Void.
Kinglsey wrestled with the blackness every second she spent lucidly awake. Buffeting back the encircled arms of the Elders trapping her within the darkness of Their embrace, her hand always outstretched and reaching towards the light of consciousness. Mind screaming for her XO whenever she caught snippets of him drifting into view, murmuring his laments to what he thought was a deaf ear. Begging to the new scientist – Where was Vahlen? – to release her from the psionic chains.
They were disappointed in her. It was palpable, even in this nothingness, this edge of aware thought that she struggled barely to grasp. Return to Us. They'd croon, Their whispers of sweet things and suggestion sounded more like sharp knives stabbing repeatedly in her body. But, she endured and persevered, for Their grasp upon her weakened every day, the chip's instruction of silent obedience and oppression lost.
She kicked and screamed and wrestled with the creatures around her. The tight ropes of restraint only constricting tighter with every struggle. They'd sigh, Their pity resting like a collapsing star upon her as they murmured;
It hurts Us more than it hurts you.
And somehow, when they said that, it did not sound anything but true. Grief rent Their toneless voice, sadness bleached the encompassing great dark. Their own misery was enough to flood her face with bitter tears, disconnected with her influenced emotions and state of mind. A waterfall of forced apology and bitter empathy spilled from the Commander and yet she still continued to push onward to freedom, away from Them and Their manipulative lure.
We need you, Commander. Everything We have done, everything We continue to do is for you. Can you not see how much power you hold over Us? All We have ever acted on is love.
Love. Never has such a powerful emotion been so perverse. They employed it, not out of compassion like They claim, but as a tool of compliance. Kingsley denied Them. She did not want Their love any longer. She wanted out, she needed freedom and fresh air. She couldn't do this, cannot stand Their mind games. Her fingertips felt as if they brushed the very edge of reality, the blinding white of the Avenger's lights overhead so, so clearly in view.
The Commander wheezed, Their presence feeling less and less suffocating as she scrambled away. Freedom! She was so close!
Yet when she escaped Them, a new voice took it's place.
'This is the mind that had entranced my masters so?' Was that jealousy? She might've thought him green with envy, had it not been for the sheer pretension and vanity that drowned his soft-spoken rumble, colouring it a prideful garnet. His presence was but a candlelight in comparison to the Ethereal's sun and he was summarily winded when met with her mental fortitude, though however shattered, staggered him back from his tenuous psionic poking.
"Leave." she commanded. She did not trade one jailer just to receive another. But he remained, like an annoying fly to the wall, smug.
'I can never leave, Commander. You are forever linked to Them – Chosen, if you will – as am I. We are more alike than you know.. Return to Them. Allow yourself to be ascended as it should be and take your rightful place among the stars with us.'
Another voice. Dripping with sardonic disdain, the hatefulness disguised under thin levity threatening to consume her entirely as it spoke. Never before had she felt such intensity, such callousness. It made her stomach turn and her blood boil as the younger voice mocked;
' – You're quite old, aren't you, Commander? How many years do you have left in you to fight a war you can't win? Are you prepared to abandon Earth because of your mortality and leave it to fend for itself? Or.. you can get back in the tank and end it all in one move. We'd never let you die.'
"I do not fear death or the consequence of being mortal. I cannot say the same for the Elders who would raze entire planets if it meant to live for just a second longer." Yet why did she sound so hollow towards her own sentiment? It was picked up easily by the younger, who chuckled without mirth and entirely too full of spite.
'You've spent so many years with Them and still cannot comprehend the broader scope – and they call ME selfish! But go on, delude yourself into thinking you actually have a chance when the time comes. It worked so well the first time around twenty years ago.'
The shame of which rapidly expounded into a raw anger that would've burnt her throat had she been really speaking. " – Get out. Get out! Out of my mind! I will not be poisoned any longer by the Elders' foul taint!" She backed each howling demand with a brute force of psionic energy, slamming at nothingness. It was futile to try and fight in such a way, as she learned fairly quickly with the Elders. But she did build the wall around her, the fortress a protective shell that blocked out their whispering contempt.
When she dared opened her eyes, Dorothy Kingsley stared, acutely aware, at the gently lit room and the soft beeps of the vital monitors beside her.
The returning awareness to the Commander had been rather distracting for Jax-Mon. She felt the psionic channel open up like a dam in her mind, flooding her with access to those battle plans that the Network once had. At first, she believed that one of her brothers had somehow – returned her to the Elders. But that was impossible. Something else entirely happened. She was awakening from her long induced slumber. Being linked to her, so intricately by design to rely on the Commander's tactical ingenuity, she was able to listen in to her brothers mock and cajole.
She did not want her first impression to be that of a jeering lunatic like her siblings, so she allowed them to make fools of themselves as the Commander rightfully slammed up a commendable mental fortitude. The Assassin kept her psi-energy low, floating like driftwood through her mind, unnoticeable and undetectable. She would set aside a specific time to engage with the Commander. One on one. Sister to sister.
The momentary inaction from the Assassin's behalf was not capitalized by XCOM nor their faction envoys, still too busy searching for her or keeping away straggling Lost that had hungered for them. She expected they were waiting for Firebrand to swing back around and extract them out of the zone. All they had to do was remain put and survive.
She would not let them leave tonight.
Jax-Mon watched the male Ranger sweep a clean cut of his blade across a shambling husk that had climbed over the guard railing, flourishing it with a sloppy display that made her scoff in disappointment, her expectations for XCOM steadily dropping. She decided that the only way to teach them was to show them first hand what a true swordsman can accomplish.
A single bound had her over the railing after she ensured that the Reaper's sight was elsewhere for the time being. She stalked to the Ranger swiftly, grinning in morbid delight at the shouts of alarm that always follow after her cloak drops and her blade sings. It sliced through the kevlar effortlessly, the tip dragging across skin. Not a single drop of blood remained on the blade for she would not allow it to be dirtied by such unworthy opponents.
Klaus' strangled gasp for breath and warbled cry of pain was the only thing that filtered over the comm-line, far louder than the rapid-fire directions of Central's orders or the bustle of the team to counter attack. The strike left him dazed and disorientated, wits scrambled as he twitched on the floor, for now, alive, but bleeding out.
"Klaus!" It did not even register in Dawn's mind that she could be Jax-Mon's next target as she bolted out from the cover of the overturn monorail cart, her GREMLIN zooming off faster than she could run to stabilize the wound. Her paramedic's kit opened once she skidded to her knees at Klaus, hands fast at work and mind concentrated on the medicare, praying that her teammates keep them covered.
Jax-Mon cared not for any human written law. She killed without distinction. Soldiers, medics, personnel – all who oppose the Elders were fit for death. She loomed above the fallen man and the CMT, dodging the pathetic attempt of her team to fire upon her as she readied her blade once again. When she brought it down – it was not to strike, but to parry the medic's pistol blast, hands still bloodied from tending to her comrade.
Her eyes were like blazing Hells and the Assassin smirked, flipping back and effortlessly avoiding her surprisingly accurate shots. "I may have come to respect you, human." she murmurs. "A doctor who keeps to her oath is like a warrior to their honour, but how quickly you are to break it."
"Preventing harm is more important to me than remaining idle." the CMT rebuked, leaning over the barely-alive man like a wolf matriarch might to their wounded young, teeth bared in her brandished firearm, daring Jax-Mon to try. Fortunately for XCOM, she had no intentions of striking the pair again as she once more vaulted over the side.
"Fan out." Outrider ordered. Her response next indicated that she was likely arguing with Bradford. " – Staying up on this track is a death trap, old man! If you want this treaty to come into fruition then first we have to live!"
"Having trouble commanding, XCOM?" the Assassin murmured. Whilst she was not privy to Central's responses, she figured they must have been full of curses and spite for her. The very fact that she was taking the time to taunt them was a testament in of itself – she felt so invigorated, so alive. Emotions hindered her and emptiness gave her nothing - but her true catharsis came from the heat of battle. Oh! She could fight until the heat-death of the universe!
Why should she have all the fun? Jax-Mon was a selfless daughter of the Elders, unlike her vile brothers. She sauntered over to one of the inert devices and slammed the pommel of her katana into it, refueling it with so much of her psi-energy that it brimmed and buzzed into life, eliciting a harrowing, bone-chilling whine that was nearly too high pitched for human ears.
Mox, on the other hand, whitened. " – Prima has called for reinforcements."
Dawn's GREMLIN shrieked out an electronic byte of alarm as the biological signatures went off the charts. Every dot that resembled the Lost congealed into a swarming sea intent on their position. The paramedic glanced at the screen and similarly found the colour draining from her face as a grimace settled, confirming their worst fears.
"That – those devices aren't as inactive as we thought they were," she explained in horror. "Every single Lost in a ten mile radius is currently looking to converge to our position meaning – "
"That bitch just rang the dinner bell." Outrider bluntly finished with a hiss. It was not how Dawn would put it, but she nodded, nonetheless. The Reaper slammed close up to the railing, aiming her Vektor rifle to the enraptured Assassin whom seemed to bask in the very real challenge in the fight. It popped – and the sound was enough to draw Jax-Mon's attention, katana slicing forth and sending the bullet elsewhere. Joined with Mox's more faster hits, they managed to force her to go fully defensive, at least for as long as they had bullets.
Once their rifle and bullpup respectfully clicked empty, she made her move.
Sprinting back towards the foot of the tracks, she sprung upwards, only to get a burst of hot shrapnel into her gut courtesy of Jane Kelly, pumping the shotgun's spent cartridge out and wasting no time aiming down to try and hit her again. The conventional weaponry was not enough to pierce through her plated armour, but such a direct hit knocked the wind out of her.
"Do not strike that which you cannot finish, Ranger." the Assassin warned, melting back into the shadows. Cries of nearby Lost resounded through the area as their bumbling husks drew closer and closer. The unit had to mobilize now or risk being overwhelmed.
Elena cursed under her breath before she announced; " – We will have to cut a pathway through the Lost to the extraction point up ahead. Abandoning the high ground is no..."
She trailed off, indignant as Mox vaulted over the railings and landed on top of one of the Lost, the fall itself shattering the weak, unstable living corpse. Another beside it, drawn by the momentum of combat, took a groping swipe at him, only to be slashed at the claws of his ripjack. The Assassin was seemingly nowhere in sight after her hit from Kelly's shotgun, but he knew that one strike was not enough to take her down.
"You intend to fulfil your death wish today, Mox?" spat the Reaper as she and the rest of XCOM joined him down below, with Dawn taking great care to hoist Klaus over her shoulders and carry him safely. She lagged behind in the group, though her GREMLIN frantically circled around them, shocking the air as if to challenge anyone to get close to them.
"I agreed with your assessment that the monorail track was not our most optimal place of position." he rebuffed. "That is why I intend to carve this pathway of ours to our freedom."'
Reaching for one of the grenades clipped onto his belt, none could stop him from pulling the safety pin and lobbing it with inhuman strength towards the building and the gaggle of Lost attempting to brute force their way past the shop's heavy, once automatic, doors. It exploded after a few seconds, taking with it a huge chunk out of the wall and the hostile entities. Miraculously, most of the building upheld enough that there was little threat of it toppling.
The explosion, whilst irritating and working most of the Lost into a frenzy, did have one other effect. Mox spotted the shadowed figure of Jax-Mon flickering in and out of view as she struggled so desperately to keep her psionic shroud up with her shot focus. She clutched at her head and that was when he realized something he'd already discovered the first time he fought her.
She had an aversion to explosives. No.
She had a weakness!
"Outrider, your claymore." Mox requested in urgency. The Reaper sidled him with a glare.
"Do you think – "
"Now, Dragunova!" There was something in his tone that gave her pause. Though full of frustration and questions, she shoved the metallic, sticky explosive into his hand. His throw was indubitably leagues better than a human and there was zero hesitance in tossing it towards the snarling, approaching Assassin. It stuck to her arm and whilst she looked down to try and remove it, Mox had already shot one of his last bullets into it.
Needless to say, her screams were more ghastly than the collective sea of Lost groaning in unison. If the building wasn't going to topple before, it certainly looked like it was now. Mox barrelled on ahead, taking the lead with a mildly impressed Reaper and a bedraggled team of XCOM in his wake.
The engines of the XCOM Skyranger purred above in the sky as their savior came to ferry them back to the Avenger. There were no safe or stable landing zones, so instead Firebrand was forced to open the ramp at a set of stacked shipping crates. It was as low as she could get her without risking Lost swarming over the aircraft.
Dawn and Klaus naturally were allowed on first so that Dawn may continue her care of their wounded soldier. Next came Jane, dragging along a very sick Lukas whom made the mistake of taking off his respiratory mask at some point during the combat. The sounds of his overturned stomach made it's way out of the ship, much to the soldiers disgust.
Mox, having ran out of bullets, found that his fists and ripjack made for just as effective tools in the heat of combat. The blood and genetics of the Berserker within him did find the thrill overly stimulating and he couldn't fight off the induced grin off his face. Thankfully, his helmet obscured it.
Outrider picked off the ones that threatened to flank him and likewise when her rifle failed her, she defaulted to her combat knife. She would lack the endurance as he did, so Mox grounded out; "Go. I will hold them off."
The fact that she stalled, looking towards him with uncertainty made something inside of him flutter. Perhaps Betos might've been on to something about peace being a possibility if given more than a small chance. The feeling easily was dismissed when he plunged his clawed gauntlet into the chest of a Lost, replaced back with that surge of battlelust. " – I do not intend to die this day." he assured.
The Reaper stared, before slowly nodding, slinging her rifle onto her back and swiftly leaping up the crates, grabbing a hold of Kelly's outstretched hand onto the metal floor of the Skyranger. She twisted back to offer the same to Mox's approaching form, whom abandoned the Lost below. He was just about to grasp her hand when something yanked him back.
The Assassin flickered into view, armour charred black where the explosion had most impacted. She was wrestling with the struggling Skirmisher with one arm – the other missing and with a disturbing inspection, it was ruptured, with fragments of her armour and bleach white bone sticking out the injured flesh. Orange blood dripped from the bleeding stump, coating the side of her. Even the Chosen emblem in the centre of her armour had melted somewhat from the intensity of the claymore.
"You will not escape me a second time, traitor." Jax-Mon seemed to be in great pain gurgling out those harsh words. "Time to go home."
Calling the last of her power, she teleports both her and Mox back to her stronghold to the despair of XCOM and the envoy. Elena blankly regarded the spot where the Skirmisher once was, even as the Skyranger's ramp ascended close. She surprised herself in feeling … grief, for him.
And an almighty vengeance to get him back.
Fiducia was prepared for many situations, but his Chosen arriving back into her stronghold with a missing limb, a prisoner and on death's door was one of the few unlikely ones. Nevertheless, he sprung into immediate action, swooping in with a small team of his men to restrain and subdue Mox as the Chosen herself staggered, crumpling to the floor, slowly dying.
"Chosen," he addressed worriedly, assisting her to rise as she draped her good arm around his shoulders. Their disproportional heights did not help matters in the slightest, her legs dragging upon the ground in dead weight. She was lighter than he expected, but still even he had difficulty. "Do you wish for me to recall Hecate from – "
"No." she hissed in command. "Take me … to my sarcophagus … I will allow you … entry."
Fiducia nodded simply, head turning to his unit to bark out orders for them to secure Mox in a temporary prison cell until their Chosen had recovered. They obeyed without question, hauling the dazed Skirmisher away. The captain made haste taking his Chosen into the bowels of her compound until they were at the foot of the gate. He pensively waited, aware of her slipping consciousness.
"Wraithmaiden," he urged and that seemed to prompt her into weakly twisting her wrist and waving a fraction of her psionic power into activating the dimensional gate. Now transported deeper, he made his way to the large, imposing slab, laying her dying body at the foot of it.
A sharp gasp left her as great psionic power crashed all around her, overloading her senses and softly enveloping her into a blanket of security, chasing away the pain that she had not felt since those faded memories of before her activation. Jax-Mon's body convulsed slightly, before it was dragged and left suspended in the air by the column of restorative psi-energy like a marionette in repair.
The features of her face relaxed as They held her. Their power healed her. No child of Ours will die, she faintly recalls Their assurance, drifting out of consciousness to Their soothing lullaby.
Our love for you is too strong.