Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

- Dylan Thomas

XCOM Alpha Site, Brazil. March 16th 2016.

Central Officer Bradford walked wearily out of the situation room, his heart heavy at the events of the past day. Only slightly less than a day ago, the forces of the alien invaders that had besieged Earth for more than a year had launched a offensive directly targeting the XCOM HQ. Sabotaging the headquarter's impressive security systems with psionically-hijacked XCOM personnel, they had gained access to the inner sanctum of Humanity's first- and last- line of defence. The attack had been repelled, but at the cost of the vast majority of XCOM's senior operatives…and the life of XCOM's commanding officer. Bradford passed a area of corridor that had been sectioned off with orange barriers, the utilitarian gunmetal walls scarred with pockmarks from alien plasma fire. A few splatters of what Bradford preferred to think of as motor oil hadn't yet been cleaned off the floor. A group of engineers were working to repair the damage, and a couple of the scarred metal wall panels had already been removed, showcasing the bare bedrock that lay behind. They stopped their work and saluted as Bradford walked by. Bradford saluted back, nodding to the workers in what he hoped was a commanding manner. Once he was out of sight, he leaned back against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. Commander Pereira- XCOM's late commanding officer- was a natural born leader. He had been a inspiration to Bradford, and to the entire organisation. Bradford desperately wished that this was all a bad dream, and that this entire situation was just a figment of his strained nerves.

"…if wishes were horses…" he mused to himself.

"Pardon, Central Officer?'

Bradford straightened. "Doctor Vahlen. How are things down in the labs?"

"Things are…difficult…" replied XCOM's chief scientist. "The aliens hit the computer cores housed near Delta Section before our operatives could repel them. We've lost the last month of research, including all the work on our current project. Fortunately, our off-site data centres had the older projects backed up, so we haven't lost our laser tech to sabotage. Unfortunately, our progress on the light plasma weapons our teams captured has stalled, and we've lost the last month of progress. I'll send a full report on our situation to your desk."

Bradford nodded. "What about our live captures? I heard there was a breakout."

Vahlen grimaced. "Security captured all but three of the escapees and returned them to the cells. I've sent some of the operatives into the vents…"

Bradford blinked. "We have loose aliens in the base?"

Vahlen nodded. "Three of our Sectoid captives managed to escape captivity during the attack. Apparently the security chief deemed the relaying of this information unimportant."

Bradford glowered, and motioned for Vahlen to follow him towards the command centre.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Vahlen," Bradford said. "I'll bring this matter of miscommunication up with the Chief later on. Are they still on the loose?"

Vahlen nodded. "One is. Two of them have been incapacitated for the time being. One was brought down by Captain Erikson and Lieutenant Reed, and the other was shot dead by base security when it attempted to sabotage our Elerium reactor. The last has so far eluded us, but I believe we're looking for it in the ventilation systems…"

"Why is it always vents?"

Major Matthew 'Richter' Walker groaned as his companion complained for the sixth time in the past few hours. His teammate, a squaddie called Randal, had so far proved to be little more than a mouth on legs. The pair had been tasked with searching the northeast ventilation system for the final X-ray escapee, and so far they'd found nothing but dust. Randal hadn't stopped complaining about the assignment, which was typical of a reserve troop who hadn't been on a single mission before.

"Seriously, this shit is like Aliens or something. If a Facehugger appears, I'm not sticking around sir. I mean, those things are…"

"Will you shut up?" growled Richter, turning to face the junior operative. As he did, one of his metal limbs scraped across the duct work, the artificial touch receptors in the prosthetic informing him of the contact with a dull ache. Sometimes he missed his real limbs. But ever since he got his arms blown off during a council op, and subsequently volunteered for the new MEC program, he'd been a better man. His new cyberlimbs could certainly run faster and lift more weight than his old ones. Hell, he certainly had more 'stamina' than before…

"Hey, all I'm saying is that this is a clichéd situation, y'know? Like, it's always the ducts."

"Randal. We have a job to do. If you keep talking, I'm going to put my metal fist somewhere unpleasant. You won't like that."

The less seasoned soldier zipped it after that. Richter slid himself out of the duct and into a maintenance passageway that formed part of the duct system. The space was just tall enough for him to stand inside, and just wide enough for a single person. The floor was bare concrete, as was the roof. In the distance, Richter could hear the thrum of the Elerium generator that provided a large chunk of the XCOM HQ's primary power supply.

"Right. Security reported that the last captive was last seen in this sector," said Richter. "The other teams are moving in right now, but it looks like we're the first here. Keep a eye out."

"I know, I know," said Randal dismissively. "I was at the briefing as well. You don't have to- URK!"

Richter spun around as Randal cut off mid-sentence. The man had the characteristic lightning tendrils of a ARC thrower discharge crackling round his armour. He was hit again from behind, crumpling to the floor. The man lay there shuddering, knocked cold by the non-lethal weapon. Behind him stood the last Sectoid, carrying one of the boxy stun weapons. Richter froze for a instant as the alien aimed the weapon at him. He saw the alien pull the trigger, and squeezed his eyes closed.

Bleep

He opened them again to see the alien fiddling with the gun, before aiming it at him again. The gun bleeped again, signalling it was depleted. While the alien frantically fiddled with the weapon, Richter raised his laser rifle and fired. Since his MEC wouldn't be able to fit within the ducts, Richter had been issued with a laser rifle. He'd never used one, as they hadn't been developed when he underwent his augmentation. After that, he'd never had the chance to fire one at the test range.

Thus, he wasn't surprised when the shot missed the alien completely. He was surprised, however, when the shot hit a switch board on the wall and shorted out the lights. The passageway was plunged into darkness for a brief moment, before the secondary lighting snapped on; illuminating the passageway a dull red. Before Richter's eyes could adjust, the alien had shoved him to the floor and leapt on top of him. He felt a pressure at his temples as the alien used its latent psionic abilities to try and get inside his head. Feeling his willpower sap away, he quickly pushed the alien off his chest, and stumbled to his feet. The alien flew backward through the air before slamming into the wall with a smack. It lay on the ground, winded. Grabbing his laser rifle, he shot it through its bulbous head, killing it for good.

He grabbed his radio, and raised it to his mouth. "Central, final X-ray subdued. Lethal force used. Tell Dr. Vahlen to prepare another cryotube for cadaver storage."

Elsewhere…

Annette didn't know what to think. The last few months had been so very frantic in their pacing. Little more than six months ago, she had been captured by the Extraterrestres, before managing to escape and seek safety elsewhere. Then, she had been rescued by agents of some sort of militaire étrangere, before being captured again while being moved to a safe house. She wished that she could be back home, back with her Mama, but she knew that was improbable at the most. Her family had been with her when she was abducted, and she didn't know if they'd gotten away like she had. Now, she was in the custody of a group of men that she assumed to be terrorists.

'Why does this keep happening to me?' she thought in despair. 'Does God want to punish me for some other reason?'

Currently, Annette was tied to a metal chair in a dark, cold room carved from stone. Water dripped from a crack in the roof, and the only illumination came from a small slit high up on the far wall. Freezing wind whistled through the barred opening, bringing with it a smell she recognised. She was in the mountains.

'Is this the Alps?' she thought. 'Home is not too far from here. If I could just-"

There was a shriek of rusted metal from the door in front of her. The viewing slit snapped open, and a gruff voice ordered her to sit still. She began to worry. The guards had only brought food a small time ago. This hadn't happened before. As the door clanged open, she screamed. There were two of the business-suit wearing guards as usual…but there was also a tall figure clad in a thin red robe. It wore a strange helmet upon its head, and floated a couple of centimetres above the ground. Then, it raised six, spindly arms, and she felt herself slip away into the black.

Hello readers! I know I said that I would be on hiatus this year, and you're right! I thought I'd post this however, since I just had the urge to write it. This is going to be continued in 2020, or late this year at the very least. Without further ado, this is Crazy Minh, signing off again for 2019!