XCOM: A New Phoenix

by TheMysticDreamer

After 20 years of alien occupation, the Resistance finally has its trump card: The Commander. But for their plans to work, they need the troops on the field to play their part. Half AAR, half narrative, this will be a retelling and partial re-imagining of XCOM 2's plot, loosely based on a completed playthrough, and through the eyes of a varied cast of soldiers.

9. Chapter 9: The Assassin

Lt. Zack "Fullscreen" Luo

The tips of my fingers softly brushed over the freshly-polished leather strapped around the outside of my left thigh, passing gently over the holster until I felt the coarse, custom grip of my preferred century-old design. One of the benefits of being on injury leave was time to pursue some minor personal hobbies, like leatherworking. But nobody said that my new hobbies couldn't also be useful on the battlefield. I drew the handgun in one, smooth motion, then leveled it against the first target. My right hand wrapping around my left, I prepared to pull the trigger. One. Two. Three. I took a breath. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Click. I exhaled. Lowering my pistol, I took a glance at the targets. Clean circles were cut out of each of their foreheads, except for the sixth, which I had hit in the chin. A defeated sigh came out of me. The perfect score was still unbagged.

Despite having been out of combat form with a broken leg for some time, I wasn't about to spend my time idle. Aside from assisting the Commander with strategic consultations, I had been thinking back to my first encounter with life-or-death close combat. Simply put, a single combat knife wasn't about to cut it. So I'd been honing my abilities with a pistol, while working with Shen on a way to keep a sidearm viable against the types of creatures we'd be going up against. Laser tech was deemed too bulky to fit in a compact enough package, and would have required its own development, so we came up with delayed-explosion rounds. They'd get into your armor and then blow chunks of metal and flesh straight off. And if the foe was unarmored? Well, let's just say we'd be seeing some splattered matter over the ground. But just as I was getting lost in my thoughts, while I methodically disassembled and inspected my firearm, a voice called from the stairs.

"How's the shooting coming along?" Jack asked.

I pivoted around, wincing as I put a bit too much pressure on my leg. It still ached, from time to time. Even with all of our recovery technology, there was only so much damage that could be reversed. Sometimes, bones just didn't set right, muscles stayed strained, or the ravages of age remained. Some of my injuries might be with me for the rest of my life. I supposed it was nature telling me that even with all of this alien technology, the drugs and treatments, I couldn't run from death forever. I was getting older. A sobering thought, to be sure.

"Still chasing that forty-nine." I replied, after a moment's hesitation.

"Still?" Jack sighed. "Look, a Sectoid will get blown to chunks whether you hit it in the chest or head. Perfect is the enemy of good enough, or whatever the saying is."

"Jack, I'm doing this for me. It's therapeutic, and god knows we all need our own little therapies in our current state. It's like meditation with guns. Zen shit." I said, as I began to reassemble by firearm.

"I suppose we do, but this isn't about decompressing, is it. Ever since we got aboard this ship, you've been pushing yourself harder than everyone else. Going on every covert assignment, training any spare moment on the ship, and staying up late, working in the Command Room, even when Bradford's checked out. Even when you're injured, or tired, or coming off a particularly rough op, you don't take a moment to rest."

I loaded a fresh magazine as I replied. "I've been working hard because we all need to, and I have to lead by example if I want the best out of those serving under me. And I'm taking my breaks. I've been doing my crafts and shit." I grabbed my pistol by the barrel, showing him the ornately decorated grip. "I'm fine."

"No you're not. You've gotten addicted to working, and I'm worried about you. This isn't sustainable. You'll eventually hit a wall, and that's not going to be good for anyone, especially those that rely on you."

"Look, Jack, I don't even know if I'll live to see myself get burnt out. I'd rather put in the work when I know I'll be alive, rather than take a break for a future that may or may not come. My life's precious to me, and I'd rather spend every second of it I have now instead of saving it for some unknown day in the distance."

Jack began to say something else, but he was cut off by the loud beep of the practice range, indicating the targets were ready. I turned to look at him. He shook his head slowly, then began up the stairs. I returned my handgun to my holster, steadying my breathing. I still had half a dozen practice magazines to get through.

-xxx-

It had been half a month since Houston was liberated, and the Resistance did not slack off in the meantime. On the strategic front, we were continuing to make ground into ADVENT-controlled areas on the continent, while making contact with a number of other cells globally. Soon, we'd be taking the fight to the aliens across every plot and parcel of land on Earth. Meanwhile, Tygan, Shen, and everyone else on the support staff were in the process of preparing several very welcome gifts for us.

Our first experimental beam weapons were just about ready to shoot, although at the moment they had a nasty habit of growing increasingly unstable the more they were fired. Not quite combat ready yet, but close, and having equal weaponry to the aliens would give us another vital leg up, especially if we were to attempt operations in the most well-armed areas of ADVENT control. Meanwhile, on the psionic front, we had made two critical advancements. Firstly, the Oracle, or "Shadow Chamber", as Tygan insisted on naming it. Essentially, we had a full datatap running on the alien network now. And due to the nature of the psionic network, it was nearly impossible for the invaders to remove or block us without losing control of their entire army. It gave us information on troop movements, strategic decisions, and supply locations. Everything a guerilla force could ever desire to know about their enemy, we now possessed.

The second, and far more exciting development came with the information we had processed regarding the aliens' investigations into latent human psionic ability. They had developed a massive dossier on how to find and develop individuals with these psionic powers. Apparently, the aliens have taken a keen interest in the human genome, especially the parts that code for psionic activity. To what purpose we don't know, but there's no way it's good for us. Scores of civilians had paid the price for these discoveries, but there wasn't anything we could do for them now, except use this information to try and avenge them. To that effect, we sent out the parts of the dossier containing the psionic potential test to every resistance group we had contact with, imploring them to send any individuals found to possess the Gift to us, in order to give them further training. So far, we'd received three individuals, with at least half a dozen more to come, and Tygan was meticulously testing them for their talents.

Along with the main file on the development of human psionic talent, there were also notes regarding several potential human psionic threats, all but one of which were labelled as "Terminated". It was this latter point that would give us even more information to pursue our third major new development: our hunt of the Chosen Assassin. After putting out several signals, the Commander eventually secured a meeting with the final remaining group, calling themselves the Templars, fashioned after those Christian knights of old. They were sympathetic to our cause, but stated that they were deep in hiding due to having been betrayed by one of their own. Allegedly, a high-ranking member of their faction was captured and "turned into an Apostle of Lilith." Upon further questioning, this "Lilith" matched identically to our Assassin, and we offered assistance in return for aid in tracking down our mutual enemy. They accepted.

Our opportunity to deal with this psionic traitor came not long after. He had reappeared in Portugal a day ago, and was in transit east. We received corroborating information of a small, elite, and unlabeled convoy heading through Spain, planning a stop in Barcelona. We had our man. The Templars offered up their European Assistant Inquisitor to assist, especially if we were to take our mark alive, in which case we could certainly pry some information out of the target. The Avenger hopped the Atlantic for the first time in nearly a year, as we suited up for deployment. We had Basilisk, our new Menace 1-4, along with me, Karl, Jack, and Avci, while Riley was in the sick bay with recurring headaches. I would have preferred an extra member, but we needed two free seats, just in case we actually managed to take our target alive.

We landed on the outskirts of town, right in the middle of a small village. A few civilians caught a glimpse of us, but quickly fled as soon as they saw our weapons. Our ride was right across the road. An ADVENT van, the only discerning detail being a small splotch of purple paint on the driver's door. We piled in, as I took shotgun.

"Welcome to Espania, XCOM." Said the driver, clad in a strange metallic helmet and golden robes.

I looked him over, then asked, "I assume you are Black Swan? Assistant Inquisitor?"

"Yes, but please. Call me Julio. Julio Matida." The man replied.

"Alright, Julio. I assume you've run over the plan?"

"We drive in, grab the man, and your plane picks us up?"

I nodded. "It likely won't be that simple, but essentially."

"It may not be. Belial has been quiet recently."

The name caught me off guard. "Belial?"

"Yes. Of the three Demonic Spawn. From which Lilith, or your Assassin, is but one."

My eyes widened. "You mean, there are more of those things out there?"

"Yes. Belial, the marksman who serves in shackles, and Lucifer, the Divine cast down."

I couldn't make a lick of sense from what the man beside me was saying, but I filed it away in my mental inventory, reminding myself to inform the Commander when we got back to base. As the van eased into the city streets of Barcelona, a mess of ancient stone and modern alloy, I let myself zone out a little. It was a strange sight, human and alien architecture blending together. I wondered why the aliens didn't just tear everything down. I doubted it was sentimental value.

"We have arrived. The convoy is parked right there." Julio pointed to a series of armoured SUVs to our left. We dismounted the vehicle, as I glanced around. The convoy was indeed there, three larger vehicles with a sleek sports car in the middle. Two ADVENT troopers facing away from us, and no civilians to alert any guards. We were ready to move. But as we crossed the street, a shot ripped out, and I saw one of the troopers' heads turn into a fine red mist. The gunshot was strangely faint and melodic, like windchimes, and completely unlike any XCOM, ADVENT, or alien weapons. There was a third party, and I had no idea who it was here for.

"Get to cover!" I yelled, as I slung my sniper rifle off my back, scanning the rooftops for a sharpshooter. I couldn't see him, until the second ADVENT trooper dropped dead as well. I caught a faint glimpse of a muzzle flash, and scoped in on that pinprick of light. A hooded man, carrying a rifle as tall as he was, preparing to fire again. I had no idea if he was aiming at friend or foe, so I pulled the trigger, crosshair firmly on top of his head. I saw him flinch hard, as the laser ripped into his left shoulder. His shot went completely wide. Then, a voice, both everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Who strikes the Elders' one true servant?" The voice demanded, echoing like the Assassin's the last time I faced that foe. "Brave. But foolish." It whispered. The enemy then shot a grapple towards a closer building, the tether made of alloy links. His hood blew ever so slightly back as he flew towards our location, and I caught a glimpse of purple skin.

"Marksman in chains. Belial." I said quietly to myself, as I glanced at the squad. They had engaged the ADVENT forces in a pitched gunfight, and seemed to be cutting through the enemy ranks with ease. I let them do their work, as I zeroed in on this unknown threat. It looked like one of the invaders' minions, but if so, why was it shooting ADVENT? It fired again, this time striking our Templar contact. Except, the bullet merely reflected off some sort of psionic shield, and Julio seemed completely unfazed. Our sniper, too, seemed shocked by this.

"What the fuck is going on here?" I muttered, as I fired another laser towards the marksman. Then, I called for backup. I was sure the thing had seen me.

"Grenades on my tracer!" I yelled, and Karl quickly obliged. I feinted a peek from out of my cover, for just a split second. The thing took the bait. I grinned, as the bullet whizzed past me. Then the grin faded, as I felt a stinging pain in my wrist. The bullet had cleanly sliced off a chunk of skin, and little dots of blood were beginning to form. I could scarcely believe it. I had exposed but square centimetres of flesh, for a fraction of a second, and the thing still was able to strike me. I was caught between immense terror and complete admiration, a fugue state which I was quickly shaken out of by the explosion of the grenade I had called for. I turned to look at the carnage. The sharpshooter was staggering up, covered in white dust from powderized paint. It was our chance to remove a variable in this fight.

"Concentrate fire on my tracer!" I yelled, as I struck the purple creature again, this time in the leg. A lightshow of lasers followed suit, several striking the thing, as it dashed into the ruins of the building it had just recently been perched atop of.

"I suppose the hunter becomes the hunted. No matter. Dear sister is the one who loses out. Toodles." And with that last psychic message, he vanished in a cloud of purple smoke. The coast was clear, or at least, clear as could be in the middle of a firefight. I drew my handgun, and rushed towards the rest of the squad. They were holding off reinforcements, coming in from along the road. Two ADVENT patrol cars had already flipped over, their tires and fuel stores shot, with several Muton corpses laying half-buried in the flaming wrecks. Meanwhile, Julio was busy smashing through a glass shop window, followed by shrugging off a flurry of bullets. I went in after him, as he climbed through the hole in the glass. The store smelled of bread, a terrified lady huddled in the corner. And in the middle of the area were two men, one with a helmet and one without, psionic blades extruding from their arms. They circled for a brief moment, before stabbing and parrying each others' blows.

There was no way I could get a clean shot in, not without the risk of killing our ally. But our opponent seemed to be getting the upper hand on Julio. It wasn't long before his abdomen was sliced open, and our enemy went in for the killing blow. However, this forceful coup de grace exposed our foe's arms, and I took aim. I squeezed the trigger once. The round lodged in our enemy's bracer. Time seemed to slow for a moment, before a small but powerful explosion emanated from that location, and a bloodcurdling scream was ripped out of our target's lungs. He fell to the ground, and I could see what had occurred. His hand was nearly ripped off his arm, only a couple of muscle fibres connecting it onto the body. Shattered and exposed bone poked out of the wound. Julio, after a moment, staggered to his feet, and gave a kick right to our enemy's head. The screaming stopped.

"Firebrand, this is Menace 1-1. Package secure, move for evac."

"This is Firebrand. Approaching."

I pulled the body outside, then unslung my rifle. "Karl, Jack, get these two out. We'll be right behind." The three of us providing covering fire slowly withdrew towards the building where we were supposed to evacuate from, as Karl and Jack made their way up the rickety roof access stairs, Templars in tow. Then, a grenade fell upon us. I yelled the warning, and we all made it out of the way, but the damage was down. With the stair supports eaten through by plasma, we had no way up. Well, Basilisk had her grapple, but we lacked the time to ferry Avci and I up by hand. I gave the order.

"Evac yourselves, we'll find another way out. We'll rendezvous outside the city." I said firmly, as I tried to think of a plan. But Avci was one quicker. Before I could even propose the idea, she pointed to the sports car, and said,

"I call shotgun." She then dashed towards the vehicle, spraying at the enemy, before sliding over the hood, the gullwing doors hissing open. I chased after, hopping into the driver's seat, as covering fire came from the Skyranger, hovering over us.

"Ignited, gun it!" Avci yelled, as we peeled out of the parking spot. The doors slowly folded shut, as we careened down a crumbling asphalt street.

"This is Firebrand, we're right on top of you, but we can't get low enough! You gotta get somewhere clear of buildings!"

"Where? It's not like I have a fucking map!" I yelled back. "You've got the sky, direct us!"

"Okay, uh, right turn on the next new road, then take the exit onto the highway!" Was the reply. I weaved through the traffic, with several cars in my rearview mirror giving chase. Then, we approached the exit. A car was slowly climbing up the on-ramp, but I didn't have time to wait. Instead, I jammed my car right between the wall and the other car, squeezing through and taking off both mirrors along the way. Still, we made it through, and that hopefully would slow our pursuers for a second. Firebrand lowered the Skyranger until it was barely above the tarmac, and less than a metre away from the hood of the car.

"Turn on cruise control if you have it, I need you to trust me." She said. I turned to Avci, who nodded. "Get on the hood, and jump on!" I could see the cars behind, slowly gaining ground. This would be our only chance. If we stopped, we'd be overwhelmed. The gullwing doors once again hissed open, as Avci clambered up the windshield, and leapt onto the ramp. Then, it was my turn. I made my way onto the hood, and prepared for as much of a running start as I could. But as I pushed off, I felt a sharp pain in my leg. I'd strained it too much, and I knew I wasn't getting the full force that I needed. I landed on my stomach, barely grabbing onto a cargo strap. Basilisk quickly pulled me up into the hold, as the door closed behind me. It was silent for a second, before Avci started giggling.

"That was so stupid. That never should have worked." She said.

"Hey, you've got one of the world's best VTOL captains on your side, kiddo. Odds are pretty stacked in our favour." Replied Firebrand.

I finally let out the breath that I didn't even realize I was holding, as I said to her,

"You're one hell of a pilot."

-xxx-

It was a week later when the Templars came back to us with the information they had extracted from our captured VIP. One of the advantages of psionics is the ability to retrieve memories, and that's exactly what they did. Not only did they find the location of the Assassin's hideout, they also passed on information regarding how to access her secret chambers. Some sort of gate, that leads to a pocket of space, deep underground, if the Templar's Terrasense is anything to go off of. One of the benefits of drawing your spiritual power from the Earth itself. There, we can blast her little obelisk to pieces, and end her threat once and for all.

Of course, for a mission right in the belly of the beast, no less than our A-team would do. All six of us on Menace-1 were armed to the teeth and ready for the assault. Then again, we had no idea what failsafes were in place. Maybe we'd get swarmed by ADVENT the minute we walked in. Maybe the whole thing would collapse if the obelisk breaks. The only reason they wouldn't have some sort of security is if they were sure that their inner sanctums would never be breached. Personally, I choose to believe in their arrogance. After all, arrogance has been what's let us defeat these things time and time again. It's also not like I could choose to believe in much else, if I wanted to stay sane.

We flew in near silence into the Northern Rockies. We knew where the front door was. However, it certainly wasn't prudent to knock. The Templars claimed about a battalion of heavily-armed aliens at the front gate, and even with our superior tactics and the element of surprise, I was doubtful that would ever work. Instead, we had a "Bunker Buster" System attached to the Skyranger, dangling underneath. We would drop it right next to the doors connecting the outside guard posts to the main base, and thus kill two birds with one stone. Hopefully. I sat, tense, as I could feel the descent through the way that my stomach felt like it was dropping through the air. We had an ADVENT tag, so ideally we would get through whatever air defense unscathed. The Skyranger eased off the gas as it arrived at its destination, with no sign of anti-aircraft fire. A good omen, but here was the moment of truth. The aircraft suddenly jerked upwards as the payload was released. The drop should have been enough to prime it, and our transport flew a bit past it, trying to get out of the danger zone.

It was silent. I don't know if it was actually for too long or if it was just because of the anticipation, but it certainly felt like the device took a lot longer to get going than it should have. Nevertheless, a sharp explosion soon rang out, followed by a metallic shearing noise, and then finally the sound of falling dirt. We all rappelled into this pit. And the preparations had nearly been perfect. The front door of the main base was completely submerged in soil and gravel, which the ADVENT stuck out of the facility would hopefully spend ages cleaning up, as we also had to return back out this way once we completed our objectives. If we completed our objectives.

We pushed through the base, clearing out MECs, aliens, and various ADVENT higher-ups. The base wasn't designed for war; it was designed for stealth, and the low troop count made that abundantly clear. Still, it was no easy feat, and I was glad when the sounds of skittering movement over the metal floors finally drew to a close, and we could all take a breather. I checked my magazines, straightened my grenade belt, and took a couple of deep breaths. We were about to enter a place from which there may be no turning back. This could very well be our last mission. But I wasn't scared. I was ready to go down fighting, doing my part. Still, I felt like I should at least say something, if only for the sake of morale, and whatever propaganda the Resistance could spin from this event. I checked my mic. Right now, Central and the Commander could still hear us, but as soon as we passed through the gate, it would almost certainly cut out, and leave our squad completely isolated. I took a deep breath, and began.

"We stand on the precipice of the unknown. We may be walking into certain death. I cannot tell you what lies past this threshold for you. But I can tell you what is contained there. A creature, of abject cruelty and evil, whose presence is an affront to us, as members of humanity. A corruption of the values we hold dear. A being that has taken away from us the embraces of loved ones, the caring words of parents, the moments shared with friends, all with no remorse. It has killed, and it will continue to kill, if it is left unchecked. So that is why I am not scared to enter the Devil's den. If I die, it is to save countless others. If I will not return to those I hold dear, it will allow for a world to return to those who they hold dear. So have no fear in fighting the foe at our gates, for if we do not hold them at our walls, then we may only fight them in our homes, our gardens, and our places of worship. And I know that if I am certain to die, I would rather die with a gun in my hand and the corpses of enemies at my feet, than cowering in eternal terror. Nevermore shall we fear the invader, for they leave us no room for fear."

And with that I turned the circular disc on the wall a quarter-turn clockwise, before pressing it in. The room began to shimmer, and there was a strange feeling of stretch and squeezing, like passing through a world improperly designed for your body. And this was not just limited to the flesh, but also the mind, which was twisted back and forth in much the same way. But eventually the feeling settled, and we found ourselves greeted by an ornate, yet spartan hall. A towering obelisk, suspended by taut wires, hung at the furthest edge, teetering over a void, the edge of which was completely indiscernible. Everything felt otherworldly, felt alien. Felt completely disconnected from reality. And even despite the words I said, I felt a morsel of fear creep into my mind, for we were well and truly alone. The six of us, against whatever may lurk here. I expected radio static, or the scratching of rock, or industrial noise, but instead, nothing. Just the beating of my heart, and the soft scratching of combat boot on alloy.

We approached the obelisk. Perhaps the Assassin was not present. Perhaps we could rig explosives on it until it exploded. Perhaps we would be done with this mission in the next five minutes. But then a haunting voice broke me out of my reverie.

"Greetings. Come forth, to pay homage to the Lady of the Blade, the Cleanser of Infidels, the Redeeming Maiden." A girl, no older than twelve, and clad in austere red robes, appeared from the platform underneath the grand pillar. The prism dwarfed her already short stature, and gave the whole proceeding a foreboding feel to it.

"Summon your lady, for we wish to try her for her litany of crimes against this world." I said, in as stately of a voice as I could.

"Oh. That will not d-" Before she could finish her sentence, Basilisk put a bullet between her eyes. The girl dropped to the floor, dead. Her ornamental ceramic knife shattered, as it fell out of her limp fingers and onto the ground. No one knew if she was planning to attack us with it, or to cut herself. Either way, I doubted it would have ended well for us. We took several more steps towards the obelisk. Then, on top of the girl's body, a cloud of violet energy pulsated, and our quarry stepped forth.

"XCOM. You speak of honor, but you assault me at my home." Came the booming psychic voice.

"We fight where you are mortal. On an even playing field. To cheat death is no honor."

A snarl came over the brainwaves. "I will show you dishonor!" And with that statement and a flourish of her sword, she disappeared.

"Spread out, but stay within shooting distance! She'll come for one of us. Stay disciplined." I said. And so we waited, the dread of the next attack building and building until finally it released in a splatter of red blood. Avci was barely able to avoid being run through by the Assassin's Katana, as she appeared for a thrust right behind our hacker, but the blade still caught her flank, and cut a deep gash across her right side.

"Light her up!" I yelled, but she swiftly dissolved into psychic shards, and scarcely any shots landed. However, we saw her direction, and at least with that we could do something more than just wait.

"Avci, patch up, let's fan out and pin her in!" I drew my pistol, as we tightened the net around our target. Once again, the anticipation of violence built up, until Basilisk nearly had her head sliced off. She deftly ducked under it, as Karl launched a gas grenade right onto the target. Our Skirmisher grappled to a nearby platform, as I threw my grenade to destroy the Assassin's cover. In the open, she coughed on the toxic fumes as we laid into her body until it exploded in a shroud of indigo mist.

"Blow that obelisk to kingdom come!" I yelled, as I began laying laser after laser into the prism with my rifle. I could see hairline fractures begin to form, and sparks of psychic energy jumping across the surface. Meanwhile, the rest of the team were dealing with a fresh deluge of aliens, appearing through spontaneous psionic rifts. The entire room was so dense with the energy that it was physically palpable, like static electricity everywhere, but for the brain.

"We could have fought like true warriors. But instead you lie, and cheat, and break every convention of morality for your petty little victory." The Assassin screamed, agonized.

"There is no honor in what you do, so we see no reason to show you any respect." I replied. "Not that you should expect it. Honor is for duels. War is about winners."

A berserker rushed me, and I had to quickly pump two lasers into it before it crashed on top of me. Meanwhile, the voice continued.

"You are cowards that fight behind a veil of tradition and false beliefs. And you are cowards for not allowing the Elders' embrace into your life."

"How funny." I replied. "You've always been a coward because you refuse to submit to mortality." This seemed to particularly enrage her, as she appeared once more, swirling with unvented fury. Not even attempting to stealth around, she charged down Avci, blasting her with buckshot before delivering a series of rapid strikes and leaving a pattern of lacerations across her torso. As her first target fell to the ground, clutching at their wounds, she turned her attention to Karl, with much the same effect. Both GREMLINs were working overtime to try and stop anyone from dying. The rest of us tried our best to take her down, but she acted with such swiftness it was beyond difficult to strike her, and even when we did she simply continued her onslaught.

The only saving grace was that when she turned to face her third target, Riley wasn't immediately overwhelmed. By this point, the Assassin seemed to have burnt through at least some of her energy reserves, but Riley was still only barely managing to hold on. Someone had to shift the balance. It was a hard shot, but I took a deep breath. I lined it up, and felt a faint breeze past my ear. It took me a second to process why that was strange. I turned to see the Assassin's Katana, embedded in the wall behind me, followed by her hand appearing on the hilt. As she materialized, she clocked me in the chin with a grenade, before dropping it on my body.

"Good night. Forever." She said, as my vision immediately began to darken. I saw her raising her sword for a lethal strike. The team almost certainly didn't know what had happened. It was up to me alone to survive. I felt for leather on my leg, then slid my hand up. The grip fell neatly into my hand. There was no time to aim. Just put as many bullets out as I could. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Click. A moment's reprieve, and an eternity, as I waited to see if I would immediately be impaled. Then explosions, and the sound of screaming. I shuffled backwards, as I began to regain my sight. Just in time to see my foe bearing down on me, a frenzied look in her eye. I was out of bullets. Out of options. But not quite out of chances, as a grapple flew overhead, and a human projectile flew right into the Assassin. The two grappled, desperately trying to end the other's life. But the Katana was long, and unwieldy in a grapple, while Basilisk's ripjack was agile enough to be jabbed over and over into the enemy's stomach. Basilisk's back was completely covered in her own orange blood, but she had lived, and the Assassin had not. Or at least, would not.

I picked up my rifle and continued firing on the obelisk. It was more than sparking now, and looked positively unstable. No mind comments either, although she didn't need to talk. The energy released into the chamber was beginning to cause the alien reinforcements to swarm. We were nearly getting overrun. I could see Jack, getting flanked and panicking, as he tried to cover all his angles. I needed to help him. But if I did, the Assassin might just finish us all off. I kept firing at the prism, even as Jack took shot after shot, and fell to the ground. At least the obelisk fell with him. It bent, then shattered, and finally crumbled into fine particles. Our foe reappeared, one last time, as we finished off the rift aliens. With the destruction of the obelisk, the psychic energy seemed to just… dissipate, and the Assassin appeared genuinely weak and beaten, for the first time.

"You...you beat me. I have failed. Well then." She paused, coughing up her own blood. "I hope you succeed." And with those final words she fell onto her sword. But I was more worried about the perhaps-still-living. I ran over to Jack. He was breathing, albeit shallowly, and the plasma, though extremely deadly, had at least sealed his wounds. He turned to me, eyes barely open.

"Did we win?" He asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, we did."

He gave a soft chuckle. "I don't want to die yet. Not today. Not after we win. I've still got battles to fight and shit to live for."

I smiled. "I don't think you're going to die. Not today. It'll hurt like a sonnovabitch for a while, but you'll make it back. We're less than ten minutes out from the Skyranger, and they've got all the Medikits and painkillers you could want."

"Okay. That sounds great. Very great. Just promise me one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever get yourself killed because of me."

I was surprised, and confused at where this had come from. Still, I wasn't in a position or mood to refuse. "I can promise you that. But don't die on me either."

"Okay."