Best

by Ithilwen K-Bane

Agent Washington is finally up and about after receiving Project Freelancer's latest AI fragment, but how does his new friend measure up? (Written for RvB Happy Hour. Rated for language.)

4. In the Face

Red vs Blue and its characters are the creation of the crew at Rooster Teeth. It is itself inspired by Halo, owned by Bungie and Microsoft.

Credit where credit is due. Ever see something, get an idea for a 'fic and then forget that you saw it? Well that happened with this. An anonymous asker brought up the idea of what if Epsilon had been implanted correctly and then had words with South. We're about to enter my original concept for this 'fic, which deviated from that pretty early on, but all the same, props Anon!

Contains no spoilers for RvB13.

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"Thank you for your report, Agent Washington," said the Counselor. "It is rare that I find an agent willing to put this much detail and effort into a simulated mission."

"Just trying to help the project succeed, sir," said Washington.

The counselor turned to Epsilon.

"Epsilon, what did you learn from your time with the simulation troopers?"

"Sidewinder is cold."

The hum of the atmospheric regulator suddenly seemed very loud.

"Interesting," said the Counselor. "Anything else?"

"Sidewinder is cold and snow can get in places you really think it wouldn't?"

"Epsilon, why don't you tell the Counselor about some of the tactics that we used with the simulation troopers or maybe how we dealt with some of the vehicle mixups—"

"Uh, 'cause you already did?"

"We'll revisit this," said the Counselor. "Did the two of you make any progress on your communication issues?"

"Hey, he told me to stop asking about the kitten thing and I did."

"He means our silent intra-uplink communication, Epsilon," said Wash.

"Oh, the talk in my head thing." Epsilon turned to the Counselor. "No, still can't do that."

"Unfortunate," said the Counselor. "Did you try the exercises that the Director recommended?"

"Of course, sir, we were careful to do the whole routine—" said Washington just as Epsilon rolled his helmet back with, "Oh my God, so boring and he goes on about it" and both finished on "—every day."

"Interesting," said the Counselor. "I will relay your information to the Director."

"Yes, uh, if I may ask, sir," said Washington. "Doesn't he usually do these reviews himself? I mean... for A-squad..."

"The Director is very busy lately, Agent Washington," the temperature of the Counselor's voice dropped.

"I know!" Wash answered quickly. "I mean—I just want to know if, umm..."

"He wants to know if he's been demoted," Epsilon cut in.

"The leaderboard should be visible from the cafeteria, training room and officers' lounge," said the Counselor. "Gentlemen, you are dismissed."

Wash hurried out into the hallway. "Hey Epsilon, let's do a training exercise. Waypoint me to any of those places the Counselor just said and upload the quickest course to my HUD."

"Jeez, you and the leaderboard," muttered Epsilon. "Calculating now."

Wash ducked through the half-open doors and headed down the corridor at a trot. "I worked my ass off to make it to the top of that thing, Epsilon, so hell yes me and the leaderboard."

"I thought Agent Texas was at the top."

"Oh, I meant the A-squad. You know, top eight."

Epsilon's image flickered in place. "Okay, taking into account the enlisted men's foot traffic and shipboard time of day, training room's closest but likely to be packed. I'm sending us to the off-duty room."

"Thanks." Wash blinked as a schematic of the ship's passageways briefly overlaid his view. "This is better than the attack plans you wrote me on Sidewinder."

"What can I say? I find large groups of idiots distracting."

"While we're on the subject, you need to be more thorough with your reports, Epsilon."

"Yeah, what did that guy want from me, a poem? They can just review the logs."

"Project Freelancer isn't just military," said Wash. "It's also a scientific project. The information we generate might help win the war against the Covenant and it's certainly going to affect future generations of AIs. Documentation is a big part of that. That's the whole point of having a sim trooper program."

Wash opened the door to the break room. Two figures turned his way. One, bareheaded, broke out into a smile that cracked the red scars across his face. The other stood up ...right in front of the leaderboard.

"Hey, look who's back!" said York.

"How'd it go?" asked North, hands on his hips.

"Man, you would not believe the week we've had," said York, putting his feet on the table.

"No no no way," Epsilon held up both holographic hands. "Whatever you did, we did it in three feet of snow."

"Uh huh," Wash murmured distractedly, trying to lean over York's boots.

North quickly looked from Wash to York and back. "Um... You looking for something?"

"Oh no," Wash breathed out. "Just let me see the leaderboard, okay?"

"Why don't you tell us about your mission first?" said York.

"Yeah, any breakthroughs?" North asked, shifting position with a slow stretch that kept him between Wash and the blue-lit names.

"Worst sim mission ever. Of all time. Now get out of my way."

"Yeah, all our guys died," said Epsilon. "I've been meaning to ask about that. Why would someone sign up to be in a simulation that they can actually die in?"

"It's all about winning the war, Epsilon," said North.

"We've got our place in the system—hrk!" Wash jumped in place to get a glimpse over North's shoulder. "Those guys know that the testing they do will help us defeat the Covenant."

"I kinda' think of them like seat belts," said North, planting a palm on Wash's helmet to keep him at arm's length. "They might not look like they're doing anything important most of the time, but they save lives from the back seat."

"I don't know," answered York as Wash tried to duck back. "Remember scenario three? You know, that part of scenario three?"

North cringed, "Ouch. I take it back. No man should have to go like that. That thing has what, a zero percent survival rate?"

"More like negative zero."

Delta flared to life over York's shoulder, "Agent York, you do know that negative zero is the same thing as—"

"Yes, D."

"Hey, can we talk about sim troopers later?" asked Wash, ducking North's grip. "I really want to see the leaderboard."

York reached out and put a hand on North's arm. "Should we break it to him slowly?" he asked in a mock-somber voice.

"It might be better to rip it off like a band-aid," answered North.

"Rip—Break? What?" Wash's voice went shrill. Wash planted his palms on North's shoulders, gave a vaulting jump, and started scrambling up his armor.

North gave a surprised chuckle. "What are you doing?"

"Regs say I can't use my enhancement inside the ship, but I can still get past you!" Wash braced an elbow against North's shoulder and levered himself higher. "Or you could just get out of the way."

York had one hand pressed over his good eye, shaking his head as his ribs quivered up and down.

"Uh, buddy?" said Epsilon. "I think they might be messing with you."

"Just let me see!"

"Epsilon," York put a hand over his chest, "why do you think we'd joke about something like this?"

"Um, 'cause you do it at every goddamned opportunity?" Epsilon added, holograph wavering as Wash tried to get a foothold on North's chestplate. "Also because the leaderboard hasn't been updated since we left."

Wash froze mid-heave. "What?!" he asked, twisting around just enough to lose his balance and get himself dumped on the floor.

Agent Washington sprang back up like a boxer, coming eye to eye with Epsilon. "What— Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I knew as soon as we docked. Why?"

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"You didn't— I—" Epsilon flickered and seemed to compose himself. "I didn't know that I knew until somebody asked, all right?"

"Odd." There green light shifted as Delta projected on the table. "Agent York, would you kindly ask AI Epsilon if this sort of thing happens often?"

"Wait, it doesn't happen with you?" asked Epsilon.

Theta appeared over North's shoulder. "Not me either," he volunteered.

"Weird," muttered Epsilon.

"Yeah..." Washington murmured, half under his breath, having finally muscled past North. "They really haven't changed the listing since we left. He touched the panel to the right of the display, scrolling through the full fifty-agent roster. "They didn't update anybody. Even Con— everyone's right where they were."

"You memorized the whole list?" asked York. "Yeah, something about the Director being busy with a big project." He stood up and slapped Wash on the shoulder. "Plenty of time to get your butt back in his good graces before we get re-ranked."

"I could give you a good reference for your climbing skills," offered North.

"Agent York," Delta cut in. "Would you please ask AI Epsilon if he knows the outcome of the mission we went on while he and Agent Washington were gone?"

York raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "What he said."

Epsilon looked at Wash.

"What?" asked Wash.

"Agent Washington," Epsilon recited, "would you kindly tell Agent Dork and his sidekick AI Greenbean to go straight to hell?"

"Uh, no?"

Delta flickered in place. "Agent York," he clipped, "please tell AI Epsilon, 'I'm sorry.'"

York looked from Delta to Epsilon and back. "Uh..." he trailed off.

Epsilon folded his arms and tapped one foot in the air. "And?" he said.

Delta seemed to narrow his eyes. "And I do not intend to alter the parameters of any training exercises in which he or Agent Washington is engaged beyond the levels strictly specified by Project leadership."

Wash jumped. "Wait, was that why my qualifying exam was so—"

"Okay fine," said Epsilon. "Your last mission was..." Epsilon turned his head to the side. "Holy crap, you picked a lock in the field without screwing up. Is that a first for you, York?"

"Hey! I—well, yeah," he finished quietly.

"And..." Epsilon trailed off. "You were chasing a lead on some kind of Insurrectionist leader who got his hands on a set of specialized EOD armor originally from Project Freelancer. Objective was to capture one of them alive for interrogation. Carolina was deployed in stealth mode and—" Epsilon's posture straightened. "...so was Agent Texas. York disabled the security system and Tex and Carolina took out like twenty goons while Wyoming went in for the capture." Delta exchanged a look with Theta. "Holy fuck, Tex beat the hell out of that guy. Carolina and Eta had to stop her killing him. Sis was really not having it that day. Uh..." Epsilon scratched his head. "I dunno where the prisoner is now. Did we get anything good out of him?"

"Wow," York muttered under his breath.

"I guess Epsilon auto-accesses the ship's mission logs as soon as we get within range," Wash said with a hint of smugness. "Doesn't Delta do that?" He shook his head. "Anything else interesting happen while we were gone?"

"You could say that," answered North, taking a seat. "Now that the whole squad knows that Agent Texas has an AI, he's been a little more ...visible"

"Turns out that's why Carolina was so pissed when she got Eta and Iota," York said. "I mean, as much as she gets pissed any more," he trailed off, looking at the door.

"Omega, right?" asked Washington. "He some kind of combat AI?"

Epsilon scoffed. "If you can call him that."

A small chiming sound went off and North touched the side of his helmet. A florid voice toned, "Swim seagull in the sky/Towards that hollow western isle."

"You have a Duran Duran ringtone?" asked Epsilon.

"Trouble?" asked York.

"A little," said North. "I'd better get down there." He turned to Washington. "I told Four-seven-niner to ping me if South got to be too much to handle."

"You have a Four-seven-niner Duran Duran ringtone?"

"South still on disciplinary?" asked York, swinging his feet to the floor and picking up his helmet from the table.

"Till further notice," North confirmed.

"Did Agent South do something to get put on punitive duty?" asked Wash.

York raised an eyebrow before pulling the visor down over his face. "Your little buddy can't tell you?"

"Oh, I see what's happening," said Epsilon. "Yeah, I'm not actually all-powerful and all-knowing, but I can see where you could get confused. 'S 'cause I'm so sexually attractive."

York swished his hand straight through Epsilon's projection.

"Ugh!" shuddered Epsilon. "If you're gonna do that, could you buy me dinner first?"

"So what's scenario three?" Washington asked as they moved toward the gravity lift. "I only ever did one, four and seven."

"You know the system," said North, "no revealing the scenarios before debrief. The data's only reliable if our reactions are real."

"Besides, you do not want to know. That shit is messed up. You wouldn't want to eat for a month," said York. North gave an affirmative grunt.

Washington narrowed his eyes as he looked North up and down. "I'm starting to think I don't have to take this anymore. Epsilon, look it up for me."

"Already on it," Epsilon answered as North raised an eyebrow. "Scenario three involves... ...uh, no access."

"Wait, you can access details of a real mission that happened last week, but you can't get into a three-year-old sim trooper program?"

"Hang on, hang on," Epsilon grumbled. "Maybe if I try it like this..."

"Don't worry, Epsilon," said York, "I hear it happens to every guy."

The door opened and they headed to the hangar.

"Oh that doesn't sound good," murmured Washington.

"No! Put it over there!"

"Where I put it is fine!"

"It's upside-down."

"The crate's built for zero gravity. It doesn't matter. And I thought you were bitching about where I put it."

Four-seven-niner rolled her helmet toward the ceiling. "Which one of us is supposed to be being punished again?"

"Oh no," muttered North. "They let her use a forklift. 'Scuse me, guys." He hurried across the hangar. "Hey!" he waved. "What's going on?"

York sighed happily. "Four-seven screaming her head off, maintenance crews just trying to keep outta her way without destroying millions of dollars' worth of the taxpayers' money. Is it just me or does it feel like things might be getting back to normal around here?"

"We can only hope," Wash answered.

"York!" someone called from across the room.

Epsilon froze up. Oh God, she's here. Be cool be cool be cool.

"Are you talking to me?" Wash asked.

No! Shut up before people start looking.

"Hey," said Agent Texas, ducking two of the engine techs as she jogged toward them. "Welcome back, Washington. York, the floor chief told me to ask you about the codes you used for the last tagger round in training. Darn thing is stuck."

"Sure," York answered. "I'll have D upload the numbers to your HUD."

"I can do it," Epsilon jumped in as Delta appeared over York's head, holding his pistol like a tiny clipboard.

"I assure you, Epsilon. I am perfectly capable of correcting a simple data imbalance," answered Delta.

"No, I got this," said Epsilon flickering slightly as his concentration shifted.

"Epsilon, I must insist that you not infringe upon my duties. If you are short of things to do—"

York's eyes moved from Delta to Epsilon and back as if watching a tennis match.

"Epsilon, I think Delta's good to go," said Wash.

"Nah, I'll do it."

"No one asked you," growled a guttural voice. A gray-white AI materialized two inches from Epsilon's visor. Wash took a quick step back, pulling Epsilon with him.

"Is that—"

"Yeah he has that effect on people," murmured York.

"Omega is right," Delta continued. "I am capable of updating simple data of this kind much faster than—"

"Done," said Epsilon.

There was a long beat.

"Thanks?" asked Tex.

"You're welcome, Agent Texas," said Epsilon. "Anytime you need help."

"Epsilon," Washington asked, tilting his helmet, "if those codes are from Delta and York's last training session, then how come you have access to them but FILSS can't—?"

There was a sickening crash and groan of abused metal as South's forklift dumped half a crate of Warthog parts in front of the personnel lift, scattering four scooters and an intern. Four-seven's voice rose about half an octave, and North started waving his arms.

"Aw crap," muttered Tex. "I'd help, but..."

"Yeah, she's probably still pissed," added York. "Wash and I'll go see if they need help with South."

Tex nodded and headed for the exit.

A correcting bar ran down the smooth blue projection, like a rabbit grooming its fur with its paws. "You know," said Epsilon speculatively, "I think I might need to practice my reporting skills after all. I'm'a be right back. Good luck with crazy forklift lady!"

"Epsilon!" called Wash.

York shook his head. "You know, for somebody who was designed to never need to sleep or recharge, he's pretty lazy."

"He is not," Wash answered primly. "You heard him; he just wants to go practice."

There was another crash from the loading zone.

"You were saying?" asked York.

Wash shook his head and walked toward the Pelican.

"It's not my fault!" echoed a voice from the far side of the ship. "Why does this thing only have two pedals if it can move in six directions?"

"Because it's got a fucking steering wheel," bellowed Four-seven.

"Well that's lame."

"You're going to be lame by the time I'm through with you!"

"Oh?" South asked, sliding down from the forklift and striding over to Four-seven, narrowing her eyes from a head's difference in height. "You think you can take me, chicken-wing?"

"Oh you are on."

"Now, Sis, let's not be hasty about this," North held up both hands. "If you guys want, we can reserve a spot for a sparring match and you two can—"

Four-seven launched herself at the taller woman, knocking her off balance.

"—and there they go."

"Starting with a crash?" South growled. "You fight sloppier than you fly. According to what's written on the locker room wall, it's also sloppier than you—"

"That's it! You asked for it!"

There was an ozone-charged punch and the sound of a heavily armored body keeling over like a sack of potatoes.

"That wasn't Epsilon," said Wash, looking behind them, where a definitely less small than usual Epsilon was talking to Agent Texas.

"No. Shit. I thought the Counselor was kidding." York cracked his helmet down over his head and hurried toward the Pelican's ramp.

"Bluffing about what?" Wash demanded, trotting to keep up.

"The Director gave Four-seven a Harvestline Mark IV cattle taser and told him that if South got out of line again—"

They skidded into view in time to see South pushing herself to a sitting position while North held a viciously squirming Four-seven-niner off the ground in a neck lock.

"—to be sure to get her in the head," York finished.

"Seriously?!" Wash's voice jumped.

"Yeah, you know, because the suits are insulated."

"No, I mean that he gave her a taser at all and—Good God, North, don't kill her!" called Washington as he broke into a run and bolted for the Pelican.

"She shocked my baby sister in the FACE," North's voice rose up from his chest like a stormcloud.

"Hey fuck you, you're like—aaagh" South convulsed, "four minutes older."

"Maybe not the best time!" called Wash.

"D?" York asked, skidding to a stop by the loading ramp.

"I have already notified security and a medical team. I estimate a two-point-six-minute response time."

"North, put her down!" insisted Washington, taking hold of one of his arms. "York, help me." York took the hint and grabbed the other, loosening his grip enough for Four-seven to duck her head out of his hands and take a big gulp of machine-tainted air.

"Delta, can you choke someone to death in two minutes?" asked Wash.

"I believe Agent North is perfectly capable of breaking pilot Four-seven-niner's hyoid bone." York and Wash stared at Delta for a beat. "So yes," he finished.

Four-seven popped back up as if she were spring loaded. "Oh quit it. I can take a hit," she rasped. "What I'm not taking is more of her mouth!" she snapped toward South.

"Bite me," answered South discharging another round of sparks.

"Well then maybe it's time for us all to take a break," York followed up.

"Well something's gotta break I'll tell you that," Four-seven grated, voice low but sharp. "You!" she pointed to one of the trembling maintenance peons. "And you! Start taking five. Now!" She stormed off after her scurrying minions.

North offered South a hand up, but she swatted it away, pushing herself to a sitting position.

"What did you say to her?" Wash asked.

"Yeah, Wash, I just love being able to hear Mexican love songs in my dental fillings. Thanks for asking." South tossed her head back and forth, rubbing a growing welt on her cheekbone. "What the hell is 'un cañón grande'? Sounds like a cut-rate translation mod."

"All right, what the hell was that?" asked York. "North, one minute you're Mr. I-better-get-over there and next minute you're boning Four-seven's hyoid."

"That's not what I—" Delta flickered in place. "It is probably immaterial."

"No one beats up on South but me," North's voice shook with a dark reverb.

South shot North a look. "Bro, you sound kind of—"

There was a sound like a mastiff's bark and a car door slamming. York, Wash and the twins looked over to the far side of the hangar.

"...so then he says, 'that doesn't seem physically possible!'"

Tex's body spasmed, shoulders heaving.

South twitched again. "What the hell is that—"

"—unholy racket?" finished North.

"No no no!" Epsilon held up both hands. "It was like you're that kid who's trying to keep the class hamsters alive but they've all got the survival skills of a mushroom with fetal alcohol syndrome. Two of them tried to install a rocket launcher on one of those jeep things, the ones that look like a big cat. Yeah, there was a slight problem with recoil."

Another noise came from Tex, halfway between a shout and rusty iron grate.

"Took us three hours to get rid of the stain and I wish it was just blood."

South blinked, "Did she just..."

"I think she laughed," said York

"Are you sure?" asked South.

"No."

"And that guy from command! 'Why is Hamster Fuzziwinks dead, Agent?'" imitated Epsilon. "'Snorkel bet him he could lick the flagpole in subzero temperatures, sir.' 'And Scamper?' 'Thought hypothermia just meant he needed to eat more snow, sir.' 'And Twinkie?' 'Trouble working the food bowl sir.' '...but it's just a bowl.' 'That's what I said!'"

"Well he's got the voice down," muttered South.

"Whose voice?" asked Washington. York slapped him in the back of the head. "Ow!"

"That's not funny," North followed, eyes narrowing.

Wash turned around. "Hey, North, are you all right? You sound like Maine with a sore—"

A gray-white figure in a Mark V appeared over North's shoulder, then blitzed out as if erased. North's shoulders dropped and he shook his head as if trying to shed water droplets.

Omega reappeared in front of Agent Texas, voice carrying just enough for Wash to make out, "Mind your own business, dreg."

"Who you calling a dreg, Paint-by-Numbers? Also, 'dreg'? What the hell kind of insult is that?"

North pulled off his helmet, blinking hard. "Theta?"

Theta projected at North's eye level. "I'm alright. He didn't shove me too much."

South looked from North to Texas and back. "Aw fuck, again? Hey Texas!" she barked. "I thought the Director said for you to curb your goddamned dog!"

Tex turned toward Omega, posture tightening.

"It was only a bit of fun," growled the AI. "You know they meant nothing to me."

Texas turned on her heel and stormed out of the hangar. Omega flinched slightly as he was dragged along with her.

"Nice talking to you!" Epsilon called after them.

"Yeah sure," muttered Tex.

"What was that?" asked Wash as Epsilon reappeared over his shoulder, still watching Texas walk away.

"Packs a wallop," muttered North.

South folded her arms. "Some of us can't get back on the implant list for one AI, and you assholes are doubling up left and right. Between Omega and Carolina, there won't be anything left for the rest of us."

"Doubling up?" Wash asked.

York exhaled irritably. "You know how we said Tex's AI has been more visibly lately?"

"The Omega fragment has found some way to transmit himself from one Freelancer to another without moving his physical AI chip," Delta clipped to Wash.

"He does it whenever she tries to pull him," added York.

"And whoever he jumps into gets killer PMS," said South.

"Hey!" snapped York. "Just because Omega agreed with me about Reggie's knock-knock jokes doesn't mean it's okay to make fun of a guy's—"

"Really?" asked Epsilon, leaning toward Delta. "How's he doing it?"

"Well not by asking permission first, let me tell you that," said York. "First time he got into my head, I thought I was going to explode. And someone wasn't helping," he tipped his helmet toward Delta.

Delta's image flickered. "I was surprised to find myself sharing drive space and a host with another AI, even if we are both fragments. I do not feel that my reaction was unwarranted."

"Tell that to my migraine!"

"Yeah yeah, you don't like people touching your stuff," said Epsilon, "but if he's overcoming the limitations of the physical medium..."

North waved his hand. "The Counselor's been all over it since he first got caught switching up," he said. "Even pulled the Director away from whatever he's working on these past few weeks. Far as I can tell, they're just trying to get him not to do it in the field."

"Tex is probably taking him to the Counselor now. Supposed to report all incidents or something," said South. "Guess she'll miss hogging the training room like usual."

Epsilon sniffed. "Sounds like South isn't the one who needs to get tased."

"Speaking of which..." Delta turned to York. "Would you ask AI Epsilon if he knows why Agent South Dakota was placed on disciplinary duty?"

"Okay, now I agree with Omega. Like it's his fucking business," said South.

"Of course not," Epsilon folded his arms. "Why would I know?" He looked at South, "But if I had to guess I'd say she told the Counselor what she thought of his new bowtie."

"Interesting," said Delta.

"What? That thing's awful."

"Epsilon, try to keep it professional," said Washington.

The hangar door slid open and a medic trotted toward the Pelican ramp.

"Come on," said South, pulling on North's arm. "Let's make chicken-wing wait while you get your brain checked out."

"I'm alright," answered North, but he let himself be dragged. "If anything, hearing Tex laugh shook me up more."

"About that," said South, looking over her shoulder at York and Wash and then back to North. "How come when I crack up about stupid people offing themselves, you all call me a psychopath, but when she does it it's like fucking Rain Man learning to love?"

"I don't know, Sis."

York shook his head as he watched them go. "Sometimes I'm glad I was Mama York's only boy."

"Agent York, ask Epsilon about Agent South Dakota's role in last week's mission," said Delta.

"Huh?" asked Epsilon.

"Agent South Dakota. Where was she when Carolina was capturing the Insurrectionist spy?"

Epsilon shrugged. "I dunno. Here?"

York stared at Epsilon. "Well that's weird..." he muttered.

"Agent Washington," said Delta. "I do not believe Epsilon is getting his information from the mission logs. If he were, he would know that it was Agent South who initially captured the subject. She attempted an impromptu interrogation in the field, nearly leading to his escape. He has yet to regain consciousness from his secondary subduing at the hands of Agents Texas and Carolina."

"Should you be repeating classified information?" asked Washington. "Epsilon and I might not be cleared for that."

"Should you be acting like a hall monitor?" asked York.

"Epsilon," Delta asked, "when did you realize that I had altered the parameters of your and Agent Washington's field proficiency test?"

Epsilon didn't answer.

"Agent Washington," said Delta, "I ask your and Epsilon's permission to analyze this phenomenon further before you report it to the Counselor."

Wash blinked. "You don't think that's a little out of proportion, Delta?" he asked. "So Epsilon's download capacity is spotty. He probably just needs some debugging."

"Hey, I'm not the one who requisitioned the special shampoo back at Sidewinder, pal!" snapped Epsilon. York looked at Wash and then took a step away, running one hand over his helmet.

"Please, Agent Washington. The Counselor is very busy. I believe I can prevent mishandling of this issue if I present the matter to him in an organized fashion. I am confident that he will not object to being offered a ...complete data set."

"Okay," said Wash, "but if it comes up or if I'm given a direct order—"

"Of course," Delta responded, immediately logging out.

Wash exhaled. "Well if they didn't kick South off the leaderboard..."

"There's hope for you yet," finished York.

Epsilon turned his head. "I dunno. They had her electrocuted instead."

"Whatever," shrugged York. "She'll walk it off."

"Electrocuted," repeated Epsilon. "With an electrocuter that they usually use on cows."

"She'll be fine," said Washington.

"On. cows. Look, not like it wasn't nice to see her get taken down a peg, but the human brain—which both of you have, by the way—really isn't meant to take in that much energy from the outside. You've gotta be careful what you meatsacks put in your nervous system."

"So... too much artificial stuff in my CNS is a real pain in the ass?" asked York.

"Imagine that," smirked Wash.

"You two are assholes," said Epsilon.

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Originally posted as Darkfrog24 under the title "Best, Part 4."

drf24 at columbia dot edu