(A/N): Soooo...how are we all feeling after that Volume 8 finale, eh? Good, bad, existentially crushed and possibly depressed for all eternity? (It's okay if you're still feeling that last one, we've all been there and frankly I'm still there as well).

Well, allow me to cheer you all up with a new chapter of Summer Declassified! As promised, we've got another story mission from the game to tackle today, though as usual I'm taking a few…"liberties" with the way the mission's presented in the basic game. Partly to make things more interesting, partly to make it easier to write, and mostly to cut down on like ninety percent of the filler combat. This chapter and the next one we're gonna get a bit more insight into why Weaver is the way she is, and maybe have some cool moments along the way. Read on, and I hope you enjoy!


"Ah, Summer Rose. You have arrived."

As the door to the Infiltrator's prison slammed shut behind her, Summer had to suppress the small shiver running up and down her spine. Last time the alien captive had asked to speak to her alone, it had ended in her identity being ousted to the entire base in the worst possible way at the worst possible time. But according to Crawford and other caretakers, the Infiltrator had mellowed out significantly since that fateful visit, and had even begun to grow a begrudging respect for the Huntress and her ideals. While it, or he - the Infiltrator didn't seem to care all that much about humanity's crude ideas of gender - still didn't say much about Mosaic beyond assured gloats, he was at least more conversational and willing to talk about other aspects of the Zudjari. So despite that small bit of fear and doubt lingering in her mind, Summer was reasonably sure that this invitation had better intentions than the last one.

Besides, her big secret was already out, so what was the Infiltrator gonna do this time? Get her to confess that she used to be pen pals with Willow Schnee and Kali Belladonna? The Bureau wouldn't even know who those people were, much less how unlikely that would be.

Nodding in response to the Infiltrator's greeting, Summer took a seat opposite the other alien guest, noticing how the table between them was practically cluttered with books. Lots and lots and lots of books, in fact, some of them with pages folded to mark position or laid face down to be picked up and read later. And one of them, which Summer recognized as the Christian Bible, was laying wide open and showed clear signs of wear and tear, the print barely legible under the dim lighting as the Infiltrator traced a finger along the passages and scanned his red eyes along the words.

"Interesting choice," said Summer after a moment's silence, "Tried giving that one a read myself, but...I don't think I'm the target audience. Still found it pretty fascinating, though."

"Indeed," affirmed the Outsider, "It certainly seems to codify a lot of humanity's more violent tendencies."

Summer frowned. "I dunno. There's some good lessons in the back half, at least. The first part's a little rough, though, I'll give you that."

The Infiltrator hummed in response, then turned the page. Summer cleared her throat.

"So...is there a reason you asked to see me?"

"I have been reading about the mythologies of this world," said the Zudjari, barely looking at her. "Different cultures have different beliefs and ideas about how the Earth was made, yet they all seem to share similar concepts and themes. I was wondering how the stories of Remnant compared."

Summer almost laughed. The Infiltrator had seriously called her down to ask about the myths and legends of her home world? That was a far cry from the alien menace who stole the face of her best friend, literally bled her dry, and tried to turn the entire Bureau against her. For all his talk about how human culture was worthless and not worth learning about, it seemed a few short weeks in complete captivity had done enough to make him start reversing his stance.

Well, she didn't have anything better to do, so why not humor him?

"Let's see...well, for starters, we don't really have organized religions or dedicated pantheons of divine beings," said Summer. "We have a story about two brother gods that shaped the world of Remnant, though not many people worship them directly anymore. But what we do have are fairy tales, and lots of them. There's The Girl in the Tower, The Shallow Sea, The Indecisive King, The Story of the Seasons...and of course my personal favorite, The Warrior in the Woods. A lot of them are meant to explain why the world is the way it is...and they usually have lessons built in to help us make a better world than the one we live in."

The Infiltrator looked up from his book, humming thoughtfully. "Curious. So your people's only history comes from these...children's tales?"

"Anything more complicated usually doesn't last in the long-term," answered Summer. "Either they get forgotten with time, or they get lost to the Grimm. Most of our culture survives based on word of mouth and stories we pass on to the next generation - and even those tales might not always get passed down, because no matter how safe the Kingdoms get, survival isn't always a guaranteed thing."

"Hmm. Interesting…"

Summer saw a chance to deepen her own knowledge, and took it. "What about your people? Do the Zudjari have a Creation myth?"

"If we did, it has been lost to us," said the Outsider morosely, "Much of our culture and history was forgotten when we abandoned our dying world. As far as the Zudjari of today know, there was nothing before Mosaic found us."

"Then tell me that story. The story of how Mosaic found you. If you don't mind."

The Infiltrator stared long and hard at Summer, as if he was afraid merely telling the story would reveal to the Bureau how to thwart the entire invasion. Finally, he sighed, vertical mouth flaps expanding as he began to speak.

"Our world was dying, as I said. We were… careless in how we treated the planet, reckless in how quickly we advanced, and ruthless in battles for territory and conquest. Warfare was a constant force in our lives, as real as gravity and weather and just as vital to our well-being. When the surface soil was so drenched in blood that it could no longer support life, we dug deeper, and waged war for the resources and arable land that existed underground. This cycle repeated itself over and over, time and again, as we worked through every layer of stone and dirt that our planet had to offer until its very core became exposed. And then we fought for control of that, as if the crumbling center of our world was nothing more than the latest in a long line of shiny new baubles. A trophy to commemorate the victor of a dying race."

Summer noticed a hint of disdain in the Zudjari's voice, before it disappeared.

"And then when all seemed lost, salvation came in an unlikely form. Mosaic, an entity with no body but possessing wisdom as old as time, descended to our broken world from beyond the stars. We did not know what it was, or where it came from, only that when it spoke, it did so not with voice, but with thought instead. It called to us and asked for the greatest among our people, stating that it would grant its blessing to the one it deemed the most worthy. The bravest and strongest warriors challenged and slaughtered each other for its favor, but in the end, it chose none of those fighters. Instead, it chose a scientist to become its vessel, a scientist that had spent centuries warning the Zudjari of the planet's collapse only to watch it happen with his own eyes. The scientist was humbled and overjoyed at being chosen for Mosaic's favor, and so after the offer was accepted, they merged into one being."

If the Infiltrator could smile, he no doubt would have done so as he finished the story.

"Under Mosaic's guidance and wisdom, the scientist was given utmost respect and authority. Realizing it was too late to save the Zudjari homeworld, he instead funneled the planet's remaining resources and the labor of his people into the construction of a fleet capable of traversing the stars. We had begun exploring space before the collapse, but the rest of our solar system was barren, lifeless, and deemed unworthy of conquest. As such, we had assumed that the entire universe was similarly empty, so attempts were never made to travel to other systems. With Mosaic's knowledge, however, interstellar travel was simple to achieve, and soon enough the first fleet of ships came together as if they had been grown out of the soil itself. And at the heart of this fleet was the crown jewel, an Ark grander than any ship that came before and any that would follow. The greatest feat of Zudjari engineering, and the only vessel worthy of carrying Mosaic itself."

"The Temple Ship," realized Summer.

The Infiltrator nodded reverently. "Where else is one to house a god, if not in a temple?"

"Fascinating. So this Temple Ship, and the fleet...it carried your people off-world? To safety?"

"Most of them," said the Infiltrator. "The collapse of our planet came shortly after the Temple Ship's completion, and so it and any other spacworthy ships took off with as many Zujdari as they could house minutes before the core finally buckled under its own weight. Our home was gone, dust left to scatter in cosmic winds, and so were those left behind...but under Mosaic's guidance, we had the resources to survive until we found a new world."

"And so that's when you started conquering other planets and enslaving their races," said Summer, nodding as all the pieces fell into place. "And those Mosaic implants...the ones that connect you all to the psionic network...they must have been developed some time later, to keep the Zudjari from infighting and to keep history from repeating itself."

Once again the Infiltrator nodded. "Where we were once savage and warlike, as you are now, we have found peace and prosperity through Mosaic's touch. Soon, your kind will know the same, and this war will be remembered as nothing more than one last act of violence from a generation of ignorance."

Of course he had to ruin such a nice story with a pithy declaration of victory. Asshole.

"So what happened to the scientist?" Summer asked, not in the mood to argue about humanity's merits again. "How'd his story end?"

"It has yet to," answered the Infiltrator. "The scientist still lives upon the Temple Ship with the Matriarchs, where he guides us still through Mosaic's influence. His true name has been lost to history, and now only his title remains. In your language, it translates to...Origin."

Well now that was a little on the nose. Still, at least now the Bureau knew a little more about the enemy they were fighting. If one day they ever got access to the Temple Ship, she suspected that this "Origin" fellow would be their primary target.

Another question came to mind, this one...less useful.

"Interesting...you mentioned Matriarchs. There are female Zudjari?"

The Infiltrator rolled his eyes and let out an irritated huff. "How many times must I explain this to your people? Yes, there are female Zudjari. No, they do not fight on the front lines. And no, they most certainly do not look like male Zudjari with useless fat deposits on their chest! They are the key to our survival - we could not reproduce without them!"

"I see. And how do you reproduce, exactly?"

The death glare Summer received was almost potent enough to make her drop dead on the spot. Almost. When the Outsider spoke again, it was in a clipped, agitated voice.

"Eggs."

Summer stared. "...eggs," she repeated uncertainly.

"Eggs," affirmed the Infiltrator. "Our Matriarchs lay hundreds of eggs at a time, and those eggs are transported to ships and kept in warm stasis until needed, fitted with Mosaic Implants as we form and develop within the embryo. The soft outer shell of our eggs becomes our skin as we grow, and by the time the incubation process is complete, we are fully educated and ready to fight. The process takes roughly two of your weeks, and requires nothing more than a connection to Mosaic and a heated incubator."

Well that explained why there seemed to be no end to these Outsiders. Still, the implications of this reproduction process were...horrifying, to say the least. That was how hornets and wasps propagated their species - which, upon further thought, proved to be an apt metaphor.

"You seem perturbed," said the Infiltrator with a tilt of his head. "Why? How do humans reproduce?"

Summer pushed aside the concerned expression to make way for a shit-eating grin. "Well, you see, when a Mommy and a Daddy love each other very much…"

"Would the leaders and ASLs for Strikes Three, Four, and Five please report to Communications?"

Damn. Chulski's voice over the PA ruined her own attempts to horrify her fellow alien guest. Well, that could wait for another time. She had a feeling she'd be coming back here regularly.

"Looks like it's time for me to save the world again," said Summer as she stood up. "Guess I'll see you later."

The Infiltrator nodded, then went back to reading. "May you live long enough to see the futility of your struggle."

It wasn't "good luck," but it was close enough for Summer.


"You can't do this to me, Myron! You need me for this!"

Chulski had to suppress the urge to wince as the conflict between the Director and his second escalated into full-on shouting. It was no secret that Faulke and Weaver had their share of disagreements, but they usually happened in the soundproofed walls of their offices. To see them openly fighting right in the middle of comms, in plain view of dozens of operators, was almost unheard of. Given the broadcast that had just come in, she couldn't exactly blame either of them for letting emotions bubble up to the surface - but the fact that it was happening at all was still a concerning development.

"What I need is for you to be calm, controlled, and rational," countered Faulke, "and right now, I don't see any of those traits in you. I can't trust that you won't let your personal feelings about the matter cloud your judgement, so you're off this mission."

"But if this is the asshole that I've been looking for - "

"- that we've been looking for," corrected Faulke, "Then it's extremely important that we bring him back alive. Not only do we need his implant, we need his intel. And we can't get that from a corpse or a splatter against the wall."

"After what that bastard did?" Weaver glowered. "You know why I can't accept that."

"I know full well why you can't. Which is why you're grounded until further notice."

Fortunately, the argument seemed to run out of steam just as six more agents started filing into the communications area, already geared out with plasma weapons, power packs, and spare ammo. Weaver glared at the new arrivals, her gaze lingering on the gray-hatted William Carter and the white-cloaked Summer Rose longer than she did on the rest. Then, without so much as a pithy remark to Faulke, she stormed off with thunder in her footsteps, seemingly going out of her way to shove the Remnant Huntress on the way out.

"Bloody hell," remarked Briggs, wincing as Weaver slammed the door with a loud thud. "Who took a piss in her coffee this morning?"

"Probably some misguided bloke who wanted to add some flavor," joked Loveday. "But I doubt that's what this is about. Maybe it's that time of the month?"

Chulski raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She watched as Summer winced, Carter sighed, Cole took a drink from his flask, and Commisar narrowed his eyes.

"Enough," said Faulke, clearly unamused. "We have a new priority mission on the table, and we need to move fast if we want to take advantage of it."

Summer's eyes widened. "Another Outsider attack?"

Faulke shook his head. "The opposite, in fact." He looked over to Chulski with a nod. "The floor is yours, Kate."

The Chief Communications Officer nodded in response, then stood up to address the half-dozen gathered agents. She cleared her throat, and began speaking in a calm, collected manner.

"Twenty minutes ago, we intercepted a high-priority transmission between a Field Commander and what we believe to be one of those 'Shipmasters' the Infiltrator told us about. Seems that lately we've made so much trouble that it's gotten the attention of the alien overlord, and he's coming down to Earth to figure out why the invasion is failing."

Silence. Every single agent in the room seemed to stop breathing. Not that Chulski could blame them - this was what the Bureau had been working towards ever since the Roswell mission, and the Mosaic Implant carried by the Shipmaster was the key to getting the all-important "phase plotter" functional for the Avenger project. So she didn't need to explain the ramifications of this transmission to the room. They already knew.

Commisar found his voice first. "Are we sure this transmission's good? It might be a false flag operation to throw us off the trail, or bait us into an ambush."

"That's what we were worried about as well," explained Chulski with a nod, "but it took several layers of code breaking to crack the encryption, even with this monstrosity attached." She gestured to the box of loose wires, switches, and blinking lights that had been grafted onto her comms station like a transplanted tumor. "We could only read it in the first place by filtering it through the implant Rose's team acquired on Operation Hawkeye. If they wanted to just draw us out with a fake broadcast, why go through so much trouble to hide it? Considering the security, we think it's good."

"Is it recorded?" Carter asked.

Chulski nodded once again. "I'll play it back for you."

She pressed a button on her station, and soon the room was flooded with the sound of two Zudjari speaking to one another in an aggressive, alien language. The conversation was incomprehensible at first, but with the literal flip of a switch on the new box, Weir's auto-translation software went to work on transposing the words to English.

"...unacceptable," growled one voice, deeper than the other. "The invasion was supposed to take no more than two of this world's lunar orbital cycles. Why has it persisted for six?!"

"Forgive me and my brethren, Shipmaster Axis," pleaded the second. "The people of this world are more...resilient than we anticipated. There appears to be a hidden faction that fights against us, and we - "

"I am not interested in excuses!" Axis growled. "Bah! I will examine this world for myself, to see the causes of your failure with my own eyes. Do you have a Forge completed, at the very least?"

"Yes, Shipmaster. The coordinates are embedded within this message."

"I will be there within one-twelfth of the planet's rotation. Prepare for my arrival, and be ready for a full inspection of the Forge's facilities. I will not be generous in my analysis - the mere fact that I must sully my feet with the dust of an unconquered world is suffering enough. Do not add to it."

"We shall await your arrival with utmost excitement, oh great Shipmaster."

"The transmission ends there," finished Chulski as she clicked another button.

"Jesus, these Outsiders really like the taste of boot leather," noted Loveday. "Do they even have tongues?"

"We can discuss their cultural and military hierarchy another time," said Faulke impatiently. "For now, you should focus on mobilizing all three of your Strike Teams as quickly as possible to assault this 'Forge' facility. If we want that Shipmaster's implant, this is our best shot at getting it."

"The poor bastard on the receiving end said the messages had coordinates," said Carter. "Do we have those?"

"Not an exact pinpoint, but we have a general idea of where it came from," answered Chulski. "We've managed to narrow it down to Upper Klamath Lake on the south side of Oregon, about sixty klicks east of Medford. The Forge they mentioned has to be somewhere in that area - but it'll be up to you to find it on foot from there."

"And you'll have to do it fast," added Faulke sternly, "Based on that transmission, the Shipmaster will arrive within two hours, and we don't know how long they'll stay once they land. Focus on extracting the chip, then prep the target for capture and retrieval. Given how much intel we managed to recover from the Infiltrator, the amount we can get from a living Shipmaster would be staggering."

"So prioritize subduing the VIP, perform the field surgery, and then bring the alien asshole back alive," summarized Cole.

"Exactly," nodded Faulke. "Skyranger Four is down for maintenance, so we'll be committing all three of our working birds to - "

The sound of a shrill siren blaring through the base speakers pierced everyone's ears, followed by the dull, uninterested tone of the woman working in the Flight Deck's branch of the PA system.

"Attention, all personnel. Skyranger with the designation S-267 has just taken off without proper authorization. Multiple witnesses claim that Officer Weaver was at the helm, and the injuries they took in the scuffle seems to confirm their story."

"...God dammit!" Faulke hissed, slamming the nearest desk and snapping his still-lit cigarette neatly in half, "Angela, now is not the time for this! We need that Shipmaster alive, or you won't be saving anybody! Somebody hail that bird!"

"Already trying, sir!" reported a nearby operator. "She's not answering the comms!"

"Remote override signal's failed, too!" called another. "I can't access the emergency autopilot!"

"So Weaver's gone rogue, then," said Cole tiredly. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"I was counting down the days, personally," remarked Commisar. "I expected it to happen sooner, to be honest."

"We'll bring her back, sir," said Summer with determination in her silver eyes. "We still have two Skyrangers, right? Carter can lead one team, while I take another. We might even be faster with just two teams to coordinate...with your permission, of course."

Chulski had to force down a smile at witnessing the speed at which Summer retook control of the situation. Carter looked over at Summer with a nod, while the other Strike Leads and ASLs just glanced at each other. Even Faulke seemed impressed, nodding as he tried to salvage his broken cigarette.

"Permission granted," said the director finally, "Pull together two teams from any agents on standby, and get ready to move in fifteen minutes. I'll radio ahead to Barnes and Dolly to get their birds ready - every minute we waste here is another mile Angela puts between her and us. Vigilo Confido, and be careful, but decisive. We only get one shot at this - do not waste it."

Summer and Carter both nodded and saluted.

"We won't let you down, sir," promised Carter.


"Gods dammit, Tai…" groaned Qrow as he stepped into the tavern. "You're really letting me down here."

The smell of fresh cider and whiskey wafted through the doors of the Sleeping Raven, and the sound of laughing patrons and clinking glasses contributed to an atmosphere of revelry and merriment within the main hall. To Qrow's right, he could see a waitress with a criminally-short skirt taking the order of a lovestruck young couple, while on his right he noticed a bashful man following the sultry saunter of one of the male escorts. And dead ahead, right underneath the wooden Nevermore statue and in front of a dusty old bar, sat a blonde, disheveled, sorry excuse of a Huntsman.

With a sigh, the scruffy-looking Branwen tucked his hands in his pockets, avoided the gaze of any of the other patrons, and marched right over to his friend. The blonde brawler was staring into the half-empty mug like it was a magic mirror, eyes almost as glassy as the century-old windows that lined the walls of Patch's oldest establishment. Given the stink of cheap ale that hung around the man and the glare the portly bartender shot at Qrow, it was clear that however long Taiyang had been here, it had been several hours too long.

"Hmm. Don't suppose you've still got any of what he's having, do you?" He asked innocuously.

The bartender shook his head. "This man's drained my entire supply of ale for the week. All four barrels of it."

"Well that's your fault for not ordering more, you...you...you!" Taiyang snapped, his words blending together like someone had tried to turn them into a smoothie.

"I'll just take a Strawberry Sunrise, then," said Qrow. "No ice. Umbrella's optional."

With a grumble, the bartender disappeared, and Qrow moved to take a seat next to his friend. Taiyang didn't react to his presence, just kept staring into the frothy alcohol in complete silence. When the man behind the counter came back with the order, Qrow nursed it elegantly while he watched Taiyang finally pick up the mug and drain what was left of it in one long, greedy gulp.

"What are you doing, Tai?" Qrow asked wearily as he set his drink down.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" moaned the drunken brawler, slamming his mug onto the counter. "I'm drowning my sorrows in alcohol, like you do."

"Uh-huh. And how's that working out for you?"

Taiyang's lips trembled, and he buried his face into his arms. "Not so well…" he wailed, sobbing.

People were staring now. Gods dammit. Qrow sighed again, and a mild surge of panic came up as he realized something.

"Where are the girls?"

Taiyang started crying louder.

"Tai. Where are the girls?"

"Probably still in Yang's room, last I saw," he finally answered bitterly. "She grabbed Ruby and slammed the door on me. That's why I'm here."

Okay. On the one hand, they weren't in danger. On the other hand, something had happened in the afternoon that Qrow had gone for groceries, and judging by Taiyang's current state, it wasn't a good thing.

"Alright," said Qrow as he leaned against the bar. "So what happened this time?"

Taiyang took a shaky breath as he tried to recall the events before his drunken daze. "I...Ruby, she...she kept pestering me, asking about… hic, asking about her. She was asking me all day, following me everywhere I went, toddling after me with that damn smile on her face. With...hic! ...with her smile. I tried feeding her the usual bullshit. You know, the usual lines. 'Mommy's on a job. Mommy's out. Mommy's busy.' Eventually she asked me while I was trying to focus on making lunch, and I just...snap at her. I just...hic...I just whirl around and scream at her, saying 'Mommy is gone! She's not coming back!"

Qrow winced. "Jeez, Tai…"

"Oh, that's not the worst part," choked Taiyang. "See, Ruby… I dunno if Ruby really understood, she just started crying cause I yelled at her. Yang, though...she was in the other room, and she heard. And she...oh, she definitely understood. So now she starts crying, and Ruby cries even louder cause now her sister is crying, and I get so upset I yell at Yang and I say to her 'the hell are you crying about? She wasn't even your real mom!'"

Red eyes narrowed. "Dammit, Tai. You promised you wouldn't talk about that until she was ready. That you wouldn't say anything until I had a chance to -"

"I know I fucked up, alright?!" Bleary blue eyes snapped up at Qrow. "You don't gotta - hic! - you don't gotta rub it in! I know I'm a shitty dad, I know I shoulda just kept my damn mouth shut...I know I shoulda died instead of her!"

Qrow finally decided he'd had enough. He'd made the mistake of giving his only remaining teammate space to grieve, but that had only exacerbated the downwards spiral.

It was time to talk some sense into Taiyang.

And if Beacon Academy taught him anything, there was only one way to get through to a Xiao Long.

POW.

The maroon Aura around his knuckles rippled as it came into contact with a field of yellow-orange, protecting his fist from the impact shock as he slugged Taiyang across the jaw. The brawler's muscle memory, though impaired, was as sharp as ever, as he immediately countered with a backhanded blow right to the face. Qrow could hear the cartilage in his nose cracking as the attack connected, but the arm gave him enough leverage to flip Tai out of his seat and onto the floor, scattering the patrons and smashing the half-empty bottles into showers of glass and alcohol.

"Hey!" The bartender called, appalled. "If you're gonna fight, take it outside!"

"That's the idea, Porky," said Qrow as he stood up and cracked his nose back into place. "Relax, I'm just trying to talk some sense into him. We'll be out of your hair soon enough. Well...what's left of it, anyways."

Tai staggered to his feet, blinking blearily and trying to determine which of the three Qrows in front of him demanded his attention, before yelling and trying to deck all of them with a swing of his arm. Qrow easily ducked under the wild flail, using the chance to get close and let loose a solid flurry of fast punches. Aura rippled from the impact of each blow, and it only took a few hits to make Tai's protective barrier drop in a shower of golden flakes. Now that he was fully unprotected, Qrow followed up with one powerful uppercut right to the jaw, knocking his friend off his feet and flat on his ass.

"Ow...you asshole…" groaned Taiyang as he curled up into a ball.

"You'll thank me later," said Qrow as he fished out some plastic cards from his pocket, flicking them over to the bartender. "This should be enough Lien to cover the damages. Threw in a little extra, so you can buy yourself a nice wig or something. Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna just take my friend and go. We've got an Augur to see."

"I don't need counseling," moaned the blonde brawler pitifully. "I don't wanna talk about my feelings…"

"Well you're gonna. Now come on."

And with no care at all for societal norms and respectability, Qrow grabbed Tai by the ankle and literally dragged him out into the streets of Patch, determined to make sure his friend got the help he needed.

What the hell would Summer think of her boys if she could see them now?


"Approachin' the coordinates now, Strike Two. El-zee's clear and wide open. Y'all ready to go?"

It still felt strange for Summer to be called "Strike Two," and stranger still to hear the sound of a Southern Belle crackling over the radio instead of Barnes's rich, honeyed voice. Even so, it didn't distract her too much to keep her from loading a fresh fusion cell into her plasma rifle, locking it in place with the pull of a handle.

On her left, Thomas Nils sat in the same Skyranger as her for the first time since the war began, the Walker Servos on his lower body whirring softly as his knee anxiously bounced up and down. On her right, Piotr Zhedrev made sure his Makarov - his pride and joy as a son of Mother Russia, at least according to him - was fully loaded with DEAF rounds, checking the barrel to make sure his pistol could fire "dirty American ammo" without issue. And across from her sat the rest of her team: Shen and Knox from Strike Three, though instead of Dawson she had chosen to bring Rodrigo Diaz as her squad's Support Agent. His tenacity and grit on Operation Grifter had impressed her, so when picking the men for her half of the operation, he was one of the first people that came to mind.

Part of her had considered bringing Walters along, given her experience with the implant extraction surgery, but her lack of field experience made her choose the Spanish Interpol agent in the end. Besides, she couldn't risk Nils getting distracted by making doe eyes at his wife-to-be. This mission was too important for those kinds of silly little habits.

"As ready as we'll ever be," called back Summer. "Skyranger Three? What's the status of Whiskey's team?"

"We're all prepped and ready to go, Sierra," replied Carter over the radio. "We're coming into visual range as we speak."

"You know…" mused Barnes from the other Skyranger in the distant fog, "Skyranger-Three's a bit of a mouthful. What was it Sierra called me the other day? Big Sky?"

Summer felt her cheeks turn faintly pink. "Shit. Did I really call you that? Sorry...guess I thought you were our old Bullhead pilot. Back in my Beacon days, it seemed like he was always the one who'd get stuck flying Team STRQ around…"

"Nah, it's fine, Sierra," said Barnes with a chuckle. "In fact, I think I'll make that my new designation from now on. Big Sky...it's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Well what the hell am I gonna be called, then?" Dolly asked half-jokingly from the cockpit. "I want a cool name, too!"

"Hmm. Maybe 'firebrand?'" Crawford chimed in from the other helicopter. "You certainly have a brash, bold personality. I say you should own it!"

"Firebrand, huh?" Summer could hear Dolly's grin. "I guess I can work with that."

"We can work on revising field codenames later," cut in Faulke impatiently. "For now, give me an ETA."

"Two minutes out, sir," said Barnes.

"Three minutes for us," confirmed Dolly.

"Good. Stay focused, and be ready for anything. We'll monitor the Outsider's transmissions and try to get more information on the Forge before you get inside, but don't just stick around waiting for us to feed you the info. You're field agents, some of the best in the Bureau. Use your senses, trust your instincts, and bring both Weaver and Axis back alive. Vigilo Confido."

"Vigilo Confido, sir," said Summer, hearing Carter say the same over the comms. She clicked her radio and looked over at Nils. "Well? How's it feel?"

"Like I'm a sardine packed in a tin can," said the Recon Agent, "cramped, but cozy. Won't hear me complaining too much - I'm just glad to be back in the field again."

"Well, we're very glad to have you," answered Summer as she looped one arm around his back. "Don't hesitate to ask us to wait if you're having trouble keeping up, and I'd better not see you chasing off after any more Infiltrators."

Nils gave a dry laugh, and nodded. "Believe me, I've learned my lesson. Don't worry about me slowing down the squad - I've put in at least a hundred hours of running exercises with these things, so I can keep up easy enough. Besides, I'm a sniper, not a sprinter - if I'm running around in a firefight like a chicken without a head, someone's not doing their job right."

"Yeah, all you gotta do is find a nice perch and camp up there while taking shots," confirmed Knox after he spat out a wad of tobacco. "Though take care of that thing. If it breaks, I'm not hauling your crippled ass around."

"Why not? Afraid of breaking a hip?" quipped Shen. "We ruggedized the hell out of the Walker Servos and ironed out as many kinks as we could find. Maybe I can design another set for your geriatric ass, old man. You know, in case your arthritis flares up."

Knox somehow managed to give both a scowl and a shit-eating grin at the same time. "Laugh it up, kid, cause someday this'll be you. Back in my day, we didn't have all this fancy tech. We didn't have no 'power packs' or 'laser rifles' or all that other crap. You know what they handed out to each platoon back in Korea? A bundle of sticks and a rock. And we had to share the rock."

"Yeah, yeah, and you had to trek twenty miles uphill in the snow both ways to get to and from school," countered Shen with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I've heard all these stories before, old timer. Get some new material."

Summer's grin was interrupted by the feeling of Zhedrev's elbow nudging her side. "Is this…" he said in a thick accent, gesturing to the bantering pair, "...ah, is this going to be problem?"

Summer faced the Russian with confusion. "What? No, that's them being friendly."

"...you Americans make no sense."

"That's what I've been saying this whole time," agreed Diaz with a sigh. "Things made so much more sense back in Interpol…"

"Hate to break up the banter, but we're making the descent now," called Dolly from the cockpit. "Doors open in three...two…"

The sides of the Skyranger slid back to reveal a storm of wind and turbines, but otherwise the area was calm and quiet. Strike Two disembarked and dropped the remaining four feet expertly and in formation, sweeping the area with their weapons of choice. When everyone was unloaded, the Skyranger pulled back into the sky to keep an eye on things from above. Summer could feel her cape and cloak billow dramatically in the gales whipped up by the rotors, but she kept her focus on their new surroundings.

They had landed in a sparse, empty campsite in a forest clearing, surrounded by lush tall trees and darkened cloudy skies. There was a tent pitched on one side of the camp and a smoldering fire pit on the other, but both of them looked like they hadn't been touched in months. A number of trails worn down by generations of hikers connected to the clearing, some of them leading deeper into the forest while one seemed to spiral around to the tip of a rocky outcropping about twenty yards away. Apart from the howling of wolves and the chirping of birds, the forest was completely silent. No chittering Sectoids, no barking Outsiders, no howling Mutons.

It was quiet, it was idyllic, and it was peaceful.

Summer Rose didn't like it one bit.

"Fan out," she ordered, "Kilo and Zulu keep a two-yard spacing with me as I take point on the north trail, while Romeo and Delta check the camp and then go down the east path. Tango, I want you to take that cliff trail and sweep the area. Your servos can handle inclines, right?"

Nils nodded. "Long as it doesn't involve snow or water, I can handle it. Any particular SCOPE mode you want me using once I'm in position?"

"With a treeline this dense, thermal vision would be best," answered Summer with a nod. "Let us know if you see anything out of the ordinary, and check in every ten minutes or if you find something interesting. That goes for all of you - be thorough, but quick. Understood?"

"Tracking, ma'am."

"Da."

"Copy that."

"Understood."

"You got it, Sierra."

And with that, the squad split off into three separate directions, with Shen and Diaz moving to check the tent, Zhedrev and Knox following Summer, and Nils going off on his own. The soft dirt and fresh grass underfoot muffled the huntress's footsteps as she followed the path deeper into the forest. Evergreen trees of all shapes, sizes, and colors surrounded her as she walked, and in any other circumstance, she would have spent hours marveling at their beauty. But in that moment, all she could think about was what kind of dangers might be hiding in the needle-like leaves.

"Surprised there's not any snow out here," remarked Knox as they ventured further. "My ex-wife has family out in Portland, and they used to bitch about the snow constantly."

"Knowing the Outsiders, I wouldn't be surprised if they have some kind of weather-manipulation tech to keep things in their favor," said Summer. She keyed her radio. "Bravo-Zero? Any new info on the Forges?"

"Just bits and pieces from a bunch of broadcasts we managed to catch," came Penny's voice calmly and confidently. "News of the Shipmaster's visit has caused a huge increase in the number of transmissions running through the Mosaic Network, to the point where we're having trouble keeping track of it all."

"No surprise there," said Knox, "Imagine if the President was coming to visit some backwater town in Louisiana. There'd be no end to the buzz." He gave a shit-eating grin. "Unless it's Hoover, of course."

"I don't know who that is," said Summer. "But any info's better than none. What have you got, Bravo?"

"These 'Forges' appear to have...many functions," answered Penny, "including a weapons development lab, a munitions and fuel depot, and a command center all in one." She hesitated, before adding with a sigh, "We think it's also where they manufacture the Sleepwalker virus."

Knox's grip on his M14 tightened. Summer could hear Nils's breath hitch on the radio as her own chest clenched up. Zhedrev raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"That explains why they built it near the lake," said Shen in an effort to distract everyone's thoughts from DaSilva's unfortunate fate, "It's spread through fluid contact, right? Maybe they need freshwater to manufacture it."

"Like that tower we took down on Operation Grifter," added Diaz. "Suck up the water there, fly it back here, and use Klamath as an emergency reservoir and dumping ground. You boys just make sure no one falls into the lake this time - I'd hate to waste Sierra's talents by forcing her to play lifeguard again."

Summer chuckled, grateful for the ease in tension. "Aw, and here I wore my bathing suit under my uniform and everything…" she joked.

Zhedrev snorted. "If this is bad place, we destroy it, da? Plenty of explosives, could be easy."

"Your only priorities for now are capturing Axis and apprehending Weaver," cut in Faulke. "We'll figure out a plan for the Forge itself once you've accomplished those two objectives."

"Roger that, Bravo-Zero," said Summer. "Thanks for the intel, keep us posted if you hear anything new. We've got a visual on what looks like an old hunter's cabin, we'll let you know what we find."

"Understood, Sierra," said Penny wistfully. "Be careful."

Summer clicked her radio and ordered Knox and Zhedrev forward to investigate the log building just up ahead, while she stayed behind to check out the exterior. She trudged through years worth of tangled weeds and decaying branches before her boot struck something metallic, prompting her to draw her knife and start clearing away at the foliage. When the work was done, Summer almost gasped and leapt back at the sight of an armor-clad Outsider at her feet, before she noticed that its skin was paler than usual, its eyes were lifeless and dark, and its throat was slit open and stained with dried blue blood.

"I've got eyes on an Outsider corpse here in the cabin's backyard," reported Summer as she keyed her radio again. "Throat's been slit, and the body's still warm. Looks like it couldn't have been here for more than an hour."

"Zulu and I found two more inside the cabin," reported Knox. "Similar injuries, too."

"Sounds like Weaver's handiwork to me," said Van Doorn over the comms. "She's always prided herself on precision and stealth. No surprise she's working the same angle here."

Hearing the other squad report pipe up piqued Summer's curiosity. "Anything on your end, Whiskey?"

"Nothing related to Weaver, no," answered Carter. "Charlie and Alpha are tracking a patrol of Outsiders to see if they'll go back to the Forge, but otherwise our search has turned up dry. Aside from that one patrol, there's been no aliens in sight. Not even any Silacoids hiding in the trees."

Summer didn't know if that knowledge eased her growing anxiety or ramped it up further. "Keep looking, Whiskey, and stay on guard. If this Forge is important enough for Axis to visit, it must be heavily defended. They wouldn't just rely on secrecy to protect something like that."

"Don't gotta tell me twice, Sierra. See if you can find any more Outsider bodies - it ought to lead you right to Weaver."

With a double-click of her mike to confirm orders, Summer moved further into the cabin's backyard until she came to the rim of a cliff overlooking the water's edge. Her heart sank as she took in what might have once been an impressive view of the lake, currently drained to about half of its original volume with the other half left to stagnate. Mud that had remained wet for centuries clung to the stony face of the cliff in dry clumps, the smell of rotting fish carcasses that washed upon the new shores filled her nose with revulsion, and what used to be a scenic picturesque vista was now an ugly reminder of the Outsiders' carelessness and lack of restraint.

You'd think after they literally destroyed their first world, they'd be more careful with preserving the ones they conquer, thought Summer grimly. She was about to turn back and rejoin Knox and Zhedrev when a patch of gunmetal gray caught her eye, prompting her to squint and stare closer into the lake. Upon further inspection, the patch of steel nestled between two brown rocks resembled a fuselage...one that she had become very familiar with in the past months. With a thoughtful hum she brought up her plasma rifle and switched the vision settings on the SCOPE to see what was behind the rocks, which only confirmed her theory as a faint helicopter-shaped outline came into view.

"Good news everyone. I just found Weaver's Skyranger," she said over the comms. "It's on a small island off the coast, hidden from view by the natural terrain. Seems like it's still functional, too."

"Seriously?" Nils asked incredulously, "She landed that thing in the middle of the lake? What the hell did she do, park it out there and swim for it?!"

"Well, the Skyrangers do have inflatable rafts on board, in case they go down over the water," said Shen. "Sierra, do you see a boat of some kind along the shore?"

After a minute of scanning the exposed patches of land, Summer nodded. "Yep. It's been pulled up out of the waterline and stashed away, but I can still see it if I look hard enough. She must have stopped by this place first, found and neutralized the patrol, and then moved on from there. If only we knew which way she went..."

"Get back here, ma'am, and we might have an answer," reported Knox. "Apparently the commie's got something."

Summer toggled off her SCOPE and moved back to the front of the cabin, where Knox and Zhedrev were waiting. The Russian man was kneeling over a patch of dirt and tracing shapes with his forefingers, while the old American was watching with a raised eyebrow.

"Footprints," said Zhedrev finally, "To north. Combat treads, women's size seven. Must belong to this Weaver."

Knox raised an eyebrow. "You know Weaver's shoe size?"

"Zhedrev knows many things, many secrets. Would be terrible spy if he did not. Would also be terrible hunter if he could not see tracks."

The American veteran shook his head. "Fuckin' weirdo commie bastards…"

"In this case, we're glad to have you," said Summer with a nod. She then keyed her comm once more. "We've got a lead on Weaver's trail. Strike Two, regroup on the path that heads north out of the campsite and meet us at the hunter's lodge. We'll move in from there. Strike Three, any news on your end?"

"Tracked that patrol to a cave of some kind," whispered Carter. "They went in, but they haven't come back out. We're in position to breach, but we'll wait until you find a way in first."

"Thanks, Whiskey," said Summer. "Can one of our flyers check due north of our position?"

"Already on it, sugar," called Dolly. The hum of a Skyranger passed overhead, and a few moments of terse silence passed before she spoke again.

"Looks like there's another big ol' cave entrance up ahead, one that doesn't show up on any of them geological surveys of the area. Whiskey's cave isn't on there either, so these Outsiders probably made them as paths up to the Forge from the forest. Careful, though - getting a lot of activity on the thermal scanners under the mountain, and even more on the other side. I reckon we've just found the hornet's nest, so you better watch yourselves."

"A hornet's nest, huh?," said Nils as he, Shen, and Diaz rejoined the squad. "Hell, we came all this way. We might as well give it a good solid kick while we're here."

Summer nodded, wordlessly leading her team forward. One simple ten minute hike through the forest later, they arrived at the mouth of the cave with weapons drawn and heads on swivels. Even in the darkness beyond the entrance, Summer could hear the footsteps and foreign chatter of all kinds of aliens, from Sectoids and Silacoids to Outsiders and Mutons. Her grip tightened on the hilt of Wandering Thorn, and she swallowed the lump in her throat as she cast a glance to the Recon Agent who was already looking down the sight of his gun.

"SCOPE's picking out at least two dozen targets," reported Nils in a harsh whisper. "Two Mutons, a couple Shield Commanders, a Tech Commander, and a whole bunch of Sectoids, Silacoids, and regular Outsiders. And that's just in the entrance - there's more further in that not even heat vision can get a clear picture of. It's not gonna be easy, but our only way to the Forge is through all that."

"Sounds like job for explosives."

"Do ya wanna cause a cave-in, commie? Cause that's how you get cave-ins."

"If it's an artificial cavern, it should be fine. They've likely reinforced the place with alien alloys, so normal frags and landmines should be safe. I wouldn't use any plasma-based charges, though."

"It's Sierra's call. How do we want to do this, ma'am?"

Summer pursed her lips as she thought, then she nodded.

"I trust Romeo's judgement on this. Open up with a flashbang from Delta, then follow up with a volley of frags and satchel charges. Tango, the minute that flash goes off, I want one of those Mutons gone entirely. I can handle the other one, and while I deal with it, everyone follows me into the cave and hunkers behind whatever cover you can find. We'll go from there once we're at that point. Clear?"

The men behind her all nodded, pulling out their explosives of choice while Nils began warming up his fusion lance. Emerald energy began to spool up in the trident-like barrel, and excess plasma began to spill out of the sides as the superheated gas built up charge.

"Whoa…" breathed Nils, hands trembling slightly. "And I thought the laser version of these things packed a punch. This...this is something else."

"Just make sure to let it cool off between charged shots," advised Summer as she pulled out her own grenade. "And whatever you do, don't miss."

"Haven't missed a shot since basic, ma'am. You can count on me."

"Alright then. On my mark…"

Diaz thumbed the pin on the flashbang. Zhedrev and Shen started swinging their satchel charges back and forth. Knox tapped his finger against the handle on his frag, sweat dripping down his brow.

"...mark."

Strike Two flung their opening volley into the cave, and soon the sound of alien shouting and screaming was drowned out by the deafening booms of explosions. As soon as the first flash of white escaped the opening, Nils fired his shot and propelled the lance of emerald flame into the darkness. The sound of a Muton's death rattle drifted out of the cave, followed by another round of screaming and shouting.

"Go go go!" called Summer as she drew Wandering Thorn and charged into the cave, hearing the footsteps as her squad moved to follow. The silver light of her sword was soon joined by a blood-red glow as Diaz, Shen, and Zhedrev fired flares that stuck to the walls, hissing as they illuminated the surrounding area. Not that she needed sight to know how effective the opening bombardment was - the smell of alien blood and guts filled the air, and she nearly tripped over a huge muscled corpse that she could only assume was the Muton that Nils had shot. A quick glance told her that the brute's head was completely gone, with only a steaming neck stump left behind.

The other Muton turned and roared as it raised its fist, but Summer easily sidestepped the downward blow as she delivered a running slash to its flank, grabbing the sword on its hip and extending it with the pull of a trigger. Red and silver blades left arcs of light as she sliced behind the knee with dual sabers, bringing the Muton to a kneeling position with a solid kick to the steaming joint. Then she raked both swords across its back and knocked it to the ground with an elbow strike, before finishing the brute off with two blades right to the brain.

"Sierra, heads up!" Nils called over her radio. "Tech Commander on your six! Bastard's making constructs!"

Heeding the advice of the Recon agent, Summer dove for cover just in time for the barrage of plasma to fly over her head, as two turrets assembled out of spare guns locked onto her position. She did her best to curl up into a ball as the rock and rubble slowly began to melt, but she could already feel the heat bleeding through her only source of protection. Just before the stone could completely turn to lava, however, another explosion resounded and the stream of plasma stopped just as a calm, familiar voice came from Summer's radio.

"Got your back, Sierra," said Shen. "Turrets are down, but not for long. Flank the Commander while we suppress him."

"Thanks, Romeo," gasped Summer as she rolled out of the glowing rock pile, already on the move with swords in hand as she saw Knox and Diaz begin firing over the Tech Commander's cover. She vaulted over the low wall and flung the borrowed Muton blade like it was a tomahawk, the laser-heated edge burying itself into the Outsider's armored chest. It whirled to face her and shouted with a point of its finger, but by the time it had drawn its weapon, Summer had lopped off its head with one slash from Wandering Thorn.

"Commander neutralized!" she shouted as she flung a frag at a group of Sectoids. "Keep advancing, and keep the pressure on!"

"Right behind you, Sierra!"

"You heard the lady, boys. Let's move!"

With the Mutons and the Tech Commander dealt with, the rest of the room was cleared out easily enough. A careful application of explosives from Shen and Zhedrev wiped out firing squads of Outsiders and Sectoids, Summer slashed at any Silacoids that attempted to ambush the team, Knox and Nils used their combined marksmanship skills to cut down stragglers and weakened foes, and Diaz used shield spheres and disruptors to great effect to protect his allies and neutralize enemy barriers.

The final Shield Commander, trying to shake off the jolt of electricity from the Support Agent's Venn Brace, tried to make a break for it, only to be shot in the back of the head and dropped to the floor by Nils.

"Hell yeah, still got it."

Summer panted as she sheathed her sword. "Nice work. How's everyone doing?"

"No injuries so far," reported Diaz as he checked the readout on his Venn Brace. "Squad vitals are still in the green, and we got plenty of supplies and ammo. Looks like everyone's shields are running low across the board, though. Should we wait until they recharge before moving ahead?"

"I wouldn't wait too long," warned Knox, loading a new magazine into his trusty M14. "This was just the entrance, right? There's gotta be more inside, and the longer we sit here sucking our thumbs, the more time they have to dig in."

"Kilo's right," said Nils as he stepped out of his corner. "That tunnel over there goes through at least two more checkpoints like this one, and this was the one with the least resistance. It's going to get harder the further we push in, not to mention the guards they must have at the Forge itself."

Summer nodded, pulling her plasma rifle off her back and clicking the safety off.

"Well then...I suggest we keep moving forward."


BOOM.

Carter winced as the sound of Briggs's landmine echoed off the cavern walls, solidly punching through the blockade of alien alloys that had been used to reinforce the back of the cave. Light poured in through the gap in the stone, casting pale beams down on the last remaining aliens in the path of Strike Three. A barrage of plasma from six different weapons finished them off shortly after, making the mountain interior fall silent yet again.

"Path's cleared, Whiskey," reported Briggs dryly as he stowed his plasma pistol and began loading new shells into his pump-action shotgun.

"This is our chance," said Carter, snapping a new fusion cell into his rifle. "Push ahead while we've got the momentum! Echo, with me while Lima and Golf get their attention! Alpha, Charlie, hang back and keep giving us sniper support. We're going in!"

The four other men and one woman under Carter's command nodded and did as ordered, with Van Doorn stepping out into the open air first as his enormous Rotary Plasma Cannon spooled up with raw power. A shield sphere courtesy of Dawson gave the Commando a safe place to lay down a blanket of plasma, forcing the Outsiders and Mutons along the rocky path into cover and incinerating anything that couldn't react quickly enough. Carter and Briggs ran out next and moved from wall to wall, using the opportunity afforded by Van Doorn's fearless assault to advance and add their own fire to the mix.

The smell of lakewater and the sound of crashing waves were mere footnotes in Carter's brain as he registered his new surroundings, which resembled a winding rocky path that extended out of the mountain they came from and cut through the lake. A quick glance to his left revealed another such path a few dozen yards away, likely connected to the cavern his ASL was currently fighting through with her squad. And in the distance, obscured by the fog and the natural curvature of the Earth, Carter could catch a glimpse of gunmetal-gray towers rising up in a big, ugly structure, accompanied by a singular pyramid-shaped ship so large it seemed to blot out the sun as it hovered over the building a thousand feet away.

"Bloody hell," breathed Briggs. "I knew that some of those alien ships could be big, but I never expected anything like that."

"A ship that huge for one little Outsider officer?" Dawson grinned as he threw another protective field for Van Doorn, this time covering him in salmon-covered smoke. "Clearly, this Shipmaster is overcompensating for something."

"Stay focused," said Carter as he took some blind shots at the advancing aliens. "And don't worry about the ship. We move fast enough, we won't have to deal with it at all. Recons, where's my sniper support?"

"Coming right up!" chirped Crawford over the comms, just as a fully-charged blast cored the head of a yellow-caped Outsider. "That's twenty-seven for me."

Over the radio, Adam balked. "Bullshit. You were on twenty-four kills at the end of the last fight."

"Yeah, but that was a Tech Commander with two turrets. That counts as three kills with one shot. Hence, I'm ahead by two points."

"What? No! It doesn't work like that!"

"Come on, Alpha," quipped Dawson. "You can't change the rules of the game on the fly just because a girl's winning."

Briggs, on the other hand, groaned and rolled his eyes. "Is there any chance you two can have your dick-measuring contest some other time?"

"We're not measuring anything besides killshots," said Crawford glibly. "Also I don't have one of those."

Adam scoffed. "Yeah well, if you did have one, mine would be bigger."

Carter just sort of stared up at the sky and shook his head uselessly, regretting his decision to pair both Adam Goldstein and Catherine Crawford on the same squad. Before he could say anything, though, a new voice came through the comms.

"Strike Three, this is Tango from Strike Two. We just punched through our cave, and we're making our way to the Forge now. Hitting a lot of enemy resistance, but we're managing."

Sure enough, a cursory glance to his left revealed a white-hooded figure running down the parallel pathway while firing a plasma rifle, joined soon after by four men wearing everything from suits to army jackets and cargo pants. A fifth man faded into view just after releasing a spear of solid energy into a Muton's chest, taking a moment to confirm his kill before crouching down behind a low rock.

"Copy that, Tango. How are you all holding up?"

"Burning through shield cells and medkits faster than we'd like, but otherwise we're pulling through," answered Nils. "Might be good for us to regroup, though, preferably in some kind of safe area before we breach deeper into the Forge. Can one of our birds get a visual on what's up ahead?"

"No joy there, sugar,"

called Dolly over the comms, "I tried skirting the edge of the mountain to see what's out in the lake, and nearly got my wings blasted off for the trouble. Looks like the Outsiders don't want anyone flying too close - and y'all know just how much they love their anti-air defenses."

"Don't remind me," groused Barnes bitterly.

Carter furrowed his brow as he thought for a moment. His mind flashed back to the end of the Roswell operation, how he had...projected himself outside of his own body to see his surroundings, beyond what was just in front of his face. He'd worked to try to refine that particular hat trick, and while he'd been able to pull it off in the Kraut's lab, he hadn't consciously done it during a firefight yet.

Time to see if all that practice paid off.

"Golf, keep me covered!" called out Carter as he hunkered down behind his cover. "Gonna pop outta my head and take a quick peek at what's waiting for us."

"Have fun, boss!" Dawson quipped, tossing a smoke grenade onto his squad leader.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Carter searched for the mental trigger in the alien artifact that let him "push" his consciousness out of his flesh and blood, trying to tune out the noise of the raging battlefield. To his surprise (and immense relief) the world around him slowed to a crawl as he floated upwards, a formless shape that could see each individual ball of plasma as it flew downrange. He guided himself further north, soaring past the battlements and defenses of the Outsider as though he were a ghost, whereupon he was greeted to the sight of a large, open courtyard just past the towering walls of the Forge.

Doesn't look like there's many hostiles there, he thought to himself, might be a good place to meet up and regroup. I'll bet there's some supplies and ammo there we could use, too - though that catwalk up above could be a problem.

Indeed, high above the courtyard amidst a network of pipes hung a series of metal platforms, suspended with wires mounted to big metal tubes that extended from the wall. These platforms seemed to lock together in a loose formation, creating a narrow bridge that extended from midway up the inner wall to somewhere deeper within the Forge. There were sturdy-looking guardrails on either side of the six-foot-wide platforms, but Carter wasn't worried about the aliens following OSHA standards. He was more worried about the threat of an ambush dropping on the squad from over a hundred and fifty feet above them.

One thing at a time, Will, he told himself. Courtyard looks safe and defensible enough. For now, it'll do. Just gotta ask the Recons to watch the sky.

Satisfied with his scouting venture, he let himself snap back into his flesh and blood form, feeling the whiplash as things returned back to the speed of reality instead of happening at the speed of thought. After quelling a brief episode of nausea, he keyed his radio and relayed his findings to everyone on the comms, trusting his squad to keep up the fight while he reported the intel.

"So yeah, that courtyard seems like our best bet," he finished. "Push through there, and we can talk more in person."

"Sounds like a plan, Whiskey," affirmed Nils. "We'll see you there. Oh, and you might wanna tell your Recons that they're slacking. I'm at forty-seven so far. No wait...make that forty-eight."

"That doesn't count!" Adam protested. "You're the only Recon on Sierra's squad, of course you'd have more kills!"

"You know Alpha, if you put half the energy of your excuses into your shots, you might actually be ahead again. Twenty-eight."

"God dammit, woman! Stop stealing my kills!"

"Gotta be quicker!" Crawford said in a sing-song voice.

Carter rolled his eyes, but the combined fire of two fusion lances picking out and eliminating separate targets cleared things up enough for him, Briggs, and Van Doorn to push forward, darting out of cover and firing on the move as they advanced. The American squad leader nailed several headshots with accurate plasma fire, the British Engineer broke up formations with carefully-placed explosives and armor-rending shotgun blasts, and the Dutch Commando hosed down the heavy hitters with enough plasma to fill a star. Dawson hung close behind them and took potshots with his own plasma pistol in burst-fire mode, laying down flashbangs and smoke grenades to further protect the frontline fighters.

All the while as Strike Three advanced, Carter kept stealing glances to the fight on the parallel path, catching glimpses at Strike Two as they pushed forward themselves. While the degree of marksmanship and coordination on display from the men were impressive, the real star of the battle was Summer, who led the relentless charge with a level of combat prowess and agility that only proved she was not of this Earth. Every time he looked over to check their progress he was rewarded with the sight of the white-caped Huntress doing something spectacular, whether it was sliding under a Shield Commander and releasing a point-blank burst of plasma inside its barrier, picking up a piece of Muton armor and using it as a shield to cover her advance, or flowing around a firing squad and slashing them to ribbons with her glowing sword.

She was...amazing.

And to think I almost shot her when she woke up in my bed.

Carter shook his head and forced himself to focus, pushing aside the fight with his feelings to concentrate on the fight in front of him. Good thing, too - the remaining stretch of land between Strike Three and the Forge's thirty-story-high walls was packed with an absolute sea of grey, green, and crimson. There were at least four dozen Outsiders with plenty of Commanders in firing squad formation, twenty Mutons at the front stood defensively like they were part of a Spartan shield wall, and even a pair of Muton Elites hovered low over the rest of the densely-packed battalion with plasma cannons of their own..

Oh shit.

"Golf! Barriers! Now!"

Dawson flung down a pair of shield spheres without so much as a joke, which Carter and the others managed to step into just as a tidal wave of plasma washed over them. Adam and Crawford held their fire as they hit their cloaks and hunkered down a hundred feet behind their frontliners, hoping to go unnoticed by the alien army. Carter winced as he felt the heat bleed through the fortified barrier, something that hadn't happened before and likely wasn't supposed to. He suspected that the spheres weren't designed to hold back the fire of over seventy hostiles at once, and he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be grateful the shield was still intact, or worried that it would go down early any second.

It was a delaying tactic, anyways. Once the minute (or less) of power in the generator ran out, the shield would drop, and the wall of emerald flame would burn them to ashes anyways. They needed a plan. No. They needed a miracle.

And as Carter's frantic scan of the area settled on the big metal-green tube on Van Doorn's back, he found both.

"Lima!" he called into his radio, fighting to keep the panic out of his voice. "That thing you've been lugging around! Get ready to use it!"

Briggs balked from the bubble opposite of his. "The Blaster Launcher? Whiskey, when we were testing that bloody thing, it was about to level half of engineering before we shut it off! Why did you bring that thing, and why didn't the doctors ban its use?"

"They did, but Faulke said otherwise!" countered Carter, looking out at the troops steadily marching forward as they continued their onslaught. "And I had him bring it specifically for situations like this! Aim for the base of the wall, Lima! The blast radius should stop just short of us, but everyone might wanna run just in case!"

"Copy that, Whiskey!" Van Doorn pulled the tube off his back, hefting it and bracing it on his shoulder as it expanded to double in size. Even from ten feet away, Carter could hear the Elerium reactors within the cross-shaped head whir and whine with unstable energy, forcing plasma fusion to occur on a scale much larger than any other gun the Bureau had recovered.

Briggs ceased his grumbling and dove to the ground within the shield sphere, while Carter and Dawson ducked down. Van Doorn watched carefully as the foldout computer screen on the side calculated a firing solution, a green reticle slowly spinning and shrinking within a red image until it froze and blinked as the device let out a shrill beeping sound.

"Launcher is charged, target is locked, and the backblast is clear!"

"Give 'em hell!"

With the pull of a trigger, a single pulsating orb of pure emerald drifted lazily out of the center of the tube, floating towards the heart of the alien platoon and rapidly picking up speed. The Outsiders, who knew full well what was about to happen, immediately began to panic and cease their fire, scattering like a swarm of rats exposed to the light. The Mutons, on the other hand, seemed compelled to stare at the orb as it flew over their heads, drawn to it like moths to a flame and abandoning their formation. The brief respite of enemy fire gave Carter and his squad a chance to backpedal as far away as possible as the bubbles finally burst, turning and breaking into a full-on sprint as the projectile came closer and closer to its target. When the orb just barely touched the edge of the wall, it collapsed and released its payload in one almighty blast.

BOOOOOOOOOOOM.

Carter didn't see the resulting explosion, but he sure as hell felt it considering it lifted him off his feet and flung him and his men a good dozen feet down the pathway. His hat went flying off his head as he dared to look back, only to be punished for his hubris as a green-white flash scorched his eyes and left him temporarily blinded. By the time he blinked enough to clear his vision, all he could see was the aftermath - glowing green ashes floated in the wind, scorched stone and grounded soot outlined the cone-shaped blast area, and a gaping hole in the wall as big as an automobile replaced whatever security systems and doors were once there.

Strike Three lay on the ground, panting in disbelief, before Dawson found his voice first.

"...hey, Lima? Do me a favor and never let Massey get ahold of one of those things," joked the Support. "We all know how much that man likes his bombs."

Van Doorn chuckled as he pulled himself to his feet and stowed the powered-down Launcher. "I'll keep that in mind, Golf. Everyone alright?"

"I will be, soon as my ruddy ears stop ringing," grumbled Briggs as he spat out a mouthful of dirt.

"So um...I think we're done counting kills, Alpha," said Crawford with awe in her voice. "Pretty sure Lima just won. Unless that doesn't count either, since it was just one shot?"

Adam sighed in defeat. "No...yeah, I don't think either of us are topping that. So which of us gets stuck on toilet duty?"

"Both of us, of course!"

Carter shook his head again as he picked himself up, nodding to the white-cloaked woman across the bay who had stopped to watch. Seeing Summer give a tiny nod in return before running back to mop up the shell-shocked aliens ahead of her, he scooped up his hat and placed it back where it belonged.

"Come on," he said in an authoritative voice, "We've got an opening now, so let's take it. See if we can't make things easier for Sierra's team once we're inside."

The team nodded, and after grabbing whatever enemy gear wasn't incinerated in the blast, they made their way into the Forge.


"Vanguard team, watch out!" Nils's voice poured out of the radio, "Six more of those Phantoms are decloaking and coming your way!"

Summer let out another yelp as she started laying down plasma fire at the Outsiders clad in orange armor that suddenly materialized out of thin air, wincing as the new arrivals leaned to avoid her shots without even scratching the faceplates that concealed their mouths. These new variants of the Zudjari infantry seemed to have the same kind of cloak modules the Snipers used, only instead of hanging back and taking potshots at soldiers, they chose to do the exact opposite and charge into close range to attack in melee. While the collapsible blades that the "Phantoms'' deployed from their gauntlets weren't as good at cutting as a Muton's dueling sword, they were still extremely sharp and sturdy, and carried more than enough cutting power to perforate whoever was unlucky enough to be on the other end.

"Kilo, is your spade charged back up yet?"

"Not yet, Sierra! Damn thing needs another minute!"

"Plan B, then! Back up and hit 'em with a flashtrap!"

Zhedrev and Knox joined Summer in falling back and laying down suppressive fire, while Shen and Diaz flung a landmine and a flashbang at the same time into the path of the rushing Phantoms. The explosive disc went off as soon as the melee-focused enemies came into range, sending one flying over the edge and splattering another one completely. The stun grenade went off at almost the same time, disorienting the lead Phantom long enough for Nils to hit it with a headshot that dropped it in an instant. The remaining three aliens recovered from the flash and picked up speed to surge into melee range, arriving too quickly to be stopped and locking the frontline fighters into a brutal brawl.

Summer drew Wandering Thorn in a flash and brought it up to defend against the downward slice of her Phantom, her other hand pulling out an alloy knife to use as a parrying dagger. Knox used the metal shaft of his shock spade to block the blades of his opponent, while Zhedrev sidestepped the slash and punched his foe right in the face. The other half of Strike Two tried to line up a shot on the alien warriors, but they couldn't safely fire without hitting their allies, so they were forced to focus on the growing number of reinforcements pouring out of the wall no more than fifty feet away.

The Phantoms were fast, agile, and worst of all, precise. Their fighting style reminded Summer of tangling with an Alpha Beowolf, with its relentless assault and overwhelming barrage of attacks. But unlike the towering lupine Grimm, these Outsiders were smart enough to use feints and parries, which made dueling with them a daunting and difficult prospect. While they were still outclassed by the skill of the Infiltrator, Summer found she had a hard time keeping up, and she could only imagine how tiring and draining it was for Zhedrev and Knox to fight their battles.

Fortunately, experience won out. After using her knife to deflect a lethal stab, Summer swung Wandering Thorn with enough force to completely slice off her Phantom's arm in an arc of silver light. The Outsider screamed and howled as it swung recklessly with its remaining blade, scoring only the shallowest of cuts against her shoulder before she slashed and lopped off that arm too. Then she spun and left one deep gash against its torso to break the armor, plunged her sword into the newly-exposed flesh, and yelled as she pulled it out in one upward swing. With its entire upper body cut cleanly in half, the Phantom staggered backwards mindlessly as the split halves sagged downwards, before falling unceremoniously to the ground with blue blood pooling into the stone.

Panting, Summer turned to assist her friends, only to smirk with pride as the men behind her won their battles as well. Knox whacked the side of his Phantom's head with the business end of his spade, knocking it off-balance long enough for him to jab the bladed tip into its chest and pull the trigger. The alien duelist went flying as shockwaves of raw force surged through its body, sailing into the lake before exploding violently into giblets and guts. Zhedrev, meanwhile, hit his opponent with a one-two-punch that was followed up by a kick where the sun didn't shine, giving him leverage to slam the Outsider into the ground. He stepped on its back as it tried to get up, drew his pistol, and emptied the magazine directly into its head like he was executing a traitor.

"Mamushka always say 'do not bring knife to gun fight,'" said Zhedrev with a toothy grin, "'But always bring gun to knife fight.'"

Summer was about to congratulate her friends when she saw a shimmering figure vault its way back over the edge of the path.

"Zhedrev, behind you!" she shrieked - but her warning came a moment too late, as just when the Russian man turned to face the last Phantom, it decloaked and plunged both blades into his gut.

"Urk!...guh...does not hurt…that bad…"

And Piotr Zhedrev fell limp against the Phantom.

Summer felt her blood both freeze and boil at the same time. She was just about to move to take down the alien when, to her surprise, Knox rushed in ahead of her, swinging his spade like a baseball bat and clubbing the Phantom in the head with enough force to shatter its faceplate. The alien sprawled across the ground and Zhedrev began to fall, but Summer darted forward to catch him in both arms before he could drop. When the Phantom tried to scramble away, Knox was on top of it in an instant, slamming the flat of his shovel against its skull repeatedly and only stopping when the Outsider's cranium was as flat as a dinner plate.

"And that's why you don't fuck with a comrade of the USA!" spat Knox as he wiped off his shock spade.

"You've certainly changed your tune," mused Shen with a small smile. "Whatever happened to 'all Soviets are scum and should not be trusted'?"

Knox shrugged. "What can I say? The commie fights pretty well...you know, for a Red."

Diaz came over to Summer quickly. "Is he…?"

"There's a pulse, but it's fading fast," she said breathlessly. "We gotta get him to Carter now."

"Agreed," said the Support, "But we gotta deal with those reinforcements first."

"What reinforcements? All I see are a dozen or so smoking dead bodies."

Summer almost laughed in relief as Dawson's voice poured out of her radio. She turned to see plasma, lasers, and lead fly out of the door in the imposing wall, catching the Outsiders in the back and clearing the area in the time it took to blink. The Support's face poked out the doorway a moment later, and with a grateful nod, Summer scooped up Zhedrev and bolted inside, hearing her squad keep pace not too far behind her.

"Welcome to St. Dawson's Clinic and Pharmacy," joked Dawson as Summer sprinted past. "I take it you have an appointment with Doctor Carter?"

The Huntress nodded breathlessly. "Zulu almost got gutted by a Phantom. Whiskey? You got any healing left?"

"Just had a snack, so I got plenty," said Carter as he tucked a now-empty wrapper into his pocket. "Set him down, and I'll get right to work. Everyone else, consolidate ammo and supplies. Be ready for anything."

The men following Summer nodded as they split off to regroup with the other Strike Team, while she knelt down and gently laid Zhedrev on the floor of the courtyard. Carter took a knee on the fallen Russian's other side and placed both his hands against the gut wound, teal-blue energy pooling out of his hands and flowing into the Agent. Zhedrev mumbled something in Russian, but didn't wake up, so he remained oblivious to the sensation of muscle and tissue knitting itself back together in the space of a few seconds. Summer let out a sigh of relief, and had to reign in the urge to reach across the sleeping Engineer and pull Carter into a hug.

"Oh...wow."

Carter looked back to see Shen standing over a pedestal in the center of the courtyard, the young Engineer tilting his head in fascination. "Don't touch anything," he warned.

"I'm not," said Shen defensively. "I'm just looking around. We're in the most advanced Outsider facility we've ever seen, and yet...so much of the tech here feels familiar to what we've already seen." He pointed to the pedestal again. "Like this thing in here. Doesn't it look like a phase plotter to you?"

Summer pursed her lips.

"You mean that thing we swiped from a Command Ship in Roswell?" asked Adam. "Why would there be one here?"

"Well, this is supposed to be some kind of command center for the Outsiders," posited Briggs. "Maybe these little cubes are part of that, somehow?"

"We'll get plenty of answers outta Axis himself when we find him," said Carter. "Until then, stay alert. That alien bastard has to know we're here by now, and I doubt he'd treat us with much hospitality. Keep your eyes peeled, and your guns loaded."

Shen nodded, saluted, and pulled out his plasma rifle, returning to his patrol. Any other agents drawn into the conversation followed suit, leaving just the two Strike Leads to speak privately over the unconscious Russian.

"You certainly have a way with words, Will," said Summer with a breathy chuckle. "No surprise your squad made it here before ours."

Carter looked back at her and gave a shadow of a smile."Yeah, well...we took the easy way out and gambled with that Blaster Launcher. Plus, your squad didn't have anyone with bullshit alien powers."

Summer laughed again. "Yeah...that does tend to shift the balance. Still, it looks like you got here easily enough. You seem to be holding up better than me, at least."

The hatted man nodded, though the smile faded. "And how are you holding up?"

"Doing alright, but could be better," she answered with a sigh. "Burned through both my spare shield batteries before we even left the cave, and everyone else had to swap theirs out halfway to the Forge. I've got a few cuts, bruises, and small burns, but it's nothing too bad. Haven't needed a medkit so far, and I'm not about to ask you to waste your power on me."

Carter nodded in understanding. "Sounds rough. Don't suppose the Kraut's made any progress in figuring out that 'Aura' thing of yours, huh?"

Summer looked down in dismay, biting her lower lip. The lack of Aura in this world was something that had bothered her since she arrived, which at first had helped her blend in while she still hid her true nature. But now that the Bureau knew everything about her and Remnant, there was really no reason not to find a way to solve the issue. So when Dresner had privately offered to help by running some tests on her, she had agreed to it without a second's hesitation. She had thought she was prepared to do absolutely anything to get that power back...until she actually went through with the procedures, and suddenly the rumors about Dresner being a former Nazi scientist seemed a lotmore believable.

Her throat was still raw from all the screaming.

Carter seemed to sense her apprehension, and frowned. "Sorry...if it's a sensitive topic, then forget I said - "

"No, it's fine," she said quickly, shaking her head. "And...see, that's the thing. The other night, in the labs… I did have a successful Aura activation."

Carter's eyes widened, before he did his best to mask his delight. "You did? I mean...oh. That's good, right?"

"It sounds like it is, yeah," said Summer, feeling her throat clench up. "Except it only happened after Dresner locked me in a flooded tank and kept me underwater for six minutes on one breath."

The enthusiasm faded from Carter's voice and face as he saw her reaction. "...damn." It was all he could say. It was all he needed to say.

"Yeah. So not exactly something I can count on." Summer sighed. "Apparently there's...something in Earth's electromagnetic field that keeps my Aura 'suppressed,' for lack of a better word. Like it's there, but it's just not protecting or healing me like it should. But if I hit a certain threshold of adrenaline, if my body thinks I'm in enough danger…then something happens to counteract that suppression, and my Aura flares up for a hot second. At that point I could, in theory, use it to protect myself, or heal my wounds, or power up my Semblance...assuming I'm not already half-drowned or unconscious."

Carter creased his mouth into a frown. "So the only way your Aura would kick in is if your body thinks you're in mortal danger, and by that point, it'd probably be too late to use it," he summarized.

"Pretty much," said Summer bitterly with a sad nod before staring back at the ground. "Dresner offered to help with more research, but to gather anymore meaningful data, he'd basically have to torture me. And Faulke wouldn't sign off on that. He was practically livid when he heard about the tank stunt. So...yeah. I'm probably just stuck being a normal soldier like the rest of you."

Carter frowned, then reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She felt her chest tighten in the best possible way, and she lifted her gaze to look directly at her friend.

"Well, from where I'm sitting, you're the furthest thing from being just a 'normal soldier' as you can be," he said in a gruff, yet sincere, tone of voice. "You came all the way here from another world, and the first thing you did was throw yourself into a war to protect this one. I don't think I've ever seen you give up on anything - not on the Bureau, not on yourself, and especially not on me. Even without your Aura, you're still one of the best damn agents I've ever had the honor of knowing, and I couldn't have asked for a better ASL...or a better friend."

Summer's heart melted. It wasn't fair. How could a man this rough around the edges be this charming without even trying? She didn't know the answer, nor did it bother her. The silver-eyed huntress just smiled and leaned her head against Carter's knuckles, nuzzling her chin against tough, leather-like skin. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, or scold her, or even frown. In fact, all he did in response was shift his grip to trail his fingertips up her neck and press his palm against her cheek, sending shivers of delight down her spine.

Was she really falling in love with William Carter?

Summer wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to that question just yet. But for now? This was enough.

CRACK.

The tender moment was interrupted by the sound of a bullet whizzing past Carter's head and shooting off his hat, making it fall to the ground like a fallen hero. Growling, he retrieved his hat and dusted it off...only for his brow to furrow.

"Damn thing's got another bullet hole in it," he muttered. "Ballistic."

Summer narrowed her eyes. "Weaver."

It made sense. If it was an Outsider, the shot would have been from a laser sniper rifle or a fusion lance, and it would have been far more lethal. Furthermore, unlike Weaver's attempt to shoot Carter during the Infiltrator Incident, she was not shooting to kill. It was a warning shot - and the message was clear.

Leave now, or the next one would hurt.

"Dammit, Weaver, you don't have to do this," growled Carter into the radio, hoping to match whatever frequency she was using. "We don't wanna fight you, we just wanna talk."

The only reply that Carter got was the sound of another bullet whizzing past, this one barely skirting Summer's cheek. She brushed her hand against the tiny cut where the edge of the round scratched her skin, pulling her fingers away to find them stained with blood.

Weaver wasn't backing down.

"Fine. You really wanna play rough? Then let's play rough." Carter toggled his radio and barked out orders as he and Summer dragged an unconscious Zhedrev into cover. "All units, heads up. Weaver's out there somewhere sniping from a concealed position. Fan out and find her, but stick together. She's not shooting to kill yet, but don't take any chances."

Everyone nodded and drew their weapons as they spread out, sweeping the barrels from left to right and forming into pairs as they searched. Summer stayed close to Carter as silence hung in the air, to the point where she could feel her heart beating in her ears. At that moment, she wasn't sure if they were hunting Weaver...or if she was hunting them.

"Come on, Angela," whispered Nils as he narrowed his eyes. "Is this how you're honoring Nico? By running off and taking snipes at your own team? What would he say if he could see you now, I wonder…"

A loud crack was immediately followed by a scream of pain. Summer whirled to face Nils with her heart stuck in her throat, silver eyes widening as she saw sparks shoot out of the power supply on his Walker Servos. Luckily Knox and Shen were close enough to catch him and haul him away, ducking to avoid the follow-up shots.

"Shooting out the one thing that lets a paralyzed man walk and fight again…" growled Shen harshly in tranquil fury. "That's disgraceful, Weaver. Even for you."

"Blessings in disguise, Romeo," groaned Nils. "There's only one place where she could make a shot like that, and I know where."

Dawson came over to help move the Recon agent. "Mind sharing with the class?"

Nils grunted and pointed up, prompting Summer to follow with her eyes until silver irises settled on the catwalk. Sure enough, a faint brown-black shape materialized on the central platform for the briefest moments before it leaned over the railing and fired. Another silenced shot streaked downwards and hit Crawford between the shoulder blades, and while the power pack took most of the impact, she still screamed in shock.

"I see her!" Summer cried just before Weaver vanished from sight. "She's using the catwalks!"

"Great, she's got the high ground," grumbled Briggs as he yanked his arm out of the way of another shot. "Our guns don't have enough range to hit her, and by the time we climb up there, she'll be long gone."

"Whiskey, can't you just throw something at her?" yelled Knox as a bullet whizzed past his ear. "You know, knock her off her perch?"

"Not without bringing that whole structure down!" Carter answered, ducking into cover to avoid another shot. "And if I do that, we'd be bringing back a corpse instead of an Agent - and as much of a pain in the ass as Weaver is, we need her!"

A distant roar got the attention of all the Agents, and the sound of heavy footsteps and alien chatter flooded their ears moments before alien troops started rushing into the couryard. The focus of the XCOM soldiers immediately turned to the new threat, which only served to give Weaver more chances to pelt them with bullets.

"Fuck!" yelled Adam as his fusion lance was knocked out of his hands. "Dammit, woman, you're supposed to be aiming at the aliens, not at us!"

"We can't fight her and the Outsiders at the same time," Van Doorn remarked as he pointed his cannon at a distant Tech Commander. "We need to take care of her, somehow."

"I'm open to suggestions!" Carter growled as his hat got knocked off yet again.

Summer bit her lower lips as she watched the enemy forces pour into the courtyard, desperately trying to form a plan. Then her eyes widened as a bolt of inspiration struck.

"...throw me," she said finally.

"What?"

"Whiskey, throw me up there! I'll deal with Weaver while you all focus on the reinforcements!"

Carter looked at his fellow squad leader with a raised eyebrow, then nodded. "Alright. Just be careful, she's one helluva brawler!"

"So am I," replied Summer. "Ready when you are!"

With a wave of his hand, Summer felt a gentle sensation flutter in her stomach as she was lifted off the ground, which intensified when the alien power kept her suspended in mid-air. After Carter took a moment to double-check his aim, he flung her with full telekinetic might at the catwalk overhead, sending her flying into the sky with her cape flapping out behind her. She let out an adrenaline-fueled cackle as she soared higher and higher, rushing towards the rogue Recon agent whose eyes widened as she tracked the incoming Huntress.

"What the fu - "

Weaver's muffled grunt of pain cut off her choice word as Summer tackled her, sending them both rolling across the narrow walkway. The two women grappled and wrestled with each other, neither of them succeeding in pinning their opponent to the metal floor. When the silver-eyed Huntress realized she couldn't restrain Weaver with strength alone, she switched tactics, opting instead to kick her off and roll back to her feet. Now freed, Weaver immediately lunged to retrieve her rifle, but a kick sent it clattering off the platform to the ground far below.

"Sorry, Weaver," she said unapologetically as she pulled out a pair of handcuffs, "I'm not gonna let you get away with shooting my friends today."

Growling, Weaver pulled out a flashbang and flung it right at Summer's face, who tried to pull the hem of her hood over the eyes to muffle the incoming detonation. The move saved her vision and hearing at the very least, but the sheer power of the stun grenade still made the Huntress's head spin in a cloud of light and pain. The daze was broken by the shock of a solid punch to her jaw, which was followed by two more blows to the face for good measure. Summer could feel blood pooling under her skin and dripping from her mouth and nose, but she didn't have long to focus on that - the force of a boot kicking right between the ribs knocked the wind out of her and slammed her back into the safety railing.

"And I won't let you get in my way this time, Rose," retorted Weaver as she settled into a boxing stance. "You and Carter charging in like idiots has put the Forge on high alert, which puts me on a tight schedule. I really don't have time for games right now, so if you could make this quick by standing down, that'd be great."

Panting as she used the guardrail to pull herself up, Summer chuckled and wiped off the blood dribbling down her chin. "And deprive you of the chance to try and kick my ass? No way. Honestly, I thought you'd jump at the opportunity to knock me down a peg. Figured you've been wanting this since day one."

Weaver rolled her eyes. "Please. I'm better than that. Better than you."

Summer raised her own fists as she steadied herself. "Then prove it. Come on, let's dance."

After a moment's anticipation, the two women launched into a dizzying, almost rehearsed, flurry of punches, kicks, blocks, and counters. Summer wasn't all that familiar with Earth fisticuffs, but her knowledge of Valean and Mistrali martial arts served her well enough to keep up with the brunette brawler. Not that it was a cakewalk for the silver-eyed Huntress, however - what Weaver lacked in grace and agility, she more than made up for in strength and focus, ignoring the bruises that formed under her skin and shrugging off the blows that landed in favor of delivering her own. This hardiness, combined with the narrow walkway and the vertigo-inducing heights, made focusing on bringing down Weaver much more challenging than Summer expected.

Not that she was gonna let an unfair fight stop her.

"Damn…" remarked Adam through the comms, "I thought a catfight between these two would be a lot more...I dunno, sexy?"

"Charlie seems pretty into it if you ask me," said Dawson with a laugh. "She hasn't lowered her SCOPE an inch."

"Eyes forward, Recons," reprimanded Knox. "And for God's sake you two, pull your tongues back in before you trip on them. This ain't the movies, and there ain't nothing hot about two ladies beating the total shit outta each other. Tracking?"

"Tracking, Kilo…"

"Hmm? Oh, right, sorry."

Summer ducked under Weaver's wide swing, sidestepping the follow-up kick and delivering three punches to her unguarded flank. Weaver ate the first two without so much as a flinch, then caught the last punch and used Summer's arm as leverage to throw her over the edge of the platform. Thinking quickly, Summer hooked her fingers on a support cable and swung back around, her momentum flowing into a flying kick that slammed Weaver against the rails. Despite being knocked off-balance, Weaver was still fast enough to lean out of the way as Summer came in with a two-handed swing, kicking out her knee and slamming her forehead into the guardrail.

CLANG.

"Sierra!" cried Nils. "Dammit, Weaver's got the upper hand!"

The world exploded into stars, and Summer felt her head spin as she fell to her knees. She blinked rapidly to try to clear her vision, but no matter how hard she tried, everything still looked blurry. She caught a glimpse of several Weavers rearing their legs back for one coordinated kick to the face, and felt the impact of the real thing an instant later. Now flat on the floor, Summer barely managed to flip herself over before Weaver grabbed the base of her cloak and started tugging at the collar with both hands, pulling the cloth with enough force to start choking the helpless alien warrior. Summer's eyes went wide as her hands went for her neck, desperately trying to unclasp her signature clothing item before it ended up being her downfall. Her air-starved brain vaguely remembered how Crawford had included an emergency release function in the collar this specific scenario - all she had to do was find it before she blacked out.

Which, given how forcefully Weaver was pulling, was easier said than done.

"Sierra's in trouble! That's it, I'm taking the shot!"

"Hold fire, Tango! We don't know if Weaver's shielded, and even a grazing shot with that thing's deadly!"

"Well what the hell are we supposed to do?! We can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"That's about all we can do. Sierra won't take this lying down. Focus on what you can do - like sniping that Muton coming around the flank."

"You got it, Whiskey…"

"This isn't personal, Rose," growled Weaver as Summer gasped impotently and struggled uselessly, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you. I'll just drag your unconscious ass around to use as leverage. Or a shield, if I have to."

A new voice poured out of Summer's radio. Faulke.

"Senior Agent Angela Weaver, stand down now. That is a direct order from your commanding officer."

Weaver scoffed. "I don't know if you've noticed, Myron, but I'm not taking orders from you for this. I'm doing this my way, the way you should have done this. Keeping one alien bastard as a prisoner is risky enough - trying to get another one is just asking for trouble. Axis is too dangerous to bring in - he needs to die."

"And you really think killing the Shipmaster in cold blood is going to help you find Len - "

"Don't you dare say her name!" Weaver snarled. "You lost that right years ago!"

"Then let me say this. Killing Axis won't help her. Bring him in alive, and we can interrogate him to find her."

"I'm sure you will...after you get what you want. I don't care how many agents you send after me, Faulke. Axis dies tonight."

Just when the darkness at the edge of Summer's vision threatened to become all she saw, her fingers weakly wrapped around a thick, rectangular buckle.

The emergency release!

With the last of her strength, Summer's thumb pressed down on the button, releasing the cloak and the tension building within instantly. The sudden lack of an anchor for the force of her pull made Weaver stumble backwards, an opening Summer was quick to capitalize on once she took a single deep, revitalizing breath. With a literal second wind in her lungs she jumped back to her feet and whirled around, launching into a storm of fast and furious punches. No longer in control of the fight, Weaver tried to block or guard the blows, but not even she could stand up to Summer's unrelenting barrage of attacks as fists continuously pummeled her face, body, and arms. Each hit made the brunette stagger back more and more, until a combo of haymakers left her open for a standing kick that knocked her back a good two yards. Breaking into a run, Summer finished the fight by jumping up and grabbing an overhead pipe, using her momentum to deliver a swinging kick with both feet directly between her ribs.

WHUMP.

Weaver yelled as she was launched down the catwalk, grunting in pain as she crashed into the platform floor. The now-empty cloak slipped out of her hands and fluttered as it floated to the ground far, far below. She lay on her back and raised her hands to try and get back up...only to drop them back down as pain and fatigue won out.

Panting and gasping, Summer staggered over towards Weaver as the radios came alive with the chatter of her awed squadmates.

"Holy shit...Sierra actually did it."

"Was there ever any doubt? Come on, Tango, don't sound so surprised."

"Oh, someone make sure to catch her cloak! I worked real hard on that…"

"I got it, Charlie. Sierra, get Weaver in cuffs, and I'll bring you both down next."

Summer didn't have the breath to form a coherent reply, so she just double-clicked her radio to confirm, then pulled a pair of handcuffs from her power pack as she stepped forward.

As soon as she stood over Weaver, however, she froze at the sound of a familiar click.

"Don't even think about it," growled the downed woman as she pointed her revolver at Summer's forehead. She didn't have the strength to stand back up, but that in no way meant that she was done fighting.

"Come on," groaned Summer as she drew her own sidearm. "I am trying to save your life here, and you're making that impossible."

"Good. I don't need saving. I had everything under control before you showed up."

Silver eyes rolled so hard they nearly popped out of their sockets. "Right, because stealing a Skyranger, disobeying direct orders from Faulke, and coming to an alien factory with no backup are all textbook examples of 'having things under control.'" Summer shook her head. "What the hell are you doing, Angela? This isn't like you at all. You're better than this. Smarter."

Weaver grimaced as she glared daggers at the Huntress. "You don't know a damn thing about me, Rose! You think just because you used to be some kind of superhero that you understand me? That you can help me? We are nothing alike! I had to fight tooth and nail to get where I am, had to spend the best years of my life putting up with small-minded assholes to prove I belonged in the Bureau. And then youjust show up out of nowhere the day the Outsiders attack with your bullshit amnesia excuse, your fancy alien kung-fu training, and your stupid smile...and suddenly everything's all about you! Suddenly it doesn't matter what I've accomplished and been through to get where I am - you get the same thing just by existing!"

Summer bit her lower lip as her eyes softened. "Is...is that really what you think of me? Has this really been about jealousy this whole time?"

Tears started to form in Weaver's eyes, but she squeezed her eyes shut long enough to force them back. "It's not that simple," she snarled, though her voice wavered with each word. "I didn't make the choice to fight like you did, it was made for me. And that choice has cost me everything. The things I've had to do to get this far...the pain I've endured, the friends I've lost...you wouldn't understand. You couldn't understand."

"Well maybe I would, if you'd just tell me," pleaded Summer. "You don't have to do this alone, Weaver. Not anymore."

"It's the only way I can do this," growled Weaver, "The only way I know how. It's something I've learned getting this far, and it's the one lesson that's saved my ass time and again. When the chips are down, and the shit hits the fan, you can't count on anyone but yourself. And that's just the way it is. That's the way it's always been, that's how it always will be. And I don't care how much you talk about friendship and unity and working together - this isn't Remnant, it never will be, and you don't belong here."

The silver-eyed Huntress ignored the taunt, focusing only on the pain in Weaver's eyes that even she couldn't hide. There were deeper issues at play here, issues that Summer wanted to help with. But therapy and counseling could come later - right now, Weaver needed to be either stopped or placated now, or else things would get a lot worse for everyone. Remembering how Faulke tried to talk down Weaver during their fight, Summer took a breath and muted the microphone on her radio so that only the woman at her feet could hear her words.

"Look, you...you came out here looking for something, right?" she said softly, "Something that's worth going rogue for, but something that Faulke doesn't think is important enough to retrieve. Something that's connected to Axis...something that he's taken, that you want back. Tell me what it is, and maybe I can help you find it. Not because Faulke or Carter or anyone else ordered me to - but because I want to."

Summer stowed her pistol and held out a hand towards Weaver. "Is that really so hard for you to accept? That I want to help you, out of the goodness of my heart? Why are you so afraid of accepting that? What's the worst that could happen?"

Weaver's gaze softened, the gun lowered, and for a moment, Summer wondered if the steely-eyed woman would actually listen. That moment was shattered, however, as something in her mind clicked as she suppressed a sob. Weaver's scowl returned in full force and she raised her revolver once more, clicking back the hammer and loading the next round into the chamber. Summer pulled her pistol back out, reluctantly, as a show of intimidation…

And then the silence was broken by the sound of a distorted voice cackling over distant speakers, followed by the sound of slow, mocking applause.

"Amusing…" chided the new voice, "...how very amusing. Even when faced with their inevitable demise, these humans still squabble with each other like Sectoids over a piece of rancid meat. Divided, confrontational, filled with hatred and rage...but Mosaic can fix that. Mosaic will fix that for you, if only you would submit."

"Axis…" growled Weaver.

A cyan circle of pure light and energy appeared below Summer's feet, ten feet beneath the platform where she stood. The sound of reality warping and tearing flooded her ears, nearly drowning out the transmissions of her squadmates pouring out of the radio.

"Uhh...Romeo? Is that box supposed to be glowing like that?"

"What in the bloody fuck is that thing?"

"Thermals are off the charts! What the hell is going on in the Forge?"

"The phase plotter...is that what it does? It creates...portals?"

"I know what you came here for, human," drawled Axis. "And I will be more than willing to give it to you, if it will make you and your compatriots leave this place. Enter the Gateway, and you shall have what you seek. Make your decision quickly - you have until the count of ten. One..."

Weaver considered the words of the Shipmaster for all of four seconds before she aimed her hand cannon and fired.

Summer instinctively leaned to one side, only to realize too late that Weaver wasn't shooting at her. The realization sank deeper when their platform swayed and lurched, the sensation followed by the sound of snapping support cables. Her eyes widened.

"Angela, don't!" Summer screamed and lunged for the gun, but it was too late.

Weaver shot out the other load-bearing cable that kept their part of the platform suspended, and Summer felt the floor fall away as the two women entered free-fall. The Gateway came rushing towards them, too fast to avoid or steer clear of, and as soon as Weaver touched it, she vanished.

With only seconds to brace herself as she neared the portal, Summer could only hope she would live long enough to regret all the decisions that had led to this point.

And if whatever was on the other side of the Gateway didn't kill Weaver, she had a feeling she was gonna wring the stubborn lady's neck herself.


(A/N): Weaver, honey, don't just go jumping into random portals that appear out of mid-air. That's how you get drafted into wars on other planets! Just ask Summer's oldest kid how that turned out. Or...will turn out?

Speaking of which, if you aren't aware, DrAmishMD (the author of RWBY Within and Remnant Unknown, and the one who inspired this series in the first place) has uploaded the first chapter of the third (and final) installment in his XCOM/RWBY series! It's called "War Of The Maidens" and it's guaranteed to be a wild ride! Make sure to check it out after you're done here, and be sure to tell him how awesome he is! I honestly wouldn't be half the writer I am today if I hadn't found his stories, and I certainly wouldn't have the friends I have today if I hadn't joined the Discord server. Now I'm not saying that checking either of those will inspire you to write your own crazy stories and improve your life for the better...but I'm also not not saying it.

In any case, thanks for reading, I hope you had fun, and I'll see you all next time!