Director: Dear Chairman. Our records in this matter are impeccable, and I will refer you to them. It is true that we were granted the use of only one A.I. program, yet with special permission to conduct our experiments. That is all we were allowed to do, and that is all we have done. Of course, I am sure that you will agree, that the core mission of any scientific endeavour, is to find creative solutions to... unexpected problems.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Wash and Church take cover behind a doorway as the Reds fire on their position.

Washington: Where did these guys come from?

Church: I have no clue!

Washington: Do you think they're working with the Meta?

Church: Working with them? These guys don't do much working of any kind, so... no.

The radio then sounds out.

South: Wash, it's South! I'm here with Kan and the other blue idiot. We found Cal but he's knocked out.

Washington: Okay, stay there. I'll be there as soon as I can.

Caboose: Agent Washington! Agent Washington! Is Church there?

Washington: Yeah, he's fine.

Caboose: Oh! Okay, um, tell him that I hope he is fine and that-

South: Will you get the fuck off the radio?!

Wash steps out of cover and sees them on a platform.

Washington: Look, there they are.

Church: Is Caboose okay?

Washington: Hold on. Let me pull up the biocomm. Check his pulse rate.

Wash does just that while looking at Church.

Church: Uh... you can monitor our vitals?

Washington: I can check on the whole squad during combat. Keeps me up to date. It doesn't work on you for some reason.

Church: Yeah uh ah, sure there's a... perfectly, logical, explanation for that.

Washington: We need to get to Cal. My HUD says he's alive but hurt.

Church ducks out and fires at Caboose, then comes back in.

Church: Did I get Caboose?

Washington: Stop that! And you missed him.

Church: Fuck! Sun was in my eyes.

Over to the Reds, firing from behind cover.

Sarge: Simmons, keep firing. Don't let up!

Simmons: Yes, sir!

Grif: And get the grenades out there!

Simmons: Yes, sirs!

Sarge: Grif, stop confusing everybody. I'm callin' the shots.

Grif: We're the same rank now, I can do whatever I want.

Sarge: You're not qualified to lead in battle!

Grif: Qualified? How hard could it be? Simmons, you're doing a terrible job, and you should try to win harder. I mean try harder. To win.

Sarge: That was awful.

Grif: (crying) I learned it by watching you.

Simmons: Excuse me, sir.

Grif/Sarge: What?!

Simmons: (sigh) Never mind.

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The Meta watches the fight on a video screen, and changes his armor color to red.

Sarge: (on the screen) Simmons, aim for his bullets! Try to deflect them in mid air. Grif, come here! Your face can be used as a shield.

The Meta walks down toward the battle, and the screen he was looking at starts flashing "Generator Malfunction".

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Washington: We have to end this. Cal is hurt, he could be losing blood.

Church: Ah, let him be. A little brain damage might actually be good for him.

Washington: Well, what about Delta? The Meta could have grabbed him, or he could be trying to-

Suddenly all of the power goes out at once.

Grif: What was that?

Church: What was that?

Washington: Oh no.

The power comes back on.

Washington: The Meta! He must be powering up. We can't waste any more time with this nonsense.

Washington steps out and starts talking through a built-in megaphone.

Washington: Red Team. Attention, Red Team. Cease fire. Cease fire.

Church: Hey how do you do that megaphone thing with your voice?

Washington: It's a voice amplifier. It's standard issue, all our suits have one.

Church: They do?

Sarge: What do you want?

Grif: Yeah, what do you want?

Sarge: Shut up, Grif!

Grif: That's "shut up Grif, sir.

Washington: We are not your enemy. My name is Agent Washington. I am part of a special task force-

Church: Testing, te- holy shit, it does work! This is badass.

Washington: Stop that!

Church: Ah! Don't use that thing right next to me. You're killing my ears, ya douche.

Sarge: Wahoh no, we're not fallin' for that again.

Washington: I am a special agent. From Command!

Church: And this is the voice of God. Give up your evil ways. Join the Blue Team-

Washington punches him.

Church: Ow! Hey come on, seriously, you're gonna break it.

Sarge: Haw yeah, well, if you're Command, then you'd know our secure code word, wouldn't you?

Washington: What? Oh right. Hold on one sec. The code word is... code word?

Sarge: Baw, dang it!

Simmons: Sir, what did I tell you about that?

Sarge: Alright men, stand down.

Grif: Stand down? We outnumber them three to two. That's like a three with a two, that's thirty-two percent advantage. You carry the one.

Simmons: I don't wanna know how you came up with that, but you're actually right. What do you care though, I thought you loved giving up in the middle of battle.

Grif: Doesn't mean I wanna die.

Sarge: Gentlemen. They know the code word. There's nothin' we can do.

Grif: Everybody knows our code word!

Sarge: Alright, let's try negotiating. Grif, I want you to get out there. See what they want. But first leave your weapons and armor here so they don't feel threatened. Check that; take your weapon and give it to them.

Grif: No. Sarge, you may not think that I'm a good leader, but something about those Blues just doesn't feel right. And I have an uncanny sixth sense. So if you won't help me, I'll just have to get the local Reds to. This guy looks legit. Maybe he can help.

Grif heads over to the Meta, who walked over next to a jeep.

Sarge: Grif, get back here! You don't know anything about those soldiers. To them Blue could be Red, or Red could be Blue or, they could be an opposite map.

Grif: Shut up, old man, and watch how a real leader works. Hey there, soldier! What's your name?

Meta: (growls)

Grif: Huh, sounds like somebody has a cold. Anyway, listen. I need your help with some...

The Meta lifts up the jeep over he his head.

Grif: ...thing. Wow. That's a cool trick. How did you do...

The Meta turns toward Grif.

Grif: Uhm... I uh...

Church: Man. It got pretty quiet out there. You don't think they're really working with the Meta, do you?

Grif runs by, chased by a tumbling jeep.

Grif: Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, ooooh God!

Washington: ...No.