killing him. Suddenly, a red figure tackled Washington. They fell back into a wall. It was Sarge. Washington, growling, pushed Sarge away, his shotgun falling off his back. Washington stood up and grabbed the shotgun where it fell. Sarge staggered up, backing up toward Kimball.
“That didn’t seem very smart. Not like you all have ever been known for being smart.” He turned the shotgun over in his hands. “You took that chance, and lost your weapon. Your shotgun at that.” He placed the shotgun against his shoulder aiming it at Sarge and Kimball. Suddenly, the faint sound of music could be heard. Washington lowered the gun, looking around confused. It was getting louder.
“What is that?” Washington asked to no one in particular. He hadn’t noticed that the others had been backing away further.
The familiar tune of polka music could now be heard.
“Is that?” Kimball asked.
Suddenly, a Warthog burst through the wall behind Washington. It hit him head-on, his body folding over the hood. Grif, in the Warthog, hit the brakes, sending Washington flying off the car. He tumbled and rolled a few feet away.
“Ha! How’d my hood taste, this time?” Grif yelled. Washington slowly got up, kneeling. He glared at Grif with a look that could kill, spitting out blood. Grif’s own blood ran cold.
“I’m sorry.” He sheepishly said.
Washington was about to get up before the butt of Sarge’s shotgun crashed into his head, knocking him unconscious.