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"I wanted the ideal animal to hunt," explained the general. "So I said, 'What are the attributes of an ideal quarry?' And the answer was, of course, 'It must have courage, cunning, and, above all, it must be able to reason.'"
"But no animal can reason," objected Rainsford.
"My dear fellow," said the general, "there is one that can."

~Richard Connell

Chapter Thirty-two: For Sport

"A signal?" Edward Gallant gave Tygan a sidelong look. "What signal?"

"I'm not able to isolate anything in particular at this time," he admitted, "but it's coming in on Resistance frequencies from somewhere in the Eastern Seaboard. I can narrow it down further, but I suspect it will take some time."

"Is it a problem, Doctor?" Gallant thumped for the bridge, chewing his lip. "I don't like problems, especially not when we're halfway through a deployment already."

"I don't know. Whoever is sending this is clearly skilled enough to hack into our network, which says unpleasant things for our future if we do not find them and find out about them." Tygan hesitated for a moment, as if there was more he almost added.

"Well, I guess that makes sense." Of course Gallant only put two and two together about the pause after he'd blown his chance. "And the blacksite data? The Codex information?"

"Work is slow, Commander. We lack the computational power to make sense of much of it." Tygan shrugged. "We require a specialized facility dedicated to breaking Advent's data encryption, with a level of processing power currently beyond our capabilities."

"Well, then. Let's hope Santa brings alloys and elerium to all the good Commanders out there." Gallant reached the automatic door, and his cane came down hard on metal decking. Blue lights glimmered in all corners, casting an icy glow over the room.

"Commander." Bradford saluted. Gallant returned it, waving the bridge staff back to their seats.

"As you were." He reached the stairs to his podium...then paused to examine the holodisplay. He sighed. "You know something, John?"

"Sir?"

Gallant coughed, trying not to be obvious about how he was taking a minute before braving eight angry steps. "I miss the globe."

"Ha." Bradford shook his head. "Me too, sometimes. And that damn sweater!"

"You and your fashion sense." Gallant took the inverted plunge, and he gripped the railing tightly with one hand and pushed off his cane with the other, pulling his bum leg toward the heights of command. His heart beat as it should for now even if everything hurt, so really things were about the best he had any right to expect.

"All right." He was well aware someone who wasn't FUBAR'd could have made the climb in a matter of seconds, rather than the half a minute it took him. At least Bradford and Tygan pretended not to notice, and the bridge staff was getting better at it. "Status?"

"Menace is deploying," a tech alerted him. "They should be on the ground in ten seconds."

"Good." Gallant examined the data laid out before him. "What happened to the convoy? Resistance set off some IEDs?"

"Something like that," Bradford allowed. "Hit 'em with a bunch of EMPs. No damage to the goods."

"EMPs. We need more of that. It would help against MECs." Gallant glanced to the far end of the bridge. "Shen?"

"Yes?" Stereo, of course. Both of them gave him the same look through the same eyes. They kept their hair different and Jiaying lacked Shen's kickass tattoos, but otherwise they could have been twins, not just cousins.

"Write that down," Gallant ordered. "EMPs for tactical use." He leaned on the rail one-handed, using the other to massage his chest. "Before you say a word, Richard, I did take my meds before I came down here."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"You're a bad liar, Doctor." Gallant ignored the round of chuckles at the scientist's expense. "All right. Everyone stand by for tactical command."

"Oh, come on..." Mariah did cut her grumbling off there, but nothing could keep her from thinking uncharitable thoughts about the mud she'd stepped in. She moved on as quickly as possible, shard gun at the ready, hoping there wouldn't be mud in her shoe when she took it off.

"Slow down," MacLeod snapped, his thick brogue like music to Mariah's ears even if the note in it wasn't so cheery. "You'll alert every Advent soldier this side of Spain, dammit."

"What?" Mariah did grind to something approaching a halt. "Oh, right. Sorry." She started off again, trying to be quieter. This whole bushwhacking thing just wasn't really her style.

Dad wouldn't ambush them, Mariah thought, with a bit of scorn. He'd just go right at them. No playing around in the trees and behind rocks.

She couldn't deny ambush tactics were effective, they just weren't heroic. Her brain warred with her spirit as she crept forward with her partner lingering in her wake, the pair only peripherally aware of the other soldiers advancing on the rail line.

"Hold up." MacLeod caught her arm, then pointed between the trees. "Take a look."

"Huh?" Mariah frowned, peering through the foliage. "Oh. Oh, you're right. That's...someone in white."

"A priest, looks like." MacLeod took the lead, and Mariah dutifully followed him. She checked her weapons, then reached for her com.

"Got a couple Advent over near us," she reported, trying to sound casual about it. "Looks like a priest, and..." She coughed, and trepidation crept into her voice. "And a muton."

"And a few Johnnies," MacLeod finished, pointing out the two troopers tailing the meat of the patrol."

"Roger that," Mox's voice chimed in. "We are moving to position to flank. Mark your targets and stand by for my mark."

"I'll get the big one." Mariah knelt behind a tree, sighting in on the muton. "I've got the firepower, and he's more dangerous than a priest."

"Priests can do psionic crap," MacLeod pointed out. "I'll take him."

"Right." Mariah exhaled slowly, trying not to give her position away. "We've got this. We could take them ourselves."

"Don't get arrogant, kid."

"I'm not a kid!" Mariah spared the Scotsman a glare. "Don't call me one."

"Well, you're kind of-"

"We are in position." Mox interrupted any further argument, even if Mariah couldn't keep from sticking her tongue out at MacLeod the moment he turned his gaze back to Advent. "Stand by to engage on my mark."

"All right." Mariah aimed again, hurriedly tracking the muton as it continued its lumbering walk through the open ground. The damn thing just looked angry, with its ugly red face behind that stupid respirator, and its bulging green armor nearly blending into the trees. Mariah curled her lip.

And she frowned as a little device flew out from the treeline, clipping to the priest's back. The thing jerked in surprise.

"Mark."

Mariah yelped as MacLeod fired, the reports from his burst unbearably loud in the stillness. Yellow mag-tracers ripped out, tearing into the priest and hitting the little device-

Ka-boom!

"Shit!" Mariah cried, as the priest exploded. Shrapnel soared outward, eviscerating one of the troopers, and faintly a temnotic rifle cracked, hurling a magnetically-assisted projectile into the other one. He crumpled, and that just left-

"Die!" Mariah howled, hitting the trigger. Alloy shards ripped out, clipping the muton's arm and nearly ripping it from the beast's shoulder. It howled, and Mariah frantically worked the pump as the creature reached for the grenade on its belt-

Pow-pow-pow! That was a burst from a magnetic bullpup, and Mox' fire finished what Mariah's started. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as the muton collapsed in a heap.

"Textbook." Her father's voice in her ear made her jump. "Move it on up, Menace. Time's wasting, and the rest of that recovery force won't take long to figure out what the gunfire means."

"Right. Got it." Mariah hadn't bothered to hit her com, but she didn't think she'd had to. She scrambled out from cover, passing the twitching bodies of the remaining Advent. She grimaced as the stench of death and evisceration hit her like a slap, infesting her nostrils and running into her open mouth. The brunette's stomach heaved, putting her nice egg breakfast in jeopardy.

"Watch yourself," Warlock Richardson warned, as she scrambled across the killing field with purple light trailing behind her. She slid behind a large rock. "Keep to cover, Bradford."

"Sure, when there's a fight." Mariah bypassed the rock and hurried up toward the convoy, hearing the rest of the team in her wake. "But as far as we are...I mean, no one could hit a berserker at this distan-"

Bang!

"Mariah's hit!"

"What the hell?" Bradford lunged a half-step forward, grabbing the rail. "Say again, Menace?"

"She's down. One shot. She's moving and I don't see blood."

"Thank God for Julie Richardson," Gallant murmured, as his tactical mind fired up like a coal-fueled boiler. "Someone's got her head about her."

"That's not possible," Bradford snapped. "There's no Advent on thermals within their weapon range. You should be safe to-"

"As much as I love being two steps ahead of everyone, Commander, I was almost hoping we wouldn't be having this little chat today."

"Jesus Christ!" Gallant clutched his earpiece, wincing as feedback built up for a long moment. "Again?"

"One moment!" Tygan's fingers flew over his keyboard, and harshly, the whine cut out. "That's that."

"It's another one of the Chosen," Jiaying whispered. "The Hunter!"

"Your people have managed to keep things interesting, and keep me guessing." His voice ground and growled like the Warlock's and the Assassin's, but there was something lighter in it: something almost perversely cheerful. "But that all ends today."

"Mariah!" Julie swore, then threw herself into open ground. She rolled through the dirt, heedless for what it would do to her uniform, and wrapped the teenager up in her arms. "Speak to me!"

"Uh?" was the most intelligible noise she managed. Julie swore.

Her sixth sense flared.

"Ah!" Hardly more eloquent than her charge, but the redhead had no time for grace and refinement as she hurled herself and Mariah both behind a fallen log. They tumbled a split second before-

Bang! Something red, smoking, and altogether hateful scourged the air where Julie had been only a moment prior. It arced across the clearing and hit a far tree. The psi-op's mouth went dry when its trunk literally split in half.

"Oh, you're fast." That voice rang in Julie's ear as she scrambled to her hands and knees. "You've taken a little bit of what belongs to the Elders, haven't you, red?" The speaker clucked his tongue. "Naughty, naughty."

"Kid!" Julie looked for blood or a gunshot wound. She found none, but she did spot a small projectile lodged in Mariah's arm. Swearing under her breath, the psi-op ripped it out. She ignored the little bit of blood trickling out afterward, and ignored the projectile, too: she just slipped it into a belt pouch without a care.

"Huh?" Mariah's condition visibly improved. She shook her head like she'd just gotten in the ring with Jane, or maybe Central, and had to recover from a nasty uppercut.

"You're good," Julie declared, giving Mariah a pat on the cheek that was only a few pegs down from a slap. "Avenger, Mariah's fine. Some kind of tranquilizer."

"Roger that, Menace-"

Bang!

"Shit!" Julie had just been about to rise and take stock of the situation - just where had everyone else gotten to? - but the smoking red shot that bulldozed over her head suggested patience had been prudent.

"Gotcha right where I want you," the voice mused.

"Who the hell is that?" Julie demanded. She took a deep breath, then threw herself upright, rifle springing into her hands.

"That's the Elders' Hunter," Central chimed in, probably as someone read a data file from Volk or Betos off to him. Julie didn't really care, because she was staring in awe at the sudden panorama: half a dozen stun lancers charged from the convoy, followed by a pair each of sectoids and vipers, guns glowing with emerald energy. "By all accounts, he's a relentless tracker with an unnatural ability to call his shots."

Julie stopped listening. Instead, she started shooting, and her mag-rifle hammered her shoulder like a battering ram, again and again with every burst. Golden tracers tore out and blasted one lancer's arm clean off. It stumbled, but another tracer lanced in from another direction and took it in the head.

"Nice shot, Rogers!" It was all Julie had time for, as she dropped her rifle and seized her amp. The gun hung limp from her shoulder strap while she activated the device and drew on the psionic energy in the air around her.

"You," she declared, glaring at the second lancer as it bounded straight for her, "are going to die."

She felt herself charge in that ethereal way: violet energy sparked and sizzled through the air, soaking into the lancer's pores and cutting in through his eyes. The Adventer ground to a halt, coming close to dropping his baton, as that energy lit up all his pain sensors and overclocked his system. Hormones released, mixing with the chems in his bloodstream, and in a matter of seconds, his heart rate shot up and sweat burst out over his face.

Simply put, he panicked.

"And don't you come back!" Julie cried as the lancer shrieked and bolted. It raced for the treeline, abandoning its weapons and bending double for speed, kicking up clods of dirt.

"That'll learn him!" Mariah bounded to her feet, still looking a little woozy but clearly unbroken. She hefted her shard gun, beaming, and vaulted the log. "Come on!"

"Wait just a..." Julie sighed as the kid vanished into the thick of the action. The redhead reached for her rifle, glancing about for her next target. "All right, who's-"

Strangely, she felt the impact first: like someone took a sledgehammer to her chest. The next thing to register was the acrid scent in her nostrils, burning them up from the inside like a hellborne mix of nicotine and kerosene fumes.

It was only after she finished tumbling on her back that Julie realized it hurt, too.

She shrieked, louder and shriller than the lancer. When she clutched at her chest, both hands came away soaked in red. The agony overrode everything, and red tinted her vision.

"That's gotta hurt," the Hunter mused, perversely cheerful. "Have to say, I'm a little disappointed."

"Richardson!" That was Gallant, and there was a harsh edge to his voice. "Check in! Your vitals are-"

"Shut..." Julie knew she was dying. She knew - knew - that this was it and she was over, and strangely, that pissed her off more than anything else.

"Shut...the fuck...up," Julie hissed, not quite sure if she was talking to the Hunter or the Commander. She didn't care that much either, because her hand found her amp.

Purple power flared and whirled, and it cocooned around Julie, protective as a mother's embrace. It also drove into her chest like a scalpel and tongs, and she only had one lucid moment to scream before everything was pain.

"Come!" Pratal Mox put one foot up on a supply crate stacked in the bed of a long white grav-truck, and he opened fire on the first stun lancer to round the truck ahead of his. "You will not defeat me, kracsad!"

The lancer didn't agree. Mox didn't care that it didn't, but he did spare the time to pump two bursts of mag-bullpup fire into it. The shots stitched and perforated his armor and shattered his helmet's red visor, spraying glass shards into his face. They blasted yellow goo out of his back, and nothing could survive that concentrated fire for long. The lancer collapsed, and Mox lowered his bullpup, hunting for a fresh clip.

He didn't even look as the second lancer bounded up behind him, instead just snapping his ripjack up and letting the Adventer's own momentum drive the blades through its eyes. He twisted as the creature shook, and a moment later, he withdrew a yellow-and-gray tinted ripjack.

"Watch out!" MacLeod caught Mox from behind and yanked hard. Both tumbled on their backs...and an instant later, a scarlet shot trailing smoke ripped through the air where he'd been standing. Mox took in a hissing breath.

"We must move forward," he decided. "I will take the lead. Cover my flank."

"Holy crap!"

"Rogers?" Mox sprang to his feet. "What happened?"

"Cameron ran into a viper," Elena reported, cold and focused as always. Mox heard her temnotic rifle go off on the other end of the convoy. "It's taken care of."

"Very well." Mox waved. "MacLeod! Bradford!"

"Busy!" Mariah cried, and Mox heard a sectoid scream out chittering death. "That's what you get, you little pink bastard-"

"Spare us your commentary, Bradford." Mox ignored her apology. He jumped down from the bed of the grav-truck and scurried up to the next one, keeping his head low and hoping MacLeod had the sense to echo him. "Move up the left side of the column. MacLeod will advance on the right." He hit a button on his wrist, taking aim for the high cab of the next truck down the line. "I will seize the high ground and distract the Chosen's attention while you push on the flanks."

"Got it," MacLeod rumbled. "Set him up and we'll do the rest."

"We must hurry," Mox continued. "We have to defeat him and claim the supplies before Advent throws something else-"

The roar was titanic and earth-shaking, quite literally: the ground wobbled and wavered, and Mox nearly lost his footing. He grabbed the edge of the grav-truck's bed for support, wincing when MacLeod went down on his hands and knees. Glass shattered across the convoy, and Mox heard Mariah's shrill yelping mix in with the animalistic roar.

But he didn't have time to worry about Mariah, because his eyes fixed on the hulking brute of a figure coming down the length of the convoy: red all over with hateful little eyes, with great tubes of flowing chemicals traced over its arms and across its back, coming from some kind of storage tank dug into its skin. It was massive, easily bigger than Junior, and the heavy sledge assemblies fixed on its arms looked about as strong.

"Not expecting to run into your friend's creation here, were you?" The Hunter chuckled. "She doesn't look very friendly."

Author's Note 32: I Never Miss(Even in XCOM)

I find the Hunter to be extremely difficult to fight except in the best of circumstances. He's fast, he's mobile, and he can royally screw up your plans if you don't carefully account for him. Put your soldier in an excellent tactical position? Tracking shot mark. Hunker down is usually a waste of a turn - I operate on the "kill 'em all before they have a chance to shoot" school of XCOM tactical thought, so hunkering in and playing defense is usually worthless to my playstyle - and he can force you to move to a subpar position without firing a shot. And his grapple gives him the mobility to always lay fire down on you no matter where you are. At least the Assassin gets in close and mixes it up within engagement distance.

For the record, Julie does not have access to every in-game psi-power, but as I've said before, I'm playing fast and loose with exactly what abilities people do have - I note that Aileen used the combat protocol in Season One, and yet mentions using the medical protocol several times. Julie can be reasonably assumed to have about half the psi-power list, and Sylvie's a few steps behind her.

I'll talk more about the Berserker Queen next time.

Until then, Vigilo Confido.