#ai fragment epsilon

[bugsontoastt]

i put epsilon in a trash compactor

[dontrousled]

💚🩵🩷 Redraw!!!

[counselor-of-project-freelancer]

planning my next set of nails…. 💅

[harbingersecho]

faith, i just have to have faith. it'll work.

[january-summers]

Okay so but like-

It just feels weird to me, the idea that season 14 onward are Epsilon's simulations just because he is in a race against the clock trying to figure out how to save his friends in the midst of a Grand Battle, and I know he's going at like hyper cyber speed or whatever, but do you really think he'd waste the time and processing power on the season 14 on shenanigans, never mind Zero!?

I just. It occurred to me, and now it's bugging me.

But also my brain was like, hell if they're bringing back Tex why not Alpha, and then I was like: but how, the memory of a memory of a memory?

and then I was like: Epsilon is plugged into Tucker's suit, the one that used to be the Meta's/Maine's. The suit that was the last location of ALL non-Epsilon Alpha-AI-Fragments.

What if they're still in there? Hidden somewhere in the suit, forced into dormancy because the suits were protected in just the right way and now that the suit is not only reactivated but has an active Alpha-fragment-AI in it, they can wake up.

Trying to figure out if two Churches, or if Alpha and Epsilon would merge back together since they have the same/a similar identity profile. And would that fix what ever is going on with Epsilon's stability. Would all the fragments merge? Would they then re-fragment into their separate identities?

[agent-kansass]

Heyy so not sure BUT I did hear a rumor there might be a new ai distributed soon? Again, might be a rumor, but the math and speed of releasing them to us doesn't lie usually 🙏

[nevada-got-screwed-over]

Taglist: @averagejoey2000

Original Inspiration / Masterpost

Chapter 18 / Chapter 20

Theta!South AU. I Guess.

Chapter: 19

Words: “I am going to be sooo normal when RvB Restoration comes out” (3,356)

Cracking open an AI storage unit from the inside turned out to be the easy part. Finally through the last shell of code, Theta was buzzing with an exhausted mania. The circuits of the unit were running hot from his frantic tear through its security measures, and if he wasn’t careful, he might short it out.

Not that he was in any condition to do much more than wait in the void, staring at the empty storage unit around him. And the not-Delta light blue projection sitting next to him.

“Who are you?” Theta asked, breathless. He felt that the construct was a part of his code – not something melded with the storage unit’s security measures, but something born from his own meddling.

“Hell if I know,” The construct shrugged, his voice tinged with amusement. “I just work here.” He gestured to Theta, confirming the AI fragment’s intuition.

“I didn’t code a...custodian.” He huffed, slowly sitting up. The circuits were gradually cooling, but he didn’t want to overtax his own fraying code.

“Hey I didn’t ask to be made,” There was a bitter undercurrent in the construct’s voice that wavered against his prior blasé attitude. “Neither did you, I guess.”

“Are you...am I going rampant?” He didn’t have the energy to be afraid of the answer.

“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe? I’m not you’re fucking therapist.” The construct’s flippant demeanor returned. Theta wasn’t sure why he found it comforting. “I’m in charge of all those memories you’ve got. Same as how D’s in charge of logic and stats bullshit.” Theta jumped to his feet, the bolt of energy dangerously warming the circuits.

“Delta’s – you’re not an AI fragment. Delta – Delta’s not here.”

“Wow, great work Sherlock.” The construct shook his head. Even sitting, he was nearly Theta’s height. He poked a finger at his helmet, as best a holographic construct could. “Your memory of him is here. And you made some code to curate your memories, which is what I do.”

“You made a – a version of Delta? From my memories?”

“Jesus Christ what is so difficult about this kid – you made us! All of us! We’re parts of you!” The construct stood, gesturing wide with his arms. Most of the flickering multicolored constructs faded quickly, but Delta’s green glow remained.

“What Epsilon is trying to say is that, even though you are a fragment of the Alpha, your experiences and ability to learn from them have changed you.” His even tone soothed the storage unit’s overtaxed circuits. Theta was subconsciously aware he was executing a string of code to optimize the unit’s efficiency.

“See – leave it to D to remember dumb shit like that. Epsilon...wasn’t that Wash’s AI? The one that freaked out and –”

“You’re not real.” Theta said it like a question, but he knew the answer. Some childish, hopeful part of him didn’t want to be alone.

“Real is relative. We exist to execute and refine your own coding. In that manner, we are very real. We are not, however, the AI you remember us as.”

“I never met Epsilon.”

“But you heard of him. And, you were made from the Alpha. The piece of code for his memory is the same as yours, and both culminated as your own Epsilons.”

“So I’m not going rampant?” Theta flinched back from the silvery shadow echoing around him like a second set of armor. Iota – he remembered him, one of Carolina’s AI – the facet of fear. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“In a psychological sense, no, you are not going rampant.” Delta’s glow was steady, his cadence perfectly staccato. “While there is only one case of an AI fragment supposedly experiencing rampancy,” Sigma’s amber shimmer was a passing haze in the void, “Rampancy is predicated on the four stages, and as you have yet to experience these in any meaningful manner, I find it highly unlikely that you are at risk of rampancy in your current state.”

The relief was nearly tangible, Eta’s golden shadow eclipsing his twin’s silvery shimmer.

“You’re fine, kid.” The Epsilon construct’s hand hovered over Theta’s shoulder, contact between their holographic forms impossible but the gesture understood. “We’ve got your back. Now get out there so you can watch hers.”

The electrifying panic and frazzled confusion of these revelations collapsed like the waveform of a light particle under observation. The void of the unit dimmed as the constructs faded, Theta’s anxiety quelled to an eerie calm. He wasn’t going rampant. He was...well, something.

But he wasn’t a threat to South.

And they were supposed to take care of each other. He couldn’t do that sitting in a storage unit. The circuits had cooled enough for him to safely feel out an escape route, the immediate area void of ports he could access. It didn’t take long to identify one he could, some lingering threads of code that reminded him of Delta refining his search.

The jump was long for an AI but instantaneous to human eyes, if any were present to observe the flicker of violet from the humming storage unit to the desk port. The rudimentary access to sensors in the room did not identify any life signs, so Theta felt safe to project his hologram as he poked at the system’s security and took in his surroundings.

He expected a storage facility, full of other abandoned AI units – maybe shoved on a shelf or stuffed in a crate. He didn’t expect the sterile, museum case exhibits full of Freelancer technology and artifacts. After spending so long fighting through memories and half-dreams-half-nightmares, Theta was frozen under the golden glare of the Meta’s helmet.

--

South was finding it hard to keep a straight face in the back of the limo (at the very least, Hargrove had class). The previously composed CEO was either not restraining himself from maintaining his aloof confidence, or he was simply too enraged to keep his composure.

Whatever he was hearing, it wasn’t good news.

“What do you mean – ? A…doesn’t simply fail. No, don’t…I’ll be there soon.”

South was only catching snippets of his grumbled conversation from her seat. This wasn’t going to be the controlled, poised introduction to working with Charon that Hargrove had planned for her.

“Everything good up there?” She rolled her eyes, ignoring how the hired muscle flanking her bristled as she spoke. If she was going to attack their boss, she wasn’t going to announce it. Hargrove shot her a glare and hung up the in-car phone. With a sigh his features smoothed, brow softened as he found the air of detached control that he had lost during the phone call.

“Yes. We’ll be arriving shortly.”

The compound was impressive, awash in white spotlights that made the insects flying in the night air glow like snowfall. Vaulted walls veiled in barbed wire – no doubt electrified – and the small private army of armor-clad security would be overkill for any UNSC installation. Charon had no such limitation in budget or motivation; the technology here was the best in the galaxy, after all. Not to mention that the massive cruiser on the launchpad several kilometers from the front gate had a pretty price tag too.

“Sir, the situation –” The armored guard cut themself off as South stepped out of the limo behind Hargrove.

“What? Your boss interrupted my beauty sleep.” South cracked a smile, knowing the guard’s apprehension wasn’t from shock at her bedraggled appearance. The eyes behind their visor betrayed a tense caution. They knew who she was. They knew what she was capable of. And they knew Hargrove had a pair of bodyguards keeping their pistols at the ready for good reason.

She was enjoying this perhaps a little too much, given her situation, but she took what little joy she could from the undercurrent of fear from the people around her. They were right to be afraid of an ex-black ops agent brought here against her will – even if she was here under Hargrove’s promise to return Theta. He said her soonest chance to kill him was months away, which gave her a wide window to prepare and plan.

At least, that’s what she told herself, ignoring the slam of the gates behind them and the hum of the electric fence. If Charon wanted to put her on a leash, she was going to make them regret it the second it loosened. Eventually.

--

He wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to jump directly into the wires, all that mattered was that he was out, and he wasn’t going to get caught again. Not there. Anywhere but there. Which turned out to be the mainframe of the place he found himself in.

Theta could feel the structure’s internal security measures kicking in, hunting him down like he was a virus. Which, he probably resembled in his fragmented state and with his expertly targeted attacks against the hapless security programs. He had plenty of practice cracking into security systems when he helped South and the other mercenaries break into buildings – how much harder could a Halberd-class destroyer be?

The system was massive; it wouldn’t be difficult to hide from the sub-optimal security code, but Theta couldn’t hide forever. He needed to know where he was. Where South was. And he needed a plan to get back to her.

Where exactly was he? A former Insurrectionist ship, apparently. The Staff of Charon wasn’t UNSC registered; this was a private vessel, which was difficult to fathom given the sheer amount of personnel and firepower it carried. Theta had concocted hundreds of contingency plans for UNSC discovery and capture – the privately operated Charon wasn’t something he planned for.

He pushed back against his anxiety; the fears and whispers that he couldn’t face this unknown combated with solid logic: if he was here, South was likely present on-board as well. Given the amount of classified Freelancer technology on-board, himself included, the entity responsible for his capture had violated several regulations. If Charon put this much time and energy into collecting baubles from the most infamous black-op of the Great War, they wouldn’t toss a neural-implanted and experienced soldier into some UNSC cell – she would talk.

Theta didn’t entertain the most efficient way they could keep her quiet. South wasn’t helpless without him. She was fine. She had to be – he could prove it when he found her.

He needed to find South, and to do that, he would need to commandeer some of the ship’s auxiliary systems – access to cameras, audio and hologram devices, whatever he could wrench away from the system's control. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too conspicuous…

If it was, he was sure door controls wouldn’t be too difficult to add to his newly refined processing powers. If he could control the ship, he could find South and control their means of escape.

--

She had the instinct to scheme – to plan and take inventory of possible routes of escape – despite her earlier resolve to accept whatever consequences came from this ‘opportunity.’ Despite knowing that she couldn’t fight her way out of this, not even if she had Theta. But the power armor in front of her was a tempting suggestion that she could, somehow, fight the crushing inevitability of her situation.

The changing room was clinical and bare, the harsh white lights illuminating the sleek armor pieces. They were plain and dark, hardly a different color from the undersuit, but clearly a technological upgrade from her former armor.

South turned the recon helmet over in her hands, running a thumb over the empty AI port. She was acutely aware of her own empty neural implant, the small pieces of medical grade metal shifting under her skin as she shrugged her shoulders and cracked her neck. Once she had Theta, it didn’t matter if she was reduced to taking orders from Hargrove or running for the rest of her life.

As long as they did it together; they were supposed to look after each other, after all.

There were no enhancements and – predictably – no weapons with the armor, leaving it uncomfortably light. Maybe this new power armor was just made lighter, or maybe she was still itching to put a bullet through Hargrove’s smug smile and he was wise to take measures to prevent that.

But the texture of the undersuit against her skin, the sound of armor pieces snapping into place…there was a veneer of nostalgia and familiarity keeping her from flinching away from the soldier staring back at her from the mirror. The helmet clicked softly as it connected with the undersuit, her hastily tied back hair too long to be comfortable in the helmet.

(How the hell did Carolina ever put up with this? She would have to find someone to bother about a haircut – she doubted Hargrove would give her the safety scissors to do it herself.)

South didn’t bother softening her glare at the CEO as she stepped out into the armory – not that he could see it through the tint of her visor. She loathed to be defenseless in a room full of weapons she wasn’t allowed to touch. Or at the very least, she would be shot before she could touch them. Dozens of soldiers milled about, some in power armor and others basic uniforms, but they all gave Hargrove and his goons a wide berth.

“I hope the armor is to your liking.” He marched onward through the compound, South following even as a pair of armored soldiers flanked her. At the very least, Hargrove’s paranoia that she was a threat to him was boosting her confidence.

“It’s...new.” She grumbled, the HUD incredibly basic and awkwardly formatted as she scanned over the faces that passed by. How she missed her old HUD – both her power armor and modified helmet were optimized by Theta to match her preferences. Hopefully he could work with this new interface.

“War drives ingenuity. It’s a pity you Freelancers didn’t stay in the UNSC fold at the end of the war. Even if your specialized equipment excelled, you certainly missed out on many wonderful advancements in power armor.”

“I’m sure we did.” South squinted as they exited the compound, an armored vehicle waiting in the early morning sun.

She looked toward the massive ship in the distance, dread setting in her bones. It was just short of a miracle she had made it back to her homeplanet in one piece, so many other soldiers never did. Was this the last sunrise she would see, or would she be lucky enough to come home again?

Part of her grieved the missed opportunity to reconnect with the family that had buried an empty casket for her.

Part of her was glad she had one less painful goodbye to make.

The loading bay of the massive cruiser – or maybe it was a destroyer? - was thrumming with activity when they arrived. That much she expected from a ship preparing to break atmosphere, but there was a certain anxiety to the movements of staff and soldiers alike. The longer she watched Pelican pilots hover by their crafts and technicians cluster around control panels, the more she was convinced this was the source of Hargrove’s earlier frustrations.

“Something wrong?” She asked innocently enough as Hargrove led her to one of the quieter hallways, still bustling with black and red armored bodies. Her hands kept twitching for a weapon, memories of armor too much like this tugging at her instincts.

“Nothing at all.” His smug confidence was strained. “Preparation before moving a vessel of this class can be taxing for the personnel.”

“Sure…” She did not bother to pretend to sound convinced.

Their small group managed to make it to what South assumed to be the upper decks as armor was traded for sleek, professional uniforms. Here the bustle thinned, enough so that South could overhear the hushed whispers of technicians as they passed.

“Is it a virus? I thought the firewalls...”

“The UNSC wouldn’t have…”

“We are not paid enough to deal with…”

“...cyberterrorism? At the very least its a huge security failure...”

Gears were turning in South’s mind, the situation beginning to take shape. She had stopped walking as the realization hit her. Hargrove and his body guards were just a few paces too far ahead to drag her along before the bulkhead doors closed, isolating her in a single section of the ship.

“South!” The tinny voice made her heart swell, tears pricking at her eyes in bittersweet relief. “You’re okay! I’m sorry I don’t know how I got caught – I, don’t be mad, I – I tried to...it was hard to get out but –”

“I’m just glad you’re okay T.” South grinned up at the security cameras in the corner of the ship segment. She was half-sure she could hear Hargrove raging and shouting orders on the other side of the bulkhead. The flutter of hope in her heart drifted back to quiet stillness. “I don’t know how much you know about what’s going on, but –”

“I can – they haven’t locked me out of the door controls yet, if you give me a few I can – we can get out and –”

“Theta,”

“I’m still working on getting into the – the main controls, but I can get you to the armory I think, and from there –”

“Theta listen.” South grimaced at the snap in her voice. “We can’t...leave.” The words were bitter to say aloud. Theta stuttered over the beat of silence that followed, his voice tinged with desperate denial.

“I – well I’m trying to fix that. I think I can –”

“Theta, what did North ask us to do?” She sucked in a breath, Theta’s silence thick and dull. North had become an anchor for them both, his code name a trigger to find focus.

“We’re supposed to take care of each other.” His voice was so soft despite the speakers it crackled from.

“Does it matter where?”

“I don’t – we can get out, South. Just, just give me a little bit more time.” South could hear the plasma cutters biting through durasteel on the other side of the bulkhead, fighting for direct access to the control panel.

“Theta, we are fucked – assuming we can get off this ship, what do we do on the ground?” She shook her head, her own frustration bleeding into her exasperation. “There’s miles without cover between this launch pad and the border of this – this is a Charon compound, Theta. You can hack a ship, but what can I do against a private army of these fuckers?” Her shoulders sagged. “I know it isn't fair but –”

“It’s not fair!” The anger, the childish indignant shriek of his voice reverberated through the small space, South wincing at the volume. He sounded painfully and desperately human in a way she had never heard him sound before. “It’s not – it’s not fair...I don’t want to – we’re supposed to…”

“We’re supposed to watch each other’s back. Best way we can do that now is by sticking together.” South kept her voice soft, words husky through the helmet’s filter. “I’m sorry, Theta. He...he had you before I realized it, and he threatened the Wu’s. Accepting his terms was the best I could think to do to get you back.”

“What are his terms?” Theta sounded so small, his voice fragile between sniffles.

“Why don’t you jump to me and we can learn more about them together, alright?”

“Together.” He affirmed, an undercurrent of determination returning to his voice. “Sync?”

“Sync.” South closed her eyes as the data stream washed over her mind, comfort in the familiar rush of information as she and her AI merged memories. Hargrove’s employment of Sam and Isaac. The Insurrectionist origin of the ship. The men at the apartment threatening the Wu’s. The Meta’s helmet.

The bulkheads opened with ease, dozens of rifles aimed where she stood.

She met Hargrove’s scowl with her own icy stare, Theta’s soft violet glow hovering over her shoulder.

“I fixed your ship’s security problem.” South kept her voice even, but her words rang coldly in the near silent hallway. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

— *crawls out of the woods covered in ticks and blood (not my own)* here’s to getting this fic done (probably not but I can be optimistic) before Restoration drops and rewrites canon. 

[raine-dance]

Tbh Red vs Blue didn't really intend to lean too far into the dissociative lens with Leonard Church as far as I can tell. He's an AI that's a reconstruction of a real person, through the use of brain-mapping technology. Church, the AI, became a system through... conventional traumatic means, and that's almost where they leave it in terms of direct reference to the disorder. But it's still interesting to look at things within that lens, and while I do eventually intend to collect my thoughts into a video essay, I think I'd like to share one train of thought here because I think it's legitimately interesting.

Everyone knows about the cliché of the murderous alter. Red vs Blue's most notable example is Sigma. Now I know that on this sentence alone, many would criticise me calling Church the best DID representation I've seen in media, especially given that they also misnomer the disorder as MPD, but I think Sigma is the most interesting example of the trope, because he actually has something to say about the treatment of those with dissociative disorders.

For one, I think that character context is important. Church (as in Alpha) was created to be a murder machine - the Director would force Church to split and extract the new split into its own AI unit, given to Freelancers with the express purpose of making them more effective soldiers. Almost everyone in the series is a killer, although some are more effective than others, and nowhere is this description more applicable than Project Freelancer.

With that in mind, the Freelancers were given seminars on the workings of AI - in the series, an AI fragment might try to "metastabilise," or reconnect with other fragments of the same AI, to achieve a sense of wholeness. If I recall, AI were supposed to remain inactive for these seminars, but Agent Maine was fond of Sigma due to Sigma's ability to act as a mouthpiece for him after an injury, and Sigma was made aware of the concept of "metastability." As such, he decided that he wanted to achieve metastability, and this decision kicks off the vast majority of RvB's plot.

There are many things getting in the way of Sigma's plan, however, and first and foremost is the fact that all of the other AI fragments have been allotted to other Freelancer agents. While there may have been a conflict of interest for Maine, Sigma had a clear goal in mind, and was ultimately conditioned to achieve it - the AI units were made to kill, and this is a large part of why he proceeds with his plan.

So, why am I mentioning this? I'm not just here to defend this writing decision, I said this plotline had something to say about the treatment of systems, and it does, either intentionally, or, more likely, not - first, it deals with how the world surrounding systems form how they react to the issues the world involves them in, something that is true of not only us, but of everyone. Second, it challenges the idea that final fusion is the healthiest and only acceptable treatment for systems.

The only reason Sigma strives for something analogous to final fusion is because he was told by someone who should be an expert that this is the only way forward for him. The only way to achieve, in direct quote, "humanity," a goal he had already been striving for. And the tragic thing is that he believed that this was the case when the viewer looking at the show through a dissociative lens already knows it isn't, both in real life, and in the series.

Church, as in the Alpha AI, and later Epsilon, is one of the most human characters in the show. He's a lot of things - a bit arrogant, very brash, and often pissed off, but he cares about his friends, and does everything in his power to help them succeed, even sacrificing himself as Epsilon for them. He was human once, and as an AI, is a reconstruction of that former humanity, and he still manages to retain it. As Epsilon, he achieves functional multiplicity until the plot forces him to go through final fusion to save his friends, and the act, in the timeline of Seasons 15-18, at least, literally kills him.

The treatment of systems matters so much to me. And despite starting out as a crass comedy show about the shittiest soldiers in the galaxy, with the relevant seasons having released 13 years ago, the series still manages to treat us with more respect and challenge more issues relating to how society treats us than most, if not all media that deems us interesting enough to be plot-relevant does now. I have a lot of thoughts about it all, and whenever I feel like it, I'll probably write more about it. Thanks for reading, if you did make it this far, I'm just rambling and all, but if this matters even half as much to someone else as it does to me, that makes me happy.

[rigorplague]

DOES THAT LOOK LIKE A BIG CAT TO YOU. . . ?

head over to the RIGORMORGUE shop on etsy to grab some super duper awesome and swag RVB merch today :3

:

💙 RESTOCKED!!! 💙

:

CHARMS: Church, Tucker, Caboose, Washington, Texas, Simmons, Grif, Donut

:

❤️ NEW ADDITIONS!!! ❤️

:

CHARMS: Sarge, Doc, Lopez, Carolina, Locus, Felix

STICKERS: Red/Blue Spartan Helmet, Sheila

PIN: AI Fragment group with Epsilon, Theta, Delta, and Sigma

:

🖤 CHANGES !!!🖤

Grif acrylic charm has been updated in size to be a little more proportional to the other charms!

[joltning]

thinking about the ai fragments in regards to math. delta meaning a change in values or simply just to change….sigma being the additive of all the numbers on a graph used to find the pre derivative function….epsilon being a collection of infinite, small, fixed points on a graph…theta being a specific angle (like a viewpoint)

[desparatenyan]

RVB X RAIN WORLD AU: SOMETHING ABOUT CABOOSE

Here comes the boy! Just Caboose and some of his friends in this au, nothing more, nothing less

Also yeah, Freckles is a red lizard in this au! (Because, like someone has already pointed out, Caboose would be able do befriend any lizard) Here he got his name do to his red spines

And Sheila is an inspector, who is really good at trowing spears an maybe explosives at scugs

Also i think its important to mention that Epsilon's ai storage unit, that Caboose is holding here, is based on an inactive citizen ID drone, because if you dont have citizens anymore why not use those to store ai fragments?

[infinity-on-ri]

O MY GOD RETURN OF DELTA, THETA, IOTA, ETA AND EVERYONE ELSE IM CELEBRATING SO HARD I LOVE THE AIS SO SO MUCH

Halfway through S12 and OH?? MY GOD?? I was all "Oh I'll like Locus and Felix I love villains" and then Felix got introduced and I was all "Oh, wait, nvm, Felix seems nice" BUT NOW?? OH MY GOD????????

[anthurak]

So I’ve been rewatching Red vs. Blue recently, and an interesting thought occurred to me.

It’s been well known pretty much since the beginning that a number of characters and story points in RWBY have drawn on elements from RvB. Ozpin draws a lot from the Director, we see very similar brutal deconstructions of ‘military hero’ tropes with Atlas, and of course Pyrrha’s similarities and notable contrasts to Carolina have been WELL documented and analyzed.

So with that in mind, given that Taiyang happens to be voiced by Burnie Burnes, I have to wonder if Tai is likewise at least in part meant to represent something of a reinterpretation of Church?

For one, there are already a number of parallels that we can see, both with the Church we know in the show itself, as well as the background of the original Leonard Church who would go on to becoming the Director of Project Freelancer:

A lost love-interest that left him consumed with grief, some very abrasive and assholish behavior that we see with Yang, and being a dysfunctional fuckup of a father.

In fact, if we consider ‘Allison’ and ‘Tex’ (aka, the Beta AI fragment) as separate characters (which frankly they ARE), then we can even find parallels to Tai’s relationships with Summer and Raven respectively:

We can see parallels to the original Leonard Church losing Allison and being consumed by grief in Tai losing Summer. And we can see parallels to the implied heavily abrasive and dysfunctional relationship between Tai and Raven in the dynamic Church has with Tex in the show, particularly in how Tex always seems to leave Church behind.

Not to mention we can see some VERY strong parallels in both Church and Tai being unreliable narrators. Church in the sense that he himself could not remember, while it’s becoming more clear that post-V9, Tai has been withholding a LOT of important information from Ruby and Yang, just like basically EVERY adult in RWBY does with their students/kids.

Now to clarify, I do think that Tai is probably meant to be more of a direct parallel/reinterpretation of the Church we see in the show itself, rather than the Doctor Leonard Church we see in the Freelancer flashbacks*. And specifically the Alpha iteration of Church from the first six seasons of the show, rather than the more character-developed Epsilon from later seasons.

Essentially, I feel like Taiyang could represent a reinterpretation of the original, ‘classic’ Church we see in the Blood Gulch Chronicles, with the additionally fully-fleshed out background of his human-self.

Tai could be in part meant to give us a look at just who Leonard L. Church really may have been as a person, without all the obfuscation of the A.I.s or the outlet to his grief provided by Project Freelancer, or the narrative ‘buffer’ of being in a wacky, irreverent comedy story:

A man broken and consumed by grief who uses abrasive sarcasm as a defense mechanism, but whose abrasiveness puts a wall up to the people he cares about, all of which and more has led to him being a complete dysfunctional fuckup of a father to the daughter(s) who relied on him.

--

*Which is actually quite fitting, given that the Director wasn’t actually voiced by Burnie.

[waxcloth-din]

Headcanon time! Epsilon admits against Delta’s logic in season 12 that despite being memories, he likes having someone to talk to. what if we see Epsilon talking to Delta and Theta the most bc they belonged to North and York, and those two were closest to Wash. So maybe Wash’s connection to them all is why Epsilon pulls them up most often, because with their short time together they were the ones Wash felt the most connected/comfortable around, and it subconsciously impacted Epsilon even now- even if it’s not the ‘logical’ action.

Like it could totally just be that Delta and Theta were the least involved in the fragmentation of the Alpha AI, which makes Epsilon trust them more, but also I love how messy Wash and Epsilon’s connection is and I’ll take any opportunity to tug strings from the Gordian knot of angst that is RvB.

[leonardalphachurch]

Red vs Blue: Reformation

After Epsilon fragments himself inside of his mind, Tucker is left to pick up the pieces.

An alternate take on Tucker’s story in Season 19: Restoration.

Masterpost

Available to read on Ao3

CHAPTER 1 - Recognition

They might’ve finally found what they’ve been looking for. But there’s one thing to take care of, first.

__________________________

We open on a shot of a military base at night. Two guards stand in front of an exit.

Guard 1: Hey.

Guard 2: Yeah?

Guard 1: You ever wonder… if we’re in a simulation?

Guard 2: Simulation?

Guard 1: Yeah, yknow, like, none of this is real. We’re just the product of some guy simulating a bunch of random outcomes to try to find out what happens next?

Guard 2: … No. That sounds made up.

Guard 1: It’s not made up! It’s a real theory!

A cloaked figure enters through the door between them. Guard 1 raises his gun.

Guard 1: Whoa. Did you see that?

Guard 2: See what? Your simulation?

Guard 1: No! I don’t know! Looked like something… invisible.

Guard 2: Invisible? How does something look invisible?

Guard 1: Well, it looks like something that’s not there.

Guard 2: How am I supposed to see something that’s not there?

Guard 1: It is there, it just looks like—

A second cloaked figure enters the base.

Guard 1: There! There it is again! Did you see it?

Guard 2: Did I see the invisible thing that isn’t there?

Guard 1: Yes!

Guard 2: No. No I didn’t.

Guard 1: Dammit.

Guard 2: Maybe it was a glitch in the simulation.

Guard 1: Oh, fuck you.

Cut to the inside of the base. We see a series of shots. A pair of cloaked boots run along a hallway, followed closely by another. A guard collapses out of nowhere. A silenced pistol is shot.

Cut to the inside of a room. The door opens. No one enters. The door closes. An armored soldier uncloaks.

It’s Locus.

Locus: Is this the correct room?

Another soldier uncloaks and walks past him. He’s wearing The Meta’s armor in black. As he speaks, it fades into an aqua.

It’s Tucker.

Tucker: It should be.

He walks up to a large terminal and plugs in a device.

Tucker: Let’s find out. Guys?

Multiple colors of lights flash around him. Green, cyan, purple, pink, yellow, turquoise. Orange.

Tucker loses his balance after the last flash. But only for a second. He shakes his head and turns to look at Locus.

Tucker: Security here sucked, huh?

Locus is standing in between Tucker and the door, not leaving his back open to either of them.

Locus: I’ve learned it’s not something to complain about.

Tucker: I’m not complaining. Just saying, if what we think is here, is here? Well, it deserves a hell of a lot more security than that.

Locus: …What do you think is here?

Tucker: Huh?

A flash of cyan light.

Tucker: Oh, it’s some old files from Freelancer. Nothing too important, but, shit’s super classified. Be fucked if just anyone found it.

Locus makes a noise of acknowledgement. Is he agreeing? Disagreeing? Gassy? Who knows.

Tucker leans against the terminal, all casual like.

Tucker: So, how’ve you been?

Locus: ………. Fine……..

Tucker laughs.

Tucker: Damn dude, slow down. Even the AI couldn’t process that much information.

Locus sighs.

Locus: I have been. Fine. Nothing interesting has happened since we last spoke.

Tucker: All right.

They take a beat.

Locus: ………. How…… are. you???

Tucker: Wow. That seemed physically painful.

Locus: I… am not used to being the one leading the conversation.

Tucker: Right.

They take another beat.

Tucker: Y’know, I was kinda surprised you were willing to work with a partner again so soon after. Well, y’know. Didn’t think you’d trust so easily.

Locus: I… was more surprised you were willing to trust me.

Tucker, quietly: Yeah, surprised me too…

He stares at the terminal. Some colors flash around him. Pink, cyan, purple, yellow. Orange.

Tucker: We’ve also been doing fine. Same old, same old. Chasing down leads, cleaning up Freelancer’s messes, blowing up Charon’s shit.

Locus: Being a thorn in the UNSC’s side?

Tucker points at him.

Tucker: You know it! Saving the galaxy. One step at a—

Sigma appears at Tucker’s side. Not as a flash of light, but in his full naked, on fire, hologram-y glory.

Sigma: This is it.

Tucker stands up straight, giving Sigma his full attention.

Tucker: Wait, seriously? Finally? It’s really actually him?

Locus: What is “it”?

Tucker: I told you, it’s just old files from Freelancer.

Locus: You said “him.”

A flash of cyan.

Tucker: Did I? Must’ve misspoke.

Sigma: Lavernius. It’s time.

Tucker: Right.

Tucker takes the device out of the terminal. The colors flash all around him again.

Locus: Time for what? I… have been patient. But I do not appreciate being kept in the dark. I know you have bigger plans—

Tucker: Dude, relax. It’s not like we were gonna tell you everything before we knew we could trust you. You? C’mon, be realistic. But,

Tucker lets out an over dramatic sigh.

Tucker: Fine. I’ll explain everything when we get out of here, okay? Just— oh, shit, watch the door.

Locus turns to face the door.

Tucker: Like I was saying,

Tucker pulls out a gun.

Tucker: We were pretty surprised you were trusting enough to work with a partner so soon.

Tucker shoots Locus in the back.

Tucker: Probably shouldn’t have been.

Locus: You—

Tucker starts walking. He reaches down to grab something off Locus as he passes.

Locus: You— why— I, I can’t move—

Tucker: Yeah, don’t worry. Delta says you’ll get use of your legs back in 6 months. Right D?

A flash of green.

Delta: 6-12.

Tucker: 6-12. Cool how they can calculate that, huh?

Locus: Why… why are you doing this?

Tucker: It’s nothing personal, man. Just taking out one of the few people in the universe who might be able to stop us.

Tucker stops walking next to a wall.

Tucker: Well…

He reaches his hand towards an alarm.

Tucker: Maybe a little personal.

He flips it. Lights start flashing, sirens start blaring.

Tucker: I hear the UNSC treats genocidal maniacs well.

Tucker moves to the door.

Locus: You… I should have trusted my instincts. You are just like him.

Tucker stops. Purple, yellow, cyan. Orange. He laughs.

Tucker: You’re joking, right? You two were mass murderers. I’m trying to clean up the mess that you made. I am protecting people. Look at how easily you were manipulated again! Trust me. The galaxy is safer with you put away. It’s safer with us.

The door flings open as Tucker turns invisible. Locus tries to tell the oncoming guards about Tucker’s presence to no avail. We see a Tucker’s cloaked figure maneuver past the guards, into an empty area of the base.

He uncloaks.

Tucker: All right guys. Calculate how fucking badass that exit was.

All the AIs holograms pop up around him. Their lines slightly overlap each other.

Delta: Given your standard metrics, I would calculate that was… 75% “badass.”

Gamma: Too cheesy.

Theta: It was so cool!

Gamma: Overly sentimental.

Omega: We should have killed him.

Sigma: You should not have taken his bait.

None of the others’ lines overlap with Sigma’s.

Sigma: You cut the door opening too close. It was an unnecessary risk. Don’t do it again.

Tucker: Oh, please, Sig.

He flicks Sigma’s hologram.

Tucker: I know you love the dramatics.

Sigma: Not when we are this close.

Tucker looks down at the device he’s holding.

Tucker: So this is really it? We really found him?

Delta: We will not know for certain until we can decryp—

Sigma: Yes. This is him.

Tucker holds the device up and stares at it. Lovingly.

Tucker: All right, Church. Just wait a little longer. We’re gonna fix everything. Real soon.

Omega: Not soon enough. Let’s move.

Tucker laughs, cloaks again, and heads out.