#dont worry. next chapter has plenty of...reflection and self searching. particularly that storage unit in souths helmet

[nevada-got-screwed-over]

Taglist: @averagejoey2000

Original Inspiration / Masterpost

Chapter 2 / Chapter 4

Theta!South AU. I Guess.

Chapter: 3

Words: “lunch? never heard of her.” (2,801)

She had always liked the ocean. The sand, the waves, the salty sea air, even those annoying gulls screaming overhead. Once their parents had put up the beach umbrellas and set out those creaky chairs with their joints perpetually full of sand, South would take to the waves. She only ever left for food, water, and the occasional reapplying of sunscreen, if her mother managed to catch her. North hated the water but was happy to build sandcastles with towers and moats all day. They always ended up sunburnt red, no matter how much sunblock they used.

No matter how much she thought, she could only come up with a single solid plan where at least one of them lived. It ended with one of them running to safety, the other left behind. The warthog barely made it to the coastal base before sputtering to death just outside the wall. The only escape was a single Banshee, which seated one.

Obviously, since Wash had Delta, he should leave. And South would get a chance to make the monster who killed North bleed. Maybe even kill it. But, she would probably die. If North, with his excessive planning and carefully laid traps, couldn’t take down the Meta, she didn’t have a chance. Not alone.

They could fight the Meta together, head on in an unfamiliar base with no previously prepped traps or snares. And, not to doubt Wash, but the last time South knew him, fought with him, he frankly kind of sucked at the whole Freelancer thing. He was a decent shot, could hold his own when needed, had those snazzy EMPs, but didn’t stand out the way other Freelancers did. If the Epsilon Incident was anything to go by, she wasn’t sure he was even that good anymore.

There was another plan, buried deep in her self-loathing of even thinking such a horrible thing. She wasn’t going to leave someone else to die, not like North –

The incessant ping of wasted bullets hitting pylons stopped as Wash called her name.

“South, I need you to test something,” He said, Delta hovering nearby. South had been only half paying attention to their conversation. Washington clearly had no intention of deviating from the model Command had predicted, but South had her own schemes to attend to.

“I have concerns about our next action,” Delta piped up, stepping forward from where he was projected. South always wondered how much sense of space the A.I. units had in their projection. “Agent South Dakota was never rated for something like this,”

Her heart skipped a beat. Rated? As in rated for an A.I.? The only reason she was acting her part as Recovery Two was to keep tabs on the Meta for Command and to get the end reward of getting rated for her own A.I. implant.

“What have you gotten me into, Wash?”

“I didn’t get you involved in anything. It did, when it went after your brother.” Maybe she had gotten herself into this mess, taking the deal with Command, becoming Recovery Two, letting them use her own damn brother as bait-

“Agent Washington believes that something is hunting the Freelancers, one by one.” Delta explained, tone evenly paced and clear. He kind of sounded like a school teacher that always confused South and North. She hated that teacher.

“In the last month I’ve been ordered to the sites of five dying Freelancers to recover their intelligence units for the Project.”

“Why you?” She already knew why, of course. She had read the files, been briefed on Wash’s role in her mission, and even asked this same question to Command when they first mentioned it. But she had a role to play. For now.

“Agent Washington’s experience with Epsilon makes him a prime candidate-”

“Epsilon? The batshit insane A.I. fragment that killed itself inside his head? You even went nuts yourself, from what I was told. Weren’t you certified Article 12 for that? Unfit for duty?”

South knew it was exaggerated. She was there after he had received Epsilon, and she was there after the A.I. was removed. He didn’t seem all that different, besides the comas. Just quieter than usual. But Command didn’t trust him, so neither could she.

“The people who certified me were the same people who uncertified me, when they needed me. Funny how the system works.”

“Regardless, Agent Washington is a logical choice. It is highly unlikely he would steal an A.I. for his own purposes.” Delta’s voice grated on South’s nerves, but it was better than Wash’s half-serious half-cryptic entirely excessive round about way of explaining things.

“Then why does he have you?” South asked, genuinely curious.

“Every Freelancer I’ve seen in the past four weeks had three things in common, the first being that their A.I. was missing. I think Delta was fluke-”

“Correct,” The fragment interrupted. “My assignee was killed in an unrelated firefight.” South was still grieving North, now York was gone too? And Delta didn’t have the, the decency to at least say his codename? Washington didn’t seem to care either, and it kind of pissed her off.

“Still, didn’t think you’d be so comfortable getting an A.I. in your head, after what happened,” 

“Technically, I’m not in his head,” Delta explained. “I offered, but he insisted on exporting me to storage. We aren’t synced the way A.I.s are with their assigned Freelancers, and therefore, I’m not ‘in his head’ as you put it.”

“Oh,” South said, something in the back of her helmet humming softly. She still didn’t trust Wash.

“Right. The agents were dead too by the way, except for you. The other agents were also alone, but that doesn’t make the difference any less important.”

“That’s two. What’s the third thing they all had in common?”

“What enhancement did you get?”

“Bubble shield. Same as North.”

“Can you make one now?”

“No, never could. Can’t use enhancements without an A.I. Wash, unless it’s a last resort. I always thought of it as keeping around a backup for North. Oh, wait, did he-?”

“The third thing they all had in common was that their enhancement was removed. It’s almost as if whatever killed North completely ignored you, and I want to figure out why.

“The Freelancers are being killed, South. At least the ones with synced A.I. units. And someone, or something is stealing those units and the armor enhancements they can power.” Wash explained, Delta nodding in affirmation.

“Now Agent Washington is escorting us back to headquarters as quickly as possible-”

“No, I’m not.”

“Why?” Delta asked, genuinely confused. That was as good of evidence as any that the two weren’t synced, Delta would share Wash’s thoughts otherwise.

“We don’t need to run. I’ve been following the trail of this thing for a while now, but once I got you, Delta, that changed. Now we’re the ones being followed. South was left behind as bait to slow me down.” He turned to the other Freelancer. “This thing has killed four different Freelancers, including North, South,”

“All with higher rankings than Agent Washington,”

“Thank you for that helpful reminder, Delta,” Wash snapped, turning back to South. “That’s why I’m not taking it on by myself. I need someone else to help me protect Delta.” So, they were doing the ‘pretty much 100% chance of total mortality’ plan, huh?

“Ah, I see now,” Delta said, monotone voice almost emulating feigned enlightenment, though it was likely sincere. “So that is why you want me to implant in Agent South Dakota.”

“Excuse me?” She stuttered, looking between the two.

A.I. implantation. That’s why she took this stupid deal with Command. Why she begrudgingly used her brother and his A.I. as bait. Why he died. And now Wash was giving her Delta, completely off the books and against Recovery Two mission protocol models.

But if she had Delta, if something went wrong when they were against the Meta…it would be her bloody corpse strewn on the concrete, not Wash’s. And given the already slim chance of surviving a head on attack from the Meta in uncharted territory, undersupplied and outgunned…

She stole a glance at the Banshee. Last resort. The horrible plan.

“The only way to properly protect me in combat is to allow me to integrate with your armor. Agent Washington will not allow me to do that.”

“I can’t, and I – I was never even rated for implantation, Wash.” Something in the back of her helmet was buzzing again.

“Make up your mind fast, it’s here,” Wash said, turning to the base. South felt a wave of dread. They couldn’t be out of time, not already, she wasn’t ready, she didn’t have a plan, not with Delta involved-

“My motions sensors-”

“Are going to be useless, it stole North’s motion trackers and can hide itself from the system.” Wash said, making sure his rifle was loaded. “South, get Delta in your head and flank left. We stand against this thing now, or-” A rocket came out of nowhere, exploding against the wall above Wash, showering the two Freelancers in dust and bits of rubble. “Move!”

South reached out to Delta, the glowing green form flickering in the ash that rained down from above. She thought only the Omega unit had been observed in remote transfer to other implants, but she wasn’t surprised Delta had picked up on the trait. She hesitated for a split second, a thousand thoughts running through her head, but she reached out nonetheless. In another second Delta would share those fears and concerns.  

“I should warn you,” Delta said, monotone voice fading briefly before becoming startlingly loud as he integrated with her armor’s systems. “The first implantation can feel a little…odd.”

---

The world flashed, alternating between a haze too bright to see through and an oppressive darkness that clouded out even sound. She closed her eyes, but that didn’t help much. Her ears were ringing, millions of calculations, probabilities, and statistics flooding every thought in agonizing cacophony. She barely kept herself standing as the influx of information sent the world spinning.

North said sharing thoughts with Theta took a bit to get used to. The A.I. always had anxieties, fears that no amount of logical reassurance could quell. At the same time, North’s own thoughts being Theta’s made even simple tasks complicated. Those brief, meaningless thoughts that every person constantly processes and recycles, repeated in the back of his mind as Theta echoed the data those ideas held. It took North a few weeks to get the fragment to stop echoing his thoughts.

Now South understood that horrific echo tunnel that kept North awake for days on end, both A.I. and Freelancer keeping the other from rest with their individual thoughts crammed into a single mind.  Delta’s calculations, statistics, some irrelevant to the current predicament and some fine tuned to every piece of rubble and equipment within 50 meters of their location, overlapped with his conscious voice.

“Agent South Dakota, can you hear me?”

“South! I need you out here, now!” Wash’s voice was a whisper, the rattle of gunfire distant and distorted. She opened her eyes, the world a haze through her HUD. Delta’s projection blocked the center of her line of view, making the world even less focused.

“Try to keep breathing,” Delta advised, South releasing a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Hearing my voice internally can be jarring at first. I am told it helps to focus on something concrete. May I suggest-”

“Will you shut up for a second?” South snapped, world slightly more focused as she struggled toward where she had heard Wash. “That might help,”

“Technically, I’m not talking.”

“Delta, please!” South hissed, the ghost of a whimper in her voice betraying her legitimate discomfort. Delta could feel it, being inside her mind. The A.I. was silent for a moment, though the background chatter of statistics and probability didn’t stop.

“My apologies,” Delta said, the agent taking a few deep breathes to clear her vision and steady her world. The background noise was still overwhelming.

“Can you stop that?” She thought, words caught in her throat.

“I cannot stop running these calculations. I apologize, but in battle, it is imperative that you be aware of every potential-”

“South, where are you?” Wash shouted, voice hoarse against the explosions in the base courtyard. South was lucid enough to try and find the source of his voice.

“Are you feeling better now, Agent South Dakota?” Delta asked, voice still too loud.

“I’m feeling better, thank you,” She said with a breath, the courtyard regaining its familiarity. “How many enemies?”

“I do not detect any on my sensors, but the gunfire would indicate there is a single adversary.”

“South, now!”

“On my way!” South shouted back at Washington, now able to tell where he was. The background noise of Delta’s calculations was still distracting.

“Can you please quiet it down? Or something?”

“I normally export data results to the extra storage unit in my assignee’s helmet. Your’s, however, is full.”

“What? Never mind, just, be quiet. Please.” The noise didn’t stop.

“I’m here Wash.” She said, crouching behind his cover, the concrete wall peppered with bullets.

“Good. I need help on the left. This guy moves fast, so you need to be alert, South. South? Are you okay?” Wash’s voice faded in and out, Delta’s data cutting in.

“Injuries noted...Decreased chance of combined survival...Increased probability of individual escape...”

“She is having difficulty with my presence,” Delta said, projecting outside of her HUD.

“How difficult?”

“Patient has trouble-”

“I can do this. Let’s catch this bastard already,”

“No,” Wash said, firing back across the courtyard at the apparently invisible opponent. She hoped he was about to say they were going to kill the monster that took North from her.

“Then what are we doing?”

“See that ship?” The Banshee. The horrible plan. She wasn’t about to run away, not when she and Wash could take down the Meta. Delta wouldn’t shut up.

“Statistical probability of individual survival: 68.4%. Probability of combined survival: 23.4%. Probability of successfully neutralizing target based on previous encounters: 1.2%. Mission success probability with combined survival and target neutralization: 0.0047%.”

“Quiet,” She thought to him, focusing on Wash. South hoped his plan didn’t involve one of them being left behind. Him being left behind.

“Get to it and take off, get yourself and more importantly Delta back to Command. I’ll cover you as best I can.” South did not like this plan. Before she could object, Delta piped up again.

“Agent Washington, is your armor adequately compensating for your wounds?”

“You’re hit?” South asked, though she wasn’t surprised. She had definitely heard ‘injuries’ somewhere in the oppressive chatter in the back of her mind.

“Just twice,” He said, Delta immediately flooding South’s head with a new wave of statistics.

“Agent Washington has sustained wounds to right shoulder and upper thigh. Blood loss Class II, shock and unconsciousness likely within next 3 hours, immediate effects include reduced reflexes, tachycardia, etc. It is unlikely he will be able to provide adequate cover fire for statistically acceptable chance of individual escape. Statistical probability of individual survival reduced to 34.7%.”

“Shut up,” South thought, the data conveyed in less time than it took for Wash to continue his sentence.

“Movement on twos. On my mark: sync,”

“Calculating alternative routes to increase survival probability to acceptable limits. Analyzing past encounters. Completed. Conclusion: your incapacitated presence did not significantly affect the Meta’s attack of North because you had nothing of value to it. An extra bubble shield and no A.I. meant you were effectively useless to the Meta and killing you would be a waste of its limited resources.”

“Shut up!”

“Agent Washington, however, is still in possession of his unique armor enhancement. You and he are equally balanced in terms of value to the Meta, one A.I. and one unique armor enhancement. There is no statistical difference to show that the Meta prefers A.I. fragments or armor enhancements. This encounter could be used to determine a potential preference. Best course of action: incapacitate Agent Washington and escape. Statistical probability of individual survival based on alternative: 78.9%.”

“But-” South said aloud, the numbers spilling over from the background to cloud her active thoughts. She had to do it. They had to do it. The plan was logically sound. They were the priority, not Agent Washington.

“Probability of 100% survival of both host and Agent Washington: not applicable.”

“Sync!” Wash shouted, South suddenly cold. Her fingers twitched at her rifle’s trigger.

“Sync.” She responded, lips numb, the word repeated on so many missions it had long lost meaning.

“Move!”

“We have to do this, there is no other acceptable alternative.” She really fucking hated Delta’s voice. She also hated that he was right. Wash moved forward, to draw the Meta’s attention while South was supposed to break left for the Banshee. South raised her rifle.

A single shot went off above the indiscriminate spray of bullets in the courtyard.

---

I mean, logically, that was the best course of action. I guess. Oh well. Also in case you were confused: thoughts between A.I. and South will now be italicized. Hopefully that’ll make some of these scenes with the AI communicating telepathically as other characters talk verbally less confusing. If it doesn’t, I’ll try writing the scenes differently. We’ll see how it goes.