A/N: Holy cheese on a cracker! It only took me three weeks to write this chapter?! You better believe it! And no, it's not a case of me just pushing out a sub-par entry - I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a very long time, and I'm super proud of how it turned out! Not just because it's my first time writing a thriller/mystery style story, but also because it's sort of my thesis statement for what I want to do with Summer Declassified as a whole. I'll explain more in the Author's note at the end, but for now, I hope you enjoy something a little different than my usual fare!
"Golly gee, those Eeliens are coming back for another attack! Good thing Captain Thunderclap is here to save us!"
"No problem, Little Jimmy! Jangles, hand me the Energy Blaster!"
"Ooh ooh ooh ahh ahh ahh!"
"Tarnations! The Energy Blaster's out of batteries? What else do we have?"
"Ooh ooh ooh ahh ahh ahh!"
"Of course! The Eelectro-net! Jangles, you're a mad genius!"
Summer Rose snorted as the man on the television swished his black-and-white cape dramatically, before throwing a comically oversized net onto a dozen or so rubber snakes suspended on barely-concealed wires. A man in a monkey suit that was also wearing what appeared to be tinfoil suspenders hopped up and down excitedly, while a woman with clothes made of a similar material swooned into the arms of the titular "Captain Thunderclap." And then there was a child in a baseball cap and a striped T-shirt, looking completely out of place in the cardboard sets and garish costumes, and yet was somehow the most normal thing in the production.
"Man…" said Thomas Nils on Summer's right, reaching over to snatch a handful of popcorn from the table in front of them, "Kinney's gonna be pissed that he missed this broadcast. It's one of his favorite episodes."
"Pretty sure he knows this one by heart," said Elizabeth Walters on Nils's other side, snuggled against her fiance. "Didn't he drag us to see this one, what, seven times when it was playing at the dime cinema?"
"Five times, dear."
"Felt like way more than that."
Summer took another handful of popcorn, watching as a monster made out of foam and rubber jumped Captain Thunderclap, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him around in what an eight-year-old might generously call a "fight" scene. The very notion was ridiculous - not just the show itself, but the idea that someone would use short-range television signals not to relay important information, but to instead broadcast decades-old movie serials that few people would care about or remember. Of course, there was always the possibility of someone slipping in subliminal messaging about the alien threat in between the frames, which was why she, a nearly-healed Nils, and Walters were "monitoring" the transmission to make sure such info wasn't slipping through the masquerade XCOM was working so hard to maintain.
Besides, in such dangerous times, a little harmless fun never hurt anyone, right?
Jangles the Moon Monkey was just about to leap to the rescue of the hero when the power went out.
Elizabeth yelped and clutched Nils as all the lights went dark with a loud hiss and pop. The emergency generators in the medical ward kicked in a moment later, bathing the room in red light as a low humming filled the air.
"Easy, dear," said Nils in an attempt to be reassuring. "It's probably just a normal blackout, nothing to worry about." Despite his words, he tilted his head to the nearby radio box, which Summer went to check with a nod.
With a click of a button, the small little box turned on and began beeping at an irregular pattern. Summer frowned. She recognized it as Morse code from reading Penny's books, but wasn't as well-versed in it as the other agents, what with being from a different planet and all.
"Sounds like it's Morse," she reported as she brought the radio to Nils and Liz with a sigh. "Orders from Faulke, probably. Not sure what it means, though...stupid amnesia."
The nurse reached out sympathetically and took her hand, while Nils pulled out a small notebook. "Well lucky for you, I happen to be an expert in Morse code. Give me a minute…and get me a flashlight too."
Summer nodded and did as was asked, shining a light onto the notebook as the Recon agent diligently translated. By the time the message looped a third time, Nils had decrypted a chilling order.
An Outsider spy has infiltrated the Bureau. Find and secure the Infiltrator.
Field reports say Infiltrators can change appearance to blend in. Trust no one, not even your friends.
This is not a drill.
Vigilo Confido.
The three of them stared at the note long enough for the message to loop one more time, before Summer reached out and turned the radio off with resolve in her eyes.
"I'm going to go find Carter," she announced as she slipped her boots back on, "You two stay here and keep the medical wing on lockdown. Check everyone that got admitted recently, and double-check all the records. Look for discrepancies, inconsistencies, people that shouldn't be here but are. I'll come back and find you when it's all clear."
"I'm coming with you."
Silver eyes looked up to see Nils pulling himself off the sofa with a strained look on his face, doing his best to hide the pain of his wounds. Elizabeth stood up as well, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Thomas, no. Your wounds still haven't finished fully healing. You're just going to risk further injury if you - "
"I can walk and I can fire a gun, Liz. Right now that'll have to be enough. We can't just have people walking around the base alone. That'll raise suspicion."
"Then I'm coming too."
Nils shook his head. "You heard Summer. Someone has to stay here and keep the medical ward safe. Lock it down, rally the staff, don't let anyone in or out. Your word carries more authority here than anyone else's - I'm counting on you to keep things calm and controlled here."
He turned to face her, and cupped his fiancée's face with one hand. "Besides...I need you to be safe."
The green-eyed blonde hesitated for a moment, then sighed as she grasped the hand with both of hers, rubbing the calloused palm against her cheek. "I need you to be safe too…" she protested weakly.
Nils gave an attempt at a smile, leaning in to kiss his love on the lips tenderly, holding it for a moment before pulling back. "I will be. I promise."
"I promise too," said Summer as she stepped forward, silver eyes burning with resolve. "As long as Nils is with me, no harm will come to him. I'll make sure of it."
Elizabeth bit her lower lip, cheeks flush, then looked to Summer and nodded. "Okay. Go. I'll engage the security shutters on your way out."
"You're the best, Liz."
"I know," she said, her professional demeanor rising in her voice. "Now get going."
After grabbing another flashlight (and a pair of emergency pistols), Summer and Nils stepped out of the emergency lighting of the medical ward and into the blackened hallways of the base itself. In contrast to the well-furnished offices of the Bureau's lower floors, Sub-Level One was soulless and pale by design, consisting of exposed steel beams and cold, unfeeling concrete. It already had a sense of dread and lifelessness, even when it was fully lit. With only the rays of a pair of flashlights to navigate, the darkness seemed even more oppressive and suffocating.
Summer suppressed a shiver down her spine as she shone her light down one corner, then another. "Which way first? Right or left?"
"Left, definitely," said Nils tersely, "The only thing down to the right is the Morgue, and there's no reason for us to go there. It's a dead end - figuratively and literally."
"What's on the left, then?"
"Mission Prep and the Armory. It's not far from the Hangar, though I'd imagine it's completely locked down by now. Still, we can probably take the stairs back down to find the others - not much reason for people to be here on Sub-Level One when not on ops or recovering from one."
Summer nodded. "It always struck me how...odd it was that the Hangar, Armory, medical ward, and the Morgue are all so close to each other."
"It's...more efficient that way."
Neither agent had any motive to continue that line of discussion, so the walk to the Armory was made in near silence. This, unfortunately, had the side effect of making every single noise feel as loud as a passing train. Summer's quiet breathing roared in her ears, Nils's pained grunts felt as loud as screams of agony, and even the sound of their footsteps seemed to echo across the hallways.
As they approached their destination, though, a new sound broke the spell of silence.
A woman, sobbing and crying uncontrollably.
Summer looked wordlessly at Nils, who nodded in understanding. Pausing only to click the safeties off their pistols, the agents took up breaching positions by the entrance to the armory, guns held in one hand and flashlights in the other. On the silent count of three, they turned the corner and pointed their lights (and their guns) at a shadowy figure to reveal…
"Oh my god," whispered Summer, lowering her weapon. "Penny?"
The young comms operator turned a teary, puffy face towards her friend, tearing her gaze away from the bloodied corpse that lay in front of her. She was on her knees with her clothes and glasses splattered with dried crimson, and she seemed physically unable to release the pistol in her shaking hands.
"...S-Summer…" she choked. "I...I didn't mean to...I didn't want…"
Summer instantly started shushing her friend, crossing the room in a heartbeat and pulling Penny into a tight, reassuring hug. The young woman latched on instantly, like the displaced huntress was the only floating object in a raging sea, squeezing with surprising strength despite the fact that every inch of her body was trembling. Nils lowered his weapon as well, crossing the room to examine the body as his partner consoled her friend.
"...looks like it's Agent Percy," said the Recon agent after a moment's inspection. "Or...it was. Poor bastard...two shots straight to the heart. Never stood a chance."
"H-he kept following me," whimpered Penny between shaky, unsteady breaths, "k-kept...accusing me of being the Inf...Infil...Infel...the spy. Wouldn't stop p-pointing a gun at me...w-wouldn't let me talk or leave...I-I stepped forward, and...he started s-shooting. I t-t-threw my book at him, knocked the gun out of his hand, t-tried to grab it so he couldn't use it...and then he was on top of me, trying to choke me...I couldn't breathe...s-so I...I…"
Penny buried her face into Summer's nape, a fresh wave of sobs and tears cascading from deep within. The silver-eyed woman started rocking her protectively, running a hand through light brown hair and wiping tears away with a thumb. Nils said nothing, merely used his fingers to close the fallen Agent's eyelids before standing up to start grabbing weapons and ammo.
After a moment, he cleared his throat, and Summer knew what he meant. She loosened her grip on Penny, pushing the young woman away slightly.
"Listen, Penny. I need to grab my gear. That means I'm going to have to let you go, okay?"
Penny whimpered. "Don't leave me."
"I won't. I'll come right back, okay?"
Summer untangled Penny's hands from around her shoulders, squeezing them palm-to-palm.
"Walk yourself through those breathing exercises I taught you. Close your eyes. The next time you open them, I'll be right here."
The young operator eventually nodded, biting her lower lip as she closed her eyes and focused on inhaling through the nose, then exhaling through the mouth. Summer gave her hands one more gentle squeeze, then stood up and joined Nils.
"What have we got?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," said Nils as he loaded up an M14. "Most of the Venn Braces and Shield Packs are missing, so the other agents must have had the same idea we did."
Summer nodded as she slipped one of the last braces onto her arm, smirking at the sight of the Muton blade on the table. "At least they were considerate enough to leave me my sword."
"Probably thought it wouldn't be as effective in their hands," said Nils with a chuckle. Then, in a low whisper, he added, "We should have grabbed some sedatives on our way out of medical."
"Why? What would you...no."
"Summer."
"I'm not leaving her."
"We can't just bring her with us, either. It's too much of a -"
"She just had to kill someone to keep herself alive, Nils," hissed Summer in a harsh whisper. "Think back to the first time you had to kill someone - would you trust yourself to be all alone?"
Nils opened his mouth to prepare a counter-argument, failed to find one, and resigned with a sigh and a shake of his head. "No...no I wouldn't. Fine. She can come with us. But you're responsible for her."
"Fair enough," said Summer as she tested her blade, casting a red glow on the room when the alien sword was briefly alive before collapsing it again and stowing it on her hip. She grabbed a few more magazines for her pistol too, while Nils traded his sidearm for the laser sniper rifle recovered from Operation Guardian. Strapping the last Venn Brace to his arm and clipping a radio to his chest, he handed the other communication device to Summer before pulling the charging handle on his rifle back.
"Ready?"
The homeless Huntress nodded in affirmation, then turned back to look at Penny, who looked significantly more composed. She went over and patted her friend twice on the shoulder, and the woman opened her eyes and smiled slightly. She stood up, and Summer took Penny's hand in one of hers as she and Nils exited the Armory.
Safe behind eight inches of reinforced steel bulkheads that covered his office, Myron Faulke sat in the darkness, the only light coming from the tip of his burning cigarette. It had been two hours after he'd put out the alert that an Outsider had made it inside the base, and there was still no sign of the elusive alien spy. The chatter from agent radios were fed into the small battery-powered speaker on his desk, and every few moments he would overhear an agent confronting one of their fellow friends, suspecting them of being the enemy in disguise. Most of the time, these conflicts were resolved with words. Other times, they were resolved with gunfire.
Either way, despite having nearly every available agent combing the facility, no one had found the spy yet.
Faulke took a long, patient draught of his cigarette, recalling the details that DaSilva's field reports from Roswell contained about this "Infiltrator''. According to him, most Outsiders didn't have much of a propensity for language beyond their own. Some did, though, and those that did were trained in espionage and sabotage, and given a special shield generator that allowed them to mimic the appearance of any member of any species. Quick-witted and ruthless, with the ability to cover up their alien nature...a dangerous enemy, indeed.
And yet...if it was intelligent, and could speak their language…
The Director almost dismissed the notion out of hand. Almost. Keeping an enemy like that around and locked up was a huge risk, and almost guaranteed to bite the Bureau in the ass down the line. Yet if they could communicate with it, break its conditioning, perhaps even convince it to help them…
The optimist in Myron Faulke died decades ago.
But the opportunist was still very much alive, and it was thinking.
The darkness in the hallways of the offices on Sub Level Two was just as suffocating and oppressive, but at least there was nice hardwood flooring underfoot to better absorb the sound of footsteps. Unfortunately, this also meant that determining the approach of others was harder to do with just audio cues alone, so Nils, Summer, and Penny were forced to rely on their naked eyes and their flashlights to navigate the empty halls.
Well, they weren't completely empty.
Summer lost track of how many corpses she and her search party came across, only that her grip tightened on Penny's hand with each one. She recognized most of them - the blonde that had flirted with her the other day, his friend, two of the comms operators, a scientist, and a Recon agent - but she didn't see the bodies of any of the higher-ups or of anyone from Strike Three. She thanked her lucky stars that the Infiltrator hadn't taken any of her friends yet...before immediately feeling guilty about feeling grateful.
It didn't escape her notice that the main cause of death seemed to be conventional bullet wounds.
Divide them, tear them apart, she thought, plant seeds of doubt, and they'll turn on each other. Salem would be so proud right now.
"You alright, Summer?"
Nils's concerned whisper almost spooked the second life right out of her, and she whirled to face the Recon agent before regaining control of her reflexes. She nodded tersely, and Nils put a hand on her shoulder in understanding.
Then he looked to the newest person to join their little search party. "And how about you, Penny? Feeling better?"
Penny, by comparison, was doing a remarkable job of keeping her panic in check. Compared to how she'd been in the Armory, she was focused, calm, and mostly composed. Summer had to admit, whatever Penny was doing to keep herself from freaking out, it was working in spades. She nodded at Nils with a small smile, using her other hand to adjust her glasses somewhat.
"Alright, good," said Nils as he pulled back with a reassuring smile. "Let's circle back towards the East offices, and from there we'll -"
"You're not going anywhere, you alien son of a bitch."
The click of a revolver hammer locking into place was almost deafening compared to the silence, and Nils bristled at the sensation of a smoothly polished barrel being pressed against the back of his head. Summer instantly drew her pistol in a heartbeat, aiming it and her light on the person holding Nils at gunpoint. The flashlight revealed a grizzled looking man in a green sweater with a face she recognized - Steve Bradford was glaring daggers at his fellow ASL before turning to give Summer the same welcome.
"Bradford," she said simply. "Put the gun down."
"I'll do so gladly, once I blow this Infiltrator's head off his shoulders."
"Are you nuts?" Nils asked in protest, "I'm not the alien!"
"Then how do you explain this?" Bradford pulled down the neckline of his sweater to reveal a dime-sized bullet wound sealed up (poorly) by a medkit. "Recognize this? You should, cause you gave it to me."
"How the hell could I have shot you when I didn't even see you? I was with Summer and Liz all day!"
"I can confirm, he was," added Summer, hoping her testimony would de-escalate the situation. Judging by how the Commando narrowed his eyes, it seemed to have the opposite effect.
"I know what I saw!" Bradford snarled, finger hovering millimeters above the trigger. "You got the jump on me once, got me to let my guard down, and I'm not falling for it again! Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out right now!"
Click. "I've got eight. Don't make me use them."
Summer sighed in relief at the sound of the familiar voice, her flashlight confirming the identity of the new arrival. "Carter…"
It was indeed Carter, bloodied and dirtier and with holes in his hat. He nodded at Summer, then glared at the man that he was holding at gunpoint, even as his target kept his weapon trained on Nils.
"Drop the gun, Bradford," growled the gray-hatted agent, "or I'll drop you."
FWOOM. The lights in the hallway snapped back on in an instant, and after hours fumbling around in the dark, Summer was almost blinded by the sudden gift of illumination. After blinking furiously to clear the stars from her vision, she recognized their surroundings as an intersection of hallways, with four different pathways and four corners for possible ambushes. Her gratefulness for being able to see ended when she saw a dozen or so agents with M14s lined up like a firing squad, training the business ends of their weapons at Carter.
And at the head of the formation was…
"Oh what the hell Goldstein!" groaned Summer, "Really?"
"Yes really!" protested the paranoid Recon agent, sandwiched between the much-taller Mucallin brothers, "You've seen it, just like me! The weird powers, the charisma despite being as morally reprehensible as possible...he's been an alien this whole time!"
Carter, when faced with the possibility of his own Strike Team's Recon agent turning against him, seemed more annoyed than anything else. "How many cups of coffee have you had this morning, Goldstein?"
"Six and a half! But I don't see how that's relevant to -!"
"No, no, that's probably the most relevant fact here."
The Mucallin on Adam's left, who was only a few inches taller than the other redhead, pursed his lips into a frown. "While I don't' think that much coffee 's good fer anyone, I do gotta agree with the lad here. What you think, Jack?"
"Aye," said the other, in a raspier voice, "Alfred's right. It's mighty suspicious, it is. Sorry Carter, but right now yer the most suspect person here."
Bradford seemed annoyed, but for a different reason. "Can we all just stop pointing the guns at Carter and start pointing them at this alien bastard right here? I know it's him!"
"You don't know a goddamn thing, Bradford!" protested Nils.
"I know a bullet to the brain kills anything," growled Bradford, "and right now that's good enough for me."
"Last warning, Bradford," snarled Carter. "Stand! Down!"
Summer clutched her pistol tightly, unsure of where to aim it. The other agents raised their weapons as well. If something didn't happen soon, there'd be a massacre right in the middle of the base.
Salvation came in an unlikely form, as another voice echoed around the corner.
"Looks like the power's back on here, boys. Good work. Now let's go and check the other -"
Half of the dozen M14's pivoted on the spot and aimed at Doctor Alan Weir, who rounded the corner holding a clipboard in one hand and a thermos in the other. He was followed by Shen and a man named Vahlen, a Support Agent who Summer had seen helping out in comms sometimes. The good doctor's two escorts raised their own weapons in response to the threat, while the man himself seemed unphased at being another target at the center of the firing squad's attention.
Weir took a small sip from his thermos, and gave an attempt at a smile.
"Normally, I'd apologize for interrupting...but I think, this time, I'm glad I did. Now. May I ask what all this is about?"
"It's Carter!" cried Adam, "He's the Infiltrator! He's trying to control all of us and -"
"Bullshit! I've got the traitor right here! It's Nils!"
"For the last time, Bradford, it's not me!"
As the accusations and protests continued, Weir raised a single hand to silence everyone. Then he calmly turned to Carter, still wearing a smile.
"Mister Carter. If you recall, during my rescue, your healing powers were failing you when you needed them. I gave you something to restore your strength. What was it?"
Carter raised an eyebrow. "Is that really - "
"Humor me, William. Do you remember?"
Summer watched as Carter frowned, then sighed. "It...it was a military chocolate bar. Tropical, like you'd find in those old K Rations."
Weir nodded in approval, then looked out to the sea of nervous agents. "Very good. Now tell me - how could Mister Carter have known that if he wasn't there? If he truly was the Infiltrator, he would have simply tried to deflect the question, or attempt to come up with a lie to cover his tracks."
"He could have read it in the reports," countered another Agent.
"A small detail like that? I doubt it would be significant enough to be stored in XCOM's records. Now...a good number of people on this base are friends. There must be something you all know about each other to prove who you are. Test each other. Reveal that you know such knowledge. If the Infiltrator is here, and trying to separate us and turn us against one another with lies...then it only makes sense to weed it out with the truth, does it not?"
Nils seemed to pick up on what the good doctor meant, and glanced back at Bradford. "You've got a son, right Steve? You keep his picture in your office, in the same drawer as your emergency weapons locker. What's his name?"
Bradford seemed immediately remorseful and regretful, lowering his revolver in shame. "John…" he muttered quietly.
Seeing how Adam still didn't completely stand down, Summer levied her own question at Carter. "When we first met, and you did a weapons check on me, what did I say afterwards?"
Carter smirked, both at the answer and the fact that Summer had chosen that memory as her test. "I believe your exact words were 'I'm not hiding anything except a nice rack and a sweet ass.'"
A ripple of chuckles washed over the crowd. Some guffawed. Others blushed. One agent wolf-whistled. Then the dam of awkwardness broke, and the present agents began asking similar questions to each other. From where she was, most of the details got lost in a sea of words, but the way they reacted to the correct answers (including how tightly the Mucallins embraced) told Summer that the Infiltrator wasn't hiding among them.
The only one who wasn't included was Penny.
Summer opened her mouth to ask a question only Penny knew the answer to, but before she could say anything, she was interrupted by a very loud CRACK, followed by a cry of pain and the sound of a wet thud.
"Carter!"
"Whiskey's been tagged!"
"Who the fuck fired that shot?"
"Wasn't me! I wouldn't - oh shit!"
The homeless huntress had to agree that "oh shit" was the only appropriate reaction to seeing the short brown hair of Weaver bounding around the corner, steely eyes locked on the fallen Carter like a lioness going in for the kill. The other Agents (the ones who hadn't pissed themselves in terror, at least) immediately moved to form a human wall with weapons raised. That ended up being a mistake, as Weaver unclasped a cylinder from her belt and flung it into the half-dozen operatives. Summer had the foresight to shield her eyes before the inevitable explosion. Most of the others did not.
"Fuck! I'm blind!"
"Why are those bloody things so loud?"
"I like those flashbangs better when I'm the one throwing them!"
Weaver wasted no time in taking advantage of the chaos. She slammed the length of her sniper rifle into the throat of a dazed agent, shoving them over with a bruised windpipe. Without breaking stride she drove her rifle's stock into Adam's jaw, knocking him to the ground with a few less teeth. The Mucallins swung at her next, but she easily wove between their clumsy swings and countered with a kick to the knee and a knife-hand to the side, casting them behind her as she lunged forward.
Summer planted herself firmly between Carter and Weaver, silver staring into steel blue. Weaver accepted the challenge and opened up with another shove with the sniper rifle, hoping to dispatch her obstacle quickly. But that was what Summer was counting on, grabbing the side of the gun and letting herself flow into the momentum, before reversing course and anchoring herself to the ground, pushing and pulling on the weapon as she felt Weaver do the same.
"Agent Rose," growled Weaver through grit teeth as she fought for control of the rifle, "stand down."
"You stand down!" Summer spat back. "Carter's innocent! I confirmed it myself!"
The officer-rank agent scoffed. "Like I'd take your word for it."
There was something under there, bubbling beneath the surface, and Summer knew she would be kicking herself later for not resolving the issue there and then. But that would be a concern for future Summer. Present Summer had other worries at the moment, like trying to keep Weaver from perforating her first friend on Earth.
A faint glow cast its light over them, a telltale sign of Carter's miracle healing at work. That seemed to redouble Weaver's fervor, prompting her to drive her knee into Summer's flank. Her opponent knocked momentarily off-balance, the reprieve gave her the leverage she needed to rip the rifle out of Summer's grip, bringing it up to fire a snap shot at the downed Strike Leader. The homeless huntress quickly sprang back to her feet though, throwing her weight into a shoulder check that pushed the barrel off-course and sent its bullet harmlessly into the wall. Summer let the momentum of her shove carry her into a run that took her first to the wall and then along it, running up the side-mounted wooden grain to gain height before leaping off to deliver a flying kick. Her steel-toed boot connected solidly with Weaver's jaw, sending her sprawling across the floor as the rifle clattered out of her hands.
"Grab her! Summer's given us an opening, put her against the wall!"
The Mucallin brothers were quick to comply with Nils's order, each of them taking an arm and pinning Weaver against the wall. She resisted every step of the way, made them fight for every inch, but the will of the clansmen held stronger than she could manage.
Summer panted as she watched Weaver struggle under their grasp, Nils and Bradford pointing their weapons at her as a warning. She looked over at Carter to find Shen and Vahlen already helping him back to his feet, the wound inflicted already looking much better. She knew that while there were no real side effects when he used his healing powers on others, it usually took him a few minutes to shake off the shock of the wounds on his own body.
"Start talking, Weaver!" Nils demanded. "Why'd you attack Carter?"
"He attacked me first," spat Weaver, "Started shooting me on sight soon as I tried to signal him. Figured I'd return the favor."
"Then why aren't you hurt?"
"Because he missed, obviously. I was prepared. Besides, why am I the one being interrogated? Carter's such an obvious choice for the Infiltrator."
"See? I told you!"
"Not helping, Goldstein!"
"Could she be the Infiltrator? She might be lying…"
"She certainly didn't hesitate to plug Carter when she had the chance."
"On the other hand...Weaver."
"...oh yeah."
"There's an easy way to find out, remember? We just gotta ask her something only she'd know the answer to."
"Oh, that'll work. 'Hey Weaver, how many dicks have you cut off?' 'Forty two, and when I get free it's gonna be forty-three.'"
Despite the circumstances, Summer couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the woman. She was...the antithesis to Summer, in a lot of ways. Self-centered. Self-serving. Driven by rage. Finding solace in isolation. Ruling and keeping others in check with fear. Everything Summer wasn't, and everything she swore up and down to never become since the moment she first met Raven at Beacon Academy.
She almost let out a sigh of relief when Bradford stepped forward, lowering his pistol to get closer to the still-struggling agent.
"Where was your first and only date with Officer Nico DaSilva?"
Weaver's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Oh fuck off, Bradford."
"Answer the question, Weaver, and we'll let you go. Where was -"
"FINE. It was in a dive bar in Reno during a sweep for Outsider activity. Are you happy now?"
"It's her," said Bradford, turning back to the Agents. Summer smiled, thankful that this world's raven at least had a crow of her own looking out for her.
With a nod from Bradford, the Mucallin brothers released Weaver, who started rubbing her sore arms. "Is there a reason you asked me that? Besides trying to undermine my reputation, of course."
"The only thing we were trying to undermine was the uncertainty of who the Infiltrator actually is," said Weir as he stepped into view. "Now then. Why don't we start by exchanging what we do know? Can you give us a sitrep of what's happened to you so far? That goes for everyone as well. If we share our stories, we may be able to find the weak points and investigate from there."
As the Agents swapped stories about the last few hours, Summer spared a glance over at Penny, expecting her to hide behind Shen, or Nils, or Carter, or anyone at the sight of Weaver.
Instead, she found her just standing there, staring at what was going on.
Summer's heart sank as she caught the briefest shadow of a smile on her face.
Oh no.
She didn't want to believe it. She didn't even want to consider it. The thought of the Infiltrator taking on the appearance of her best friend on Earth...her stomach twisted itself into knots, her mind raced to find possible excuses or explanations.
But there was only one way to be sure.
She tapped Nils on the shoulder, making him turn around to face her. "Summer? What's wrong?"
She had to choose her words carefully. Had to say one thing and mean something else entirely. It shouldn't have been too hard - she'd been lying ever since she arrived at the Bureau, after all. But it wasn't just her safety she was trying to secure. Now it was everyone's.
Summer could feel Penny staring cold beams into her soul as she gulped.
"I think...I think Penny needs some time away from people. From others. She's getting a little...overstimulated. I'm going to go take her for a...walk."
Nils cast a glance at Penny, then looked back and nodded. "I see. Want me to come with?"
The man blinked twice as he spoke. Good. He understood what was really going on. "No. I think we'll be fine with just the two of us."
The Recon agent nodded. "Alright. Have fun you two."
Summer steeled her breath and put on a smile, walking over to Penny and mustering up the courage to take her friend by the hand once more. What should have been a comforting, heartwarming gesture suddenly felt a million times more terrifying.
"Come on Penny," she said as sweetly as she could, "let's take a walk."
Summer pulled Penny away without waiting for an answer, putting a fair distance between the two women and the group of other agents. The comms operator looked down at their joined hands, at the way Summer's fingertips curled protectively around hers. Her skin was so soft, so warm, so tender. So realistic. If it was just a disguise, it was a very well-made one.
"I...the lights are back on," Penny protested after they had walked down the hallways for a moment. "We don't have to hold hands."
That set off a red flag. Summer knew that Penny loved physical contact, especially from her. Still, she just looked back and smiled sweetly. "Yeah. But I know how much you like to wander off. You're always going someplace we can't find you and making trouble. With an Infiltrator on the loose, I'm not taking any chances."
"Oh...right. Yeah, that makes sense," said Penny, somewhat disappointed.
Another red flag popped up alongside its brother. What Summer had said was complete bull, and the real Penny would have known it. Penelope Cohen was the exact opposite of someone who'd strike off the beaten path. In fact, she'd tread that path so many times it was even more beaten.
But maybe she was just trying to put on a brave face for Summer. Maybe she was trying to prove to herself that she could be strong. And maybe she was still in so much shock that she wasn't processing what Summer said correctly.
Unlikely, but a line could be formed from any two data points. She'd need a third one to prove that there's a pattern.
"By the way," she said innocuously, "I'm really grateful for you giving me that book on my first day here. It was very informative, and helped me out a lot with my amnesia."
Penny looked up at her with a smile. "Of course. Anything for a friend."
"I especially liked the Global Almanac, the first book you gave me. I know it's one of your favorites, so I really appreciate you letting me borrow it."
This was it. This was the easiest test she could come up with. If there was anything that the real Penny - her Penny - cared about, anything that could bring her mind out of its darkest corners, it was her beloved books. And anyone even remotely familiar with Earth literature would know that there was no such thing as "Global Almanac." Surely Penny would recognize that. Surely her Penny would point out her mistake.
"You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it."
Gods dammit.
Three strikes.
Just like that.
Just like in baseball, the Outsider was out.
Summer felt a cold chill wash over her as she let go of Penny's hand, stopping behind her and drawing her pistol. She had to fight back the tears that threatened to form, had to struggle against the lead that weighed down her shoulders, had to remind herself to keep breathing as she pointed the gun at the head of the monster that pretended to be her friend.
"Where is she? What have you done with her?"
The young woman stopped in her tracks, looking back at Summer tearfully and fearfully. "S-Summer? Wha…"
"Don't give me that," snapped Summer, "Don't you dare look at me like that." Gods, it was so hard to keep herself from crying as she spoke. "Penny would've corrected me on the spot when it came to book titles. And she would've flinched and tried to shy away when Weaver showed up. You did neither of those things...so you obviously aren't her. Now I'm not going to ask nicely again. Where. Is. My friend?"
The sadistic grin on the stolen face was almost a relief. "...I was wondering how long it would take you to notice."
BLAM.
The bullet bounced harmlessly off a kinetic barrier, and the Infiltrator retaliated by swinging its fist towards Summer's head. The silver-eyed woman blocked the sudden punch with her forearm and countered with an attempted pistol-whip, which the alien infiltrator stopped by grabbing the barrel. The two of them grappled for control of the gun, with Summer struggling to bring the business end to its chest while her opponent attempted to pull it out of her grasp. When it became clear that this was a contest of strength she wouldn't win, she changed tactics, slamming her forehead into "Penny's" skull, knocking the infiltrator off balance just long enough for Summer to grab the alien's arm and lock it behind the back, slamming her weight against the alien and shoving it against the wall.
"Hmm…" purred Penny's doppelganger, "An impressive display. Most impressive indeed. Not only sharp-minded, but also well-versed in hand-to-hand." The voice sounded similar to Penny's, but the inflection was...wrong.
"If you think flattery will stop me from putting a bullet in your brain, you're wrong," growled Summer, shoving the business end of her pistol against its head and well inside the shield it wore. "Now start talking. What did you do to her?!"
"Oh, relax already," croned the infiltrator, rolling Penny's eyes. "Your friend is fine. She's just taking a short nap right on the floor - exactly where you left her."
"If you did anything to hurt her…"
"I didn't even lay a hand on her. She passed out as soon as she saw my true form. Once you had turned your back, it was a simple matter of pulling her out of sight and changing my cloak to take on her appearance."
"I turned my back for a minute," said Summer in disbelief.
The Infiltrator grinned darkly. "That was all the time I needed."
"So you were with us ever since we left the Armory," said Summer as the pieces fell into place. "You could have easily attacked us at any point. Hell, you were holding my hand the whole time. Why not take advantage of that?"
Penny's double pursed her lips. "I admit...my mission took a backseat to my curiosity. You intrigued me, Summer Rose. The way you seemed so sure of your moral convictions, how you threatened anyone who would harm your 'friends'... and to say nothing of your combat prowess...it was fascinating, especially given how selfish and simple-minded these other 'humans' are. I had to know who you are...and I believe I might have an idea.
Summer scowled. It was so tempting to just pull the trigger and be done with it. But that would be too easy. Too merciful. Too painless.
"You don't know a damn thing about me," she growled, "and you know even less about humanity."
The alien cackled in Penny's voice. "I know enough. I know that they enjoy conflict, thrive and profit off of warfare and bloodshed. Oh sure, they pretend to be civil, but they're no better than Mutons in their need for chaos and destruction. Do you know how many people I've personally killed today?"
"Too many."
"Now you're flattering me. I only killed six. The rest? They did that to themselves."
Summer's grip tightened on the pistol as the Outsider continued to speak.
"It was a brilliant plan, really. All I had to do was knock out the power, cycle my cloak through the appearance of a handful of prominent agents, then begin attacking others under disguise. Those that died would no longer get in my way. Those that lived would be suspicious of anyone and everyone, even turning against a friend if it meant their survival. Paranoia and suspicion would have taken care of the wandering Agents, leaving me free to execute my real mission."
Penny's double snarled. "Except just when things were getting good, you all decided you actually trusted one another."
"Told you that you didn't know anything about humanity," said Summer with a smirk. "So how about we circle back a bit and talk about this mission of yours. What were you hoping to accomplish with coming here?"
The laugh that came from the alien spy sounded like Penny's, but instead of reminding Summer of church bells, it sounded more like death kneels. "Mosaic would flash-fry my brains if I even considered answering truthfully," drawled the infiltrator.
Her smirk faded, replaced by a raised eyebrow. "Mosaic? What the hell's Mosaic?"
"Mosaic is the truth that humanity shall come to know," answered Penny's doppelganger. "Most will not live to witness it...but those that do will realize that this world is no longer theirs."
While Summer struggled to parse the meaning of the Infiltrator's words, it chuckled darkly. "You know...it's funny. The mere sight of me, an alien, was enough to make your precious 'Penny' faint on the spot."
It looked back at Summer with a dangerous grin. "I wonder how she'd react to finding out her best friend is also an alien?"
What the fuck?
Before Summer could even start to ask how it knew, the lights popped out again and plunged the world into darkness once more. The Infiltrator, who no doubt had a hand in both the blackouts, squirmed out of her grasp, jerking its head back and crushing Summer's nose with the back of its skull. She stumbled back and lost her grip on the pistol just long enough for Penny's doppleganger to swipe it from her hands, aim it at the staggered Huntress, and fire.
BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.
Silver eyes went wide in response to the fire racing across her skin, as one, two, three bullets punched through her skin and muscles and buried themselves into her ribs. The shock of hitting the ground was nothing compared to the searing pain that got worse every time she tried to breathe, and though she knew she had to move her hand to stem the bleeding, her body seemed unwilling to do so. But what hurt worse than the pain was the sight she saw when her Venn Brace automatically turned on its flashlight function - just in time to reveal a monster wearing the face of her best friend callously step over her and aim the pistol at her head.
Summer braced herself for the bullet that would end her life a second time.
It never came.
What did come, however, was the sound of a powerful laser burning through the air, briefly illuminating the hallway in a deep red glow. The blast struck Penny's double square in the arm, shattering its shield and scorching its shoulder. The sound of Penny's voice screaming in agony soon followed after a moment of shock, but it faded and morphed into a modulated voice, one identical in tone and inflection to the voices Summer had heard a dozen times in the field.
The Infiltrator's disguise disintegrated in a swirl of holographic cubes, revealing the familiar face of an Outsider. The glowing red eyes, the leathery wrinkled forehead and skin, the vertical mouth slit that stretched from its chin to its crown, revealing a jawful of silver teeth...Summer didn't need perfect lighting to see just how alien and otherworldly it was.
"Got you now, asshole!"
The voice of Nils preceded another blast from the recovered laser sniper rifle, this one lancing its side. The Infiltrator snarled and spun to face its new opponent, firing Summer's pistol at the Recon agent. Nils cast aside the now-spent laser weapon and drew his own M14 instead, firing a short burst that hit the Outsider's leg, causing blue blood to splatter out of its wound. Rather than retaliate, the Infiltrator chose to retreat, hobbling away and ducking under Nils's follow up bursts.
Summer turned limply towards the sound of the voice. "Nils…" she croaked.
"Hang in there, Summer," said the Recon agent as he snapped a fresh magazine into his rifle. "Carter's on his way with healing. I'll keep pursuit of this bastard, try to keep the pressure on him and direct him to the Morgue. You and the rest of Strike Three meet up with me soon as you can, and then we'll finish him off for good."
No.
No.
No no no no no no no.
If Summer was barely able to hold her own against the Infiltrator, then there was no way in hell that Nils stood a chance. He may have gotten a surprise attack or two in, but he couldn't possibly stay that lucky for the whole fight. If he went after the Infiltrator by himself, then he'd end up staying in the Morgue instead of medical.
And no one would be waiting for him in the Morgue.
"Nils…" she barely managed to choke out, "...it's...suicide…"
"I know," he admitted as he slid back the charging handle, "but if we don't follow him now he'll just slip away again. We can't let that happen. I can't let that happen."
And with that, the Recon agent ran off before Summer could even remind him of his promise to Liz.
She rolled over, trying to pull herself up but to no avail. She had to get up. Had to follow him. Had to follow the trail of blue alien blood on the floor, even if she had to crawl to do so. But the pain was so bad. It hurt so much. So much that after screaming at her own failure, she pulled out her Muton blade, heating it up and casting her surroundings in blood-red light as she prepared to bring the hot edge to her wounds…
"Whoa whoa whoa! Summer no! Don't do that!"
A hand clamped tightly onto her shoulder, and pale blue light overtook her. Summer sighed in relief as Carter's power surged through her, soothing the pain and closing up the entry holes that kept belching fire and fatigue. And yet...it wasn't completely gone. There was still an echo of pain that lingered, a remnant that stuck fast in her chest like a bad case of heartburn. She looked back at her squad leader, perplexed.
"Sorry," he said with a shake of his head. "I was already running on half-empty before we found each other. Then Weaver shot me with a damn sniper round, and...well, that takes more to repair than a dinky little pistol shot. So that's about all the healing I got left right now. Hope it's enough."
"Maybe we should go back and get one of those chocolate bars from the Doctor again," said Adam.
"There's no time for that!" Summer's eyes widened in urgency. "Nils took off after the Infiltrator without backup!"
Carter swore. "When I told him to go on ahead, that didn't mean he was supposed to follow it! What does that damn fool think he's doing?"
"I don't know," said Summer, already pulling herself to her feet. "But he left us a trail to follow. We have to move, now!"
And with that, she took off running, following the drops and splatters of blue alien blood as it led her down hallways and around corners. She could hear the pounding footsteps of her squadmates behind her - Carter, Adam, Shen, and even the Mucallin brothers. She didn't bother slowing down so they could keep up, even though she knew she should have. But she was faster than them, and she needed to move fast to save Nils. If the others couldn't keep up, that was their own damn fault.
"All agents," said a voice that crackled from her jacket-mounted radio, "Infiltrator has been spotted and is being pursued by Tango-Two. Change your radio frequencies to 93.7 for base-wide reporting and updates."
Despite the urgency, Summer fiddled with the dials on her mike, switching the settings to the channel that Chulski had specified. A flood of reports came crackling through the speaker.
"Hotel-Four here," came Vahlen's voice, "reporting from Sub-level Four. Working with Alpha-Whiskey and Hotel-Delta to get basewide power back on. Seems like there's some kind of EMP charge that the Infiltrator's planted and detonated remotely. We're working on how to remove it without damaging the main power lines."
That would explain why the lights went out a second time. The Infiltrator must have sabotaged the main power when it first came in, then set a charge that it could detonate if the engineers got it working again. Well, no matter. If anyone could figure out how to restore power again, it'd be Weir and Dresner. Besides, her Venn Brace had enough light to let her see the alien blood trail, and that was enough for her.
"Sierra-One reporting from Sub-Level One," called Bradford, "got the Hangar locked down with most of the rest of Strike One. If that Infiltrator tries to use the Skyrangers to escape, he's gonna get a face full of lead for the trouble."
Summer frowned as she noticed another blood trail running concurrent with the one she was following. It was dark, and sticky, and had the same consistency as the first trail.
Except this one was red.
The Infiltrator had scored a hit on Nils, and now there were two trails to follow, both leading to the same place.
At least, she hoped they would.
"Whiskey Three checking in from Sub-Level Two," growled Carter. "I'm in pursuit of the Infiltrator with Romeo-Alpha-Three and Juliet-Alpha-Five. Sierra-Three's in pursuit as well, but she's outpacing the rest of us, as usual."
Now more than ever, Summer wished for her Aura. Not for protection, or even to remind her of home, but for her Semblance. Her Scatter ability allowed her to dissolve into a burst of rose petals and reform anywhere she liked. What she wouldn't give to have that power right now, when she needed to be somewhere else.
"Echo-Five speaking," grumbled Briggs in a British accent, "Lima-Five and I have got the APCs fired up and are forming a blockade."
Her thoughts as she ran returned to her Aura, and theories she had on why it wasn't working. Maybe she'd lost it when she died on Remnant? Maybe she'd been transported into a body where such a force simply didn't exist? She knew that the human race on Earth had never developed the ability to use Aura, but the Outsiders seemed able to use their powers just fine. Shouldn't she, another alien, also be able to use hers?
Maybe she could ask the Infiltrator about her Aura problems.
Assuming she could remember to do so before disemboweling it.
"Alpha-One here. Tango-Two and bogey have been spotted leaving the Sub-Level One stairwell. Got a clear killshot on the Infiltrator, sir. Waiting on approval."
Good. Much as Summer didn't like Weaver, she wasn't about to let personal pride get in the way of the right thing. If she could take out the Infiltrator with one clean headshot, then maybe Nils would be safe, and this whole nightmare would be over.
"Negative, Alpha-One. Disabling shots only. Capture protocol is in effect."
...what?
"...understood. Target has been tagged. Standing by for additional orders."
Summer couldn't believe what she was hearing. Why did Faulke want the Infiltrator alive? Why did Weaver just go for a wounding shot when she had a perfect kill in her lap?
Why wasn't anyone telling Nils to stand down?!
"Thanks, Alpha-One!" Nils gasped, "Think that just pissed him off, though!"
He sounded tired, but alive. That was all the proof that Summer needed to keep running, to sprint up the approaching stairs five steps at a time. It didn't escape her notice that the farther she got, the more red blood she saw instead of blue.
"Kilo-Three, reporting from Armory," said Knox somberly. "Got the corpse of an agent here, looks like it's Papa-Four. There's a comms operator here too, in shock but alive. Won't stop crying though. Keeps asking for Sierra-Three."
Penny...the poor dear. Summer wanted nothing more than to go to her, to hold and comfort her, to help her through the nightmare.
But right now Nils needed her more.
She made one final sprint to the top of the stairwell, shoulder checking the door and nearly taking it off its hinges. Her arm screamed in pain, and she could already feel a bruise forming across her muscled skin, but she didn't care. She kept running.
"Alpha-One with another update. Just saw Sierra-Three charge out the same stairwell Tango-Two took. She's got murder written all over her face."
"Go get 'em, Sierra!" called out Briggs, "Get in there and kick some arse!"
"Keep him busy Sierra!" added Carter. "Strike Three'll be there as soon as we can."
A flood of encouraging comments followed suit, and it was almost enough to make her smile.
Almost.
Muttering a quick "thank you" to everyone on the receiving end, Summer bounded down the last leg of the blood trail and towards the sound of gunfire and yelling. The sounds came from the hallway she and Nils had passed earlier, to the right of Medical. Nils must have been at least somewhat successful in routing the Infiltrator towards the Morgue, though the amount of blood in the trail she followed told her that he'd likely paid a heavy price.
That suspicion was confirmed when she rounded the corner just in time to see the Infiltrator pull the M14 from Nils's bloodied hands, knocking him to the floor before dumping the rest of the magazine into him.
The world froze. The radio lit up with chatter.
"Tango-Two's down! Repeat, Tango-Two's critical!"
"Get medical personnel to the Morgue ASAP! We gotta get him stabilized!"
"Someone get a damn medkit!"
Summer's grip on the mike was strong enough to shatter the casing, and before she knew it, she was charging at the alien monster responsible. It brought up the rifle to return fire, only to hear the click of an empty magazine. She took advantage of the mistake by throwing the comms device like a softball, striking the Infiltrator in the face and, while it wasn't as effective as a grenade, the weight and impact of the shattering plastic and circuitry certainly caused a great deal of pain as it cut across its face. The huntress closed the distance and throttled the Outsider with both hands, wrapping her fingers around its throat and shaking it violently while ducking and avoiding its wild flails. When the Infiltrator tried to do the same to her, she denied it the pleasure by kicking it square in the chest, knocking it into the doors to the Morgue before sending it crashing through the glass barrier with another solid kick.
She leapt in through the broken glass, staring down the Outsider as it slowly rose back to its feet. The smell of rotting corpses and the countless body bags illuminated by her Venn Brace would have normally overwhelmed her and filled her with revulsion. Now, however, they were barely a blip on her radar - her focus was entirely on the Infiltrator standing across from her, barely a shadow in the darkness.
"Nowhere left to run or hide," growled Summer dangerously as she drew her blade, its laser-heated elements casting the room in a blood-red light as it extended to its full length.
The Infiltrator hummed thoughtfully at the sight of the weapon. "Curious...a Muton dueling blade. You'll never find a Muton who would willingly part with their blade, no matter how much material wealth you offer them. The only way to get one is to kill its owner."
Then, to her surprise, the Infiltrator pulled out an identical-looking blade, except this one glowed with emerald light.
"Unfortunately for you, I happen to be an expert duelist."
"We'll see about that," snarled Summer, bringing her blade into a ready position. Across from her, the Infiltrator did the same.
The two duelists circled and stepped around each other, as if they were waiting for their opponent to make the first move. Summer took advantage of the pale green light the Infiltrator's weapon cast on himself to study her foe, to notice all the nicks and burns and bleeding wounds that nevertheless didn't seem to impede its movement. Either this particular Outsider didn't feel pain, or it had a will equal to Summer's and was simply blocking it out of its mind.
Illuminated in a shade of red that matched her rage, Summer eventually got tired of waiting and made the first strike.
She dashed forward and lashed out multiple times with her blade, leaving arcing red flashes with every swing. The Infiltrator brought up its own sword to block each blow, creating a shower of sparks when the two heated blades met. After blocking several of Summer's attacks, it followed up with a strike of its own that left a green trail as it swung, which she narrowly managed to lean to avoid before blocking another incoming slash. The two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm of strikes and blocks, deflections and parries, moves and countermoves. A deadly dance of crimson and emerald that would not cease until blood was drawn.
The Outsider, much to Summer's chagrin, wasn't bluffing when it said it was an expert duelist. She could see it in the movements, the stance, the foot placement. It had finesse, precision, speed, control, and yet it was still strong enough to keep hold of its guard to withstand the full brunt of her strikes, as well as retaliate with enough force to make the bones in her arms shake each time she blocked. It was clear from the body language on display and the almost bored expression on its face that it wasn't taking this seriously - to the Infiltrator, this entire experience was little more than a game, one that Summer was struggling just to keep up with.
But she had no intention of losing anyways.
The air in the room grew warmer and warmer as the two heated blades collided against each other again and again, the golden flashes that erupted from each point of contact lighting up the Morgue just as much as the blades themselves. Summer's swings were wild, powerful, and sweeping; as the Infiltrator studied her style, its swings too became more confident and less apprehensive. The two fighters became little more than whirling blades of red and green as they slashed and clashed, flowing into more complex feints and more elaborate, faster series of strikes that demanded more from the defender and even more from the attacker.
Summer used the environment to her advantage as much as she could during the deadly duel. Anytime she could let a desiccated corpse in a body bag take a thrust that was meant for her head, she did so. Whenever she saw a chance to knock the Infiltrator into a stack of crates with a punch, she took it. Sometimes she'd kick a wheeled table into her opponent to throw off the rhythm; sometimes she'd use the same table as a springboard to unleash an overhead swing. The Outsider quickly wisened up to her attacks of opportunity, and quickly developed counters. Such as flinging the corpse off its blade and at her feet to trip her up, or slashing the table into steaming halves before she got a chance to use it.
The dance of glowing sabers in the dark was as beautiful as it was dangerous, art and science and warfare all at once. For the first time since coming to Earth, Summer felt like a Huntress again.
But it could not last forever.
She could feel her adrenaline fading as the fight progressed, her stamina flagging as fatigue rose within her arms and legs. This sluggishness and exhaustion was the only explanation she could muster for why the Infiltrator drew first blood, its blade skirting lightly across her upper back. The sheer heat coming from the steaming wound was excruciating - it felt a million times hotter than her sword could ever be, and it seemed to further sap her strength and dull her senses until it felt like she was swimming in her own melted flesh.
The fight ended soon after that first strike. Summer tried to focus on blocking and countering, but the agony of that damn searing cut on her back drained her and slowed her down too much. She was unable to stop the Outsider's sword from making a similarly painful cut on her upper arm, then on her flank, then her thighs. The last strike that bit into the side of her leg finally broke her, falling to her knees as her prized sword clattered out of her hand.
Hot blood flowed out of hotter wounds, and took her strength with it.
"As I suspected," said the Infiltrator, smugness seeping into its layered voice. "An admirable effort...but a futile one. Countless species have fallen before the Zudjari. Yours will be another handful of dust cast into an infinite nebula."
Summer wanted to rise, wanted to get up, wanted to do anything besides kneel before the Infiltrator and whine pitifully, but that's all her body seemed capable of doing at the moment. The Outsider spy stepped forward, clawed fingertips reaching under her chin and tilting her face up to meet its own as it powered up its blade one final time.
"To think...a world as primitive as this one would have a soul like yours inhabiting it. Skill with the blade, the rage of a warrior, and the cunning of a thief, all concealed within eyes of silver...you are full of surprises, Summer Rose."
"She's not the only one."
The lights flipped back on one final time to reveal Carter standing in the doorway to the Morgue, hands glowing with blue ephemeral light that made the Infiltrator's eyes widen in shock. Before it could lunge or do anything, Carter made an upwards fist motion, yanking the Outsider off the ground as if hoisted into the air by invisible hands. With a growl and a jerk of his hand to the left, the Infiltrator slammed into a stack of cremation ovens like a ragdoll; with a flick of his wrist to the right, it crashed through a shelf of body bags. Finally, Carter levitated the helpless Infiltrator one more time, glaring at it menacingly before he pulled it towards him and drove his fist into its chest as it flew past, the Venn Brace strengthening and electrifying his punch. The Zudjari flopped and bounced across the ground before skidding to a halt, landing in a fit of shudders and convulsions before it finally went still.
"Whiskey Three here," said Carter into his radio as the light faded, "Infiltrator's out cold and ready for capture. Strike Three will tie him up and throw him down to the labs. I'll bet that the Kraut's foaming at the mouth for a chance to talk to this guy."
"Acknowledged, Whiskey-Three," crackled Myron Faulke through the radio, "Good work."
"Wasn't just me, sir. Sierra did most of the hard work, as usual."
There was a brief pause, before the Director chuckled. "Then Sierra-Three has my thanks as well. This may very well change the way the war is fought. Excellent work, everyone. Vigilo Confido."
As Adam, Shen, and other agents moved to secure the unconscious body of the Infiltrator, Summer's mind worked to process what had just happened. She knew that Carter had been practicing with the telekinetic powers the artifact gifted him, but she had no idea that he'd managed to get so fine a grip on them so quickly. The astonished Huntress looked back at Carter, staring in amazement at the man in the gray hat who, for once, looked quite pleased with himself.
"Hey, it might not be throwing cars around…" he said with a small smirk, "but I'd say it's still a neat trick."
Summer managed to force out a chuckle. "And you couldn't have done that five minutes earlier because…?"
"Because I wasn't sure if I'd end up picking you up too. It's...still not the most precise thing in the world."
"Mm." Summer's head suddenly felt significantly lighter. It was probably because of the blood loss.
As her vision blurred and the room around her started to tilt to the left, she concluded that it was definitely because of the blood loss.
"Probably for the best. I'd...rather a man take me out for dinner first before...flinging me...around…"
She was barely aware of Carter calling out her name several times, each shout more alarmed than the last, before the world around her went dark one more time.
A/N: Whew! That was a thing! 10k words in a little less than a month...I think I'm starting to get the hang of this whole "writing" thing!
Now, about what I said about this chapter being the thesis statement for the story…(don't read if you aren't super interested in the gory details of storycrafting in video games)
As I've said before, the Bureau: XCOM Declassified is an interesting game concept with cool ideas that, barring some excellent exceptions, get undermined by having to be tied down to a mediocre third-person cover-based shooter. The Infiltrator sequence is one of those ideas. It actually happens much earlier in the game than it does in Summer Declassified, sandwiched right in between your first arrival at the Bureau and the mission to Rosemont to rescue Doctor Weir. During that sequence, there's no exploration, no sense of tension, not even really any creepiness factor. Just a series of objective markers that lead you to an awkward cutscene where Carter and the Infiltrator stand around and banter like dumbasses until the rest of your squad shows up in the background just in time for another dull firefight.
Oh, and we're supposed to be mad at the Infiltrator because he killed Nils, an NPC from the first mission whose only real character trait is that he's voiced by Yuri Lowenthal. So that's a thing that happens. How much it affects you mostly boils down to how much you like Yuri Lowenthal. (It certainly affected me, I'll tell you what.)
It's such a waste of an idea and such a failure of storytelling that it manages to stand out in a game that's absolutely full of similarly-botched concepts. It stuck with me so much that when I started planning Summer Declassified, I knew I wanted to ramp up the paranoia and mistrust and the danger involved in having to hunt down the imposter. Moving the sequence to later in the story and populating the base with characters instead of just names and faces was certainly part of that, to try to further that sort of dread not just for the characters, but for the reader as well. Can you imagine how tense and fun it would have been if you had to do something similar like this entirely through game play? It certainly would have been more memorable than yet another shooting gallery in a room full of chest high walls, but maybe that's just me.
In any case, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and keep being awesome!
