The Meta was a being of undeniable rage. Cutting and breaking everything in its way mercilessly in pursuit of power and strength. Metastability, the idea haunted it's very existence as Freelancers fell from his wrath and anger. Dead, blood dripping down the stone pavements that they walked, the metal flooring of the Mother of Invention or the dirt ground of whatever oasis they chose to wait out their final moments.
It was, in every sense of the word, a monstrosity reeking havoc with the living. Washington knew this, and he shed no tear when he turned his weapon on his formee friend. Carolina was not as lucky, unable to comprehend her comrades fractured mind when he betrayed her for her AI. One by one, the Meta's former allies fell in troves, and with them came their Artificial Intelligences, feeding his thirst for power.
And yet, no one realised Maine inside. No one realised him banging against the metal confines that Sigma had erected around his still sane mind.
Slowly, quietly, Theta whispered into his ear. His pleas were hollow in Meta's burned and hollow heart but Maine, he was left croaking in his imaginary jail cell
'North, I'm scared. I'm scared North, wake up,' he cried long into the night. And as the idea of transcendence clung to the Meta, so did the guilt in Maine's dreams. Every night, he pictured the faces of his friends dying. Of Washington, the naive boy of their troupe, turning all his rage onto the former human being. Those eyes that used to shine with friendship, now filled with pain, hatred and betrayal.
Maine was a strong, loyal, and intimidating Freelancer. A comrade everyone trusted, no one could deny his willingness to sacrifice himself for those around him. But the Meta was a deep, animalistic urge, one manufactured by Sigma. It festered inside his mind and when the time was right it launched a coup. It ripped Maine's very psyche apart and gained control of the body they shared, Maine's body. And he watched agonisingly as the Meta tossed Carolina over the cliff.
For brief inexplicable months, he spent them suffering in silence. Then a light flickered and he could see again. But still his control was minimal.
He talked to Washington again, but their trust was no longer there and the Meta was still clawing its way over his mind. Maine tried to fight it, he had, but it pulled the rig from under him again and dragged him back to the shadows.
Again he watched as the Meta, mascareding in his body, turned against Washington. What little trust the former Freelancer was able to regain from his old friend was now shattered.
Then the wire tigged at his chest, and he felt himself slide away to his doom. The snow rubbed icily against his body, his breath freezing on his visor and a howl ripped through his throat.
But if you listen real close, really listen. You can hear that in that agonizing scream, there was a note of relief.
His nightmare was over.