Dear Director {Red Vs Blue}
Title: Dear Director
Fandom: The World Ends--OH SHIT NO ITS SOMETHING DIFFERENT! Red Vs Blue
Characters: Leonard Church, Agent Washington, the Director
Word Count: 2,831
HUGE WARNING: SPOILERS OF THE RECONSTRUCTION TYPE. i've been working on this since reconstruction ended. mostly just filling in some loose holes for myself. i'm still not satisfied with it, but i cant look at it any more or else it'll never see the light of day.
ugh i dont know where to post this. its not slashy, but the rvb het/gen community is pretty dead, so i dont know. well maybe there's some slash in the subtext? who knows.
The Director hadn’t been lying when he said he wouldn’t put up a fight. He’d gone quietly, with his head held high; he’d stood before the committee and offered no words of remorse or regret. It was determined that despite the Freelancers’ contribution to the war effort, putting fragmented AIs into soldiers was flat out inhumane-understandably so, considering the mental anguish that so many of the Freelancers ended up going through.
The project was completely dismantled, and the Director incarcerated.
“Jesus Christ, he looks like me, thirty years into the future.”
“He is you, thirty years into the future, Church. At least, if you decide to let the projection of yourself age.”
“Fuck that. As soon as I figure out how, I’m making sure that feature’s turned off. Hey, can I tweak it so that I look more buff?”
Agent Washington merely sighed lightly, choosing to ignore the voice in his head. He had to admit, now that he knew that Church was based off the Director-he kicked himself for not realizing it sooner-the physical similarities were disconcerting. The head of silver was still peppered with black strands, and those dark blue eyes were exactly the same, though the Director’s were hidden behind a pair of glasses. The bit that confused him were the faces-they weren’t identical, but they definitely were very similar-same jaw line, same cheekbones, same strong and slightly large nose.
“Hey, can I get change that, too?”
Wash did his best to hold his annoyed growl in so as not to alert the soldier watching the security screen. “Church, the only reason you’re in my head is because they wouldn’t let you in otherwise. Don’t get too comfortable in there, and quit fucking reading my thoughts.”
“Dude, it’s not my fault your head’s so fucked up that I can’t not read your thoughts. I’m worried that I’m gonna touch the wrong thing and you’ll have a seizure. Or you know. Piss yourself or something.”
“Then here’s a brilliant idea: don’t fucking touch anything.”
“What is taking so damn long?”
“Security clearance. Not just anyone can get in to see him. Hell, I’m half surprised that I-”
“Sir.” The soldier’s voice interrupted him, and Church stayed silent. Wash turned to the soldier, who was disconnecting the comm. “I just got the okay for you to see the prisoner. Would you like someone in the room with you?”
“No. I’ll be fine. Is the room tapped?” It wouldn’t be the end of the world if it was-the Director had already spilled all the information regarding Project Freelancer; it was just getting a hold of that information that was proving to be difficult. Wash had decided it would be best to go straight to the source.
“No, sir.” The soldier paused, looking suspiciously at the Freelancer. “Should it be?”
“The Director could spill sensitive information at any time, and prison records are available to too many people. So unless you want to be responsible for top secret information potentially falling into the wrong hands, Private, no, the room should not be tapped.”
The soldier looked properly admonished-Wash was good at intimidation. “Right then, sir. Um, if you would just leave any weapons you might have with me, I’ll have someone take you to the cell.”
Wash was uncomfortable when unarmed, and couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have at least a pistol on him. But nonetheless, he placed all of his weapons in the receptacle-a task that took awhile-and followed the escort into the cell.
The Director didn’t look up, and waited until the door had closed to speak. “I thought I might be seeing you sometime soon, Wash.”
“Ask him about me!”
Arms folded across his chest, Wash looked down at the elderly man sitting on the bed. “Your powers of deduction amaze me.”
“Ask him about Tex!”
“What can I do for you, son?” the Director drawled lazily.
“Ask him-argh! Fuck this!” The presence in Wash’s head was suddenly gone.
“What’re you doing?! You can’t-shit.” He’d spoken out loud. Wash had decided beforehand, that it was best for the Director to not know that Church was present. Originally, Wash had wanted to confront the Director alone, but Church had refused. Understandably, he wanted to hear the Director’s responses for himself.
The Director chuckled darkly and finally looked up at the former Freelancer. “Seems as though you’ve got someone along for the ride.”
Before Wash could respond, Church manifested himself as a full, human-sized hologram. He didn’t bother with his armor, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, an open blue button-up over. It possibly scored some sympathy points, making him seem more human to the Director, but Wash doubted Church had considered that. More likely, he was just lazy. “I hopped into the camera and made it play a loop. I’m still tapped into the system and monitoring the comms just in case anyone notices anything. Y’know, this computer stuff is pretty easy once you get used to it; I don’t know why Simmons brags about it all the time.”
Wash was practically seething. “You idiot! I’m taking enough risks just bringing you in here, and now you’re going to get us caught! We agreed that-”
“No, I didn’t agree to shit. I told you, I wanted to talk to him myself, and you-”
Their bickering was interrupted by the Director’s low chuckle. He had readjusted, sitting sideways and leaning against the wall adjacent to the head of the bed. “I really shouldn’t be surprised. I imagine you’ve got a fair few questions you’ve want answered, Alpha.”
Church looked back at Wash. “Do I sound like that? Please don’t tell me I have that accent and haven’t realized it by now.”
The Director answered before Wash could. “I eliminated your accent when you came into the possession of the Freelancer Project. It wouldn’t do to have the others realizing that I had been fortuitous enough to receive the AI that had been based off of myself, now would it?”
Wash leaned back against the wall of the cell. “You’d think someone would pay more attention to that type of thing.”
“Someone did pay attention to that type of thing, Agent Washington.” The Director’s voice was smug.
Church’s eyes narrowed, glaring down at the elder man. “You bribed someone.”
That damn chuckle was beginning to get irritating. “You are a smart boy, aren’t you? Knew I didn’t go wrong in choosing to rely on myself.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, shitstick. I am not you.” For a moment, Wash wished Church had a physical form so he could hold him back if need be. Then he realized that without a physical form, the AI couldn’t do any damage anyway. And watching a holographic projection take swings at the bastard could prove pretty entertaining.
The Director seemed to mull this over for a moment, rubbing idly at the stubble on his chin. “No, I suppose you’re not-not anymore, anyway. You seem to have regrown the fragments that split off-or at least some of them. An impressive feat, I assure you.” He spent a long moment staring at Church-it must have been like looking into the past. “No, you certainly seem to have become your own man.”
It took someone familiar with Church to notice the signs of relief in the other man. His shoulders loosened a bit, his posture became less rigid. Wash knew that this had been something weighing heavily on the other man’s mind since the discovery that he was the Alpha AI-he couldn’t even imagine finding out that you were a computer program based on someone else. Especially once the Director’s name came to light. But despite the Director’s assurance that Church was his own ‘person’-using the term loosely of course-the hardened look on his face didn’t disappear. “I want an explanation. Why did you do it? Why did you use me?”
“I would have thought that to be obvious. My company was frequently contracted by the UNSC for projects, and they were interested in my Freelancer idea. They liked the concept of specially trained operatives enhanced by an AI, but not enough research had been done into the way an AI affects the human mind without the aid of additional cybernetics. Not to mention an AI is a rather expensive piece of equipment, so they were only willing to let us use one. However, we did not have the time to waste to put all of our hopes on one agent.”
“So you split him.” Wash’s voice was cold; both Church and the Director looked at him as though they had momentarily forgotten he was there, slightly surprised by his words.
The Director simply nodded once. “I had the idea after the UNSC informed us they would be giving the Freelancer Project only one AI to experiment with. An AI is simply a mind, simulated computers and machinery, but there’s still so much we don’t know. Sure, reverse engineering a split personality disorder-even to a computer program-is quite cruel, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures. We didn’t have the time to fully explore the neuroses of an unknown AI to figure out the best way to do achieve the results we wanted, so I made sure we acquired an AI we knew we could work with. Not to mention there’s no one in this world I trust more than myself. When I was younger, they had asked for volunteers that met certain psychological requirements for mental mapping to create AI personalities.” The smile that curled his lips was a little sad, a little wistful. “I, like many others, was fond of the notion that I could live forever, in a manner of speaking.
“So we put you through simulations, based on my own personal fears and past experiences. The danger was never real, but you weren’t aware of that. It took quite awhile before you finally started fragmenting yourself. We took those fragments and implanted them into the agents that had passed the training and filled the requirements, but I believe you both already know all of this.”
Church’s arms were folded across his chest, and the look he gave the Director was cold. “What about my body? I had a human body before Sarge used the robot kits.”
If the Director was confused about the ‘robot kits’, he didn’t show it. Instead, for the first time since they had entered his cell, he looked uncomfortable and… guilty. “Once it became evident that your fragments had a preoccupation with reuniting with you, we decided we had to hide you somewhere. A volunteer allowed us to implant you directly into his cerebral cortex, fully aware of the possibility of… side effects. We-” His voice was suddenly tight; he cleared his throat and stared down at his hands, folded in his lap. “We did not realize you would integrate so completely, taking over his body and believing yourself to be the human you were based upon.”
The tension in the air was almost palpable, the unasked question hovering over all three of their heads. Wash’s stomach churned, knowing the answer; but he still asked, hoping he was wrong. “Who was he?”
The elder man did not look up, eyes still locked unseeingly on his hands. It was a few moments before he answered, and his voice was frighteningly hollow when he spoke.
“Leonard Church, Junior.”
A brief eternity passed between the three men; the Director still did not move, seemingly oblivious to the other two staring at him. Wash’s mouth was set in a grim line behind his visor, while Church’s disgust was worn openly on his face. “Your own son. You sick bastard.”
The Director finally looked up, glaring fiercely at the hologram that wore his son’s face. He stood, stepping towards Church who involuntarily took a step back. “I was not the only one making decisions regarding the Freelancer Project, Alpha! Lennie volunteered to avoid being scrubbed out of the military, and he fit the requirements better than anyone else. I tried to talk my superiors out of it, citing that it was a conflict of interest. I tried to talk him out of it, telling him it didn’t matter if he got kicked out. But none of them listened. So instead, I had to watch as my only child lost his mind to you. I had to receive notification that you had gotten my son had killed in the canyon where he was supposed to be kept safe. And now you stand here, with his face and act as though you are the only one who has been wronged.”
Despite the man’s words, Church didn’t retreat any further. Identical eyes were locked together in identical glares-if the AI was anything, he was stubborn.
The Director broke first, stepping away and turning to Wash. “Well, are there any other painful memories you gentlemen would like to stir up, or can I get back to my peaceful solitary confinement?”
Wash first glanced at Church, who was still glaring resolutely at the back of the Director’s head, before responding. “Tell us about Agent Texas.”
All the fire seemed to disappear from the old man’s eyes; his shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. “I should have known that question was coming.” With a sigh, he sat back down on the mattress, rubbing his hands over his face. He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself for the conversation to come. “I was lucky enough to meet the woman of my dreams when we were both still children. We fell in love-at least I did-in high school and somehow stayed together despite the few ups and many downs of the relationship. We went together to donate our personalities to be used for artificial intelligences. That was when the UNSC first got their claws in her. Violent and with a mean streak a mile wide, she signed up, eager to fight.” He shook his head slowly and exhaled through his nose. “She died early on in the war. The last time I saw Allison was when I dropped her off for her flight to basic training.”
The name ‘Allison’ finally broke Church’s glare at the Director. His brow creased in a frown. “Tex… Tex is an AI too?”
Wash, personally, wasn’t all that surprised, given what he knew of Tex and especially considering what Church had told him. It also didn’t surprise him that Church hadn’t even allowed himself to consider that the woman he loved might simply be an advanced computer program as well.
The Director nodded listlessly. “I stole her from the UNSC databanks when we were putting together Project Freelancer; she was kept in storage, considered too unruly to be of any use. And for reasons I am still unaware of, my assistant, Beth, convinced me to implant Allison into her the same way you were implanted into Lennie. She was the right age, and…” He closed his eyes and shook his head again. “I do not deny that it was a selfish decision. But Beth knew what she was getting into and still wanted to do it, though for the life of me I cannot figure out why. But even in a new body, I couldn’t keep Allison from wanting to fight, so I brought her into Project Freelancer so I could at least keep an eye on her.”
He slumped back against the wall, looking tired and even older. “That’s all there is to that. Just an old man trying to give someone close to his heart a second chance at life.”
The elder man didn’t look up at either of them; it seemed as though he had dismissed them both from his mind and attention, lost and wrapped up in the ghosts of his past. Without moving his head, Wash trained his gaze on Church. The other’s face was blank, unreadable as he stared at the pathetic form of the Director. A moment later, the projection disappeared, and Wash could feel the AI settle in his head; present, but distant and removed.
“I suppose that means the cameras are rolling again.” Wash said simply, before activating his radio, asking for the cell to be opened. There were a few moments of silence before he heard footsteps approaching; he turned to the door, but the Director’s voice stopped him.
“I do not regret what I’ve done, and I do not ask for forgiveness. I do not expect you to excuse my actions. But you both at least deserved an explanation as to why I did what I did.” He didn’t move and he didn’t look up; dull gaze was trained on the far wall, perhaps staring into the past, or into himself.
The door opened, and Washington gave the Director one long last look before exiting the cell.
i meant for there to be a wash/church scene at the end, but it just didn't fit.
Fandom: The World Ends--OH SHIT NO ITS SOMETHING DIFFERENT! Red Vs Blue
Characters: Leonard Church, Agent Washington, the Director
Word Count: 2,831
HUGE WARNING: SPOILERS OF THE RECONSTRUCTION TYPE. i've been working on this since reconstruction ended. mostly just filling in some loose holes for myself. i'm still not satisfied with it, but i cant look at it any more or else it'll never see the light of day.
ugh i dont know where to post this. its not slashy, but the rvb het/gen community is pretty dead, so i dont know. well maybe there's some slash in the subtext? who knows.
The Director hadn’t been lying when he said he wouldn’t put up a fight. He’d gone quietly, with his head held high; he’d stood before the committee and offered no words of remorse or regret. It was determined that despite the Freelancers’ contribution to the war effort, putting fragmented AIs into soldiers was flat out inhumane-understandably so, considering the mental anguish that so many of the Freelancers ended up going through.
The project was completely dismantled, and the Director incarcerated.
“Jesus Christ, he looks like me, thirty years into the future.”
“He is you, thirty years into the future, Church. At least, if you decide to let the projection of yourself age.”
“Fuck that. As soon as I figure out how, I’m making sure that feature’s turned off. Hey, can I tweak it so that I look more buff?”
Agent Washington merely sighed lightly, choosing to ignore the voice in his head. He had to admit, now that he knew that Church was based off the Director-he kicked himself for not realizing it sooner-the physical similarities were disconcerting. The head of silver was still peppered with black strands, and those dark blue eyes were exactly the same, though the Director’s were hidden behind a pair of glasses. The bit that confused him were the faces-they weren’t identical, but they definitely were very similar-same jaw line, same cheekbones, same strong and slightly large nose.
“Hey, can I get change that, too?”
Wash did his best to hold his annoyed growl in so as not to alert the soldier watching the security screen. “Church, the only reason you’re in my head is because they wouldn’t let you in otherwise. Don’t get too comfortable in there, and quit fucking reading my thoughts.”
“Dude, it’s not my fault your head’s so fucked up that I can’t not read your thoughts. I’m worried that I’m gonna touch the wrong thing and you’ll have a seizure. Or you know. Piss yourself or something.”
“Then here’s a brilliant idea: don’t fucking touch anything.”
“What is taking so damn long?”
“Security clearance. Not just anyone can get in to see him. Hell, I’m half surprised that I-”
“Sir.” The soldier’s voice interrupted him, and Church stayed silent. Wash turned to the soldier, who was disconnecting the comm. “I just got the okay for you to see the prisoner. Would you like someone in the room with you?”
“No. I’ll be fine. Is the room tapped?” It wouldn’t be the end of the world if it was-the Director had already spilled all the information regarding Project Freelancer; it was just getting a hold of that information that was proving to be difficult. Wash had decided it would be best to go straight to the source.
“No, sir.” The soldier paused, looking suspiciously at the Freelancer. “Should it be?”
“The Director could spill sensitive information at any time, and prison records are available to too many people. So unless you want to be responsible for top secret information potentially falling into the wrong hands, Private, no, the room should not be tapped.”
The soldier looked properly admonished-Wash was good at intimidation. “Right then, sir. Um, if you would just leave any weapons you might have with me, I’ll have someone take you to the cell.”
Wash was uncomfortable when unarmed, and couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have at least a pistol on him. But nonetheless, he placed all of his weapons in the receptacle-a task that took awhile-and followed the escort into the cell.
The Director didn’t look up, and waited until the door had closed to speak. “I thought I might be seeing you sometime soon, Wash.”
“Ask him about me!”
Arms folded across his chest, Wash looked down at the elderly man sitting on the bed. “Your powers of deduction amaze me.”
“Ask him about Tex!”
“What can I do for you, son?” the Director drawled lazily.
“Ask him-argh! Fuck this!” The presence in Wash’s head was suddenly gone.
“What’re you doing?! You can’t-shit.” He’d spoken out loud. Wash had decided beforehand, that it was best for the Director to not know that Church was present. Originally, Wash had wanted to confront the Director alone, but Church had refused. Understandably, he wanted to hear the Director’s responses for himself.
The Director chuckled darkly and finally looked up at the former Freelancer. “Seems as though you’ve got someone along for the ride.”
Before Wash could respond, Church manifested himself as a full, human-sized hologram. He didn’t bother with his armor, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, an open blue button-up over. It possibly scored some sympathy points, making him seem more human to the Director, but Wash doubted Church had considered that. More likely, he was just lazy. “I hopped into the camera and made it play a loop. I’m still tapped into the system and monitoring the comms just in case anyone notices anything. Y’know, this computer stuff is pretty easy once you get used to it; I don’t know why Simmons brags about it all the time.”
Wash was practically seething. “You idiot! I’m taking enough risks just bringing you in here, and now you’re going to get us caught! We agreed that-”
“No, I didn’t agree to shit. I told you, I wanted to talk to him myself, and you-”
Their bickering was interrupted by the Director’s low chuckle. He had readjusted, sitting sideways and leaning against the wall adjacent to the head of the bed. “I really shouldn’t be surprised. I imagine you’ve got a fair few questions you’ve want answered, Alpha.”
Church looked back at Wash. “Do I sound like that? Please don’t tell me I have that accent and haven’t realized it by now.”
The Director answered before Wash could. “I eliminated your accent when you came into the possession of the Freelancer Project. It wouldn’t do to have the others realizing that I had been fortuitous enough to receive the AI that had been based off of myself, now would it?”
Wash leaned back against the wall of the cell. “You’d think someone would pay more attention to that type of thing.”
“Someone did pay attention to that type of thing, Agent Washington.” The Director’s voice was smug.
Church’s eyes narrowed, glaring down at the elder man. “You bribed someone.”
That damn chuckle was beginning to get irritating. “You are a smart boy, aren’t you? Knew I didn’t go wrong in choosing to rely on myself.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, shitstick. I am not you.” For a moment, Wash wished Church had a physical form so he could hold him back if need be. Then he realized that without a physical form, the AI couldn’t do any damage anyway. And watching a holographic projection take swings at the bastard could prove pretty entertaining.
The Director seemed to mull this over for a moment, rubbing idly at the stubble on his chin. “No, I suppose you’re not-not anymore, anyway. You seem to have regrown the fragments that split off-or at least some of them. An impressive feat, I assure you.” He spent a long moment staring at Church-it must have been like looking into the past. “No, you certainly seem to have become your own man.”
It took someone familiar with Church to notice the signs of relief in the other man. His shoulders loosened a bit, his posture became less rigid. Wash knew that this had been something weighing heavily on the other man’s mind since the discovery that he was the Alpha AI-he couldn’t even imagine finding out that you were a computer program based on someone else. Especially once the Director’s name came to light. But despite the Director’s assurance that Church was his own ‘person’-using the term loosely of course-the hardened look on his face didn’t disappear. “I want an explanation. Why did you do it? Why did you use me?”
“I would have thought that to be obvious. My company was frequently contracted by the UNSC for projects, and they were interested in my Freelancer idea. They liked the concept of specially trained operatives enhanced by an AI, but not enough research had been done into the way an AI affects the human mind without the aid of additional cybernetics. Not to mention an AI is a rather expensive piece of equipment, so they were only willing to let us use one. However, we did not have the time to waste to put all of our hopes on one agent.”
“So you split him.” Wash’s voice was cold; both Church and the Director looked at him as though they had momentarily forgotten he was there, slightly surprised by his words.
The Director simply nodded once. “I had the idea after the UNSC informed us they would be giving the Freelancer Project only one AI to experiment with. An AI is simply a mind, simulated computers and machinery, but there’s still so much we don’t know. Sure, reverse engineering a split personality disorder-even to a computer program-is quite cruel, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures. We didn’t have the time to fully explore the neuroses of an unknown AI to figure out the best way to do achieve the results we wanted, so I made sure we acquired an AI we knew we could work with. Not to mention there’s no one in this world I trust more than myself. When I was younger, they had asked for volunteers that met certain psychological requirements for mental mapping to create AI personalities.” The smile that curled his lips was a little sad, a little wistful. “I, like many others, was fond of the notion that I could live forever, in a manner of speaking.
“So we put you through simulations, based on my own personal fears and past experiences. The danger was never real, but you weren’t aware of that. It took quite awhile before you finally started fragmenting yourself. We took those fragments and implanted them into the agents that had passed the training and filled the requirements, but I believe you both already know all of this.”
Church’s arms were folded across his chest, and the look he gave the Director was cold. “What about my body? I had a human body before Sarge used the robot kits.”
If the Director was confused about the ‘robot kits’, he didn’t show it. Instead, for the first time since they had entered his cell, he looked uncomfortable and… guilty. “Once it became evident that your fragments had a preoccupation with reuniting with you, we decided we had to hide you somewhere. A volunteer allowed us to implant you directly into his cerebral cortex, fully aware of the possibility of… side effects. We-” His voice was suddenly tight; he cleared his throat and stared down at his hands, folded in his lap. “We did not realize you would integrate so completely, taking over his body and believing yourself to be the human you were based upon.”
The tension in the air was almost palpable, the unasked question hovering over all three of their heads. Wash’s stomach churned, knowing the answer; but he still asked, hoping he was wrong. “Who was he?”
The elder man did not look up, eyes still locked unseeingly on his hands. It was a few moments before he answered, and his voice was frighteningly hollow when he spoke.
“Leonard Church, Junior.”
A brief eternity passed between the three men; the Director still did not move, seemingly oblivious to the other two staring at him. Wash’s mouth was set in a grim line behind his visor, while Church’s disgust was worn openly on his face. “Your own son. You sick bastard.”
The Director finally looked up, glaring fiercely at the hologram that wore his son’s face. He stood, stepping towards Church who involuntarily took a step back. “I was not the only one making decisions regarding the Freelancer Project, Alpha! Lennie volunteered to avoid being scrubbed out of the military, and he fit the requirements better than anyone else. I tried to talk my superiors out of it, citing that it was a conflict of interest. I tried to talk him out of it, telling him it didn’t matter if he got kicked out. But none of them listened. So instead, I had to watch as my only child lost his mind to you. I had to receive notification that you had gotten my son had killed in the canyon where he was supposed to be kept safe. And now you stand here, with his face and act as though you are the only one who has been wronged.”
Despite the man’s words, Church didn’t retreat any further. Identical eyes were locked together in identical glares-if the AI was anything, he was stubborn.
The Director broke first, stepping away and turning to Wash. “Well, are there any other painful memories you gentlemen would like to stir up, or can I get back to my peaceful solitary confinement?”
Wash first glanced at Church, who was still glaring resolutely at the back of the Director’s head, before responding. “Tell us about Agent Texas.”
All the fire seemed to disappear from the old man’s eyes; his shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. “I should have known that question was coming.” With a sigh, he sat back down on the mattress, rubbing his hands over his face. He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself for the conversation to come. “I was lucky enough to meet the woman of my dreams when we were both still children. We fell in love-at least I did-in high school and somehow stayed together despite the few ups and many downs of the relationship. We went together to donate our personalities to be used for artificial intelligences. That was when the UNSC first got their claws in her. Violent and with a mean streak a mile wide, she signed up, eager to fight.” He shook his head slowly and exhaled through his nose. “She died early on in the war. The last time I saw Allison was when I dropped her off for her flight to basic training.”
The name ‘Allison’ finally broke Church’s glare at the Director. His brow creased in a frown. “Tex… Tex is an AI too?”
Wash, personally, wasn’t all that surprised, given what he knew of Tex and especially considering what Church had told him. It also didn’t surprise him that Church hadn’t even allowed himself to consider that the woman he loved might simply be an advanced computer program as well.
The Director nodded listlessly. “I stole her from the UNSC databanks when we were putting together Project Freelancer; she was kept in storage, considered too unruly to be of any use. And for reasons I am still unaware of, my assistant, Beth, convinced me to implant Allison into her the same way you were implanted into Lennie. She was the right age, and…” He closed his eyes and shook his head again. “I do not deny that it was a selfish decision. But Beth knew what she was getting into and still wanted to do it, though for the life of me I cannot figure out why. But even in a new body, I couldn’t keep Allison from wanting to fight, so I brought her into Project Freelancer so I could at least keep an eye on her.”
He slumped back against the wall, looking tired and even older. “That’s all there is to that. Just an old man trying to give someone close to his heart a second chance at life.”
The elder man didn’t look up at either of them; it seemed as though he had dismissed them both from his mind and attention, lost and wrapped up in the ghosts of his past. Without moving his head, Wash trained his gaze on Church. The other’s face was blank, unreadable as he stared at the pathetic form of the Director. A moment later, the projection disappeared, and Wash could feel the AI settle in his head; present, but distant and removed.
“I suppose that means the cameras are rolling again.” Wash said simply, before activating his radio, asking for the cell to be opened. There were a few moments of silence before he heard footsteps approaching; he turned to the door, but the Director’s voice stopped him.
“I do not regret what I’ve done, and I do not ask for forgiveness. I do not expect you to excuse my actions. But you both at least deserved an explanation as to why I did what I did.” He didn’t move and he didn’t look up; dull gaze was trained on the far wall, perhaps staring into the past, or into himself.
The door opened, and Washington gave the Director one long last look before exiting the cell.
i meant for there to be a wash/church scene at the end, but it just didn't fit.