Assault (Red vs Blue)

2: Visitation

2: Visitation

Present Day: U.N.S.C. Prison Center (Undisclosed planetary location)

The prison center loomed overhead as Washington approached it with North and York. Staring at the building, it brought up memories for Wash that he'd been trying to forget. The last time he'd set eyes on a prison, he'd been the one in handcuffs. It felt good but also odd to be on the opposite side of things.

"You guys ready to do this?" North asked as they looked at the building.

York shook his head. "Absolutely not. I didn't like dealing with anyone from Project Independence the first time around. And I don't care if there are bars between us; I don't like this."

Wash sighed. "I'm with York — let's just get this over with. The sooner we can leave, the better."

The three of them entered the building and were immediately stopped by four prison guards. Their presence made Wash extremely uncomfortable. It felt like the guards were staring at him and only him. Did any of them realize who he was? And if they did, did they know he'd been in prison before? It certainly felt like that was the case.

"Okay, you three. I'm gonna need to see some clearance papers. This is a maximum security prison center," one of the guards stated.

"Of course," North said, handing him the documents the Director had sent.

The guard took the papers and examined them. Only he looked at them for a little too long. He passed the papers to one of the other guards and looked at the freelancers. "You're kidding me, right? You don't honestly expect me to trust the legality of those documents. This is the second time today someone's come in here with phony-looking papers."

"Those documents aren't fake in the slightest. They're totally legitimate," York argued. "I'm Agent New York, as stated on the papers. These," he gestured to his teammates, "are agents Washington and North Dakota. Again, as stated. And they're signed by the Director of Project Freelancer. So how in the hell are we trying to give you false documents?"

"Let's see some ID, then," the guard ordered, clearly still not convinced.

"Are you kidding me?" Wash asked.

"Do I seem like I'm kidding, soldier? Do as you're told," the guard replied. "Take off your helmets. Show me some photo ID and your tags. If I don't see some kind of verification, you're not getting through."

Grumbling under their breath, the three of them obeyed the guard's orders. They all removed their helmets and presented their IDs, as well as their dog tags. The guard examined them closely for several minutes before finally seeming to give up. Whatever he'd been hoping to prove clearly wasn't going to happen. Everything was perfectly in order — the Director had made sure of that. He was doing things completely by the book this time around. At least, he had been so far. Washington knew only time would tell if the Director would continue doing everything the legal way.

The guard sighed in disappointment. "I guess you guys check out. It was just kinda hard to believe. Project Freelancer was supposed to have been disbanded a long time ago. And we were told most of its agents had died."

Wash tucked his tags away and put his helmet back on, just as his teammates did. "Obviously, the U.N.S.C. got some things wrong. I don't think any of us look dead. And Project Freelancer never really disbanded. It more . . . went dormant for a while. Now would you mind directing us to the prisoners we've requested to see?"