Authors note: Utah: My first complete fanfic that I wrote. It was posted elsewhere but now I'm posting it here. This is a Red vs Blue fanfic. I do not work for Roosterteeth (yet) so I do not own Red vs Blue or any characters. I only own this conspiracy. Review please.

The Director let out a disappointed sigh. Anger. Depression. Defeat. He had it all. So close. Then everything slipped out from under him. He clutched his gray hair in frustration and looked down on his desk. Two letters lay open on the desk. One from a Medical examiner for veterans, was a standard envelope with a medical stamp on it, the other from The Chairman of the Wartime Effort committee whom the Director never even heard about until now, was a nice neat little envelope that was perfectly white and "official" looking. The first one read.

Dear Dr. L. Church

We are delighted to report that your employee will survive. When you first brought Mr. David Washington in, we were a little skeptical about him even being alive. Mr. Washington's outer brain cells were on lock down. The lock down shut all of his systems down but protected the inner brain cells from permanent damage. Mr. Washington will pull through and with a little luck, he will be able to go back to work in less than a year.

Have a good day,

Medical officer Capt. J. Drews

P.S. Enclosed is my bill.

The second one was worse. It read.

Dear Director of Project Freelancer,

The Committee of Wartime Efforts has received a medical report from your project. Apparently a Mr. David Washington had a work related accident. Receiving this medical report, the Committee sent men to the hospital, his work, and his family. Sadly his family died but he claims that he still has family in Project Freelancer.

Also disappointing, was the lack of material in his workplace. After his near fatal incident, I am sure that you would not hide anything from us. Upon inquiry, one of your staff said that the injury was caused by an "equipment failure" we have not found anything wrong with Mr. Washington's armor. It was just a standard Mark 5 unit. In fact the only place we got good information from was the hospital. Mr. Washington said that most of what happened was classified but he at least gave us a summary of what happened that was more than one sentence. I am sure that we will be more open in the future.

Sincerely,

The Chairman of The Wartime Effort Committee.

Just like in school.

….

In middle school there was field day. He trained weeks for the mile run. He and three others would run a quarter of a mile against 3 other classes. He trained sun, rain, and hard winds. Blood. Sweat. Perfection. When the big day came he was ready. When Alison (his crush) came to pass the baton to him he seemed to get calmer. Suddenly adrenalin spiked his veins. Her soft hand touched his, her blue eyes looked into his, a silent plea. Her blond hair waving in the wind. After that fraction of a second, he tore off. Wind seemed to usher him on. Three words repeated in his mind. Alison. Win. Perfection.

He made it to his end and passed the baton on to the final kid. Lenard made it. Victory. Celebrating. Perfection. Then his eyes dulled. The runner had tripped. Every second seemed like decades. The kid failed. Anger. Depression. Defeat. Next to him Alison started shaking. Tears started to swell in her soft blue eyes. Lenard put his arm around her and walked her to her house. He spent the night with her there comforting each other. That made the loss take-able.

….

Now there was no Alison to comfort him this time. No comfort for defeat. She died in the early stage of the war. On Harvest. She was killed by a couple of Elite Zealots. Now his plan for avenging her was failing. One of his A.I.'s killed itself inside of an agents head. Now the agent was unfit for duty. Now he had to shut down the "Alpha" experiment and solve an even bigger problem.

"Sir?"

Came the calm voice of the counselor. A balding, African-American man who was his business partner in project freelancer. "Where will we put it?"

"Which one is it?" said the Director irritably.

"Alpha's laziness sir."

"Humph."

"We hid his sister A.I." He paused. "Tex's, teen spirit, Kaikaina, in the blue army."

"Hide him in the red army. Blood Gulch."

"Sir that is the Alpha's fall-back base."

"I know. Think of it as another, experiment."

"Yes sir."

"And change his name."

"Yes sir"

The Director walked up to a glowing-orange fragment. "Good by Greta," He said. "Last of Alpha."