⊗ R/s App, Part 2

[betrayedtwin]

Reality Description:
(Note: This description is almost the same as the one used for my Agent Washington app, but I have added in differences as they pertain to the deviance, or rather the future deviance since the point of deviation hasn't quite occurred yet.)

Think of the RvB world as a bubble universe in the vast mythology that makes up the Halo universe. Any danger in the RvB world is merely hinted at or isn't present at all. In fact, the only dangers we get hints of is the presence of one of the tribes belonging to the Covenant (though they do break off near the end of the war) called the Elites. Only...they aren't called that. At all. They're just the aliens and they speak in honks and blarghs. They do retain their religious fervor for ancient relics (as we discover in canon during Season 7 when the Reds and Blues are under siege in a temple and accidentally activate an old relic that the people besieging them shoot at--and then are themselves shot at and killed for daring to harm a relic) but their religious attachments to the relics isn't what it is with the real Elites. That whole thing is far more complicated and deadly, and has no place in the RvB universe.

The United Nations Space Command, or UNSC for short, is also there in this universe, but they're also a vague entity. They don't even figure into the equation officially (and I mean officially because...well, I'll explain that soon) until the very, very end of Season 6, and even then, we don't know much about their role; only that they're allowing things to go on as they were.

But, going back for a moment here.

Basically, there is a war going on. It's the Great War--but at the same time, it isn't. The war has been going on for many decades, but it's never explicitly stated how long it's been going on. (Sensing a running pattern with the vagueness yet?) The enemies of the humans aren't ever...really stated at all either. In Season 9, we do learn there are insurrectionists within the UNSC on Earth, but that's...really all we know. But make no bones about it: this war is vast and dangerous; it'd have to be to have so many different scientists and Special Operations programs all searching for a solution to finally end the war. And Project Freelancer is one of those groups.

Project Freelancer is headed up by a man known as Dr. Leonard Church, the Director of Project Freelancer. This particular program's purpose was to train highly skilled soldiers, give them each their own unique armor enhancement to use in the battle, and prepare them for implantation of artificial intelligences. The AIs would assist the soldier in battle, as well as efficiently run and manage each soldier's armor enhancement. Without the AI there to regulate it, well...sometimes things didn't turn out too well depending on the enhancement. It didn't always happen, but it was liable to. Also, think of the AI as another set of eyes for the soldiers, ones that could offer tactical advice and give warnings while the soldier is in the midst of battle.

However, the AIs haven't come around yet, at least not in this current canon point, but they will soon enough and that's when things with the program get very interesting. But more on that later.

The selection process for the program and its many facets all depends on a two factors: test scores and field skills. Those with exemplary, highly classed skills and scores stood a chance of being conscripted into the Freelancer program. Those who did pretty decent and have a good head on their shoulders were most likely recruited for lesser duties like piloting, recovery work, and back-up. But like the casting of a middle school play where everyone gets in and is given a part, there are those who are given the parts of "Dancing Rock #5" so to speak--and that's where the program starts becoming a little...unethical.

See...Project Freelancer had to train its already-highly skilled soldiers somehow and each soldier--49 in all, each named after a state (though not Florida since Florida is gone in this universe, and since Carolina represents both North and South Carolina, it's safe to say the 49th agent is Puerto Rico (it's a reasonable assumption PR would've been absorbed into the US in the next five hundred-ish years))--is most likely pretty damn expensive considering the custom armor, armor enhancement, etc. One can't just...throw them into a full-on battle with the enemy without training them for any possible scenario they might encounter on the galactic battlefield.

So that is where the third group of soldiers came in. These low-level operatives comprised of those who had the lowest test scores and worst field skills around. They were all split up between different simulation outposts in varying locations spread throughout the colonies. (None, so far as we can tell, were ever based on Earth or the fully colonized Moon, and for good reason. Such a thing would have come under the attention of the UNSC and other governments and most likely shut down fairly early on.) The climates also varied, but that's only the beginning of the testing rigors. Several scenarios were devised that the Freelancers might come up against in battle, and...these aren't exactly normal scenarios. For example, what consists of the main plot in Seasons 2-4 is Scenario #3; i.e. getting into battle, setting off a massive bomb that would blast them through time (only not), and meeting an alien that would get one of the soldiers pregnant. (Yes, mpreg with an alien is canon.)

For each outpost, the soldiers are split into warring factions: the Red Army and the Blue Army. The Red and Blue soldiers are told that the fate of the galaxy rests in their hands ('their' meaning the Red and Blue soldiers respectively) and thus began the 'epic' battle of Red vs Blue, a seeming but entirely fake civil war. And the simulation soldiers buy this because, well, they're too dumb to know any better. These soldiers are ones that people won't miss if something happens to them--and because it's a training simulation, things usually do go wrong--or nothing at all happens. Depends on the group of soldiers. Each of the bases at the simulation outposts are given the same weapons and vehicles so there isn't a strategic advantage for either side and thus, they are set for a really, really long battle.

But most of the time, the soldiers just stand around doing nothing, standing around bitching and arguing, actually fighting each other, or patrolling their respective bases and occasionally radioing Red/Blue Command for advice. Sometimes, Command would call them. (And Command? Plays for both sides. The Reds/Blues just aren't supposed to know that.) But largely? Nothing would happen on the bases unless Command called them or sent someone to the outpost--namely, one of the Freelancers for a training exercise. The Freelancers are given full-reign to do whatever it takes to accomplish the mission, and sometimes (or most of the time), that involves doing favors for whichever base requested help and whatnot. At no time were the Red/Blue soldiers ever made aware of the fact that they are essentially cannon fodder for the better soldiers. And if things ever went south for the Freelancers? It could definitely be chocked up to sheer, incredible dumb luck on the part of the simulation soldiers.

Beating on the simulation soldiers, though, isn't all the Freelancers will do. Whatever the Director needs or the Counsellor (the Director's right-hand man) sets them up to do, the Freelancers will do. So missions of many varieties would be the objective of the day (unless they weren't put on a mission) and their progress and successes are tracked on The Board (unofficial name). Every Freelancer receives a rank for any number of reasons, and those in the top six were typically the cream of the crop. Needless to say, getting an extremely high rank out of all the rest created a bit of a competitive atmosphere. ...Okay, it was really competitive. Being high up on the board meant going on the best (and most dangerous) missions and being in the good graces of the Director. The Counsellor, meanwhile, works with the agents a lot when they're not on missions, usually hitting them with psych tests and searching for...any number of things that he deems relevant to the whole process. The Director doesn't think so, though, but the Director's also a dick, so it comes to no surprise to anyone that he completely shuts out the Counsellor when he's hellbent on doing something at that particular moment. At this current point in the timeline, the agents are unaware of the Director's full intentions with the missions and what he plans to do with the AI, nor are they aware that their missions might...not be legal. They believe themselves to be the good guys, training so they can then go fight in the war once training has finally completed, but there is the possibility that they might not be the good guys, not completely.

One thing should be made clear: the Director is the most secretive of the bunch in this secretive organization. There are so many secrets that even the agents themselves aren't aware of many of them, not even much, much later on. Information is a need-to-know thing and they're told one thing that is somewhat close to the truth, but in reality is something different.

And this is where the AIs come in. Like I said before, the AIs haven't come around yet in this canon point, but throughout Season 9 (as well as in this deviation's timeline), it becomes clear that Project Freelancer DID get the one smart AI it was allotted for testing purposes--but that is not what the agents will be told. They're also not told how this smart AI came to be either. In this case, the smart AI are based off a real, living person, and AI cannot be copied. You just can't. They can, however, be fragmented in a very cruel process that amounts to breaking the mind of the AI (and since it's like a human mind, well, it's not so difficult) so it fragments. At one point, it's said it's like "reverse engineering a multiple personality disorder". To get the AI fragments that will be used for the program, they'll use several means of torture, via showing it scenario after scenario of stress and danger to get the Alpha to fragment itself off to protect itself, and as it does, each fragment will take away a personality trait; they are the compartmentalized emotions being shed from the Alpha. Like Gamma will have its deceit, Delta the logic, Sigma the creativity, Omega the rage, and Epsilon... Well, Epsilon will be the last to be fragmented (or at least it makes sense that it'd be the last or close to the last), and it will contain the Alpha's memories so the Alpha won't go completely insane with what has been done to it. (Though that does leave the Epsilon to go insane. It's sort of...meant to--and it will once paired with Agent Washington.) This treatment of the Alpha AI is tantamount to torture to a living being and will, eventually, get the program in deep shit--but thankfully, not many people know this is how the fragments will be created. (See? Secrets.) There can be, in addition to all that, unfortunate effects for anyone who removes the AI fragment without the proper procedure. (Think of it as the negative consequences for removing a hard drive before it was safe to do.) It can mess up the mind of that person in varying ways and degrees. The AI leaves a lasting impression of its own personality trait--like Wyoming and Gamma with their knock-knock jokes--or it can...well, make the person even dumber and nonsensical than before, or even more aggressive. There are protective algorithms in place to prevent such failures, and even AI failures themselves (as we'll see with Epsilon), but the fail-safes don't always work... In some cases, the mind can heal, but in others, the mind just won't ever be what it was.

The UNSC's role in all this is fairly transient in this whole thing (as for ONI, the Office of Naval Intelligence, which is Halo-verse's equivalent of the CIA, well, ONI has yet to be brought up in the RvB-verse. We won't worry about them for now.) They're a super big military power--have to be to maintain peace across the galaxy and fight any oppositions, be they human or alien in nature--but they don't really touch anything that's going on with Project Freelancer or the fake civil war that the Reds and Blues are fighting. Hell, even some of the Red/Blue soldiers have no idea what the UNSC is! (But again, keep in mind these soldiers are largely idiots, so it should come to no one's surprise that they have no clue.) In canon, the UNSC would have started to assert its presence when it begins investigating Project Freelancer years down the road from the current point in time, or rather the Chairman for the Oversight Subcommittee does when it starts to investigate an incident at one of the simulation outposts. From there, all the dirty laundry about Project Freelancer will get aired out and it will eventually be shut down--but the control over the Red and Blue bases, however, will just be merely passed on to the UNSC and will continue like there is nothing wrong with this. To them, the soldiers there are just in training exercises. However, this intervention by the UNSC might not happen yet--if at all--thanks to changes in the timeline. (Oh, deviations, you create such clusterfucks. More on those soon.)

But for now, we won't have to worry about the stuff that will happen in the future. For now, we're concerned with Project Freelancer at its height before the AI's figure into the equation, and thus before the experiments really kick into gear at a faster pace because the war with the Covenant is being lost--and the humans have been on the losing side of that war pretty much since it started, but the humans have gotten lucky here and there. Because of that, they're still in the game. So long as nothing ever happens to the Earth, the central hub of the human empire, things will still continue for the humans.

Now, the Freelancer program has in its command a mobile command center in the form of the frigate called the Mother of Invention RT-636, or just Mother of Invention for short. (Also, the various outposts belong to the program, as well as a ground-based command center where the AI fragments will later be housed, and other secret, back-up command outposts in case anything happens to everything else.) For the record, the Mother of Invention is huge. How huge? This huge. For reference, this is a Pelican, and this is a Pelican with people on it. See? Huge. The frigate itself is armed with several cannons and guns, including a MAC gun or Magnetic Accelerator Cannon. These things are super powerful and can be fired from space and still hit its target with deadly accuracy if given the coordinates. Within the Mother of Invention, there are a plethora of rooms and chambers, including a vast bridge, where the Director heads up operations and briefs/debriefs agents. One of the many ranking boards can also be found here. Of course, there are the standard mess halls, troop barracks, and probably an equivalent of officer barracks for the higher-ups. (The Director certainly wouldn't be slumming it with the rest of the rabble.) There are several training arenas with courtside viewing areas for other agents/soldiers to watch each other train. Training regiments vary, and can include pugil stick fights, hand-to-hand combat sparring, and the paint. The paint drill is essentially like paintball with their regular weapons equipped with special cartridges of these paint pellets. The moment one impacts the armor, it expands and locks up the armor--and it hurts when that happens. Depending on where the paint strikes, it can completely immobilize the agent or simply slow them down. Live ammo typically isn't authorized on the training floor (but there will be an incident in the future where it is and it leads to nasty results.) Thankfully, at least, there is a highly advanced sick bay and large medical team ready at all times in case anything goes wrong.

The medical techniques by this time are so advanced that someone could get shot and wounded and still go on like nothing had really hit them. Things like biofoam and healing units that help mend and rapidly regenerate tissue exist, as well as other techniques that save countless lives when...well, hundreds of years ago would simply doom the wounded to an awful death. (For example? One of the soldiers will survive getting shot multiple times in the throat and through his jaw sometime down the line from this canon point. He recovers, but won't be able to speak again after that. But his survival just shows how the medical stuff is that badass.) There are...some questionable techniques that the inexperienced have used and still work through some sort of idiot logic. Like CPR for a gunshot wound to the head (of the non-fatal kind), or rubbing aloe on the back of one's neck for a bullet to the foot. (Really, a lot of things can be chocked up to dumb luck in this universe...)

The agents also train their minds as well and not just their bodies, so this is where the Counsellor comes in to offer his barrage of psych tests and evaluations--even if it doesn't seem like a test at all. One is always learning on the Mother of Invention. Even such things as relaxing in the rec areas with a rousing game of darts can be used to evaluate one's targeting process and hand-eye coordination. Or relaxing with a book. There is always something to be done. Any of the agents, like Carolina, York (New York), CT (Connecticut), Maine, Wash (Washington), and Wyoming for example, can be seen around the ship, or even partnered up with North for missions. North gets along with everyone pretty damn well, even if he does have to endure jokes about "problems" related to him (i.e. his sister). Despite being on good terms with them all, he knows they're also strong competition for top missions and whatnot, but he doesn't see that as an excuse for him to be a bastard to the others. He will get angry with them for doing stupid shit, but who wouldn't? However, his position near the top of the class hasn't really clued him in to the line being subtly drawn in the sand. Lower agents are feeling the effects of it, but not so much those at the top.

And an AI known as F.I.L.S.S. (or the Freelancer Integrated Logistics and Security System) helps the Director, Counsellor, and all agents really around the Mother of Invention and out in the field. She keeps things running smoothly and can have a bit of a snarky attitude (but all the AI in this universe do.) She's not a smart AI like the Alpha. Well, she's smart, yes, but not in that sense. She isn't free-thinking and based off a human mind. She's a more traditional AI, or "dumb" AI in that even her personality quirk is programmed in and intentional. FILSS does what is logical, but even her suggestions for adherence to safety protocols are ignored and overruled by the Director, and since those are her orders, she adheres to them.

The Mother of Invention contains the program's own fleet of Pelicans and other vehicles it might need to deploy with its agents on missions, and has its own extensive armory where agents can procure new armor pieces if they get ruined or shot to hell. And the arsenal itself...well. Most agents stick with the standard pistol and battle rifle, but some choose sniper rifles, shotguns, sub-machine guns, and assault rifles. Whatever they're best with and what the job needs, they'll choose. And of course, there are frag grenades and plasma grenades, as well as knives, and all that fun stuff. The only one 'weapon' that isn't a weapon (but can be if overcharged) is this. It's technically a plasma pistol, but in this world, it's used as a medical scanner and its operator is trained to recognize what shade of green means what ailment (supposedly. Considerig the source of this nugget of information, one might have to take that with a grain of salt.) Actually, any weaponry that isn't standard military issue--like the fuel rod gun, gravity hammer, and plasma rifle, and vehicles like the the Banshee and Ghost--are manufactured by an Earth-based company and are not Covenant-developed weapons as they are in the Halo-canon.

And since we're talking about the Halo-canon, let's start this explanation with this chart. The common ground is the basic functionality of the weapons (aside from the medical use of the plasma pistol) and vehicles, the look and functions of the armor, the UNSC presence, and the long war in the future (the real Great War (Human-Covenant War) that's been going on since 2525 and will end in 2553). From there, things diverge and sometimes parallel each other. We'll start with the main group of soldiers themselves. There isn't an equivalent for the simulation soldiers in Halo-verse (...though one could argue an intellectual equal could possibly be the dinky Grunts, who also happen to be the lowest tier tribe in the Covenant, and were once considered cannon fodder), but where the Director has his Freelancers, another genius scientist named Dr. Halsey had her Spartans. This particular group of soldiers had been conscripted (read: kidnapped and replaced with flash clones of themselves that wouldn't survive for long) when they were six years old and were subject to many years of hard, rigorous training, and later on biological augmentations that honed and enhanced their bodies into finely tuned machines with hair-trigger reflexes and senses--if they survived the process. Many didn't. Oh, and many of these soldiers grew to be almost seven feet tall without the armor on. The Freelancers...yeah, they didn't go through anything like that. Enlistment started with enlistment into the military itself and then things went from there. The only augmentation process (if it can even truly be called that in comparison to the Spartan augmentations) will be the implantation of an AI into the minds of the Freelancers--and like the Spartans, there will be failures. Even the originally top-ranked agents will fail for one reason or another, but some will succeed. Why this is, we're not entirely sure (though at least in Washington's case, it's VERY clear why it doesn't work.)

Another thing the Spartans had been trained to handle was the MJOLNIR armor--the real armor. In the Halo-verse, the entire suit of armor, sans soldier, weighs half a ton. Literally. It takes several people to help put it on/take it off, and really, the only ones who can operate while in the armor are the Spartans. The armor amplifies the movement and strength of every motion, so it takes a bit to get used to and not like...crush something on accident. Like, the simple act of lifting one's arm could end up jerking that arm completely out of whack--and with a non-Spartan, it could break that arm so badly, the shock of the vibrating bones could kill that person. The armor used in the RvB-verse doesn't have this problem. Never mind how it could potentially kill them all; each suit is expensive, so there has to be a...well, an economy-version of the armor to give to ones like the Red/Blue cannon fodder soldiers and finely sophisticated versions for the Freelancers. (Or maybe it's best not to think so deeply about the glaring differences.) Besides, if Master Chief ever showed up (which won't ever happen), he'd be very confused by all these soldiers wearing armor like his. Most of the Spartans are dead, killed in the war and many of them perished on Reach, an important colony planet that had was a strategic military location for many reasons, and those who aren't are trapped in yet another bubble universe and are effectively missing in action.

Aside from never knowing exactly where the outposts are located--obviously they're not on Earth, or else someone would have stumbled upon them and raised a stink about it long ago--or the exact year (the Great War in Halo-verse will end in 2553, for example), there are other aspects of the Halo-verse that just won't ever appear in the RvB-verse. Those mainly are the other tribes/races in the Covenant. For one, they're not available for player control at all in the game, so the machinima aspects of the show wouldn't be able to use them, and really, the other tribes are nasty pieces of work. ...Granted, the Elites are the top-notch fighters and are even nastier as enemies, but they're also the most intelligent in the Halo-verse, aside from the Prophets but they're not in this universe either and don't actually participate in the fighting, so fuck those guys. (And you can play them in multi-player, so yeah for that!) Also, no Flood (and thank fucking god for that.) The Flood basically are parasites that feed off and infect living and dead organic tissue. It takes over the host, infecting it and mutating it into a Flood hybrid thing and ugh. The Flood is the worst and scary. They can spread fast. And I mean fast. The only way to kill it for good is to kill the food source (or so the Forerunners thought when they built the Halo Array in the first place.) Everything in the Halo-verse goes back to the Forerunners in some way, and thanks to them, there are seven giant halos in the universe that if activated, will wipe out all biomass within a 25,000 light year range--and that's from each individual Halo. So imagine that times seven. Basically, if any of these elements were included? It would completely and drastically change the tone of RvB into something far, far scarier and not comedic at all.

But on a slightly lighter note, the armor enhancements the Freelancers use parallel some of the armor abilities that can be picked up and used by the Spartans, but with some definite differences. To start, the bubble shield in Halo-verse is deployed via a specific generator that only functions for 20 seconds until it self-destructs, etc. Plus if someone within the shield tries to fire from within it, the shield will immediately go down. But in RvB-verse, an agent's armor enhancment can create it then and there and can be as large or as small as needed--and can last far longer than 20 seconds. However, the bigger the shield, the more energy it drains. And...well, one doesn't want to go too small with the bubble shield or else they risk suffocation and, well, bodily harm since they won't be as protected. Plus, enemies and vehicles can penetrate the Halo-verse versions of the shield (and falling debris), but it is unknown if the same can be said for the RvB versions--but since one was used in a fight with the Meta and he didn't bother going into it, it can be safe to assume that perhaps that design flaw isn't prevalent with the RvB bubble shields. The biggest advantage of the armor enhancements have is reusability and duration of use. An agent doesn't have to run around trying to find a replacement if it is used.

Now that those differences have been discussed, I'm going to go back to changes that very well could happen in the future thanks to the deviation in the timeline that...will happen in the near future. (Of course, specifics are subject to change/adjustment once more information comes to light in next year's season 10 and hopefully beyond.) But a few things that will happen in this deviation that will effect the reality and those around him do start with his sister not getting shit on for being too hasty in that one mission to the cryogenics place. The mission succeeds in both timelines, but because South doesn't fuck up, things do change. The outcome of the war won't change since...Project Freelancer never exactly had an impact on it in the first place, but down on a smaller level, more agents could be left alive when Agent Maine becomes the Meta and starts to kill agents for their AI and armor enhancements. ( Timeline-wise, this would start happening during Season 4/Out of Mind/Recovery One since canon!North dies offscreen at the end of the first Recovery One episode and has his armor enhancement and AI taken by the Meta.)

How could this happen? Because of the possible lack of a severe throat injury that leaves him without the ability to talk. If he talks, people will be able to recognize him easier than they do in canon, so they'll be able to stop him much sooner before he gets a chance to kill all the agents (and simulation troopers) that he does in canon. And one of those agents is North, so his death can be averted. And this is all thanks to the mole not being able to interfere during the crucial mission to acquire the Sarcophagus and its code since Maine is injured severely during that one in canon. After all, those injuries can't possibly leave a man completely stable.

The effects of the changes ripple out farther than just within Project Freelancer. The events in Season 6 through 8 could change completely, leaving the AIs intact, the Alpha still on its own somewhere, and the Blood Gulch crew separated after the unrelated events in Season 5. It's a huge butterfly effect that especially impacts the deviation's version of Agent Washington (and Carolina) in HUGE ways. (See what I mean about a clusterfuck? So much has the potential to change!)

One huge variable in all this is South herself. She very well could reach the levels of jealousy that her canon-self holds towards North, but without the Meta, she might not have an excuse to ultimately betray him. Really, it all depends on what they were doing right up to the canon events of Recovery One. Whether they were on the run, had gone rogue, or were on a mission of their own to find something that could help Project Freelancer end the war once and for all, we don't know. We never learn that in canon (frustratingly enough.) Or she could, after the Meta is caught and dealt with, receive her own AI if the Director deems the Dakota experiment a success. The source of her jealousy would diminish drastically and they could become an even more powerful fighting duo than ever before. Or...if she doesn't, she could find another way to betray him down the road. Anything is possible.

First Person Speaking Sample:
[in one of the many sparse areas of the Plane appears a tall, sturdy man in purple and green armor, but he hasn't come quite alone. accompanying him is a long, steel table he's seated at. parts of his sniper rifle lay strewn across the table in a neat, organized manner, along with a couple other weapons, and his standard cleaning kit consisting of cleaners, cloths, and tools to adjust the sights of said weapons. he appears to be focused on what a mechanism from inside his rifle--but that's rather difficult to tell since he's looking down and wearing his helmet while he's doing this. and he's seemingly talking to himself, his voice sounding a bit filtered as it comes out of the helmet radio]

--ot sure how you missed it, to be honest. I wasn't so sure it was really there myself. But then I checked it out, met this peculiar guy, then woke up--[he stops, suddenly aware of his surroundings. in a swift, fluid motion, he drops the rifle component and reaches for nearest weapon on the table that is put together, and immediately stands, his chair noisily clattering to the ground. normally he isn't this jumpy, but when one's surroundings change in the blink of an eye, it's hopefully understandable. he lowers the gun a moment later as a somewhat confused recognition sets in, but he, by no means, has relaxed his grip.] Son of a bitch, here. I came here.

[he lets out a little laugh, shaking his head.] Well, if that wasn't conveniently timed, I don't know what is. I'll have to start setting my motion tracker even while doing menial duties. At least I wasn't peeling potatoes.

[after another moment of looking around and verifying that nobody is going to immediately attack him, he reaches down and rights his metal chair--yet doesn't sit down] Hope this doesn't become a habit, though. [mutters under his breath] And never mind what South's going to think when I get back after disappearing like that...

Third Person Writing Sample:
Screaming was the first thing North heard when he arrived at Outpost 33-A. Not gunshots or anything like that. Just plain old screaming coming from the Blue base--and he wasn't anywhere near the actual base itself. He'd only arrived from the dropoff point and had shut his Warthog down when he first heard the noise. Naturally, he was wiser than to just walk into that blind and he had some time before he was due to report there, so he carefully climbed along a stony ridge overlooking the jungle basin where the outposts had been set up. He was eternally grateful for his suit's temperature regulators; he'd already be sweating according to the heat/humidity readings on his HUD.

Unfortunately, because of the thick fronds and branches forming a rather tight canopy over the bases, he would have to go in closer in order to observe the situation. According to Command, the Blues had lost a couple team members recently, but hadn't heard a thing from Red base yet. He had to go in and evaluate the Blues before inspecting Red base and then reporting in his findings. It all seemed...a little too easy. This was the sort of assignment he'd gone on years ago when he first joined up with the program, so he couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was going to be one hell of a twist set up for him. The Counsellor wasn't known for going easy on them--that went double for the Director--nor, uh, doing conventional things either.

Once he was below the canopy, he quickly found a slightly broader ridge that wouldn't potentially give way at any moment because of his weight. Had a pretty good view of the base in the distance too. Quietly, he pulled his sniper rifle off his back and started to have a look around.

The back of the base showed little sign of anything awry or any of the carnage that had happened; then again, it wouldn't show much since the original incident had occurred a week ago and surely the Blues had buried their dead and cleaned up since then. Why he was only just being deployed there, he had no clue. He didn't have any control over that sort of thing. And just as he thought, there were the distinct shapes of two burial mounds not too far from the base. As for the other two simulation soldiers...

He adjusted the range of his motion tracker, expanding it until he saw two dots appear. They'd gone awful quiet in the past few minutes, and even replaying his audio log, North still couldn't quite decipher what the yelling had been about. Even Red base across the basin seemed quiet. There wasn't a single scout to be seen there.

"Agent North Dakota calling Command," he said, pressing a button on the side of his helmet.

It took a second for him to receive a reply, but he soon heard a somewhat curt female voice say, "Go ahead North, we have you."

"I've arrived at Outpost 33-A. At this time, I can verify that Blue team did lose two soldiers recently, and things went silent soon after my arrival." He figured he'd report the screams properly later on.

"Roger that. Locate the two Blue soldiers and see what they know. Report back in when you know more. Command out." The long range radio clicked off soon after.

He rolled his shoulders slowly, his plan of action already decided upon. "Well, time to give them a neighborly hello," he muttered to himself as he put away his sniper rifle. Still though, he didn't quite like the feeling of going down there without a weapon on-hand, so he checked the safety on his SMG and double-checked he had a fresh clip in there. It'd do.

Kicking off the ledge, he leapt across to the nearest tree, catching its trunk with his free hand. Down he slid, controling his descent with both his grip and angle of his boots. The poor tree would lose a substantial amount of bark in that one area, but that was about it. Once he was within a safe jumping distance, he pushed off from there, kicked off another tree, then landed, bending his legs to absorb the shock. A split-second later he stood, shook his legs out, then quietly sprinted through the plush undergrowth. He did everything he could to minimize contact with the branches and large fronds, but this area of the base hadn't been cleared. The entire time he ran, he kept an eye on his motion tracker, watching to see when and if the Blues would both hear or see him, but they showed no signs of having noticed him.

The closer he got, though, the more he could hear murmurings of a very heated discussion going on, and once he was near one of the base's openings, he stopped and brushed aside the front-most branches. Only when he was he clear did he finally turn on his external radio comm and spoke up.

"Hello Blue team? Come on, I know you're in there," he added after receiving no response. "I've been sent from Command. I heard you needed some back-up, so...here I am."

He waited for a long moment outside, lightly tapping his palm with the SMG. Honestly, this was the part he hated the most about missions to the outposts. The soldiers there always assumed he was from the other side and there was this whole password process he had to go through, and he did not like standing out in the open when he didn't know what sort of trick was waiting for him. Granted, there were always the ones who couldn't give two shits about protocol or anything, but there were the jumpy ones. The paranoid ones. The ones with itchy trigger fingers. The unstable ones were the ones they had to be extremely careful with or else a routine training mission could get nasty in no time flat. And since he was alone for this one, he was feeling a little more cautious than normal.

His eyes flicked back and forth between the entrance to the base and his motion tracker. He watched the two dots circling each other, their voices raising, and finally he was able to pick up a snatch of what was being said. Slowly, he stepped closer, bringing his weapon up and bracing the butt of the SMG in the crook of his elbow. Just in case, he switched his thermals on and immediately spotted the two soldiers in question.

"--vate, you need to calm down, or--!"

That would have been the moment he would have spoken up again, but several bursts from an assault rifle interrupted him, followed by an anguished cry of, "Son of a bitch!" and one of the dots blinking out on his tracker. He cursed loudly and switched on his voice amplifier, his voice stern. There was no way he was rushing in there now.

"Attention Blue team! This is Freelancer North Dakota. I'm ordering you to come out here with both hands raised in the air. And no funny business!"

He could feel his heart begin to beat just a little faster as he patiently waited and watched the lone figure traverse the inner portions of the base. The soldier appeared to be injured from the slight limp in his gait, or so it seemed with the thermal's image of him. Also didn't seem to be armed, but then again, he wasn't about to take any chances. Just to be on the safe side, he melted back into the brush and crouched down, sticking the muzzle of his SMG in between a pair of fronds. His eyes never left the entrance base's entrance.

Finally, the figure emerged, the soldier's royal blue armor splashed with red from head to foot. "He-hello? Mister Freelancer?"

"Stay right there and don't move," he said, not moving himself. "I'm coming right out."

He didn't immediately, though. Just from a glance, it didn't seem like there were any breaches in the soldier's armor that could explain the limp, so he could at least rule out a gunshot or knife wound. Probably twisted it, North figured. He also didn't see any weapons on the soldier's person. Then again, he couldn't completely verify that. There was always the slim chance that the soldier had put a pistol or SMG on his back. It was highly improbable, though; the simulation troops weren't known for their intelligence or craftiness.

Once he was satisfied the soldier wasn't an immediate threat, he stood and walked through the brush. The soldier visibly took a step back into the base when he spotted him. North couldn't blame the guy for being a bit jumpy; he still was pointing his SMG at him.

"You're the Freelancer that Cap--Captain Grenfield called?"

"That's me," North replied. "Mind telling me what just happened here, soldier?"

The Blue soldier nodded, clinging to a ridge in the entranceway to the base. "I...he just came at me. Started yelling at me and claiming I'd done something horrible, but it wasn't me! I didn't do it!"

He held up a hand and slowly stowed his SMG away, the magnetic system kicking on and holding the weapon in place against his thigh. "Okay, slow down" he said in a calm voice. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

"No way, not here! We're not safe out here!" the soldier exclaimed, his voice shaking with fear.

A soft sigh escaped his lips. "All right, all right, we'll seek shelter in the base, but I need you to start talking right now."

With a nod, the soldier started walking backwards as he explained the situation. North followed him in, making damn sure not to let his guard down. He didn't like this one bit, but he had a feeling the solider would be even more useless if he continued to incite his panic.

A week before, according to the soldier, Private Hoople, it had been a normal day around the base. The Reds were being dirty, no-good Reds, and were plotting their next invasion no doubt, so the Blues split up, one pair sent to spy on the Reds and the other did an inventory of their weapons and strategically planned for the attack. Only...the scouts were taking a long time getting back, so Hoople was sent to see what was holding them up, only to see a big, fearsome creature running away from their position, leaving behind his friends' dead bodies. And since then, Hoople kept hearing that creature, its growls and moans following him around.

Then just that morning, Hoople was watching the Red base to see what they were up to, but saw no one around. Both Capt Grenfield and him had thought they'd take advantage of the squad size and attack them--but they didn't. So, at personal risk to himself, Hoople snuck over to Red base to see what was going on and found that the monster had attacked them all too! That was when he ran back and started to scream about there being a monster and how they were next.

"But Grenfield didn't believe me! Said I was going soft in the head!" the soldier continued, knocking the side of his helmeted head. "But that can't be right, can it? It's still solid!"

The story was...interesting, but North felt like he wasn't getting the whole truth. Oh sure, there was parts he believed; the evidence of at least part of the story was right outside in two six-foot deep graves. And as far as he knew, the indigenous species in the jungle basin were fairly docile and nowhere near murderous on that level, even when provoked by idiots.

Something else caught his eye just then: a slight twitch of the Captain's finger. No, it was a series of twitches, some short, others long. He nodded ever so slightly to acknowledge that he'd seen the gesture, and suddenly said, "Private Hoople, I don't suppose you could rustle up a cup of water and something to eat? It was a long journey here."

Hoople nodded, his shoulders slumping in a way that made him seem relieved to have an excuse to leave the small mess hall. "Right away! Hope you like brownies. It's all we got left until the next shipment arrives."

As soon as the soldier had gone, North quickly went over to the Captain and knelt down, removing the man's helmet. The second he did this, the Captain began to cough. North immediately covered the man's mouth with his gloved hand. His eyes kept darting to the motion tracker to keep an eye on Hoople's movements. "I'm sorry I couldn't speak sooner," he whispered to the man, and very gently removed his hand, ignoring the blood.

"Don't..." Grenfield gasped, his lips laboring to form words that his voice just couldn't come. The man's lungs were probably filling with blood. It was any wonder how he was still alive.

"It's okay. Just do what you did before. Use the Morse code, but hurry, he's coming back." Carefully, he slipped the helmet back on and stood, his eyes focused on the Captain's hand. It didn't happen often, but every now and again, one of the simulation soldiers would have a semblance of a brain. The message the Captain passed along before his hand finally stopped moving had been more than enlightening. The second Hoople came back, North loudly cocked his SMG and aimed right for the man's head.

"Whoa!" he cried, dropping the packet of standard issue brownies and a bottle of water. "I'm a friendly!"

North took a step forward, sincerely pissed off now. "Oh yeah? How about I ask Privates Fowler and Smyth? I'm sure if I checked their video logs, I might see just how 'friendly' you are. Or how about I ask the Reds? See what they have to say?"

"Mister Freelancer," Hoople said, squatting down to pick up the discarded rations. His voice was a more relaxed than it had been moments ago. "I don't...understand. What are you talking about?"

He allowed the movement but only so he could verify whether Hoople was still unarmed or not. But even though he proved to be the former, North certainly didn't trust him. A dying--and now dead--man had no reason to lie, not when that last message was, "Hoople insane. Saw him kill reds with own eyes."

"Don't give me that innocent act," North snapped, the sights of his SMG still fixed on the soldier. "You lie worse than my sister."

Hoople was silent for a moment as he put the rations calmly down on the table nearest him. "...You think I did it too. Even though I told you what happened?"

"Yep. The next time you decide to team-kill someone, you should make sure they're dead." The silence continued between them. It wasn't quite a stand-off; North stood closer to the discarded assault rifle though he didn't doubt that Hoople was weighing his chances of reaching it, and all weapon storage was supposed to be on North's side of the base. He had the clear advantage, and from Hoople's lack of action, the soldier must have figured this out too. "So this is how we're going to do this," he began after another moment had passed. "You're going to put your hands on the back of your head, turn around, and together, you and me are marching out of this base. And there, we're going to wait for extraction. I'm going to let Command deal with you."

Hoople froze mid-turn at the mention of going outside. In an instant, that nervousness in his voice was back. "Wa-wait, can't we just...stay in here until someone else from Blue Command comes?"

"Nope, that'd be too easy." He gave the soldier's shoulder a nudge with the muzzle of his gun. "Besides, it's a nice day out there. You don't want to be cooped up all day, do you?" But that wasn't a question. The farther away he had Hoople from any other weapons, the better.

"No, you don't understand," the soldier said very urgently, turning around again, "It's going to--" But a rough shove cut him off as he stumbled forward. North quickly followed, not wanting to leave him alone for a second, and grabbed hold of the soldier's wrists.

"Listen," he said in a stern, but even voice. "Nothing is going to get you. The only thing that can harm you now has his hands behind his head." With a squeeze of the soldier's wrists, he urged him forward with a push. The closer he got to the other entrance to the base, the more Hoople began to resist each step. He couldn't deny that something definitely had the soldier spooked. In a private comm chat with Command, he recommended a drug test and full psych evaluation for the guy, though he knew asking for an evaluation was like asking if the sun would rise each morning.

"P-please, don't make me--don't make me go out there, oh god, oh god, oh god no!," Hoople whimpered. The soldier began to writhe in his grasp and had practically dug his heels into the ground. "It's going to eat me. It's going to eat us both!"

"I'll eat you if you don't go out that damn door!" He knew how stupid the threat sounded, but sometimes, the soldiers were told stories about the Freelancers. Outlandish ones, but ones that had a grain or two of truth to them. Thankfully, cannibalism wasn't one of them, so the threat must have been that much more credible to the Blue soldier. Usually, the stories just involved how the Freelancers were mercenaries for hire and would do anything for the right price, so North definitely felt like he lucked out there because sure enough, Hoople began walking through the entranceway--albeit with extreme reluctance.

But nothing attacked them once they were back out in the open. A bird called from somewhere across the basin, but that was it.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it? Now have a seat, we have to wait a bit," he said, his tone not as stern as it was before. Though he told the soldier to sit down, he decided he'd help him a bit and knocked the back of Hoople's knees so they gave. Hoople let out a little surprised cry, but North still had hold of him and he kept the soldier from falling down on his face as he finally was set on the ground. It would have been deserved, but so far, the soldier hadn't actually threatened him with anything--not that he gave him the chance to, either. And besides, he knew a worse fate must be waiting for him back in Command. "Now, no moving unless I tell you to," he said, releasing his hold of Hoople's wrists. "Understood?"

The soldier nodded and immediately tucked himself into a ball--or as much of one he could manage in his own body armor. Murmured panicky words began coming out of him again as he started to rock back and forth. Wisely, North took a few steps back in case Hoople snapped--

But that was when they both heard a snap. North didn't see anything on his motion tracker, but from the direction the sound came from, it was due west--right in front of them. Quietly, North switched guns while Hoople's chantings became a bit louder. Even with the sniper scope, he couldn't see much of a difference. None of the brush rustled with movement, nor was there any suspicious shadows flitting about. And his thermals only told him there were small animals nearby, but yet nothing that could have made that loud of a snapping sound.

North began to wonder if anyone else had been sent on the mission with him and he didn't know it. Carolina could possibly be using her color changing ability to blend in, but she wouldn't be able to disguise her heat signature. No one he knew had anything to mask that, but there were ways to trick the thermals. It was a possibility that someone had caked themselves in mud. A river ran through the middle of the basin, effectively dividing it for the bases.

"We're fucked, we're fucked!" Hoople began shouting when another snap came from the same direction.

"Be quiet!" he hissed, his muscles tensing. Still nothing on any of his readings. Though he did spot one thing. He hadn't taken much note of it before since the area he first arrived in had been devoid of them, but now that he was out front... "Hoople, did any of your people eat those berries?" He didn't get an answer. "Hoople, focus! Did you eat those berries?"

"S-so hungry," the soldier finally said. "Captain kept all the good things for himself. We've been out of rations for two weeks. Oh god, why isn't it attacking us yet?"

It all made sense now. North recognized those berries from some of his earliest training sessions and knew them to be poisonous. But if someone were to consume them gradually over a few weeks, using them to stretch sparse rations until there was nothing left but the berries... No wonder Hoople had lost it. Probably hallucinated the big creature killing his friends and the Reds as a way for his mind to cope what was happening to it. North actually felt sorry that this had happened. If the soldiers had known what fruit wasn't safe to eat--well, they probably did know or were told at some point not to and just didn't remember. What a waste...

"It's all right, nothing's going to attack us," he said, lowering his gun. "Just sit tight, okay? Going to grab some of the Captain's rations and then I'll be right back. I think you could use them more than he can now."

"But can't I come with you?!" Hoople asked, twisting around to watch him. "You can't leave me out here like this!"

"Yeah, I can," he said in that same calm, patient voice he'd use if the soldier had been a child. "I'm ordering you to hold your position, Private. Keep an eye out for the Pelican, all right? And don't move. I'll know if you do."

Hoople looked back towards the brush and began to say something again, but North had already moved. Thankfully, the Blue base wasn't too big or complex, so he found the Captain's quarters easily enough. North let out a whistle when he saw what had been crammed into the Captain's footlocker. The man must have had one hell of a sweet tooth and a penchant for jerky. He could only imagine what had been left for the others.

And that was when he heard a bloodcurdling scream drowned out by a deep, ferocious roar. "The fuck--?!" he exclaimed, dropping the rations he'd picked up. As he ran back to the base's entrance, he could see Hoople's dot heading for the same place, but North was faster. He got there in time to see Hoople running straight for him--and then he was gone, tackled by a huge creature with two very sharp and very long talons on both front paws. North watched for a moment, stunned. The creature batted Hoople around like he was a small rag doll, but North knew the moment his head struck one of the trees, Hoople was gone.

That realization brought him back to his senses. He immediately aimed for the creature's head, and began shooting it before it had a chance to decide it wanted North as a second toy. It roared angrily at him after the first shot, waving its tusks in the air before it started to charge him. But North stood his ground and unloaded the rest of the clip into its head. By the fourth and final shot, the wounds finally seemed to register in the creature's mind and it simply dropped like a heavy rock.

Unsure of whether this creature had any friends in the area--or if, god forbid, this was the baby of something much larger--North quickly hurried over to Hoople to verify he was dead. From the odd angle his neck was bent at thanks to his head being stuck in the cliff wall, he figured it was safe to assume he was dead. Still, he didn't want to leave the poor soldier dangling like that, so he reached up, grabbed Hoople's legs, and pulled. North was extremely glad he came out in one piece.

"Command, do you read? This is Agent North Dakota with another update," he said as he sprinted back to the base, the soldier's body slung over his shoulder.

"Go ahead," came the same, impartial tone of voice from the comms operator.

"All soldiers in Outpost 33-A are dead. The last remaining survivor was attacked by an unknown creature. Sending video logs now." And he did so, the other side filled with silence. The silence was fitting, he felt. He made his way into the barracks and deposited Hoople's body down on one of the beds. He should have had the soldier come in with him, but he had been wary of the soldier wandering off and procuring a weapon. The risk possibilities were too great.

His fist tightened. Why the hell hadn't he been told about this species? If it was completely unknown to the program, he'd just killed the one living specimen they could have used to study.

"--orth, do yo copy?"

"Sorry, please repeat that." He turned away, unable to look at Hoople any longer.

"Excise a tissue sample of the creature and finish your mission. Report back once you've examined Red base. Do you copy this time?"

"Yeah. I read you, Command."

"Good. Command out."

It didn't take long for North to retrieve a sample of the creature's tissues--and made sure he grabbed a big enough sample--and soon made his way to Red base. It wouldn't be the first time he would be grateful for his own life support systems. Just from the flies buzzing around Red base, he could only imagine just how badly it stank with four dead bodies. Thankfully, after that he was free to leave and no other creatures found him. He climbed out of the basin from Red base's end of it, made his way back to his Warthog, and waited for extraction. It had still been a fairly easy mission, all things considered, even if no one else had lived. Part of him wondered if their living wasn't the point of it. That he hadn't meant to be protecting them but instead had to use them as bait for that creature.

If that was the case, he sure as hell succeeded.

Still, he couldn't wait to see the Counsellor's face when he slung the creature's taloned paw out for him to see.

Did you read the rules? Man, if I don't know them by now, I give you full rights to like...smack me or something. (By which I mean "yes".)