A/N: Chapter 45 of Agent Reach…wow. I'm actually kinda sad that the Recollection is drawing to an end. It's been pretty fuckin' fun, considering the amount of shit the Recollection has shown. Five chapters of it left, and I hope to make them as awesome as I can. And for confirmation, I will NOT be bringing in any more Spartans; I already have enough characters introduced in this story, and the overall plans would be fucked in three different ways (you do the math) if I did.

*Chapter 45*

Haven

Missouri glared at the bomb on the floor, his fist tightening, and he growled out a swear through clenched teeth. "Fuck. You." The bomb laughed, and Massa gave her brother a look of concern, rubbing his back. "Don't let it give you a hard time. Just remember you don't look like a stupid bowling ball or basketball." 'I can't believe it. We walk into some place hoping to hang low for a day to rest, and we find a fucking talking bomb. Funny. I don't remember taking any shitty form of drugs or getting apocalyptically drunk.'

"Heh heh, you brought a girl? What are we having, a fuckin' crying contest or something?" the bomb laughed. Massa glared at the explosive, trying to fight the incredible temptation to kick it across the room and then shoot it with her DMR's explosive rounds. "Up yours, jackass." 'Great. Looks like a bowling ball, sounds like a fucking asshole. So much for hoping for a peaceful night's sleep; this piece of shit is probably going to keep us up all night.'

"The name's Andy, actually. Pleased to meet ya, ya dickheads," Andy snorted. "What the fuck are you two babies hiding in here for? You scared of the dark or something? 'Oh, mommy, I'm scared!' Haha…that's fuckin' hilarious man." Massa aimed her rifle, gritting her teeth, and her finger was creeping into the trigger guard when her slowly deteriorating common sense crept back into her head. 'Seriously, girl? You're going to let a talking bomb get the better of you? When the hell did you become an emo schoolgirl? You're a fuckin' Freelancer currently labeled as a war criminal, not some 14 year old crying in a corner and cutting themselves with a razor. Act your damn age.'

"Actually, we're Freelancers on the run from the UNSC," Massa replied slowly. "We're here only to rest for a day and move on." 'It's not a lie, but I wouldn't trust those words if I was him. After all, I've lied to so many people already. The Chairman, Xei, Epsilon, Wash, and who knows how many others. I could probably frame a priest for murder.' Andy scoffed, and if it was possible for him to roll his eyes, Massa could picture him doing so. "Sure you are. And you helped build me using parts from your personal sex toy collection."

As the bomb laughed again, Massa had finally had enough of trying to reason with it. "Listen asshole, I might have not built you, but I am more than capable of taking your annoying ass apart. Bombs have detonators, jackass. All I have to do is prime it, set a timer, and you're just a memory. A very annoying, very insulting memory, but one nonetheless." 'I doubt it. I was never that good at demolition duty; that's what we had Georgia for, and look how that turned out. Sent him to blow up an orbital research facility and we never found him.'

"I think you're bluffing," Andy mumbled. The blue/white Freelancer put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. "You really want to test that theory?" 'I've seriously had enough of this asshole. Next insult, and I am taking him outside, priming the timer, and sending him to hell. Screw trying to be an adult about this situation.'

"…fine. What do you want?" Andy grumbled in resignation. "If you want me to translate some stupid alien language, forget it. I've had enough of those ugly bastards; all they do is shout 'Blarg' and 'Honk'. Who the fuck wants to hear that?" Massa rolled her eyes, and she turned to her brother, who was still glaring daggers at the bomb; if looks could kill, Andy would be nothing more than atoms at this point. "I imagine you were built from an old robot building kit. If that's the case, then your power source has enough juice to jumpstart a Scorpion-class tank. I need you to…help jolt the memory of an AI unit from Project Freelancer. And do it properly." 'One wrong move, and I am blowing him up.'

"Eh, what's in it for me?" Andy asked. Massa shouldered her rifle, and she stared unblinkingly at the explosive. "Let's just say this. You don't push my buttons, and I won't push yours." 'It's a long fucking shot. But it's the best way to make sure those stupid flashbacks Epsilon keeps having are legit. The more he can recall about the Beta unit, the better; if anyone knows where to find Alpha, it'll be her.'

"Deal," And sighed. "But I ain't doing any fluffy gay romance shit. I've personally had enough of that from those ugly aliens after they brought back some guy wearing pink armor from the dead."Massa gave him an exasperated stare as she lifted her brother's hair up to remove the AI chip containing Epsilon; if he stayed inside Missouri's head, it would be unpleasant for the Freelancer and the other AIs as well. "You're fucking kidding. The hinge-heads brought someone back from the dead. I'll believe that when bacon is no longer the cure for the disease of vegetarianism." 'Bullshit. Nothing can bring someone back to life, even now. Unless we find some sort of Forerunner artifact or something.'

"Hey, those ugly slip-lips don't treat life and death the same way we do. Apparently the guy got hit in the head with a Plasma Grenade in Blood Gulch by some chick," Andy mumbled. "Consider yourself lucky you weren't there to talk to him. Guy ate wine and cheese for an hour and then cried while reading his diary. Fucking pussy."

At the mention of Blood Gulch, Missouri stiffened. "That's where Omega was terminated…" His fists tightened, and Massa rubbed his wide shoulders in an attempt to calm him down; the big Freelancer had constant headaches and flashbacks induced by the trauma he suffered from being under control of a metastable AI. "Epsilon, do you think Beta's there?" 'It's a brilliant hiding place. No one would think to look for an AI unit in a desert canyon on the ass-end of the galaxy.'

"No. She had a preference for the cold, the icy bitch," the powder blue AI grumbled. "I bet she's in the storage facility in Snowdrift; it's the only place the Director would hide her. But jack my memory to be positive. I need to be certain before we got out to some icy wilderness and find she's nowhere to be seen."

"You heard him. Please do it," Massa requested. "We need to find the Beta AI from Project Freelancer. It's the only chance to get our freedom." Andy grumbled something that sounded a lot like, "Annoying bitch," but the bomb rolled towards the Epsilon chip nonetheless. Andy's main power source began to glow, and Epsilon's hologram flickered into a dark grey color, his rifle falling from his hands. "I found her! The Snowdrift Freelancer facility, in the Haven system. She's being stored in level Alpha, where a few AI failures are being restrained."

"Is our work done? Because if you don't fuckin' mind, I'd like to try and get some sleep without some stupid whiney kids keeping me up," Andy grumbled. "Man, how the fuck are you Freelancers still alive? I was pretty sure that project tore itself to pieces, and the agents are either dead or on the run; my records aren't the best, but quite a few of you assholes are dead. And…why the fuck is there a guy who's supposedly been dead for over a decade on the most wanted list?"

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, some guy from Project Freelancer's been missing since the battle for Reach during the Covenant War. Funny. The asshole's Freelancer name is the same as the planet."

"You mean…Agent Reach?"

"That's the one. Fucking hell, you cocksuckers are really uncreative. You have no idea the amount of shit you dickheads are in; from the records the Office of Naval Intelligence has provided, you're not just looking at a fuckin' Freelancer," Andy snorted. "This guy has more kills than everyone in Project Freelancer combined. You're looking at a Spartan III who went missing in 2552."

"Any name?" Massa asked, her heart pounding in her chest. 'No. Fucking. Way. Agent Reach is a Spartan III!? What kind of sick joke is this? There's no way a Spartan who was supposed to be dead for more than ten years could be a member of Project Freelancer; Epsilon would've remembered something from the Alpha's files.'

"Name's classified. Man, this asshole's pretty fucking important," Andy replied. "The dickhead has more black ink on his service record than anyone I've ever seen." He rotated towards Epsilon, who was busy trying to prevent Theta from riding his holographic skateboard. "Hey blue bitch, you mind getting rid of the ink?"

"You know what? I fucking hate you."

-0-

Slipspace

Reach finished his reps, placing the heavy weights down and feeling his shoulders. The familiar burn of a good workout coursed through them, and he sprayed his face with a bottle of lukewarm water, sweat dripping down. 'Nothing like a good warm up before a massive fight.' He wasn't the only one in the gym; Sarge was practicing boxing, Sister and South were doing sprints with leg weights on, and Maine was busy lifting up the front end of a Scorpion tank. The big Freelancer let the vehicle crash down with a growl, and he caught Reach's eye, giving a subtle nod. 'Everyone is progressing smoothly for once. Allison's giving Doc proper medical training, and Washington has the rest of the Reds and Blues in the shooting range.'

The former Spartan watched as Alpha's hologram appeared, and the white AI didn't look too happy. And the fact that Alpha was pissed off about something was nothing new; the day Alpha acted as though everything was great in the world, Reach would check to make sure he wasn't completely shitfaced drunk or asleep. "Hey cyborg, we've got a problem. A big fucking one, too. Epsilon has just found the location of the Beta unit. It's on Snowdrift."

"Isn't the Meta on Haven though?" Reach let the remark about his robotic arm slide; he was used to Alpha's borderline cynical sense of sarcasm and shitty idea of humor. "Or has it moved on?" 'Dammit. The one AI that can rival Alpha's strength, and the Meta knows where it is. Now he can afford to discard all of the other AIs and run his stolen equipment stronger and with less power being used. We still have two days before we reach the Haven system, too. Dammit, we're falling behind here.'

"It's still on Haven. But I wouldn't count on it being there when we arrive in forty-eight hours," Alpha grumbled. "That asshole wants Beta more than anything; it's the only other AI capable of bringing down the Director and all of Project Freelancer. That includes us; I'll be deconstructed inside some ONI research station, and you guys would be walking to a firing squad. And as much fun as it sounds to constantly fuck with the AI the spooks send to do the deed, I'd rather not risk losing parts that make me the most sophisticated AI in the galaxy."

Maine growled something almost irritably, and he dropped the heavy bar back in its rack. He rubbed his broad shoulders, and the big Freelancer grumbled as a loud explosion echoed through the ship. Reach tried his best to not roll his eyes at the noise, but he had to admit it; the pyrotechnics that were a part of Grif's daily training routine were starting to get really old. The black/red Freelancer already had to ask the Engineer to refrain from making a giant hammer for Texas to bash the chubby orange soldier's ruined genitals even further. 'Great. What got fucking ruined this time?' "I'll go see what that was…"

Maine hissed in annoyance, and Reach walked out of the gym, heading towards the sound of the explosion. He had a good feeling that either Grif or Texas was responsible, though something told him that he was going to be in for a surprise as to who the culprit actually was. 'Twenty credits on it being Allison. She's started shooting flammable barrels that have the Director's face painted on them as her idea of a 'Fuck you' to him. Though I wouldn't be that surprised if Tucker did it; he has a certain love for explosives nowadays.'

"Heat warnings coming from the shooting range on level Alpha," Eta whispered, his orange hologram blinking a few times as he ran the probabilities on what was the cause. "My sensors indicate that the source is due to the firing of a Railgun." Reach rubbed his temples, pinching his nose to ward off the headache he had been suffering from for the last few months since meeting the Reds and Blues. "You've got to be fucking kidding me…I thought we agreed after the last accident that it was too dangerous to risk letting anyone use it." 'This has Allison written all over it in light-ish red letters. Either that, or it was Tucker; the kid has a bad habit of blowing shit up.'

The previous accident involving the experimental Railgun the UNSC developed was rather ugly. It had overheated while Sister was holding it, and thankfully Alpha was able to slip into her armor and boost its protective layers by three times its normal strength when it detonated. Doc was forced to pull bits of shrapnel out of Grif for a day, and Reach and Sarge had to get Simmons to agree for an organ donation. The maroon soldier was still pissed off about being part cyborg, mainly because Grif didn't exactly take care of himself; he continued to smoke almost a pack of cigarettes a day despite Sarge attempting to break them into tiny bits with his Shotgun. 'Where the hell does he keep finding them? I thought we purged every last pack from his room, unless he has a secret stash hidden somewhere.'

Reach quickly made his way to the source of the explosion, and when he stepped into the shooting range, he let out a frustrated sigh. Not because of the mess itself; the room was littered with bits of carnage, ranging from the remains of targets to bits of the old robot body that Alpha had used. No, his frustration was due to being wrong about the culprit. He looked under his foot to see the charred remains of a picture of a brunette woman with green eyes, and looked at the person holding the Railgun. "Okay, when I heard something explode, my first three guesses certainly weren't you." 'Dammit. I just lost twenty credits to myself. Ah well.'

Washington blew smoke from the barrel of the weapon, shouldering it. "Sorry about the noise. I just found this old picture from the data we stole and had Alpha print it out. Target practice is better when you can see the person you hate riddled with bullet holes." Reach looked around the room, and he raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because it seems to me there are no bullet holes; in fact, there's barely a damn thing left." 'At least there's no damage to the actual room itself; we can get new targets set up in no time after we clean up.'

"Don't worry, I'll clean it up," the blue/yellow Freelancer assured. "But who were you expecting to be the cause of this? Tex? She's busy trying not to strangle that dumb excuse for a medic; apparently he doesn't know what a concussion is, and Tex is pretty tempted to give him one so he can get the experience."

"That sounds like her," Reach muttered dryly, not at all surprised by the news that his blonde lover was getting frustrated trying to teach Doc proper medical training. He knew damn well that she had very little patience for stupidity, and unfortunately, they seemed to deal with an overabundance of that for the last few months. Whether it was from Grif trying to steal every last bit of food or Tucker trying to listen in on the Freelancers having sex, it seemed be something they were stuck with for awhile. Luckily for Maine, South, Washington, and Reach, there was something called alcohol they could consume in an attempt to relieve their many migraines. Texas meanwhile had started drinking this weird dandelion/nettle tea in an effort to keep her cool, and to her, it tasted rather well. 'At least some of them have made good strides. Sarge's mechanical skills have come in handy whenever we need to make improvements to the vehicles and the Huragok's busy with something else. And as annoying as Tucker is, he's gotten a little better with his sword.'

The ex-Spartan watched as Grif put a pair of glazed doughnuts on the end of his rifle, and he rolled his eyes. "Grif, don't…I'm not pulling a bullet out of your head. Nor is Simmons donating his brain." 'Great. He finds a way to make even target practice a damn eating contest.' As the chubby soldier ate the doughnuts through his helmet, Washington let out a snort, folding his arms. "You know, Sarge did always say you had a love for, 'glazed Donut holes'. I think I know what he meant, too."

Grif started to gag horribly, and he removed his helmet to vomit profusely into a conveniently placed garbage can. The horrid stench wafted towards Reach's nostrils, and he was glad that the new air filters were running at full capacity; he was certain he could see bits of bacon, doughnuts, ramen noodles, and the seafood they ate last night. "Okay…now that's fucking revolting. Grif, you're on clean-up duty for any of your bodily fluids that end up on this otherwise clean surface. Wash, make sure he does it. If he protests, take a leaf out of Texas's book and use those new paint rounds. I think you know the preferred spot to shoot him in." 'Glazed Donut holes…that's so terrible. It's the kind of thing Alpha or Allison would say. Except she would probably be laughing her ass off if she made someone throw up.'

Tucker strode in, his face sweaty as if he just ran a marathon, and he pinched his nose to prevent the stench from affecting him. "Ugh, what the fuck is that!? Grif, did you eat and then throw up a can of trash? Or is a skunk juggling dead hamsters?" The chubby orange soldier caught his breath, his dark eyes glazed, and he managed to gasp out a reply. "Fucking…Donut. Even though he's not here, I find a way to utterly and completely hate him."

"Isn't he the one South stuck with a grenade in Blood Gulch?"

"Yeah. Good riddance. We broke both of his wrists at one point."

Reach recalled the incident rather well, being on the receiving end of one of the pink soldier's many failed pick-up lines. 'I'll never be able to forget how pissed off Allison was that day. Guy tried to say he would give me head, and she broke his wrist in three different places. Even though I was disturbed… I had to admit, it was pretty funny watching her beat him around the flagpole like a tetherball. And if she didn't do it, then I was going to.'

'Wait…what the hell happened to him after we left Blood Gulch?'

-0-

Haven

"Ahh! This house's garden is horrible! There's no flowers in it at all! Only vegetables!"

"Honk? Blarg honk blarg blarg honk honk."

"I know little buddy. Don't worry; I'll find your sword! No matter how deep the bush, Donut always finds his sword! Now let's see if those people know anything!"

A/N: XD the return of Donut is to come next! You hopefully remember the alien from Season A Honk Honk of Blarg vs. Blarg, because that's who is with Donut. And sorry for the pun; my editor will be whacking me with a couch cushion for awhile. Meh, it was worth it. DPLxBeAsTxSnIpE *loads Sniper Rifle* signing off *fires at the guy named Jo-nes* Whoops…Tucker did it!