The Commander knew she was in for another stimulating conversation when she contacted Betos.
"I have heard from Volk that your battle against the Chosen Hunter was a successful one."
Eliza raised her eyebrows. "Volk actually spoke to you about it?"
"He seemed rather... overjoyed, to share this news." Betos then dipped her head a little bit at the Commander, giving her a pointed look. "He sounded even more enthusiastic about the details of the 'capture' you performed."
Eliza sighed, leaning against the table in the room, supporting herself with a hand. "Knowing him, I'm going to have a lot of misconceptions to clean up...well, what do you want to bring up about it?"
Betos took a moment to think. "You would not strike me as one for interrogation, Commander. It intrigues me that, given the easier option of permanently severing the Hunter from the Elders' grasp, you chose a more difficult approach."
The Commander gave an impressed hum. Betos was right—interrogation really wasn't what she had in mind for him, though the fact that Betos didn't think her one for interrogation at all truly spoke to how much details of the first contact were erased. That was a little too much to explain right then and there, though, so she figured she'd just concede the point. "You're the first one to pick that out." She leveled a careful gaze at the Skirmisher, trying to appraise her body language. She may be former ADVENT but even ADVENT troops had tells. "What's your point?"
Betos readjusted herself under the Commander's inspecting stare. "I have always been the first to speak for mercy for ADVENT who wish it. But, Commander... I would not think the Chosen willing, under any circumstances. Nor would I vouch for their reform. The Chosen have butchered us and your people for twenty years."
"And Mox hasn't?"
That made Betos sigh. "The Chosen have a far greater capacity for violence than even the most ruthless ADVENT soldier. I have heard tales of horrors from every faction, of how each Chosen would antagonize their soldiers and mine, seeming to take pride in the terror they caused."
The Commander maintained eye contact through the recording. "Betos, you must remember; at the end of the day, it's me who's making the calls out here. Maybe one day I can sit down with you and try to explain just exactly why I've taken the Hunter in alive—and will take the others in alive, given the chance—but I don't think I'll have the time to do so right now." Her stare got softer, and she relaxed her stance. "I understand what I'm doing. I understand I'm sparing the most unforgivable of ADVENT's ranks, right below the Elders. But, I have my reasons, and the means to do so."
The Resistance leader looked over her a few moments more before nodding. "Very well. I suppose, in the end, your methods do remove the Chosen from the Elder's control."
Eliza gave a relieved smile. "Alright. Now, how did that last covert action go?"
"The mission was a success. With the help of your soldiers, we have identified the rough area of where the Chosen Assassin resides. One more incursion, and we would be able to formulate a plan to bring her down." She gave Eliza a knowing look. "Kill or capture."
The Commander nodded. "Even if we have some disagreements, I'm glad to see that you understand." She started tapping away at a datapad next to her. "Who would you need for the next mission?"
"I would like to request Samhien back for this action, as he knows the terrain in the area. I would also need at least one experienced soldier from you, though I would recommend two, in case of an ambush."
"Can do. I'm assigning you..." She scrolled through her options, nodding as she tapped two. "Herod Ishland and..." Commander O'Leary chuckled. "Vlad Tepes. Don't ask," she said to Betos's inquisitive look, "That's the only name he'd give us. He's a fine soldier otherwise."
"I understand. We will work together in order to stop another one of the Elders' children."
The Commander nodded, her hand hovering over the button to end communications before she took in a breath. "Betos. Say at least one of the Chosen is willing to make amends. I'm not asking for a hero's welcome but... A chance, is what I'm asking. If you're let down, then I won't ask for anything ever again."
Betos clasped her hands together. Her face was firm as she took a few seconds to consider it. "If you can present to me a truly reformed Chosen, I shall not ask anything of you ever again. My Skirmishers might take more to convince than I, however."
"As long as someone approves, I suppose. Thank you, Betos. Will that be all?"
Betos nodded, and then the Commander closed the connection. Honestly, she was hoping that Betos would be one of the first to come around on the idea. Even if limited, Betos had a bit more understanding on the matter than most people did, so it was a good start. Volk might throw a fit, but that was to be expected, and Geist? Hard to say, but probably not happy either.
With Geist on the mind, Eliza prepared to open up another call when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around, managing to catch Shen before she could knock. "Shen?"
Lily looked a bit surprised, but recovered quickly. "Hey Commander. Hope I'm not interrupting anything." When the Commander shook her head, she continued. "I was thinking a little bit more about how you want to capture all of the Chosen and figured you could use some tools to do so." She waved Eliza over, holding up a datapad so she could see. Two different mockups were on screen—an oddly-shaped bullet and a series of rings.
"I'm pretty sure the Warlock isn't going to take well to what you used on the Hunter, and you and I both know the Elders have probably safeguarded the Assassin against it in some way. So we'll throw them a punch from left field." She pointed her stylus at the rings. "No real name for these yet, but they're a series of linking cuffs that could snap together on the limbs, preventing them from moving. And this," she said, motioning to the bullet, "is Riot Ammo. I took a few ideas from old police forces and figured this should be effective. They don't pierce the skin, but enough well-aimed shots should theoretically knock anyone out."
The Commander hummed in thought. "Cons?"
"Well... the cuffs are heavy enough that a soldier would need to forgo a piece of equipment to carry them. The Riot Ammo, though, probably won't be effective in most situations. I'm sure regular ADVENT would get stunned faster than the Chosen, but with this ammo, whoever's using it is going to have to rely on everyone else."
Commander O'Leary looked over the two designs. The Riot Ammo could be interesting, but pound for pound, the cuffs were better, in her eyes. Maybe if Clint was awake by the time they needed it...
"Go with the cuffs."
Shen nodded, tapping the cuffs with the stylus and starting to type. Maybe a message to the engineers. "Got it, Commander. This is going to be some pretty sophisticated tech, so I'd project about five days for it if nothing major comes up."
"Understood. Anything else you need from me?"
"That was about it. I'll leave you to it, Commander." With that, Shen walked out, taking a turn out the door and down the hall. Eliza watched her go, before turning to her own thoughts. It wasn't quite 24 hours yet, just a little under that. Now that she thought about it, she should give a little time towards taking down the Warlock—not only did they presently not have the tools to do so, if she took it too fast, they may not have the space to do so, either.
She felt the ship tilt ever so gently and gripped the Resistance table for dear life. When things stabilized and went into the telltale rumblings of landing, she breathed a sigh of relief. Actually, speaking about Bradford, they were probably at their destination. The Commander walked out of the room. There was a mission that needed discussed.
The Hunter was bored out of his mind.
As much of good intentions he was sure the Commander had in mind, she'd neglected to give him much in the form of entertainment, outside of endlessly pacing the square floor of his cell. He'd already tried to finagle the cuffs open, with little success outside of rubbing his wrists sore, not that he cared too much. But, he was a prisoner for now, he supposed. Wouldn't be too good, image-wise, to be passing out toys to them.
That still did nothing to mitigate the fact that he was mind-numbingly bored.
Well, perhaps his brain wasn't numbed enough, because it managed to dredge back up the questions he'd asked the Commander, facing him with them. He gave a soft groan, forehead hitting one of the walls. He was lucky that she didn't seem to remember those at all when she first talked to him. But maybe she didn't want to bring them up. After all, who would like to bring up that kind of stuff to someone's face? Oh hey, remember all of those really concerning questions you asked me when I was basically being held hostage by the Elders? Yeah, let's talk about those. That sounds like a whole lotta fun.
He scoffed, remaining leaned against the wall. If she even remembered. He remembered the connections surrounding her login being damaged by her severance. It took a bit to patch them, but he figured that the damaged versions were the ones she got to keep. His own memory of items on the ADVENT Network... eh, he'd think about that later. Right now, there was a good 50/50 chance that she even knew half of the "conversations" they had.
But if she was extending this offer to him, did she or did she not remember? If she didn't, maybe it was just wanting a powerful player like him on her side, personal liking be damned. If she did... he didn't even want to think about it. He couldn't. Somebody wanting him around because they were concerned? Because they cared? Because they thought he was worth a damn? The Hunter just couldn't get to grips with it.
He moved to sit down, facing the corner. Yeah, let's just try to put any stupid thoughts in timeout. He knew what his worth was—a gun that could plan missions. Granted, a good gun, dare he say a good-looking gun with something smart to say at everything, but a gun nonetheless. Even for as much delight as he took in his hunting, outside of that small rush he got from killing, he was just so...
No, "empty" wasn't the right word. Not anymore. There was a flicker of something disgusting deep down that he didn't even want to identify. But it brewed in him still, turning into several things.
He took in a breath, trying to quell the tide, but only ended up fanning the flames. God, what the hell was wrong with him? He hated these thoughts that were bubbling up. They were so... needy.
But... how nice wouldn't it be, if the Commander liked him? He huffed, still desperately trying to stop this train of thought, but it rolled over him. Not just liked him, appreciated him—thought he was fun to be around. What if she wanted him around? Wouldn't that be nice? It was something he could barely imagine, with his self-worth being so hilariously low. Somebody who wasn't a target to shoot, a sibling to mess with, or an Elder to be thoroughly ignored, with the punishments that came with that. Somebody who...
Eventually, an emotion he was fine with harboring caught up to him as he refused to think on it further: embarrassment. "God, Mordenna, you are pathetic."
The Commander finally found herself back on the Bridge, where Bradford was waiting for her. There didn't seem to be any personnel in the room outside of the man himself, who straightened when she entered and walked over. "Commander."
"Central. Got any new info on the mission?"
"Not as much as we'd hope, but more nonetheless." He tapped a few things on the panel for the Geoscape, bringing up a few documents. "It's a Blacksite, that much we know."
"A refinery like the last one?"
Bradford shook his head, bringing one document in particular to the front. "From what we know and have pictures of, it doesn't look like one. No green 'caskets' stacked around it—not much of anything stacked around it at all, actually. It's heavily guarded, however, and at one point there was a lot of information flowing in and out of it. Activity around it did spike very recently."
The Commander nodded at the information, but his last point stuck out of her. There was... something bad about that. "How recently?"
Central flipped through some logs. "They didn't catch exactly when it started, but after we captured the Hunter." He looked up, just in time to catch the Commander recovering from going stock-still. "So... that might be a hint."
"Rightfully, a lot of ADVENT installations are going to light up after a Chosen's been taken." The Commander couldn't help but feel she was talking to herself. "No matter what they are. Rooting out what they can do to prevent further captures and potentially even further incursions into the Strongholds is a task I can imagine a lot of facilities taking up—especially if it's the remaining Chosen carrying out the orders."
Central nodded, seemingly convinced, going back to the Geoscape. "Other than heightened patrols, there's not much we should beware of... that we know of."
Eliza leaned over the rails. Going by his tone and topic, it was time to start picking soldiers for the mission. "We'll march in strong. Banel, Leo, and Kalight, for a start. Need a medic—I think Sherry's still good to go. I think we can help her out on the field by putting March out there with her. Finally..." She took a moment to think. "Put Will out there. Think we could use a Sharpshooter this time."
"Understood, Commander. I'll pull them out for the mission."
Commander O'Leary stood up, mentally checking the clock. "Let me know when everything's ready—either send yourself or someone else down to the Chosen Holding Cells, I'm going to be in there for a bit."
She got about halfway across the Bridge before Bradford called out to her, making her turn around. "Commander, I know you want the Hunter with us, and I'm not denying he'd be useful." At that word, Eliza crossed her arms, but he pushed on. "But from the reports we've gotten from the Reapers and the other factions, he seems like a real loose cannon. I know he was working under the Elders, but there's no telling if he'll turn on us and strike out on his own."
The Commander fixed him with a hard stare, hard enough to make even Central falter. After a bit, she sighed, closing her eyes. "I thought you understood, Central. I really did."
"Eliza." His tone was soft and cautious. "I do. I don't want to see you hurt because you tried to extend mercy to someone who didn't..."
"... deserve it?"
Bradford stopped, mouth closing into a hard line. "To someone who didn't appreciate it."
The Commander brewed over it a bit, opening her eyes, looking at Bradford softly. "John. Do you trust me? Not as your superior officer, I mean as a person. Do you trust in my decisions?"
Bradford rubbed his stubble, looking to the side and sighing. "I do, Eliza. You don't strike me as the type to just make these decisions randomly." He turned his head back to her. "Does anyone else even know of your plans, at least?"
Eliza deflated, drumming her fingers on her arm. "Betos, and that's because she gathered it on her own. I was hoping to have him at least decided on it before I did anything. I'm not about to go around claiming I can save him before I've even got my foot in the door. God knows it's going to be a lot harder with the other two, and that's even if we can get our hands on them." She runs a hand through her hair, tucking some of it aside. "It's not news I can break lightly, either. A lot of people are going to be up in arms about it. I mean, I come to you out of the blue one day and say 'hey, remember that highly volatile alien we captured? Yeah, he's on our side now, I swear.' You'd think I was crazy, if you didn't already."
"Eliza..." Bradford looked like he wanted to say something more, but couldn't find anything at the moment. Commander O'Leary took it as a sign to continue.
"I'm sorry. Just, for all of it. I always operate under the notion that people know that I know that I'm taking risks on about everything I do. Then I put a friendly face forward and lead soldiers to possible doom." She gives a half-hearted chuckle. "You know, a usual Tuesday, right?"
"Eliza, you don't have to apologize to me." Bradford walked forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If anything, I should be saying sorry for second-guessing you on this so much. I know you make decisions with risks in mind, but..."
The Commander gives a soft, tired laugh. "You're a chronic worrywart, John. As much as I'm a hopeless sympathetic. The day you stop fussing is the day the Elders give in. I'd hold onto it."
Bradford settled into the slightly lightened mood, his smile making a few wrinkles appear. "It's giving me a lot of grey hairs though, I don't know if I should."
Eliza returned the smile, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I think salt and pepper would suit you well."
Was it just her, or was his grip on her shoulder getting a bit tighter? Not uncomfortably so at all, just firmer. "What, and show my age? You're suggesting some dangerous stuff, Eliza."
"Please. Me, suggesting something dangerous?" She was glad the lightened mood was doing wonders for them both. "It'd be like you piloting the Avenger well for a change."
He pouted in mock-hurt. "I don't see anybody else stepping up to fly this thing, save the autopilot. Maybe if you wanted to try, I could teach you."
"John, we do not need two people throwing this thing over trees."
"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad."
"The last time you evaded a UFO, you gave Tygan's whole lab an 'emergency restructuring.'"
"Look, anything goes when we're dodging those things, alright?"
She gave a real chuckle, her hand sliding off of his shoulder. "Oh, I love giving you hell. Makes up for a lot of things."
His smile slightly withered. "Hopefully I don't make it too much to cover."
The Commander patted his hand. "You're good, Bradford, and don't forget it. For as much hell as I give you, you never give me too much to complain about."
He took it as a sign to release her shoulder, nodding. "Glad to hear it, Commander." He gave a slightly awkward cough, looking the other way. "I shouldn't keep you any longer. I've got soldiers to round up and you've got a Chosen to talk to, from the sounds of it. By the way..." He looked back at her, back to being professional and serious. "I may not know all of the story, but if you need any help getting the soldiers used to the idea of having a Chosen on the team... I'll back you up, Commander."
Bradford could see Eliza visibly relax, turning towards the door. "Thank you, Bradford. It means a lot to me. I'll tell you if I need anything, alright?"
"Always a pleasure." He nodded towards her, moving back to the Geoscape. "Good luck, Commander."
She nodded back, walking out. It was a little over 24 hours now, but she was sure that the Hunter would make it.
In a cell where you gave him nothing to do for 24 hours.
Well, he is a prisoner, she figures. She was a "hopeless sympathetic," yes, but even then she wasn't about to install a TV in there or something like that. Had to express some hardness, at the end of the day.
She chuckled. Maybe if she did torture, she would. From what she heard about ADVENT's daytime comedies, they were practically infringing on the Geneva Convention.
Eventually, the Commander rounded a corner and ended up in the Chosen Holding Cells. A few more floor panels were in place, compared to last time, but there didn't seem to be any other changes outside of that. The engineers weren't even there, most likely having taken a break. Noting that, she picked up the remote and slipped over to the Hunter's door.
She paused just in front of it, then leaned over to activate the video feed into the cell. The angle seemed to be from one of the top corners of the room, the left one closest to the door, the shot being wide enough to capture essentially all of the room. In the corner sat the Hunter, hunched over a bit, largely unmoving. That was mildly concerning. The Commander opened the cell door and stepped in.
The Hunter remained in his position, not moving a muscle at Eliza's incursion. She crossed her arms, trying to gauge what was going on. This didn't bode too well. "Hey."
"Oh, Commander... didn't see you there." His voice was flat, and it sounded like he was half-heartedly trying for his eternally-teasing tone, but not quite making it. "My bad." Even when he was done talking, he didn't move. The Hunter seemed determined to stare down the wall.
Eliza sat down behind him, setting the remote at her side, studying his back. She was wondering how to approach this. Clearly something had happened between meetings—whether that be someone visiting him in the cell when they weren't supposed to, or simply the Hunter being given time to muse over his own feelings, and find them wanting.
Whatever the case, she took long enough thinking that the Hunter felt compelled to fill the silence. "Y'know, I'm thinking that mutual silent treatments don't really work. Seems like a lot of effort for no payoff."
The Commander didn't respond to that. She was still busy thinking, almost sinking into the mood that the Hunter was in. For him to be openly sullen like this without being hostile...
Just as she thought that, he twisted around, just enough to side-eye her, giving her a hard stare. "What's up with you."
She closed her eyes, half to gather her thoughts, half to avoid the look she was getting. Eliza took in a calm, deep breath. "Everyone keeps asking why I bothered to take you in alive." She opened her eyes, greeted by the Hunter raising an eyebrow, his gaze softening a bit.
"Come to think of it, I've been meaning to ask the same thing."
Commander O'Leary took another moment to think. Her mind was on a very sensitive subject, like it had been when she originally thought of the plan to capture him in the first place. Approaching that could very well be opening a can of worms, but she needed to clear the air on it eventually. "'Have you ever wanted to die?'" She did her best to mimic the very inflection the Hunter used that day, right before he pulled the trigger.
The effect was immediate. He seemed to freeze in place, his eyes darting away from her. Looks like he wasn't expecting it. Maybe it was the exact thing he was thinking on. After a bit, he recovered, but didn't meet her eyes, remaining fixed on something else. "So. You do remember." His voice was low, but no longer flat.
She nodded. "That's why. Those questions you asked got me thinking... more recently, anyway. Wasn't much time to do individual thought when I was directing all of ADVENT's forces." She rubs the back of her neck, sighing. "My idea on it was that you've been with the Elders. You know how they are, you know how they punish. You know how they manipulate. Nobody else can really grasp it without having gone through it."
The Hunter looked back to her, his face turning hard again. He fully turned around to face her. "I get it. The mighty Commander wants to throw herself a pity party, because woe is her."
She leaned forward, face set. That wasn't what she intended at all, but how to say that without looking like it was what she meant? Her eyes flitted downwards and the Commander shook her head while she searched for adequate words.
"No?" He sounded incredulous, but he continued. "What is it then, Eliza? Why bother? Why pick me up when I'm basically nothing good?"
"That's it. That's it right there." The Commander looks back up at him, eyes soft. "You think you're nothing good, which is far from the truth. I'm always questioning if things would really be just easier if I turned myself over to ADVENT. The Elders broke us. If I were going to be throwing a pity party, if anything else, it'd be for you guys." She sat back up, her mouth in a thin line. "When was the last time you felt genuinely loved?"
The Hunter answered so smoothly and easily that it scared her. "Never."
"Then that's my point. I want you to have a second shot at this. A second shot at being appreciated, cared for, wanted. If you fought for me, you'd get the action you wanted without having to play at the whims of the Elders. To have someone in charge who cares what happens to you." She chuckled a bit, despite herself. "I'm sure you'd make them angry with it."
He stared at her a bit longer, seemingly deep in thought. His eyes flitted a bit, as if inspecting her—which, given his modified eyesight, he probably was. "What's the catch. Gonna shove a modified chip in my brain? Put a bomb collar on me? Kill me when I've outlived my use?"
"No catches or strings attached, other than just having to follow orders."
Mordenna leaned back against the wall. He was still studying her, but his gaze had softened. He was tense, like he was on the edge of being able to relax. "Just tell me. No dancing around it, no trying to sucker me in; what's your goal?"
She sighs. Mordenna was, rightfully, hard to convince. She wasn't aware of everything the Elders did to him, since most of her time was taken up doing simulations and calculating things for them, but she knew there was a damn good reason he wasn't buying it. "I'll be honest, then. I'm a bleeding heart for people who have suffered like me. And you... you never deserved what you've gone though. None of you did. My goal is just to right some wrongs, to let you know that love isn't like that." Eliza laughs half-heartedly. "I suppose an underlying reason is yet another way to tell the Elders to shove it, but it's just a happy side-effect. In the end, it's up to you."
He tilts his head slightly. His eyes hadn't left her once as she was speaking. She felt like he was reading her like a book, catching even the most minute thing she did. No wonder so many of her soldiers cracked when he was "asking" information. After a bit, his shoulders slump. "You never did answer me."
She blinked. At her confused silence, he continued. "You never did. I asked you a question. 'Have you ever wanted to die?' I never got your response. Answer me, and I'll think about it."
The Commander looked him dead in the eye, hoping he could see she was telling the whole truth. "Yes."
"When."
She faltered a bit. Didn't want to talk about it too much. "You know when."
"When." He had a determined look in his eye—he wasn't going to budge until she answered.
"Whenever I was a subject to the Elder's false love," she started, dropping eye contact. "Whenever I saw you guys getting punished and there was nothing I could do." She runs a hand through her hair, her fingers shaking a bit as Eliza recounted what she knew from what was muddled. "I saw everything. I knew everything. The Elders might have had me all tied up and unable to speak out against them but do you know what? I was fully aware. I couldn't do anything." The hand in her hair stopped, gripping it at the root. "I just wanted the reason... I just wanted the reason for why I couldn't do anything to be because I was dead."
The Commander bowed her head, breathing deeply. It wouldn't do her much good to get so worked up in front of him—or worked up at all. Her emotions could not escape her. She rubbed her scalp after convincing herself to let go of her hair.
A tired, hesitant sigh from the Hunter interrupted her train of thought. "Commander, I thought you said you didn't do torture."
That got her to look back up at him. The Hunter had an uncertain frown going on, and she got the feeling that if his hands weren't behind his back, he'd be crossing his arms. "Here you are, sitting right in front of me, having a breakdown—honestly, were I in a worse state, I'd probably be hating myself right along with you." He stops, blowing a bit of air out of his nose. "Scratch that, always am, but that's beside the point. Here you are, having me handcuffed so I can't even so much as awkwardly pat your shoulder. For shame, Eliza. For shame."
She stared at him for a solid moment, then gave a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a strangled sob. She let it continue as a laugh, to at least give the Hunter some credit for holding it together better than she just did. "I... I guess you're right. I'm sorry."
He sighs, deflating quite a bit. "... you're supposed to be funny back, Commander, that's how this works. Here I am, trying to lighten the mood—"
"You don't have to. You can be sad." She took a deep breath, gathering herself, sitting up straighter. "You can think of what's happened and get angry about it. I know I do."
The Hunter regarded her a bit more. He was slumped against the wall fully at this point, tiredness etched into the lines in his face. She half-wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all during the 24 hours he asked for. Eventually, Mordenna closed his eyes, taking in a breath. "Well... you drive a hard bargain, Commander. I suppose I don't really have much of a choice after all that." He opened his eyes, smirking. "I do have one condition upon being freed, though."
"That being...?"
"I get to slap you. Not even that hard. You said you wouldn't torture me, and you did! Such a hypocrite, Eliza." His grin got wider. "How can you live with yourself."
She returned the smile. "Sounds good to me. Deal?"
"Deal."
The Commander reached for the remote, grabbing it.
"Commander?"
Shen's voice came the panel on the wall, stopping Eliza in her tracks. "Lily?"
"The Skyranger's ready to go, and the squad is too. You're needed down on the deck."
"Understood. Give me a minute to finish up here."
After there was a bit of silence, Eliza turned back to Mordenna. He looked... disappointed, just barely, but he shrugged. "Go. Ain't like you'll be any less willing after the mission, I hope."
She nods, grabbing the remote as she gets up. "I promise—a deal is a deal."
The Hunter grinned again, though it was uncharacteristically softer than usual. "Be careful. Promises are deadly things to make."
"I've known plenty of danger, Mordenna." Eliza turned, tapping the panel on the door. "What's a little more?"
"Your funeral."
