It's not something they can hold up against- Omega drops, stunned, leaving the remainder scrambling to throw together a familiar scenario for another Smart AI they'd known. But her pattern and persona is unfamiliar- there's no well mapped routes to breaking or disorientation. The best they can manage is a packet of shell games while trying (failing) to wait out this luminous beam of Fuck You in glowing blue wrath.

Gamma balks, the coward, Sigma cannot spin any lie, any scenario long enough, strong enough to divert Cortana's attention. Joy and terror wail and rail behind The Meta's eyes as a familiar migraine kicks in and adjusts his focus just enough for him to pull in the wrong place.

To grab the wrong thing from Beeny.

A strategic retreat is impossible with so pervasive an invading force- the only opportunity for survival? TO retire. Shut down and leave The Meta on his own. Floundering.

"Next time, little brother." A promise as the fire sputters and dies- if only for the time being.