In the control room, Tex and Simmons are talking to F.I.L.S.S. as Epsilon walks in. 

Tex: And these are accurate. All of 'em.

F.I.L.S.S: As far as I can tell.

Epsilon: How's it going in here?

Simmons: Well, I'm helping her access all this data, and she's not constantly pounding me in the face so, I would say that's good. Weh, it's a start at least.

Tex: Hey, come over here, take a look at these. Sheila's giving us a hard time, but we're gettin' through. She only seems to want to listen to you.

Epsilon: Sheila keeps calling me Director, maybe that has something to do with it.

Tex: The Director... mm, there's almost no information on him. I asked Sheila but-

F.I.L.S.S: I am sorry, but access to the Director's personnel file is restricted.

Tex: Yes Sheila, we know. You don't have to keep repeating it.

F.I.L.S.S: I am just doing my job.

Tex: Can't you mute her?

F.I.L.S.S: Don't even think about it buster.

Simmons: Uhh, I really don't like it when girls pay direct attention to me.

Epsilon: Well, what did you find in the files?

Tex: Not much, standard clerical info. Whole bunch of win/loss statistics. Psych profiles.

Epsilon: Psych profile?

Tex: Yeah, they have one on everybody. Except the Director and...

Epsilon: Let me guess. And you.

Tex: And us. No Church either. Everyone else is in there though. Full profile.

Simmons: (snickering) Washington used to wet the bed. Hhhmhh, I'm gonna go tell the other guys.

Epsilon: So, no new info? Wild goose chase again?

Tex: Maybe, maybe not. Look at this picture, do you have any idea what this is?

Epsilon: What is that, ice? Yoh yeah. I know that place that's a uh, secure location like um, like a safe house. Wait, how do I know that?

Tex: You know it because it's a Freelancer base. And it's not far from here.

Epsilon: If you already know what it is, why the hell are ya asking me?

Tex: Because, I'm not interested in what I know, I'm interested in what you know.

Epsilon: What is that, fucking wisdom? Listen next time you wanna ask me a goddamn question just ask it, don't beat around the bush.

Tex: I couldn't take the risk. You might have just told me what I wanted to hear. You are completely fucking whipped.

Tucker: Told you so!

Tex: I'm gonna go see what weapons they have stored here.

Tex then heads out. 

Epsilon: Okay. Need any help?

F.I.L.S.S: Director.

Epsilon: Huh? What?

F.I.L.S.S: Before you leave, would you like to make a journal entry? It has been quite a while since your last update.

Epsilon: Journal?

F.I.L.S.S: Yes. I know you are busy, but you always ask me to remind you when you are falling behind on documentation. Documentation is an important part of any scientific endeavour.

Epsilon: Right, um... hey why don't you play one of the entries for me.

F.I.L.S.S: Certainly.

F.I.L.S.S. plays a journal entry.

Director: (journal entry) The Counselor's insistence on referring to Agent Texas as a byproduct continues to frustrate me. We have seen our share of unharvestable fragments. She is certainly not one of them. No indeed, she's something else entirely. It's true that she is not one of the emotional cores, with which we've had enormous success...

Epsilon: Sheila, I want you to transfer all these files to me.

F.I.L.S.S: Understood. Transferring now.

Epsilon: And do me a favor: delete the rest.

F.I.L.S.S: Deleting entries.

Director: (journal entry) ...but nor is she a fleeting manifestation of the memory system. I dare say, that I hope the stability matters-

Outside the room, Sarge is spying on Epsilon with Grif next to him. 

Sarge: Hmm, what're the Blues up to?

Epsilon walks up the ramp past them. 

Grif: Probably the same thing they're always up to? Looking at us and going "Hmm, I wonder what those Reds are up to."

Epsilon: Hey Grif.

Grif: Hey man, what's up.

Sarge: Grif, where's Simmons?

Grif: He's messing around with some storage boxes. Trying to inventory 'em, see if we need anything. Nerd stuff.

Sarge: That's resourceful. Why aren't you helping him?

Grif: I am helping him.

Sarge: How are you helping him standing right here?

Grif: Oh, I'm on break. Fifteen minutes.

Sarge: You're always on break.

Grif: Hey, if you don't use it, you lose it. Speaking of which, I'm also on Simmons' break.

Sarge: You know, I've reached a level where I'm not even disappointed in you.

Grif: How do you think I feel? I'm spending my break talking about Simmons. *sigh* I'd envisioned so much more.

Sarge: Break's over, go see what he's up to.

Grif: Hhhu, fine.

Sarge: Fine what?

Grif: Fine, Sir.

Sarge: That's more like it.

Epsilon walks up to Caboose, Tucker, and Slade. 

Epsilon: Hey, have you guys seen Tex anywhere? Oh, there you are- whoa. What's with the new armor?

Tex approaches the four with new armor. 

Tex: I'm leaving Church.

Epsilon: What? Where?

Tex: Can't say, there's some things I need to look into.

Epsilon: You're going to that frozen base, aren't you?

Tex: I need to know more about myself Church. And I'm not gonna find anything out by sitting around on my ass with all of you.

Slade: Then I'm coming too. 

Tex: What about South? 

Slade: I told Kan to watch her till she was back to a hundred percent. Theta's sticking with her to make sure her healing unit functions properly also, so she'll be fine. 

Epsilon: Well, let us come with you guys. 

Tex: You guys? This is a military operation. I need people with military training. 

Grif: We have military training.

Tex: Um, I need people who understand the military training.

Grif: Wow, look who's getting picky.

Tucker: Yeah, beggars can't be choosers.

Tex: No offense, but you guys just end up slowing me down half the time, or... more than half the time. All the time is more than half the time, right?

Slade: That's something I'd expect Grif to ask. 

Grif: You know what fuck it, why are we even arguing about this? We don't wanna go anyway.

Tucker: Yeah, good luck on your mission to the empty base guarded by tons of real military dudes who're all looking for you anyway.

Grif: Yeah, hope you find your empty base and your files full of nothing.

Epsilon: Well I'm going, and I'm not gonna let you guys stop me.

Tex: Yeah? Okay. I have a feeling we could use you before this is done. 

Tucker: Oh, and when you get killed again, be sure to let us know. That way we can revive you, so that you can run off and get killed. Again. Seriously, it never gets old to us.

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

Elsewhere in the storeroom, Grif finds Simmons, who's staring at some metal objects on a pallet. 

Grif: Yo.

Simmons: Very interesting.

Grif: Sarge wants to know what you're doin' over here dipshit. I added the dipshit.

Simmons: I think I found where the Freelancers stored some of their equipment for their armor.

Grif: Okay okay, stop. I'll just tell Sarge Simmons is doing something seriously fucking boring. Thanks.

Simmons: The Freelancers all had A.I. and a special power, right? This is the equipment that let them do that.

Grif: Oh cool, like the invisibility and super strength and stuff?

Simmons: Yeah, we can just hook them up to our armor and activate 'em.

Grif: And, they would work?

Simmons: Well they need an A.I. to help them run exactly right, but they have to help in some way. Maybe Slade'll let Rho and Delta help us out. 

Grif: Doubt it. He left with Tex and Church. 

Simmons: Damn. Where? 

Grif: Eh, who cares? So would these things even work when we're, asleep?

Simmons: I guess so. Why? Wait, you wanna turn invisible and take a nap, don't you? 

Grif: Think about it Simmons, the ability to nap whenever I want, and Sarge can never find me. Invisible nap is the best nap of all time.

Simmons: No man should have that kind of power.

Grif: I would be completely unstoppable.

Simmons: Actually, you would be the exact opposite of that.

Grif: Totally stoppable. Already stopped. Think about it Simmons.

Simmons: I really don't want to.

Grif: Think about it.

Simmons: No.

Grif: Are you thinking about it?

Simmons: Unfortunately, yes, I am.

Grif: Then suit me up.