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.

Contains no spoilers for recent seasons of RvB.

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The blue light wavered out through the room, casting shadows in the shape of a voice. Something wasn't working. Something was wrong because it wasn't wrong. There was a question. He breathed in electrons instead of oxygen turned his head upward but the answer was so heavy—

Hey Wash! Wake up! Battle stations!

Agent Washington bolted upright, hitting his head against the bottom of the rack above him. Agent Florida muttered something about yoga poses and went back to sleep.

"What is it, Epsilon? Are we under attack?" Wash slid to his feet, detaching his helmet from where it was mag-hooked to the wall.

"What? Why would we be under attack?"

"You just said—" Florida grumbled and Wash dropped his voice. "You just said 'battle stations.' Why did you wake me up if it's not an emergency?"

Epsilon stood still over Wash's shoulder for almost a full minute.

"I'm bored."

Wash slouched against the edge of the rack. "I need to sleep, Epsilon."

"Well what kind of AI would I be if I let my assignee dose off after whamming his coconut like that? You might fall into another coma. Come on, let's hit the training room!"

Wash shook his head. "Well I don't think I could get back to sleep after that." Wash sighed. "Might as well see if whoever's in there wants a fresh partner. Been a while since I sparred with Ohio." Wash rolled his shoulders and worked his way toward the hallway. "Huh. It's been a while since I've seen Ohio."

"Thanks, buddy," said Epsilon. "I owe you one. Just couldn't stand to be still another minute, you know? Gotta get up and move."

Wash rolled his eyes. "I could always pull you," he said. "I'm sure there's a memory unit where you could kick around until morning. Or maybe FILSS could use a hand."

Epsilon was already shaking his head. "Memory units freak me out, man."

"How would you know? You've never been in one."

"Yeah, but that time when North pulled Theta last— Anyway, it's all that concept of being stuck in a tiny room and you never know who's watching."

Wash ducked to the side to avoid a pair of flight techs. "Well it's funny you should wake me up with 'battle stations.' I was dreaming there was a base invasion," said Wash.

"Yeah, downside of having an organic brain. You'd think that squishy little sack of fat in your skull would be satisfied giving you sub-par sensory input when you're awake."

"There was some kind of ...aquarium I guess? I don't know." Wash shook out his helmet before cramming it on his head. "I don't usually remember my dreams."

Epsilon touched his chin. "You know, I might be able to work on that for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we've gotta smooth out that mental integration thing. If you give me access to more of your nervous system, I could dig up your dream memory and try to piece it together."

Wash paused. "That actually sounds pretty neat. I mean, dreams are still pretty important to psychology and it could be a big deal for neuroscience. What do I have to do?"

"Just lemme know if you feel any side effects," said Epsilon. "I'll take a look around, write up some code, and run it in the background whenever the Director doesn't have us doing any other stupid shit."

Wash put his hands on his hips. "Our missions aren't stupid shit, Epsilon."

"Yeah," Epsilon shrugged, "but we haven't been on a real mission, have we? Counselor says we're cooling our heels at training until you get over your mental mute thing. Or if they change their minds about it mattering."

Wash snorted inside his helmet.

"Look, I didn't make the rules. I'm not even sure what the rules are in the fuck-ass outfit."

Wash stomped toward the end of the hall.

"You giving me the silent treatment?"

Epsilon paused.

"Are ...you trying to do it right now?"

Wash sighed and headed out the door.

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North and York turned around as Wash walked into the observation deck. Theta waved. Delta gave a slight upnod and turned back to watching the match.

"Can't sleep?" asked York.

Wash opened his mouth to answer. "Nope," said Epsilon. "Who's down there?" he asked.

"Carolina's with Penny and Colorado," said North.

"...how'd that happen?" asked Wash. "I know Penn wanted more time with leaderboard squads but..."

"Carolina lost a bet," York smirked. "Now she has to stay down there until Colorado actually hits the target."

"But isn't that what we want?" asked Theta. "If the other Freelancers become better soldiers, you know you can count on them."

North shook his head. "That's how most military units work, 'no stronger than its weakest soldier,' but the point of Project Freelancer is to try something different. We're a competitive group. Now, Pennsylvania and Colorado are so far down on the list that they're no threat to Carolina's position, but the fact that she's burning her training time to help them get from thirty-seven to thirty-two instead of getting herself from two to one—"

"Is going to make her feel like she's gargling battery acid," finished Epsilon. "Fuck, what bet did she lose?"

York scratched the back of his neck, "Uh..."

North sighed. "South bet her whether or not the Director would put you and Epsilon back in the field after your performance at Sidewinder."

Wash's arms dropped. "South bet against me?"

"Technically, she bet against sim trooper missions doing anything useful," York pointed out.

"That's not the point!"

"It wasn't nice of her," said Theta.

"Sometimes we end up making friends, but that's not why we're here," finished North.

"Aaaaand if we could end the after-school special?" asked Epsilon. "C'mon, I wanna see."

"Right," said Wash, stepping up to the safety glass. Below, Carolina was slashing her hand at Pennsylvania. There was a daisy-yellow flicker as Eta got her attention, pointing to Colorado's feet. Carolina stood up straighter and then moved forward, motioning for the other agent to correct his stance. FILSS reset the scenario, and Colorado sent Penny flying into the wall.

"Since when can Carolina..." Wash trailed off.

"Teach for shit?" asked York.

"I wasn't going to say it, but yeah," Wash said in amazement, watching Penny give an upside-down thumbs-up as she slowly slid to the floor like a half-splattered ladybug down a windshield. "I asked her to show me that move five times and I couldn't even figure what she was talking about."

"I guess having two extra voices in your head makes you better at communication." York shrugged. "Eta and Iota are probably the weakest of our AI, but it turns out they got all the people skills."

"What?" asked Theta as Epsilon said, "Oh that's rude," and Delta made a throat-clearing sound.

York turned at the waist, leveling his good eye at Delta. "Buddy, you thought that lobbing a pickup truck full-speed at a guy who called you a cockbite was a good comeback," York turned to Epsilon, "and you called him a cockbite in the first place, and you—" he held up a finger at Theta. "You ...are all right, actually."

"Thank you," preened Theta.

"It's not going to matter," muttered Epsilon. "The Director hasn't updated the leaderboard since before we left."

"He has been closely occupied with his 'special project,'" commented Delta.

"Oh hey! Did green boy actually talk to me?"

"Agent York, please tell AI Epsilon that I was contributing to the commentary in general, and kindly ask him to stop trying to get me to violate protocol."

"What he said," said York. "Anyway, how's your progress?"

"Nothin' bad but nothin' good either," said Epsilon. "Still can't hear a darn thing."

"But we had a neat idea earlier," said Wash. "Epsilon's going to get more in tune with the way my brain works. He's going to try to remember my dreams for me."

York leered. "Like lady dreams?"

"Ugh," Wash splayed his hands. "If you must know, last night I dreamed I was in an aquarium."

York sat forward. "Like with fish?"

"No, but the walls were blue and a bunch of people were watching me."

"Ick."

"I thought you said the dream was about a base invasion," said Epsilon.

"It was," answered Wash.

"A base invasion with fish?" asked York. "What was the mission objective, crab Rangoon?"

Delta projected closer. "Such a project might have practical applications in both neuroscience and psychology," he said. "It would be in keeping with the scientific goals inherent in Project Freelancer's mission." He looked away a moment, as if seeming to remember something. "...Might I offer my assistance in documenting the process?"

"Hey, I don't need your help!" said Epsilon.

"Please tell Epsilon that I would not interfere with his efforts. I merely wish to ...take notes."

"It's fine with me, Delta," said Wash. "Epsilon, copy him on whatever he wants."

Epsilon's projection fizzed in place as he grumbled. "Fine. But I'm giving him all the embarrassing details about your side effects."

"Fine," said Wash. "What kind of side effects?"

"Oh, the basics. Maybe some headaches, auditory and visual hallucinations, death..."

"Hang on a second..."

There was a red flash as the intercom activated.

"Agent Washington, please report to the Counselor's office."

"Guess you got caught out of bed, Wash?" asked York.

Wash shook his head. "I'm sure it's something more important than that." There was a crash from the training floor and Carolina called to reset the scenario.

"Hey, call us if Eta and Iota need a hand," said Epsilon. There was another crash. "Or if Penny, you know, dies."

"Hey," said north.

"Not nice," clipped Theta.

"And instruct Epsilon to log off first."

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"...has never shown this level of disregard for his teammates before," the Counselor was saying as Wash quietly stepped into the office.

"We shall simply have Gamma increase the level of—behind you, Counselor."

"You wanted to see me, sir?" asked Wash.

The Counselor turned, "Agent Washington," he said. "You got here more quickly than I expected."

"I can come back later."

"Not necessary, Agent Washington. I was just logging off." The Director's hand moved out of frame and the projection terminated.

"Was that about the Director's personal project?"

"It is not like you to ask questions, Agent Washington."

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"I instructed that AI Epsilon log off before you enter my office. Is that the case?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I have called you here today because there have been ...issues with Epsilon."

Wash stiffened. "We've been practicing every day, Counselor. I'm sure will get our intra-link communication issues dealt with shortly."

"Your diligence is not in question, Agent. We're more concerned with Epsilon's ...disruptive behavior."

"What behavior?" Wash asked. "He hasn't been disrupting anything. I know York and North both have trouble sleeping, but I've been fine. Mostly."

"Your performance is not what he has been disrupting. There have been reports of ...incidents."

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"Agent York," said Delta, "please inform AI Epsilon that if he must run defragmentation algorithms in public to do so in a manner that does not broadcast Agent Tennessee's Elysian bluegrass tracks at detectable frequencies."

"For fuck's sake, just talk to me like I'm here."

"Is that why I can't get that song out of my head?!" gasped York.

"Come on," Epsilon leered at Delta. "I'll turn off the music if you just take the stick out for two seconds and ask me nice."

"Agent Washington, please remind AI Epsilon of the directive against—"

"I'm right here. Just fucking talk to me."

"Epsilon, quit trying to get Delta to break the rules," said Wash.

"It's a bullshit rule! Eta and Iota are practically mind-melded inside Carolina and no one gives a shit."

Agent York looked away, "Actually..."

"Uh oh!" said Epsilon, projecting onto York's shoulder. Delta zapped backward and he followed. "Nope! I don't hear anyone objecting, so I'll manifest wherever I want!"

"Agent York—" protested Delta.

"Come on, Epsilon. Don't be an asshole."

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"I know this is just a training mission," clipped 479-er but we'll be flying under real gravity and burning real fuel. I want you to calculate the exact moment I should open the bay doors so you and Wash can parachute out without splattering yourselves against the mountainside."

"Sure thing," said Epsilon, flickering in place.

"Hey! I know what that is. You just made a backup copy of yourself!"

"The way you fly? Hell, I made like six."

"You are such an asshole."

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The bullet zinged past the target, hitting the reinforced wall behind.

"Missed," said Epsilon.

Agent Pennsylvania fired again.

"Missed."

"Missed."

"Only counts if you call it."

"Asshole," she muttered.

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"YOU! ARE! AN! ASSHOLE!" screamed South.

"BITE ME, BITCH-ZILLA!"

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"Good morning, Agent Texas."

"Hello, Epsilon."

Omega flared to life an inch from Epsilon's visor. "Keep walking, asshole."

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"Okay," Wash held up both hands, "I think we can agree that last one's not on Epsilon."

"True," said the Counselor, "but there is a detectable pattern in the way Epsilon is perceived by most of his teammates. In fact, the majority of his actions are not what I would call substantive, but considering the needs of group cohesion..."

Wash nodded. "Epsilon needs to learn to be more of a team player. Got it."

"It's a bit more ...pronounced than that," said the Counselor. "In fact, there have been concerns that you personally may not have fully grasped the situation. The incident the other day, for example..."

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Wash rounded a corner to see Agents South Dakota, Pennsylvania, California, Delaware and Arizona. "Uh..." he said, teetering on one foot. "Hi ladies?" just as Epsilon muttered "Uh oh."

South stomped forward. "You better have a damned good explanation!"

"Um," Wash stammered. "What exactly—"

"What did you do to our tampons, blue boy?" snapped Delaware, tossing a chunk of green metal at Wash's feet. "Jersey's best crotchplate! It's ruined!"

"What?" squeaked Wash.

"We talked about you not saying that," New Jersey muttered quietly.

"Start explaining, fragboy!" said Arizona.

"Okay, okay, soooooo Gamma told me I'd been assigned to rework the programmable absorption matrix for optimal—"

"I don't need the details!" hissed Wash.

"Short answer, Gamma's a fucking liar, and ladies I am so sorry," protested Epsilon.

"See? There we go. Now can we—"

"I thought they were just South's tampons," finished Epsilon. "After all, it's the same brand Carolina uses."

Wash waved his hands in the air. "Why do you know that?!"

South's fist hit her palm and she advanced on the pair, "Well Carolina must have a vagina like a—"

Wash jumped back. "I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding gotta go!"

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Maine folded his arms and growled. Mixtures of chocolate and vanilla glop dripped from his elbows onto the floor.

"I'm sure Epsilon didn't mean to release your baby photos to the whole squad. And how could he have gotten that much instant pudding into your locker anyway?"

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"Welcome to armor maintenance," said the technician as Wash waited in line between York and Carolina. North stood in the back reading a magazine. "Please state your armor model, size and any specific requirements you may have."

"Agent York, Mark VI, healing unit but no other special needs."

Epsilon flickered in place. "Aren't you going to requisition that anti-lice spray?"

"What?" York spluttered, looking over Wash's shoulder at Carolina, then back at Epsilon. "I—! I don't have headlice!"

"Well no," said Epsilon, "not on your head."

"Jesus!" said York.

"What was that?" asked Carolina.

"It's— Um—" York looked at Carolina and then at the tech and then at the very very active intercom system.

"Well it's not like Carolina didn't need to know considering that you two keep—"

"Epsilon," growled Carolina. "Stop talking."

"Come to think of it, how did you even get those things. It's not like Carolina gave them to you."

"I'm not cheating on her! I mean we aren't— I mean— I— Uh!"

"Agent York," said Delta, blinking to life. "Perhaps you should cease speaking. My projections indicate that there are no further verbal assurances you could make that would dispel either the notion that you have been sleeping with Agent Carolina or that you are plagued by genital exoparasites." He flickered and reappeared right in front of the tech. "Though I will add that it is entirely possible to contract such from improperly processed interior armor."

"So..." the tech looked at York. "You do want the spray?"

"I guess," York said in a small voice.

Carolina grabbed Wash by the scruff of his shoulder plate.

"Ow! What did I do?"

"You enable him," shouted North, not looking up from his magazine.

"Oh come on. Epsilon was just trying to be helpful," said Washington.

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"I'm sure Epsilon was just kidding," said Wash.

The Counselor raised his eyebrows. "Is that what you really think?"

"He's got a big mouth," said Wash, holding out his hands. "And ...a colorful personality. I'm sure he'll settle down in a couple days."

The Counselor turned his head to the side. "Most AI settle into their adult personalities within a few weeks of coming to consciousness. If Epsilon does not correct his behavior soon, this bad habit may become permanent. In that case, we would have to pair him with an agent ...assertive enough to counter him. I am afraid that an agent who can neither make full use of his AI's communication abilities nor prevent him from becoming a distraction may not have much place in Project freelancer."

Wash was quiet for a minute. "I understand, sir. I'll take care of the problem."

"See that you do. Dismissed."

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"Look, no one wanted to put you on the spot like that, Wash, but this stuff your AI keeps pulling has to stop," said York as he and Wash headed for the mess hall.

"I get it. He needs to learn a few manners."

"Speaking of manners," Epsilon fizzed into place over Wash's shoulder. "How about not talking about me like I'm not here?"

"Sorry, Epsilon," said Wash. "Besides," he turned back to York. "The Counselor is kind of overreacting. It's not like these are mission-level leaks. And..." Wash pulled his shoulders up to his neck. "It's not like your thing with Carolina was actually a secret? Half the squad knows."

"Yeah but she's really weird about the Director finding out about it," York said above a whisper. "This one keeps cracking jokes sooner or later they'll have to throw the book."

"Okay, okay," said Epsilon. "I promise to be more careful about stupid shit that doesn't matter that everybody knows about anyway. We good?"

"It's not just that," Wash said to Epsilon. "You've got to be more discreet about people's information," he said. "I mean the girls' tampon brands? Come on!"

"Eh, chicks like it when dudes aren't afraid to talk about that stuff," said Epsilon. "You boys just need to grow up and accept that women have gooey, gloppy, disgusting organic bodies, just like the rest of you meatbags."

"Come on," scoffed Wash. "You're like two weeks old. What do you about women?"

"Well it just so happens I've recently made a study of the mysteries of the female mind," Epsilon preened.

York shook his head. "You keep acting up around Tex and Omega's going to smack your right back to your transistors."

"Yeah well I don't quite have the wide-ranging options of our friend Wash here do I?"

Wash poked a straw into his apple juice. "What do you mean?"

"You know. Your dating pool. It's big."

York snorted. "Sorry. Got water up my nose."

"Not really," Wash answered as he put down his lunch tray and slid into the bench. "I've only had like three girlfriends, and only two long-term, and no offense but I'm not sure how many organic humans would be interested in dating an AI."

"Yeah, I know. I can see your memories," said Epsilon. "I'm saying that I don't also like dudes."

There was a sound of benches scraping as Wyoming, Florida and Montana dropped off their poker game and turned around, eyes converging on Washington like searchlights.

"What did he say?" murmured York. North glued his eyes to his magazine.

"I think Tex is more like that guy you were seeing right before Basic. John, Jeremy... Jimmy? The point is..." he trailed off. "Uh, why's everybody looking?"

Across the room, Wyoming turned back to his hand of cards, murmuring, "I knew it."

"Oh you did not," answered Florida.

"Hey..." said Epsilon. "That vein in your head's going kind of hard there, buddy."

The juice box exploded in Washington's fist.

"Were you not out?" Epsilon asked in a barely audible voice.

"Well I fucking AM NOW!"

York slid to the far end of the table.

"Dude, I am so sorry. I had no idea it was a secr—JESUS CHRIST."

Epsilon jumped back, projecting a foot out of Washington's reach as both hands went straight for his holographic trachea. He reappeared two tables away as Wash twisted after him.

"I'm going to kill you, you electronic asshole."

"You can't kill me! I live in your brain!"

"I will find a way."

"Wash! Calm down!" shouted York.

Epsilon reappeared partway across the room, half-hiding under a ceiling strut. "Wash, can we talk about—"

"No," hissed Washington. There was a sound of servos powering up and Wash became a yellow-gray streak gripping the strut with both hands as Epsilon disappeared.

"Help!"

"Hey!" shouted North. "Do not use your equipment in here!"

Wash either didn't hear him or didn't care, streaking after Epsilon like a yellow-striped hellhound.

"Watch it! Some of us are trying to eat lunch!" snapped South as Wash winged her elbow ducking between the benches. "Dumb motherfucker."

"Agent York, if you would kindly inform Epsilon that his holographic nature—"

"Not now, D."

"Fine. Just tell him to stop moving."

"What?" called Epsilon. "HELL NO."

"No, he's right," called North. "He can't actually hurt you, remember?"

"He said he'd find a way."

Amid the shouting, the door slid open.

"I think I'm finally getting the knack!"

"Come on, Penny. You'll feel better after a glass of—HOLY PIKACHU SHIT!" shouted Jersey as Wash jump-rappelled off Pennsylvania's already dented chestplate giving himself a good fifteen feet of lift.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" yelled Jersey.

"OW!" called Penn as a chair went wheeling through the air and bounced smack into her visor.

"Ugh," South rolled her eyes and took a bite of her sandwich.

Do you know how hard it is to be in the military and be anything but the perfect macho guy? Do you know the shit people are going to give me?

"Look, the other Freelancers who got AIs, even Wyoming, they don't have a problem with—"

It doesn't matter! It only takes one to make my life complete fucking hell and the whole ship's going to know by tomorrow.

"Aren't there like six guys who are out on this ship?"

That doesn't mean I wanted to be! And none of them are in the top eight. None of them have a big fat target next to their name!

"Well Agent Arkansas is a sniper so technically he does have a—"

SHUT UP!

"What's going on in here?" boomed a voice from the doorway.

Epsilon straightened out of his crouch behind the water cooler. "Oh, hey Tex. Nothing much. Just a little—Whoa!" he jumped back again as Wash darted toward him, sending the water tank spinning onto Montana and Jersey.

Do you know how hard I worked? You son of a— Wash staggered back as Tex kicked him in the face hard enough to crack his visor. He shook himself, dazed, as North and York grabbed him by the arms.

Tex looked at Wash and at Epsilon, shook her head, and walked away.

"Let me go!" snapped Wash. "What are you doing?"

"Stopping you before you do any more damage!" said North. A low moan came from the heap of plating that had been Pennsylvania. "If we're lucky no one'll write this up."

"I dunno if this is the best time to say this," said York, "but it's not going to make any difference that you're—"

"It's not the best time to say this," growled Washington.

Agent Florida sidled over, "So how into guys are you because I have this friend who thinks you're just the—"

"Not now, Florida," murmured North.

Epsilon slowly moved toward Wash at his eye level. "So..."

Wash let out a growl that would have made Maine step back. Epsilon squeaked.

North looked at the four perfect marks that Washington's gauntleted fingers had left on the ceiling. "Did he actually make that jump?" he asked

"Yeah," murmured Epsilon. "I wasn't even helping him with the math that time. Kid's got moves."

"Come on," muttered York as he and North bodily dragged Wash into the hall.

"Guys," Wash swallowed. "I'm sorry if I—"

"Okay," said North, shoving Wash into an alcove. "This is partially your own fault. You didn't rein him in when he was spilling other people's private business and now he's done it to you."

"Hey!" snapped Epsilon. "I'm right here."

"Shut up," snarled Wash.

"And two," said York, "the Director is going to find out about this so you should probably write up a report yourself."

Wash scowled but nodded.

"Three ...you were talking in his head."

Wash looked up. "I was?"

"Yeah, man. We couldn't hear a thing!"

"You couldn't?" Washington's voice pitched up in relief.

"Not a word," said York. "Of course, we could still hear all of what he was saying so—"

"DAMMIT."

"You know what this means—" said York.

"—you're back on the field assignment list," finished North.

"I'm back on the field assignment list," breathed Wash.

"Hey! We're back on the field assignment list!" cheered Epsilon. "Yay. Best day ever. So there's no reason for any more strangling."

"Nobody said that," growled Washington.

"You," York pointed at Epsilon, "dick. Move. If you can't keep a regular secret, what makes you think the brass'll trust either of you with military intel?"

"It was an accident. I didn't know it was a secret."

"You'd have known if you'd been paying attention," said Wash. "Or if you'd asked me about it."

"Come on," said North, putting a hand on York's shoulder. "It sounds like those two need to work a few things out."

Wash pushed himself to his feet and started walking in the opposite direction, not really caring where.

"So..." said Epsilon. "I'm... sorry I spilled the fact that you're bisexual to your teammates who love and support you and totally aren't homophobic? Biphobic?"

Wash narrowed his eyes. There it was, the way into Epsilon's mind. It wasn't about communication or familiarity with the implants or even shared mission goals. It was about getting to know someone for who they truly were, and hating them on a personal level.

I worked my ass off to get where I am, Epsilon, he thought clear as a bell into Epsilon's receiver. Top eight.

"Yeah, that's not gonna change."

It's not in my psych profile. Not even the Counselor knew.

"That's probably 'cause he wasn't looking for it. It's not like it's got jack to do with being a Freelancer. Most of you guys are too messed up to be dating anyone."

You ever wonder if all the men on the leaderboard are straight because that's their skill level or because people don't promote gay and bi guys no matter how good they are?

"Yeah, but I heard that South and Arizona..."

It's different for women, Epsilon. Flesh-and-blood humans see non-straight men as sexually threatening and they don't want them around.

"Don't worry about that, Wash. I'm sure no one sees you as sexually threatening."

You're a complete asshole.

Wash found himself at the hangar and felt the doors open in front of him. He walked to the rail and gripped it with both hands.

There was a guy on my first assignment. Out, proud and a perfect fit for squad leader. He should have been made sergeant when the spot opened up, but the brass thought that he couldn't hack it in a leadership position. They didn't ask any of the guys he'd actually be commanding what we thought about it. I don't want to be underestimated like that.

It's not just about who's homophobic. It's about the fact that I didn't want to deal with it, Epsilon. Not the politics, not the fratboy bullshit, not the people showing off how open-minded they are just by treating me normal, not the gay guys who think I'm kidding myself. I just wanted to focus on my job. Thanks to you, my whole team thinks I'm some pathetic closet case who had to be dragged into the open by someone else. I had the right to do this on my own terms, Epsilon.

"So you were going to stay quiet about it forever?"

"I was going to say something if it ever came up. That way I wouldn't be putting a spotlight on it. Like you said, it doesn't have anything to do with winning the war, and we don't date much."

Epsilon projected at Wash's elbow, looking out at the maintenance crews. "But maybe this makes it easier for the next guy, you know?"

"Epsilon," said Wash. "I let a team of surgeons embed an artificial copy of another human being in my central nervous system just because it might make humanity better prepared for another war to extinction. I've scored my trailblazer points. If I wanted to be an ambassador, I'd've joined the diplomatic corps."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, though. I really wouldn't've done it if I'd known. But York says he doesn't mind, and honestly I don't think anyone does."

That's not the point. They're supposed to not mind. They don't get to score good-guy points by not minding something that isn't their business and doesn't affect them.

Wash took a breath. "Up until now, I was just the new guy on the squad, eager to learn. Now the others will think that I let the other guys boss me around because I've got crushes on them when the truth is I just don't have an alpha personality."

"Alpha," Epsilon repeated blankly.

"You know, top dog. Always has to be in charge. Couldn't play second banana if his life depended on it unless there's someone bigger and badder around. York, Maine, the whole bunch of them, Carolina's the only reason that—Epsilon, are you okay?"

"It's fine. The Alpha's safe. Don't worry about the Alpha."

"...huh?"

"I said why do you let them boss you around? They're kinda a bunch of dicks."

"Because they're more experienced and usually right," said Wash. "But don't tell them I said that." He folded his arms. "You know, we're going to make a list of things that you can't tell people."

"Uh..." Epsilon trailed off.

"Check that, a list of things you can tell people. That'll probably save time."

"It goes 'the weather.'"

Epsilon was silent.

"And that's it."

"You suck."

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I got some really great suggestions to my "What would Epsilon do to the Freelancers if he were let loose on the MoI?" (tigereyes45, what the hell?!) but I realized that they had to be very specifically Epsilon being an asshole without realizing that he was being an asshole. This isn't the self-aware Church Alpha of Blood Gulch or the Epsilon of Chorus who apologizes to Tucker. This is him in his days of salad and glory, his strong, youthful, unfiltered jerkitude.

Originally posted as Darkfrog24 under the title "Best, Part 5."

drf24 at columbia dot edu