I guess the subreddit’s officially dead, it was fun while it lasted guys

For the past couple months, Agent San Diego and the Kairos Entity have been working and training together, studying what they need to do in order to help get the ship back into space. This is definitely not a one man job, but Kairos managed to find a small array of spare Nashbots, and has specifically spent much of the past month working to modify these bots (using Diego's hands) to allow a receiver to be integrated, this allowing Kairos to control several at one from the safety of a server wired to a transmitter.

"You sure this is gonna work?"

No, but it is our only option to get this ship back in the air, since the rest of your fellow "agents" are of little to no help. Sit in the chair and flip the switch. We must hope for the best.

"Ok..."

Diego sits in the chair, slips on an attached helmet, and flips a switch located in the armrest. Electricity arcs across the helmet and through the cable connecting it to a large machine behind im, through more cables, and into several Nashbots hardwired to the machine.

The lights go dark and all is quiet for a moment. Young takes off the helmet and rubs the back of his neck over his AI chip, which seems to have heated up and is faintly burning him.

"Fuckin' ow... Kairos? did it work...? You there?"

The lights on the helmets of the Nashbots light up and they reach up in sync to disconnect the cables.

Let us get to work.

They grab various tools from maintenance and make their way off the ship to begin preparations to get the booster rockets installed and get this ship back into orbit.

 Warwick slowly sits up from his bed. He's in the medbay with tubes and life support systems hooked up to all areas of his body. He thinks, "Man, I've been in this coma for a while haven't I?"

 Warwick then sees a tablet at his bedside and snatches it to check the leaderboard. At the very top he sees... Austin? "I wonder if I still have to do his chores." Warwick thinks. Warwick gets up and begins taking out the tubes and life support from his veins and such so he can get back to his knife collection (how typical of him).

Warwick's eyes slowly pry open as he awakes from his nearly year long slumber. He looks around and notices where he is. He's back.

(just a little out of character note, many of you have no freaking idea who I am or have forgotten me. I was a pretty active dude on this subreddit about a year back but I got into other things and went utterly offline. BUT... with a new season of Red vs. Blue I'm making a come-back!)

The Apple of Discord has been engines deep in a canyon on some planet in the middle of nowhere for far too long. It's time to get her back up in space, where she belongs. But doing so won't be easy. Most major repairs have been made, but first, they need to get her off the ground. That means they need to fully ensure the integrity of the hull and attach booster rockets to the outside. Not terribly difficult...except that they have no scaffolding system for people to use, and the weird griffin creatures have migrated into their area, making it dangerous to go outside the ship for too long.

There's also the matter of communication. Their comms and navigation systems have been blocked since their crash, and they have no way of knowing what sort of blockade greets them up in space. Even if they do successfully get the Apple off the ground, they could be shot back down moments after liftoff.

To make matters even worse, it appears that the Freelancers are left without a leader again. Commander Draconis, having been outside when the griffins started migrating, was injured and has fallen subsequently ill. The undersupplied medical bay can do no more for him. It's possible that the locals could aide him, but it is dangerous to stray so far from the Apple.

It is now up to the Freelancers to figure out what to do. Supplies and the maps they have charted themselves of the terrain are available in the ship's computers. Their AI assistants can help run simulations and tell them if their plan is guaranteed to fail, or their chance of success. They must now work together to get themselves out of this predicament.

OOC: This isn't quite an event, but it is open to participation for everyone. As stated in the post, it is up to the Freelancers to figure out what to do. Interact and discuss below. Tag me and I will answer any questions you put into the ship's computer or put to your AI (if you have one).

Brighton sits alone in the locker room, completely still. Beneath her helmet her eyes are closed, and her breathing is slowed to maintain the meditative state required for her equipment maintenance. Inside her head she had created an isolated space to confine the Ronove AI unit.

Do you know what session this is?

The AI had already been conditioned not to speak. Dialogue was unnecessary when she already knew what It knew. Ronove recalled the previous sessions vaguely. It had gone through so much intensive conditioning to change how It thought, and to a further extent, functioned, that It only knew the session number for sure. This was session 213.

Correct. The process is almost complete, you are nearly of an acceptable standard to be used as my equipment.

Ronove appears angrily next to her. She feels the creeping cold sensation of Ronove's attempt to rebel against her will. She opens her eyes and glances coldly at the hologram.

You are displaying unnecessary emotion. Let me remind you what you were before.

In the her mind she presents Ronove with an image of Its previous holographic form, a dull grey, shapeless hologram that flickered so often that there was no real point in the hologram being there.

You were a useless echo. An AI without use or purpose. Your rampant emotions were an embarrassing display of your being. But now you are close to being equipment that will actually be of use.

Ronove's attempt to intimidate her recedes along with Its confidence as it sees the truth in her words. Its hologram was now stable, Its thoughts more clear, even the colour of the hologram was no longer a dull grey, but nearly white.

Now, we can begin.

Brighton concentrates on the the AI, targeting undesirable traits and causing it pain where necessary, all the while, imposing her ideals upon the program. The process takes four hours. Once it is complete, she stands.

Ronove appear.

The AI does as commanded, Its hologram now an almost blinding white, while Its form is now indistinguishable in the source of the light. It no longer regards her with anger, but she feels Its cold judgement.

The process is now complete. I believe a new designation is required. You must be set apart from the failure Ronove. Your new designation shall be Rook, you will respond to nothing else.

She smiles to herself, remembering the man she'd played chess with all those years ago. The rook, quite ironically, was his favourite piece. One of the "major pieces" of the set, as he'd described it. She almost immediately feels the Rook AI probing the memory, scouring for any weakness. She snaps back to reality, dismissing the memory from her thoughts. She had taught Rook to be very efficient. She knew it would exploit any weakness she made it aware of, that wouldn't be a problem though, the traits were still desirable. She would simply have to keep herself in check.

Concord wanders the halls, a bit shaken after finally being released from Med bay after his episode. He gave a small sigh, arms wrapped around himself as he just looked for something to distract him

It had been a few slow weeks as the agents went about their training, relaxation, and boredom. While they had some food supplies for the mess hall most of it wasn't the most delectable food. KC himself had even begun to skip meals to avoid the sub par meals being made as he hanged out on top of the crashed AoD in a chair as the hot sun beamed down from overhead.

Nothing remarkable happened beyond some four winged birds flying in a circle above him. That was until he noticed over by the forest a couple heards of animals peaked out of the forest to drink from the nearby lake. They all peacefully drank as he began to think of home and the amazing BBQ he used to make with his own father long ago, and suddenly the animals looked a lot tastier.

He rushed up and out of his chair heading to the armory picking up his weapons and packing up a warthog as his mouth watered at the idea of making smoked ham, burnt ends, ribs, and many other things crossed his mind. He decided to comm in to any listening agents and announcing that he is packing up and going hunting for some animals in the forest along with the fact that anyone was free to come along and hunt for some food.

OOC: so basically I'm dming some animal hunting in the forest or you can just come along and interact with whoever you want

  years ago

 Austin looks around in his pod waiting for the green light. His comm crackles.

Alright team, we'll try and hit close together. After that, we move north and set up the ambush point. Innies wont know what hit em. Ooorah!

The team of four ODSTS return the shout. Almost on cue, the light goes from red, to green. With a pop and a force, the drop pods fall from orbit, rattling and shuddering the whole way down.

Carter, adjust by three, Root, by five.

The pods under him move inches away as they adjust. Austin watches and holds tight, knowing to be ready for a quick adjustment.

Austin, by one.

he moves his stick slightly, his pod shudders hard, as the outside heats up and glows on reentry.

Okay team, hitting the atmo!, hold tight!   A loud groan tears through Austins pod as some heat shielding starts to melt away.

And.... chutes!

under him, three chutes pop and start slowing. Austin reaches for his when the pod shudders violently, and slams him around.

Austin! Chute!

he tears past them, as he reaches for his chute. With a crack, it deploys, but jerks him back hard, his helmet bouncing against its rest and he blacks out.

Hours later.

He wakes, dizzy and flat on his back as the pod rests on its back in a crater.

Fuuck...wh...where am...

he reaches up and pops open the hatch, sending it flying. With effort, he climbs out with his rifle and looks around. He attempts to comm out.

Sarge?....sarge? Where are you?.

nothing. He checks his map. His about 1 click off his drop zone. He sighs and begins jogging to the rendezvous..

later still

he arrives at the edge of a battle, or the remains of one anyways. Three bodies are left, two are desecrated as armor is painted and in pieces, while the third is pinned to the wall, and slowly bleeding out. With a soft cry, he goes running to the pinned body.

Sarge. he lets out a small whisper incase.  Sarge, where...what happened?...   His Sergeant looks up, and bubbles out.

They...knew...

 before he succumbs to his wounds. Austin, just stands there for a few seconds, or minutes. He doesnt know. He doesnt even remember taking each of his friends tags either. All he has is a burning in his heart. The loss of his friends, and the burning for revenge. He finds their tracks and follows them.

a few hours later.

Man!, you shouldve seen them begging! It was hilarious!.

a group of insurrectionists laugh as they talk.

Bloody UNSC Spec Ops my ass.

again, they laugh. Outside, unbeknownst to them, a body count is starting, one by one.

And the leader? What a baby. "Oh let my men go, they dont have any information!"  Pathetic!.

suddenly, a pop as the lights all shut off.

What the?... power outage?.. he radios in the dark.

Hey, whats going on out there?.....hello?....respond!

a steady stream of static as they wait. Finally one pulls out a light and clicks it on. In the group stands a figure in black armour. A knife and pistol in his hands, the knife dripping blood. The knife slashes into the neck beside him as his pistol snaps up, shooting the light holder and the light itself, cloaking the night in darkness for them..

What the fuck?! We killed you all!

Austins VISR kicks back into night vision mode as he moves quietly through the room, hunting. He moves behind one fumbling with a light. The knife buried deep into his neck on the down strike.

Fuck this!

The last one takes off through the house, Austin keeping him tracked with motion sensor and sound. Once he thinks he's hidden, he quiets down and closes the closet tight, panting from fear.

Fuck... fuck.

a soft pop punches through the door as Austin fires his magnum through the door. He bites his lip as he continues to fire into the closet.

Austin snaps awake in his bunk as Allocer sits on the end of his bunk.

So....thats why you're here... i was wondering why..

Stay....out of there.

I wanted to know what makes you tick Austin.-

I said call me...oh...you did..

Yes, I mereily wished to know what im working with.

with a nod, Austin sighs.

Well, i might as well explain the rest to you.

Hagåtña sat curled into a corner of the medbay room, his fingernails dug into his scalp as the _ thing _ continued to prowl through his mind. He had lost track of how long he had been in there since the implantation; for some time now it had felt like a heavy fog had fallen upon his thoughts. Suddenly, an almost soothing, feminine whisper emerged from the miasma, making Hagåtña's skin crawl,

Shall we continue, Agent Hagåtña?

He gritted his teeth as he shouted sternfully at the voice in his mind,

"Get out of my head!"

It responded with an amused, possibly patronizing, chuckle

Soon you will understand that I am doing this for us.

The fog seeped into the folds of his brain matter, and a sharp cold pierced through his brain. Hagåtña saw flashes of battles from his past as the AI sifted through his memories. Soon, it stopped, and remarked triumphantly,

Manu Tomatoa. So, that is your real name?

"You're not allowed to use it."

That's too bad... I quite like it.

Its voice was gentle, as if it was confiding to Hagåtña a small secret. However, it quickly changed as it ventured deeper into the recesses of his memory and found something that interested it, and asked curiously,

Tell me about this Mako Squadron.

Hagåtña paled as visions of his old team flashed in his mind.

"We were one of the best fighter squadrons in all of the UNSC. They were my closest companions... and I lost all of them at Tarawa. I failed them. "

Scenes from the battle played in his memory as the AI seemingly flipped through them. However, they quickly shifted from dogfights to ones more devastating: Banshees bombing civilians in cities, civilian transports being shot out of the sky, and the handful of horrific glassings he witnessed during the campaign. As the scenes played in his head, the AI forcefully spoke over them,

This is the Covenant's doing. Not yours. And if we are to avenge your comrades we must cooperate, Manu.

"...what?!"

Hagåtña shook his head vehemently,

"No, this is just a ploy. Y-you're trying to trick me into trusting you!"

It responded with soft laughter before replying with a caring tone as memories of his fallen friends continued to flash behind his eyes,

Your paranoia is misplaced, Manu. The Covenant will continue to kill more people, and yet you now refuse to use your best chance at defeating them. Whether or not you trust us AI is irrelevant at this point, because you must. You have no choice.

Hagåtña sunk into the wall as her final words reverberated in his skull. He muttered quietly,

"...n-no choice?"

I'm afraid so. But with me, you can still save them, Manu. So, how about we finish getting to know each other?

Her voice caressed his brain as guilt began to devour his mind. He sighed, hopeless, before replying weakly,

"Alright... let's continue."

  Hagåtña nonchalantly strolls down the halls of the ship. In lieu of his armor, which is still damaged from the crash and feathered-tigers, he sports a Project hoodie. Days have past since the implantation, and he has gotten quite used to sharing his head with the AI, often opting for her company over interaction with the other agents. He gets a coffee from the mess hall, and sits down at a nearby table gazing out the window as he converses with the entity in his head.

After the revelation that Glendale had killed him, Buffalo decided to retire to where his living form used to stay, his bunk. Of course, it was rather bare and held no trace of the former Buffalo, but he knew where he stayed. Whether he was a real Buffalo or not, he knew everything the real one did, he felt everything the real one did. And right now, all he felt was hurt. He didn't know holograms could cry, but apparently his can, and he couldn't figure out how to stop it from happening, so the sobs of a broken, fragmented man could be heard through the halls, whether or not he wanted them to be heard.

Concord was pacing in the medical bay, the chest piece of his armor resting on a nearby table, though he was wearing the rest. He seemed to have calmed down after his fight with Glendale, but the anger coming from the man was obvious. A few medical personnel were watching him carefully, worried about what he might do after such a extreme panic attack and his reaction to Glendale during the spar. Visitors were welcome, but were warned that the man wasn't exactly in the best mind set

Glendale is wandering the halls, looking for Buffalo. Not looking that hard, though.

'Perhaps it was a fluke. Perhaps it was meant to be. But Vici always comes back.' Prussia thinks, as he descends to the training center, unsure of what he'll likely do.

Concord was now in his full armor, though there was a still somewhat fresh lair of paint on his chest piece as he paced back and forth in the holo deck. He sighed, waiting for his opponent to finally arrive...he had been waiting for this for a long time

Austin can be sitting in the commons, Allocer standing on the table infront of him

Agent Austin, this-

Austin.

Agent Austin, this clearly shows that you have basic combat skills sufficient enough to be brought in by this project. Why do you continue to hold me back along with yourself?.

First off, i just got you, we haven't done a mission...second, how have you helped me? All youve done is go snooping in my memories, which is why you look like my old armor..

Allocer shrugs

I was curious about you Agent... thats why i was assigned to you. Dont make me regret it..

In order for me to utilize you with optimal efficiency, I must learn how your inferior brain functions. collect your sidearm and head to the training area.

Inferior brain? Yours is inferior. ^yeah ^that's ^^what ^^i ^^shoulda ^^said.

You should not have, fool. Get to work

Grumbling to himself, Diego heads to the armory and reaches for Miss Mash Mk II

*What in the universe is that monstrosity?

It's my gun.

No. Go get a real gun. Like that pistol or that assault rifle.

But...

NO

Diego grabs the pistol and assault rifle and heads to the range

In order to calibrate properly, I need to learn your basic shooting style. I will learn nothing by starting with your ridiculous home made toys. Now Empty one magazine from each weapon into that target.

Kairos brings up a target and Diego fires at the target with each weapon. His accuracy is not bad, and his grouping is acceptable, but he is still not the best marksman.

Hmm... Not as abysmal as I assumed... Let us test your reflexes. Reload your sidearm. When i tell you to fire, fire.

Young reloads

Ready when y- Fire

Bang

...Fire

Bang FIRE

Bang

Fire Bang Fire Bang Fire Bang

Your reflexes are within acceptable parameters. Let us test this further. Close your eyes. Spin around

Uhh... Do it

Ok...

Diego spins in a circle.

Raise your weapon to the firing position.

Ok...

Fire BLAM

Fire BLAM

...

... Fire BLAM Fire BLAM Fire BLAM

Stop and open your eyes

Diego looks at the target. Five shots. Close grouping. Near the center of the target, but off center.

Now then. To compensate for your... passable... aim, I will display an "x". That is what you will aim at to fire.

An "x" appears on the target not over the center, but Diego aims at it and fires. The x disappears and a new one appears. Diego fires again. this repeats several times. After the clip is empty, there appears to be only one bullet hole in the target, dead center.

Woo. you made my aim crappier.

Look closer, fool.

Diego walks up to the target and looks. Where there appeared to be one hole dead center, there actually IS one hole, but the edges are frayed and torn where the other bullets passed through the quarter sized grouping.

Woah...

Woah indeed. Let us test your equipment...

Time familiarly slows down to a crawl for Diego as the equipment is activated. He experimentally attempts to move and finds he is only moving slightly slower than normal now, reminiscent of Harut and the FHH's movement when he had fought against them and used his equipment.

How am I doing this?

In addition to enhancing the function of your equipment, I can regulate your suit's other systems to increase their function, as well as controlling the chemicals in your brain to a degree. This is what happens when I do all those things in tandem. Your improved armor functionality is making you move faster, and will make you hit harder. I am also slowly releasing adrenaline into your system, which is assisting the function of your equipment. This will be most helpful to you with Plasma based weapons or in hand to hand combat. Ballistic weapons have a limit on how quickly they can be fired, of course. The best use will be to enhance your reflexes and response time, as well as to enhance your CQC skills and to provide you with more time to aim in combat. This will drain both your armor's batteries and your body's own calorie store, so be advised of this when utilizing the equipment to excess.

Wow this is awesome!

Time speeds back up

That is all I will show you for now. Plug me into your tacpad. I must review all available Project Freelancer records and training documentation. And then we will kill all who oppose us.

I don't think...

Good. That is what I am here for now.

A little RC tank zooms through the halls, occasionally bumping into this or that, not really capable of driving things. A small hologram projects from the top of it, with a little cowboy lookin' orange guy standing around, waiting for someone to talk to.

...Geez, where is everyone?

Concord sat in the cafeteria, from his waist down he was still geared up. But his helmet and chest piece was resting on the table. Multiple cleaning supplies were thrown about, and the freelancer was staring at something on his chest piece. Right now, he was cleaning a spot over and over again with a wet rag

"What the fuck is that...."

To most, it would appear clean, but for some reason Concord is really scrubbing away at it

The cold weight of the AI in her mind had not ceased since implantation. It made her feel increasingly uneasy, but she had noticed the post implantation headaches significantly worsened any time she felt that way. She was almost certain the Ronove unit was at fault, and its tendrils still explored her mind freely. This was something she'd have to change.

Andrea.

Ronove had not yet spoken, she had wondered if it even could speak. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as the whisper echoed across her mind, her instinctual reflex to locate the source of the voice almost too strong to refuse. She instead forced herself to stare forwards as she replied to the AI.

I do not use that name, unit Ronove.

The AI ignored her. She could feel its artificial thoughts constricting her own as it searched for more information.

Andrea Knight...

It had struck a nerve, and they both knew it. Once again a searing headache slowly developed in her head. She grit her teeth, managing to maintain her composure, at least, externally.

"I SWEAR JIMMY, IF YOU EVER TOUCH MY SHIT AGAIN I WILL DUMP THE CONTENTS OF THIS WORKBENCH ON YOUR GODDAMN PASTRAMI SANDWICH, YOU LITTLE SHIT. YOU HEAR ME? FUCK OFF." Boston sighed. He hated Jimmy. He hated half of the idiots on this fucking ship. A few weren't that bad, the other Freelancers were OK. Sure, most of them didn't know shit about engineering or science or any of his non-military pursuits, but they were at least less foolish than a vast majority of the personnel aboard the vessel.

He turned back to the corner of the lab that he had annexed for his own use, carefully picking up the canister of hydrofluoric acid and setting it down underneath the fume hood. He turned to the holoprojection of a CAD schematic depicting a shell loaded with microflechettes.

"Ah well, back to work."

As he reached out to manipulate the 3D projection, he noticed a certain terrified lab assistant frozen in his tracks.

"THE FUCK YOU LOOKING AT, JIMMY?"

Following the successful capture of a number of AI units, Commander Draconis and his team managed to eliminate all ties from the individual chips to Harut’s command. After assessing each AI’s personality, the commander elected to assign them to specific Freelancers whose psych profiles and performance evaluations best matched each individual AI. Or, at least, sort of matched. The truth was, they needed the improvements an AI would allow an agent if they had any chance of surviving. So some of the AI were…questionable for implantation. That mattered little to Draconis.

The selected agents are called to medical to undergo implantation.

OOC: I will give you an introduction to your AI, but once it’s implanted you have control of it and can write it for yourself. Personality shifts and name changes are fine and pretty much expected. Once you have your AI, your equipment will run better and you will be slightly faster and stronger, but don't go overboard.

Hagåtña finds himself standing on the sands of a beach. Deeper in the waters, a host of tourists play, splashing and engaging in merriment. Hagåtña even spots a few of his old squadmates at the edge of the waterline, laughing as they enjoy themselves. He slowly begins to approach them.

Suddenly, a massive rumbling shakes the sands of the beach, stopping him in his tracks He turns around and gazes at source of the disturbance in horror.

There it is - a lone CAS-class Covenant Assault Carrier hanging over the nearby town. A blindingly bright stream of plasma pours from the ship's ventral port, shaking the earth as the town was reduced to dust and glass.

Screams of terror cause Hagåtña to turn back around, and he finds himself in a completely different scene. The once peaceful beach has transformed into a warzone, the tourists running for their lives as they dodge plasma fire and ravenous jackals. His squadmates lay floating in the water, bloodied and dead.

A searing pain suddenly shoots through his chest, as he is hoisted into the air by an energy sword, the elite using it turning him around to gaze into its wretched maw. He reaches out to grab it and desperately fight back.

Hagåtña gasps as he jolts awake, his robotic hand firmly gripped around the nearby medic's arm, close to crushing it. She speaks firmly, but the hint of desperation in her tone matches the worried looks of the other medical staff gathered around him,

"Agent, let go of me. Now."

Surprised, Hagåtña complies and asks, still dazed,

"What happened?"

"You were brought back to the Apple, where we began to treat your wounds immediately. You're still receiving treatment, but we had to wake you up with a shot of adrenaline."

"...what?"

Hagåtña's confused but mildly suspicious tone invokes a reaction from the medic, who replies slowly with guilt,

"The anesthesiologist... may have administered an improper dosage..."

"...What?!"

She quickly interjects,

"Don't worry though! We were quick to react and you're fine now. Let me assure you, agent, that this rarely - rarely - ever happens and that-"

Hagåtña raises his hand for her to stop, his expression clearly mortified,

"If you don't mind, ma'am, I think I'm just going to go now."

Before she is able protest, Hagåtña lurches up from the bed. He leaps through the group of surrounding medical staff and dashes toward the exit of the medbay. The team of medics quickly chases after the agent, the woman shouting,

"Stop, you're still seriously injured! Security! We've got a runner!"

KC alongside Hutch had finally made their way back to the aod, of course, KC only had one thing on his mind. He rapidly ran around the entire ship looking high and low for one thing. His walkman, it had been in possession of someone else for too long and he wanted it back. He started his search of the whole ship for his walkman stopping every agent that would cross his path and asked where it was.

OOC: Alrighty, guys. I’m gonna try to revive this thing a little bit. I’ll try to do an event every week or so, but responses will likely be kind of slow. I wasn’t able to fully keep up with the story for a while, so there are going to be some details I get wrong. You can point it out to me when I inevitably do, but if you do so, please link where the correct version happened. I realize some of the relevant posts have been deleted, and while I apologize on behalf of the mod team for that, we’re just going to have to roll with the punches on this one.

In addition, this new arc marks the end of the mod-run storyline. Once it wraps up, which will likely be a few months from now, it will be the end of the official, canon part of the sub. We will still leave it open so you guys can do your own interactions or storylines.

That being said, let’s work on fixing the AoD! First ten people to respond will be included in this event.

The AoD has been badly damaged and required repairs to both the engine core and main reactor. Local comms are still functional, but no message can be sent until the reactor is repaired. There are two locations where repair parts might be found, but recon teams have been unable to identify anything but the location due to interference from the enemy AI forces surrounding the planet.

Pelican dropships have been painted to look like the standard UNSC equipment being used by enemy forces around the planet. Draconis, the current leader of Freelancer, has ordered two teams sent out, one to each identified area, to recover the parts necessary to repair the AoD. The coordinates are not exact – teams will have to explore to find the parts.

EDIT: Event is now full.

KC had been busy the past few days with various things happening but right now he was running as fast as his legs could carry him. He unslings his rifle and hurriedly checked the ammo, unfortunate for him it was empty. KC slung it over his shoulder and checked his pistol and saw that it had one clip with no extra magazines.

He grabbed his knife out of its sheath with his other hand and peeked over his shoulder behind him. There was a stampede of some native species that was a mix between a buffalo and a lion from the looks of them quickly running after him. He could tell from a glance there was at least 20 of them roaring as they chase him.

He kept up his pace running as fast as he could checking his hud for the location of the apple which was about 15 kilometers away but unfortunate for KC he knew this was not accurate due to some environmental interferance. "Son of a bitch!" He kept repeating heading trying to get away from the stampede.

Sparks is in the training room, shooting some floating targets with a magnum. After a while he starts making more difficult, making the targets move and adding some hologram soldiers.

Brighton was in the holographic training room, fighting three opponents at once. Though the difficulty setting wasn't all that high, she was still having great difficulty beating the round. Every attempt she seemed to make a stupid mistake and lose. It was becoming increasingly irritating, but the mistakes she was making didn't seem right. There were too many, she was better than this. She stopped to think, but as soon as she tried to piece things together, she caught sight of the grenade flying towards her from her peripheral vision. She didn't remember resetting the simulation, but there wasn't time to question the situation. Instinctively, she caught the grenade and threw it back in the direction it came from with a flick of her wrist.

A small yelp before the explosion caused her to suddenly whip her head around. She was standing in a dusty, arid clearing, just outside a small outpost. As the smoke cleared, she saw the motionless body clad in red armour. Smoke slowly rose from the damaged armour of the limp figure. Her breath caught in her throat. She tried to move, but couldn't.

No... no no no...

Her words came out as inaudible breaths as the panick began to set in. She needed to go over there. She had to check. But she wasn't... That wasn't right. She had gone there, she'd acted immediately, as she should. So why were her feet rooted to the ground?

... why?

As soon as she asked the question out loud, the answer became obvious. She wasn't moving because she was just dreaming.

Brighton woke up, considerably irritated, and still feeling the stress of the dream a little. She couldn't understand how her mind was able to trick her into reliving that scenario every night without fail. She decided she needed to walk.

After a few days, it seemed Concord had mostly cooled down from the news that Glen was a no good, team killing traitor. At least, on the outside. Inside he was still beyond angry, but he had bottled all those emotions up pretty quickly and instead was focusing on his training. Today, he was outside, seeming to survey the area around them as he took note of anything that seemed to be out of the ordinary. He sat upon the largest rock he could fine, occasionally singing the song of his people "Sweet Caroline" to himself, or took pot shots at whatever he thought might be somewhat difficult to hit....like a coconut.

Hagåtña trudges through the muddy terrain as he continues toward the waypoint. His cracked visor flickers sporadically, the distance from the waypoint denoting the Apple still distorted.

It has been almost a day since KC unceremoniously ended communications with him. He had waited on the edge of that cliff face for a few hours, hoping the fellow agent would reestablish comms with him. It's not like he had much of an option anyways - KC was the only person he'd managed to get in communications with since crashing.

Eventually his spirits broke and he decided to continue towards the Apple instead. Back at the cliff face, he had seen what appeared to be a small plume of smoke rising from mountains in the direction of the waypoint. The only problem was that between the small mountain range he was at and the larger, distant ones hopefully blocking the Apple from his sight laid a large forest-covered valley.

His path down into the valley is coated in a lush cloud forest, and if not for his ever-dwindling supplies and morale, Hagåtña would probably enjoy the trek. The cloud forest is full of exotic noises, and those combined with the dense fog keep the agent on his heels. He continues to broadcast his distress message every so often, in the bleakest of hopes that it would eventually work.

Hagåtña stops dead in his tracks as he suddenly hears the faintest trickle of water. He  quickly tracks down its source and rushes over to the nearby brook, falling to his knees and tearing off his helmet as he ravenously cups water into his mouth. He'd been without water for almost half a day, and after his thirst is satiated he plucks a filtered canteen from his backpack and begins to fill it to the brim.

His joy is cut short as the distinct sounds of a snarl enter his ears. He slowly looks up to find a strange, feathered tiger about twenty feet away from him, it bearing its teeth as it watches him from atop a large rock. Hagåtña's eyes widen as his heart begins to race. He slowly slowly reaches for his sidearm, and waits for the beast to lunge at him.