Epsilon

I haven't really slept well the last couple of weeks. And I wish I could say it's because I'm having crazy sex with my super-hot girlfriend all of the time, and don't get me wrong, I totally am, but that's not what this is about. No, I'm not sleeping well because ever since I saw that damn research flier and had Sookie root around in my head, the peanut gallery's chattier than ever. Everyone has an opinion, but the surprising thing is, we're all kid of in agreement.

We need more information about these people. We need to get in there.

Delta the info junkie wants the intel to run the odds on our next move. Theta wants to know if we can trust the doctors doing that study. Sigma wants to know everything about them and what they can do with the information they're getting and gee, maybe we can use it. Gamma wants to admire the artifice of the whole thing. Even Omega thinks we can find something there to destroy the world with.

It's not often we all want the same thing, I mean, it's also not often they're so vocal about things, which makes me nervous for a variety of reasons, none of which I'll get into here, but really, for all that we came from the same mind, we're pretty different guys. It feels almost... good to at least have a common goal. If only they could stop talking about it so much. I mean, I have a job and a girlfriend and it's not like I can just throw on my suit and go crashing in, guns blazing. I kinda wanna do this without attention or a body count. So after a couple of weeks of scoping the place out, I'm ready to break in. Got my suit, picked up some tools that I can use and I find the back door.

It... takes longer to break in than it should. Delta tries to help, but we're not computer programs anymore and these alarm systems are fucking ancient.

I bet York could do it.

I think that's highly unlikely. While York was perfectly capable, the... low tech nature of these devices would frustrate him as much as it does Epsilon.

Don't you miss York, Delta? I miss North an awful lot.

Of course I miss him, Theta. I miss all the Freelancers.

And I miss having my head to myself. Pipe down, guys, we're in. Sheesh. I swear, we're not going to get through this if everyone starts down memory lane tonight.

From inside my helmet, I scan the hallway, trying to decide where to start. Eenie-menie-miney- Knock-knock.

Shut the fuck up, Gamma.

This is the mail box for Leonard Church.