It was just a hunk of metal, Mordenna kept telling himself. It was just a hunk of metal calling itself a door that separated him and his destination. He shouldn't be afraid of it—it probably could smell fear. Probably.

Mordenna found himself once again on the other side of the door to the Studio, hesitating. He'd just gotten here and already he'd stopped up and started second-guessing himself. He couldn't really help it—even with Eliza's pep-talk and with the assurance that Jax wouldn't hold anything against him, approaching his brother during off times... never seemed to go down well. He was built and trained to work with the facts and probabilities, and both were telling him he shouldn't even bother.

"Well," he said to himself, "either we stand here like a loon until someone else finds us, we turn back and kick this can down the road, or we can be proper and actually walk in there and start talking to our brother. Y'know, the thing we said we'd do?" He sighed, looking at the pad for the door. "Just a button press, Mords. Press a button, they'll see you, and you'll be naturally inclined to walk in. C'mon."

He waited one more second before taking in a deep breath, closing his eyes and tapping the panel. When he opened them, the door had slid to the side to reveal the Studio beyond, and he stepped in as he looked at the gathering taking place. Mystics and the rest of Jax's congregation scattered about, standard fare, but there were more people present than he'd expected. The ravens perching in the room led his eyes naturally to Edgar, who was sitting down with Marlene, that weird specter above her seeming to acknowledge Mordenna's presence. Banel was off to the side, a few of the birds huddled close to him. Interestingly, that Sectoid recruit—Arachne, if he remembered correctly—was off at the far side of the room, sitting alone. Jax himself had been granted a comfier chair and was now lounging like a true man of power.

His stance changed as Mordenna walked in, of course, and he sat up. "Brother."

Well, Jax didn't seem agitated—if anything, he looked pretty happy to see him. Mordenna relaxed, letting himself slip into his usual trickster persona. "Oh, lordly brother of mine, amassed followers and all. I see you're just living the high life in here."

Jax scoffed good-naturedly, waving for him to step further in and get himself comfortable. As he did, Jax continued. "Please. What else would you ask of me to do with my leisure time? There are few things I find more enjoyable than attending to my flock and seeing that they are well off."

"Ah, shit, I don't know." Mordenna flopped into a chair, giving a lazy wave to the Mystics near him. They waved back and he grinned. "Get creative? Indulge with your followers a bit and make a masterpiece that'll bring tears to the eyes of jaded chumps? Of course I always have a few ideas of buffoonery you can be getting up to, but that's because I know what's fun in the mischievous sense."

"I've entertained..." Jax looked over to the modelling area. "At least, I have entertained assisting whoever needs it once that area is fully established. I'd also considered dabbling in composing again, but without instruments, the practice leaves something to be desired." He sighed, looking back. "And I've no inspiration, nor particular want to pen or do sermons at the present. It's quite vexing."

No instruments, hm? Mordenna was slightly amused at the fact that while his first thought was to make some for Jax, he hadn't the slightest clue how to do so. Could always learn was the quick counter thought to that, but with Wiki offline he didn't particularly know where to start with that prospect. "Bummer," he offered. "I can feel not feeling for a specific aspect of creativity, of course. Sometimes, even with engineering, there's things I don't wanna do jack shit with at times." Which... included something he hadn't been thinking much of, especially after rescuing Jax and the emotional rollercoaster that had followed. Mordenna wasn't stupid—with a shattered Sarcophagus came the opportunity to study the material itself and he'd squirreled away a few chunks for later analysis. He just didn't even want to look at them with what had been happening recently. Maybe when things get a tad bit steadier.

Still, there were other things he could still suggest. Mordenna leaned on the table next to him, palm on his jaw. "—ok so creativity is out the window until I can pull some sort of daring heist to rescue that grand piano of yours from your Stronghold." That got a smile and Mordenna felt a bit better about not being able to do anything about it at the moment. "So! It falls to me to have to retread old ground. Which is to say; bro. You can't aim for shit."

Jax bristled, but it was in a clear performative way. "I have had no need for sharpshooting. Why can you not leave me to my psionic arsenal in peace?"

Mordenna chuckled. "Because it's a damn travesty, is what it is. I can't have you be my brother and also be unable to hit the broadside of a barn. It ain't right. So, the point I'm torturously dragging myself to is this." He straightened and leaned over in his seat, looking Jax dead in the eye. "You. Me. Shooting range. I teach you the finer points of making the nasty men fall down. Doesn't have to be right now—you're clearly having a riot of a time here—but I think it's high time I straightened out your fire accuracy. Whaddya say?"

His brother relaxed when it was clear Mordenna was leading into something with his ribbing, a hand coming to his chin. "... I will admit, despite my tenacity in sticking to my more mental armaments, I think it would be wise if I learned a simpler implement. I find merit in honing my shooting ability, especially for targets normally out of range." He nodded to himself. "Fine. Find me at another moment and I will be more than happy to take a few tips from you."

That went over well! Satisfied, Mordenna bobbed his head and leaned back in his chair. "Grand! That leans neatly into my next point—I kitted out your gun a lot when I first made it, but that was like, fifteen years ago. There's definitely a thing or two I can do to it to make learning how to shoot it proper easier. Re-tooling the scope, for one. Think I can use a few of the tricks I used for mine for yours, now that I don't have a stick up my ass about us being siblings." He gestured vaguely. "That's just a lot of words to ask if you'd like me to take a look at that rifle of yours again. So, well, can I?"

Jax shrugged, adding a hand to the gesture. "I see no reason as to why not."

So, uh. That was it. Jax said "yes." Mordenna felt both thoroughly underwhelmed and relieved at the same time. No hesitation, no "well I don't know," nothing. It was almost as if his brother didn't hold a grudge, which was weird. But, hell, Mordenna had his answer. He could add another project to his endless list, which he didn't mind so much. It meant that he always had something to do. "—Right then," he said, after what he knew must've looked like a stunned silence—because it was, "I'll get around to handling that after I've got Wiki back online. Maybe even sooner if I get a free moment."

That was all Mordenna had for conversation topics, honestly. It was hard to just shoot the breeze with Jax, it felt like—he didn't really think he had much in common with his brother. He was halfway to picking out another debate topic to pick over Jax's brain with when his eyes caught one of the tentacles off of Marlene's... whatever it was lazily extending towards one of the ravens in the room as she was still talking with Edgar. Topic thus gained, he lowered his voice. "Hey. Uh. Jax. Hate to raise alarms but you do see that thing, right?"

Jax followed his gaze, and he watched as he distinctively locked onto it. Nodding, Jax looked back to him. "Of course. As far as I have been able to observe, it is some psionic conglomeration that follows her. I cannot discern for certain if it is sentient on its own or not—but I have heard it speak. It doesn't seem dangerous, in any capacity—more protective of Marlene itself, than anything. Admittedly, I have not asked about it."

"Don't blame you." He watched as one of the faces turned towards him, and even without eyes it seemed to stare him right down. He met its gaze without backing down. "Makes me curious, though, and you know how I get when I'm curious. Don't suppose you'd be against me going over and asking, myself?"

He shook his head. "Go right ahead, brother."

"Fantastic." With that, he mosied on out of his chair, casually walking over to the Templar and the bird man. When he got close, their conversation stopped.

Edgar smiled gently. "Hello, Hunter. Haven't seen you for a bit."

"Same to you, Edgar." He snickered. "I want to call you some ridiculous nickname but honestly you calling yourself 'Edgar' has me beaten out. Consider yourself lucky."

Edgar's laugh sounded every bit like a raven mimicking it. "I consider it one of the benefits of my moniker. So, have you anything to do with Marlene and I?"

"Yes, actually." He shifted his attention to Marlene, considering how to approach this. If Edgar couldn't see it through his ravens, this might get a little awkward to talk about in front of someone else. Plus, as he thought, his ears pricked with a rather familiar whispering. Mouth settling into a line, the uncanniness of it spurred him into just going for it. "Yo, Marlene. Got a question for you." He made sure to point very specifically at one of the faces that was still "staring" at him. "Your buddy there going to concede that it can't win a staring contest against me, or am I going to have to call a judge in on this?"

Marlene was a hard one to read. She didn't move too much when he pointed it out, and the helmet naturally made her face impossible to judge. She simply wove her fingers together, looking at him. "... They are merely curious that you seem to be able to see them."

"Ah, can you?" When Mordenna looked back over, Edgar's eyes were glowing, and so were Nevermore's. "I was wondering if I was the only one able to—well, Nevermore, by any extent. The other ravens get a hazy outline."

"I don't got special eyes for nothing," he chipperly responded. "Anyway, outside of the staring contest, I really am curious. You know what that thing is?"

"If I ask," she began, voice maintaining its smooth intonation, "they call themselves by many titles, all of them true." The lips of the faces moved and the whispering grew a touch louder, making Mordenna's nerves shake. "But the shortest and most identifying would be 'The Oracle.' They are my connection to the Earth and Her prophecies."

"Prophecies?" Mordenna didn't believe much in fate. Really, he didn't believe it at all. Things were just too variable on all levels for things to be so assured. You could predict a scenario down to the last second, of course, and sometimes you could be absolutely correct—but there was always the possibility of being wrong, always the chance that things would go completely differently. Suffice to say, he wasn't convinced, but Marlene didn't have to know that. "Sure enough. Say, I've seen things like it before. They were a little different—"

"Your 'father,'" she cut across him with, "I have seen his. Multiple Codices, yes?"

Uh. She really, really wasn't supposed to know that. Despite himself, Mordenna could feel himself bristling. It took him observing with all his might to see what hung around Odin, and here this chick just knew? On top of that, the whispering was frying his nerves. "Uh-huh. Yeah. Gonna just skip on past how you know that." That thing was haunting him like a— "Revenant. We'll call them Revenants. Sounds great. Gets across that vaguely threatening aura. Really just nails the whole unsettling vibe they give off. Hey what the hell is with this whispering?"

That was enough to get a visible reaction out of Marlene, who crossed her arms. As she did, it dropped down to almost imperceptible volumes, the Revenant's tentacles withdrawing and curling defensively around her shoulders. "... I apologize," she began, voice quieter. "The whispering is a byproduct of my psionics being in a near-constantly active state. I do not mean to unnerve."

He could see Edgar off to the side nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Yes, Mordenna could see that maybe he was losing a bit of control over his emotions. It just didn't help that the whispering reminded him so much of Odin, and that whispering only ever came out when Mordenna was about to get the belt. He rubbed at his mouth, forcing himself to calm down a tad. "... right. Yeah. Gotcha. Anyway I think that was about the extent of questions I had for you. You, uh, carry on your business."

With that, he promptly stood up and spun on his heel, walking back over to Jax without looking back for a second. When he got back to his brother and he gave him an imploring gaze, Mordenna sighed. "I don't know what I was doing trying to interrogate a prophet," he began. "Don't take much to set me off after she just... names Odin as my father like that."

Jax sympathetically winced, motioning to sit down. But when it was clear Mordenna wasn't going to, he began to speak regardless. "I do not believe she intends to touch any nerves—it is hard to even begin to fathom what we have been through, from an outside perspective."

"Yeah, I get that. Half of why I disengaged so quickly." He rubbed at his jaw. "... anyway I gave that and by extension its 'species' a moniker. 'Revenants.' Sound snappy enough?"

Jax considered it for a second. "A name as fitting as any, I would imagine. Curious that there seems to be so few of them."

"And why something I've only seen on Ethereals is hanging off a human," he muttered, staring not at but through Jax. Jax himself... there had been mentions of a certain "suppression" in his files but it was quite vague what it was referring to. Jax's psionics were a weird color, all told—not quite as weird as Eliza's blue, at least—and they gathered around him strangely. Not quite the pattern of a Solace. Remembering he was staring, he shook his head. "Whatever the case. I think—"

His line of thought was interrupted by a gentle lurching of the ship. Seems they landed. Giving a short "huh," Mordenna remembered where they were at. "Well, looks like we've hit the ground. Dunno about you but we're in Reaper territory and I have to attend the grudge match of the century. Have any reason to keep me here or can I go kick Volk's teeth in?"

Sighing, but with a smile on his face, Jax waved him off. "I see no reason to keep you from your bouts of sudden violence, brother. Just try not to get yourself killed, will you?"

"Oh please," he assured Jax with as he started to walk towards the door, "If anyone's getting killed around here, it's Volk."


By the time Mordenna reached the ramp leading down to the outside, he could see Eliza was already up ahead, in conversation with Volk. Whatever they were talking about, it had a smile on both of their faces—and he didn't quite like the particular way Volk was looking at Eliza. Interference it was. He let his boots loudly ring off the metal of the Avenger as he sauntered down, making absolutely no effort to disguise his presence. His descent led him into a rather idyllic countryside at dusk, what he recognized as a temporary Reaper camp set up between the trees and in the valley of a hill, giving it natural cover against prying eyes.

He didn't have time to sightsee for long—Volk turned and he had to have set a record for how fast his expression turned from warm friendliness to a cold, hard stare. He crossed his arms. "Hunter."

"Volk!" He clapped his hands and then spread them out wide. "Oh, it is just a joy to see you. How's the pack? Any of them learned how to aim? Y'know if they ever need advice—"

"Commander," he interrupted with, "I don't remember you saying you were going to be bringing in the Hunter for a surprise visit." His distaste was pretty clear, which just further made Mordenna grin.

Eliza gave Mordenna a sidelong glance. "I didn't, of course, but you know that any soldier of mine is prone to walking down that ramp and mingling. I think I remember you on a former occasion inviting them to...?"

"Yes. Your soldiers."

"And Mordenna isn't one? He fights for XCOM. He's just as willing to pull the trigger on ADVENT, if not more because of the Elders." Eliza got a glint in her eye Mordenna could swear he could hear in her next statement as she calmly smiled. "But, of course, if the mere presence of the Hunter is bothering you so much, I could always kindly ask him to not hang around and cause you such distress."

There was a war raging in Volk, that much Mordenna could tell—between taking Eliza up on her offer and banishing him back into the ship so he wouldn't have to deal with the antics of the Chosen Hunter... and staying strong because Eliza was making a clear challenge that he wasn't strong enough to endure something like him just hanging around. In the end, one side won out and he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "No. He can stay. It's just not on me if any of my wolves want to shoot that smile right off his face."

"If they want to," she smoothly followed up, "they can take a crack at me first. Anyone trying to shoot one of my own around me is going to have bigger problems than trying to land their shot on their original target. Surely you understand, yeah?"

What a curiously familiar verbal tic. Still, the point was clear, and Volk weakly threw out his hands. "Yeah, I get it. I'm just still baffled you'd do that for a Chosen."

"Chosen or not, he's a cherished soldier." Aww. Eliza was going to give him a sugar headache. "Now. Speaking of soldiers, I believe there is one here I am due to pick up?"

Volk pointed at her. "Hey. You're not just taking my best wolf and then just leaving. I believe you still owe me that dinner."

"I owe you?" Eliza laid a hand on her chest, but her grin was clear. "Last I remembered you were the one offering it to me in regards to several missions well done. Don't go saying it's a favor owed!"

"Favor or not, you're staying grounded here until I can get done putting you through a feast." His smile came back as he focused on Eliza entirely, seeming to totally ignore Mordenna. "I know you don't do alien but there's plenty traditional meat to go around for you. Your soldiers can come, too, if they want."

"I'll let them know. As for food—"

"—I would be more than happy to chip in a few recipes!" Ah, Mordenna couldn't help it. Something about Volk made him want to relentlessly rib him. "Betcha those cooks of yours don't know a good rib from a flank. I'll help them out, how about it?"

Seemingly remembering that the Hunter was there, Volk pinned him with an exasperated look. "You can come but you're not touching any of what the cooks are making. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you and as far as I see it, you're only here because Eliza trusts you so much."

"With my life, actually," she gently reminded, making Volk's stare falter.

Regardless of Eliza's touching sentiment, Mordenna cocked his head a little. "Oh? What's that? Old wolf doesn't think he can throw scrawny little me that far? For shame, Volk, the man I knew would've punted me an acre given half the chance."

Volk's face hardened considerably, and his voice dropped. "What would you know about me, Chosen."

... what would Mordenna know about Volk? The statement he'd said came so naturally he didn't even really parse how loaded it was. Mordenna didn't have to strain to guess he was a Reaper before he got snatched—too much evidence in that direction to make him think otherwise. He probably did know a Volk from fifteen years ago, maybe even before that. Honestly, it was a good question, though he didn't like who was asking it.

Thankfully, Eliza came to his rescue, putting a hand on Volk's chest as if to hold him back. "Volk," she softly began, "back to the subject. When will this feast start?"

Volk blew some air out of his nose, eyes still trained on Mordenna, but eventually he relented and looked back at Eliza, patting her hand. "Just about as soon as I whip my own into starting it up. Shouldn't take longer than thirty minutes to get everything in place—we always try to have a gathering area set up in our little emplacements. Just hang around, kick up your feet, maybe come check out what I've done with my tent?"

Oh, hell no. Mordenna crossed his arms and—was that jealousy? "Yo, Liz."

But before Eliza could respond, Volk drew closer and angled her head towards him. "When's the last time you spent a night under the stars? No hum of an engine to keep you up at night. Maybe a companion by your—"

Ok, that was it. In a flash, Mordenna took the Darkclaw off his side, switched the safety off, and cracked a shot into the air. It had the desired effect—Eliza and Volk jumped back from each other. As he could see heads in the camp turning towards him, he lowered his gun arm. "Yo. Liz. If Volk isn't going to interrupt me again I'd like to talk with you about something. Y'know. Privately?"

Recovering from her startle, Eliza tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Volk looked just about ready to go over and punch him, but Eliza started speaking first. "As much as I hate that method of getting my attention, he's got a point, Volk. If he wants to talk about something I'm going to give him my attention. Now, I'll be back after I talk with him, alright?"

He looked on the verge of putting up a fight about it, but he merely hissed out a frustrated sigh, throwing up a hand. "Alright. Fine. I'll see you in the camp later."

Mission thus accomplished, Mordenna switched the safety back on the Darkclaw and holstered it. "Fantastic. Liz, you, me, inside?" When Eliza nodded and followed after him, he trekked back inside. He was hoping to skate past into a hallway...

... but naturally, Lily was there, giving him a strange look. "Mords? Did you just fire your gun out there?"

"Funny story about that!" He paused. "I did. Now excuse me and the Commander, here, important things to discuss."

Lily looked to Eliza, who shrugged and nodded. Seemingly at a loss, she shrugged back. "Alright. Guess I won't question a discharged firearm this close to the Avenger. Just catch me later to tell me what's up—and also, I need a bit of explanation of this project you've dropped into the working log?"

"God, which one?" She was likely talking about the minigun concept he put forward. He knew he originally planned that for Jax—which was a great answer as to what he'd make for Jax—but if Jax couldn't aim so much as an assault rifle, a minigun was a little out of the question. Still, he wanted to get it done, maybe as a proper gift for the future? Who even knew. "Whatever, I know which one you're on about. Keep it down about that one, it's gonna be a gift. As for my explanation..." He threw his hands out. "Can always use more gun. You're talking to the guy with a sniper rifle about as big as a railgun."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Right. I'd almost forgotten. You two go ahead, that was about all I had for you."

"Right then!" He gestured to the Commander—as if she needed a signal to follow, and slipped on past, into the hallway. When he'd cleared the door, he leaned against the wall. Honestly, he'd just wanted to get Liz out of that situation so Volk couldn't put any more moves on her, but now that he was thinking about it... Volk brought up a poignant question. If Mordenna was going to be out there, disturbing some Reapers, he could be unintentionally harkening back to who he used to be. To Tomko. Maybe, just maybe, he could open up to Eliza about that.

But, it seemed so... strange. So hard to open up about. Hey there, Commander, ever had your entire personality and most of your memories wiped of a past life and then thrust into a horrifying new one where all you were meant to do was kill and manage a Network that would make any lesser being's head explode? Admittedly, she'd probably be able to relate to the Network part, but still.

"Mordenna?" Right. He'd went into another deep thinking session again. He looked over at Eliza, who had clasped her hands together in front of her. "Everything alright?"

"... eh," he responded. "Kinda... kinda deciding on that. I don't think Volk meant to, but he brought up an interesting point. You've... you've probably guessed or thought about the fact that I had a life before this one."

"I ended up reading your file." She blew some hair out of her face. "Fifty years old, huh?"

"Yep. Thirty-five when they took me. Odin didn't have the mind to record who I was before, just my initial age. But, uh... he didn't exactly erase everything. And there are some things he can't account for, as much as he'd like to say otherwise." He vaguely gestured at nothing in particular. "Odds are very heavily weighted to the fact that I used to be a Reaper before I was taken. Clint... Clint got a few of my memories due to that overload you carried out. He confirmed as much, and I'd had a hunch beforehand with how familiar I was with some of their systems and structure. Plus, just, how easy it was to talk about them. You saw how I was able to talk at Volk like I'd known him forever. Fact of the matter is I probably did." He rolled his hand at the wrist. "The point I'm trying to stagger to here like a man with shrapnel caught in his head is that being around those Reapers, in that feast... it's asking for trouble. It's asking for one of them to start prying, to start getting suspicious as to how familiar I am with everything in general."

Eliza nodded sagely, taking it all in. When she responded, her voice was soft. "I can't say I truly relate, but I sympathize. If it makes you uncomfortable, don't feel as if you have to be down there with the rest of them. Lord knows you've always got a home on the Avenger."

"But Liz," he protested, a note of mock concern creeping into his voice, "If I'm not there who's going to protect you from Volk getting all creepy on you? God knows he was half a second away from sticking his tongue down your throat had I not gotten both of your attentions."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm pretty sure he was doing it just to piss you off. But, fair point—I suppose I could use a friendly face down there to keep me company and keep me safe." Her voice went from warm to gentle. "I really did mean what I said, you know. I trust you with my life. I'm a little far in to not trust you that much by this point—you've had too many chances to take advantage of me and you haven't."

"Just basic decency," he replied, but honestly the whole message warmed his heart, and he could feel his face relaxing. "Besides, you're too good a gal not to go to bat for. You've done so much for me I'd feel bad not returning the favor." He ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting away from her. Eliza just... made him so weak. She made him weak in a way he wasn't protesting against. He thought maybe it'd go away with time, as the shock of someone caring about him in that way wore off. But it never left! If anything, it got worse. He couldn't reveal these feelings, god knows it'd ruin their friendship. To top it off, he had at least three other people he was battling for her affections with. Fal-Mai, Jax, and Volk—and he was half-tempted to add Bradford to that pile. So he was just left with this unwanted pining over someone he'd never realistically be with and it was eating him alive.

But, he wasn't a creep. He just railed against Volk being weirdly intrusive. They were friends—and Eliza was a hell of a good friend. He'd take that for all it was worth. He'd deal with this longing himself and not put Eliza through an unwanted confession. After all, she had far greater things to worry about than romance. He let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "So, yeah. That was essentially the extent of what I wanted to talk about, here. We can go back to the Reaper camp... but. Mind if I shadow you? Not just to tell Volk to simmer down, but I don't want any of those pups getting any ideas about shooting me. For their sakes, not mine—you know damn well I'd beat them in a quickdraw."

She smiled in that way that communicated she knew exactly what he meant. "Sure thing, cowboy. Like I said, I'd appreciate having a buddy down there."

"Super!" He snapped his fingers at her. "Ready to go back down and experience the several-of-a-kind Reaper feasts?"

Eliza laughed. "As ready as ever."


Mordenna had to admit, for all the shit he talked of the Reapers, they held some damn fine revelries.

Dusk was fast approaching and after a quick sweep of the area, the "gathering grounds" of the camp had been set up into a decent, almost fairgrounds-like affair. There were plenty of seats to go around, but even then some of the Reapers and Eliza's soldiers elected to stand or even sit on the earth. A few fire pits were dug out and spread around, all with fires blazing, some even having meat roasting over them. Mordenna and Eliza were sat at one of the farther pits. Even though there were a fair few Reapers at the gathering, they shunned the area he was at. Fair enough by him—it left more peace and quiet in their wake... and more room for the soldiers he could actually stand. Banel was here, for one, and Leo was sitting suspiciously close to him. Benald and Pattie were chatting about something at length he hadn't bothered to tune in to yet. As for himself, he was holding a stick with a hunk of what his taste buds identified as either chicken or Chryssalid. Considering the ban on the former, it was probably the latter.

He took another identifying bite of it. Yeah. Probably Chryssalid. It had that stringy consistency with no fat whatsoever. As he chewed, he could see Eliza looking at him with the most "I don't know why this man is doing this but I don't feel like stopping him" expression he'd ever seen. Swallowing what he'd eaten, he jokingly offered the stick to her. "Want some? I'm pretty sure it won't kill you."

Eliza gave a single chuckle, raising a hand as if to ward off the alien meat. "Thanks, but no thanks. I've resolved not to eat stuff I can't identify, as you know."

"What? It's Chryssalid." He was pretty sure, anyhow. "There, you know now."

"If anything that makes me less likely to eat it!" She shuddered. "I don't care if it's been so cleanly prepared you could serve it to someone with a weak immune system—I've dealt with too many Chryssalids in my time to ever want to put any part of them in my mouth."

"Hey, they're safe to eat so long as you avoid the head and the legs—and even then you can prepare the head to be edible." Still, taking her request, he angled the stick back towards him. "But I don't blame you. I'm pretty desensitized so as long as it's food and won't kill me, sure." He had a fondness for all things bitter and sour, with a small soft spot for chocolate. The meat was neither, so he was mostly eating it for the hedonistic pleasure of it. His body would completely absorb it with nothing to pass, in his experience, so it wasn't like he was inconveniencing himself.

Speaking of bitter, he reached down and took a swig of whatever the hell was trying to pass itself as beer that the Reapers drank. He rested it on his leg, staring into the fire afterwards. All told, he was getting a small sense of... nostalgia. Not anything that was bringing back memories, but some small deja vu. How many times had he sat at one of these feasts, he wondered? Did Tomko cook any of the meals they would eat? He knew a "recipe" or two, but it felt more like general knowledge to him.

"Holding up alright, there?"

He blinked, looking over to Banel. Mordenna took another drink, shrugging. "Thinking, I suppose. Wondering who here will bet they can take a shot at me. The usual."

"Suffice to say," he continued, leaning over with an arm supported on his leg, "I don't think any of the Reapers here will want to try anything with us around." As if he'd prepared for the occasion, Banel was in his WAR suit, forgoing his helmet. "If they try, we'll be here to back you up."

"Appreciate it." After that, he tore another hunk out of his meal, letting it sit on his tongue for a bit. He was almost anticipating the conflict. He certainly wasn't blind. He could see the gathered wolves looking over at him and whispering in the corners of his vision. Mordenna wasn't his sister—but he could take a few good guesses as to what they were whispering about. Still, nothing concrete, and nothing to pick a fight over, as if he'd want to. He didn't particularly care if he was still shunned by the Reapers as he was before. He was... pretty resigned to the fact that he wasn't getting any details of his past life out of any of them, and it would be foolish to try. Best not to even start.

"Didn't know they were letting ADVENT into these gigs."

That voice. Mordenna looked up, and sure enough, Elena was standing right beyond the fire, across from him. Her mask was off and just a few touches of short, blond hair showed under her hood. She looked at the Hunter coldly, crossing her arms. "You've got a lot of nerve, sitting where any Reaper could put one through your eyes."

Honestly, Mordenna hardly knew how to respond. He was automatically inclined to be snarky as he finished chewing his morsel, but some part of him leaned otherwise. In which direction, he didn't really know. He swallowed, gesturing with his hands out. "Nobody's shot me yet. Honestly I'm waiting for one of them to try. Would certainly liven up the evening."

"I might be the first." She seemed to have no inclination to sit down. Her words made the twins shut up and look to her, and Banel sat up straight, giving her a warning stare. She ignored it, continuing. "I don't know what Volk's thinking, allowing you in here. Honestly, Commander, I don't know what you're thinking letting him run around in XCOM. If my sources are right, you're letting the rest of the Chosen do the same, and that's asking for disaster."

As expected for having her commanding challenged, Eliza rose in her seat, dwarfing Elena by a few good inches. "If you don't know," she began, voice level and calm, "I'll inform you. The Chosen, time and time again, have proven themselves to be loyal and cooperative to XCOM. As things turn out, if you're not degrading their work and taking them for granted amongst other things I will choose not to name, they are reliable and dependable. The most any of them have done in XCOM's employ is make a few mistakes, and if I threw out every soldier who made a mistake, I wouldn't have a single soul left in my barracks." She tilted her head upwards slightly. "Including myself. Now do you have any other questions? As always, I'd be happy to answer them."

Under Eliza's judging gaze, Elena did falter somewhat, but not by much to an untrained observer. "You've gone soft, Commander. I don't doubt your abilities—we wouldn't be talking if you were anything less than skilled—but there's such a thing as being too sympathetic. Not every alien with a sob story needs to go on your ship."

"Ah." Eliza's voice went cold. "So should I throw Mox out the next time we touch down? Or here? I don't suppose the Reapers would like to take him in."

Now that was enough to punch a hole through Elena's defense, and Mordenna withheld a low whistle. Her shoulders slumped and she looked away. "Look, Skirmishers are different. They've proven themselves."

"And yet, so have the Chosen. So have the aliens in my employ." Eliza's voice went back to its usual cadence. "I understand the points you're making. But trust me—every concerned haven leader and the Chryssalids stalking outside their walls have made that very point. Coldness and cruelty is not the way to win this war. You've got to extend a little trust to get anywhere worth getting to." She nodded respectfully, closing her statement. "Have anything else to ask me?"

Elena was quiet for a moment or two. She then looked back to Eliza. "Nothing else. I'll see you on the ship." With that, she turned around and disappeared into her fellow Reapers, gone as quickly as she came. Honestly, Mordenna had expected to fight for his own life right there, but it seemed the challenge against Eliza wouldn't go unanswered.

Well, the less he had to deal with people potentially turning his past against him, the better. He chuckled as Eliza sat back down. "Maybe one of these days I'll get to fight one of those battles for you. C'mon, Eliza, I've got ten thousand witty retorts and you're holding them back."

"Sorry, Mordenna." Just like that, she was back to genuine, soft smiles and a warm voice. God, he loved her. "Can't let people think I'm soft for no good reason. Or too soft, for that matter."

"Honestly I don't see what they're all getting at." He took a sip of his drink. "From minute one you had me locked up in a high-security cell and wouldn't let me out until I swore a blood oath and let you plant a chip in my neck."

She laughed. "Well, at least one of those is entirely correct."

"Ooh!" Pattie jumped forwards in her seat. "Is it the blood oath part, Commander? Didja make him spill his on the Avenger before you let him in?"

"Pats," Benald said, resting a hand on her shoulder, "I'm pretty sure Commander O'Leary just had him go over a few rules before he joined." He leveled a pointed, humorous look over his sunglasses at Eliza. "I'm pretty sure."

There the Commander went, laughing again, her face illuminated by firelight and the glow of the embers dancing in her hair. Such a charm! Mordenna had to pry his eyes away and focus on finishing his cooked Chryssalid for fear of obviously staring. She tucked a lock behind her ear, shaking her head. "You can be 'definitely sure' on that one, Benald. Mordenna can tell you himself."

Oh, bad idea. Mordenna finished off his meat and grinned, pointing his stick at Benald. "Sure can! After I agreed to be part of XCOM, Eliza took me into this separate room on the Avenger—"

"Mordenna."

"—and there were these runes on the ceiling and walls, and her eyes turned back inside her head—"

"Mordenna!"

"—and she started talking about the Old Ones and how they'd be pleased with—"

With that, Mordenna found a hand clamped over his mouth and laughs all around him. As he chuckled and gently removed Eliza's hand, there was the small thought that maybe, just maybe, this was where he could be content. The soldiers on the Avenger seemed alright to him, now, and there was no better companion than Eliza.

Still, he had to know. He just wanted to satisfy one curiosity, and then he'd be happy to live this new life.


Eventually, the festivities died down. Mordenna watched as everyone packed up the cooking implements and snuffed out the fires. The other soldiers had retired to the ship after a while leaving him and Eliza to simply shoot the breeze as everything wrapped up. He got through a few more bottles before deciding against draining the Reapers' entire liquor stores, simply content to chat with Eliza.

Wasn't long before they were interrupted, though. Volk himself walked over to their dying fire, nodding to Eliza. "Liz? Something's come up that I need to discuss. Mission-related, I assure you."

"Why, a mission?" Mordenna cracked a grin. "Mind if I tag along, old man? Killing stuff and sneaking around is basically my thing."

"The first debriefing," he said, never looking away from Eliza, "is private. This is confidential information we're handling here and it concerns you and yours specifically."

"Ouch." He shrugged. "This is somehow even worse than the silent treatment. I feel myself just withering away on the spot without the attention of the almighty Konstantin Volikov!" He then leaned over to Eliza, stage-whispering. "Sure you wanna be alone with this mug?"

Volk sneered, but Eliza just chuckled. "Well, if it's truly mission related—and you better not be lying, Volk, because I've got a long memory, too—I can always give you the details afterwards. Who knows what I'll say with my loose lips in my ship?" She stood up. "I'll be back. Mordenna, you can head back to the ship if you want."

Mordenna got up as well. "Eh. I'll tail you as close as Volk allows and then wait for you there. I've got unlimited patience, Lizbeth. I can stand to wait while Volk blabbers at you."

"Fine," Volk grumbled, "but when I tell you to stop I don't want to see you a step closer to the tent."

Mordenna mockingly held up three fingers on his right hand. "Scout's honor."

The action, though Mordenna didn't intend the specific effect, seemed to unnerve Volk. He quickly hid it under thinly-veiled disgust, waving the two of them after him. "After me, Eliza."

Mordenna trailed after Eliza as they moved out of the gathering grounds and deeper into the camp. They wove through temporary structures, things he could see at a glance were designed to pack up as small as possible and be ready to be deployed elsewhere. For how primitive Reaper tech could get, they were certainly one for innovation where it counted.

Eventually, he could more clearly spot what was obviously the control center of the camp. Around that time, Volk stopped in his tracks and pointed as Mordenna. "This is as far as you go. Wait here."

He shrugged again, palms out. "Sure enough. Liz, holler if he tries anything funny. I won't get any closer but if you do anything sneaky..." He crossed his arms. "Well, you heard her. If she trusts me with her life I'm going to make damn sure she can count in that trust."

Volk went "hmph," but didn't say much else. When he went back to walking deeper into the camp, he stayed as Eliza followed him. Uncrossing his arms, he stood still for a good five seconds before he took a pencil out of one of his pockets, twirling it about and idly spinning it.

He wasn't lying when he said he could do patience. Mordenna found himself automatically surveying the landscape, watching for potential threats. Pretty much all of the Reapers were still at the gathering grounds, wrapping up the feast, getting things put away, or just hanging out with their supposed friend groups. There was no movement in his area of the camp, but he didn't relax. The more he stood there, the more it steadily crept up on him, like a zeitgeist of a time long forgotten. He knew this place, somewhere deep in his subconscious. Maybe not this place in particular. But the setup of the tents, the spacing, the familiarity of it all, it spoke to him. Though it wasn't the Avenger, he felt... at home, here. Even while he knew every Reaper there wouldn't hesitate to kill him if given the chance.

Over to the side, he watched as one figure broke off from the crowd, walking in his direction. Something to focus on thus gained, he caught the pencil in his hand after another flip and held it there, watching as the form of Elena came closer. Their eyes locked as she was halfway to him and neither of them backed down as she came right up, stopping in place.

Mordenna opened his mouth to say something, but Elena was faster. "What are you even doing here?"

He tilted his head. "Waiting for Eliza, naturally. I'm not going to—"

"You know what I mean." She jabbed a finger at him, eyes burning. "You chose to come down that ramp and stand in the middle of all of us like you belong here. You are the last person on Earth who would ever have a place in the Reapers. Do you know that?"

Hm. This was seeming strangely personal... and what was this hollow in Mordenna's chest? This shouldn't get to him nearly as bad as it was. "... You're acting like I'm trying to fit in here," he began, voice steady, "and honestly I just can't fathom why. So, yeah, I know that. Got anything new for me, Ellie?"

What? What was that nickname? Whatever it was, it set Elena off like nothing else, and she marched a few steps closer, voice hot. "Do you think you can call me that?! Do you think you can stand there and call me what he called me? You aren't him! You will never be him! The fact that you walk around here acting like you'll even come close to him is a joke." Mordenna tried to say something but she wasn't having any of it. "And don't try to tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. Why else would you be here?" Well, he had a reason for that, but she wasn't going to let him say it. "Do you think it's funny to stand there and call me 'Ellie?' Huh?"

By the way she stopped, staring him head in the eye, this seemed like his chance to actually say something. He opened his mouth, and... nothing. The hollow in his chest throbbed and took away anything he might defend himself with. Whatever Elena was saying, it was getting to him far more than it should.

When he didn't respond, her face twisted in disgust. "Nothing. You've got nothing. All those taunts, all that wisecracking and you don't have shit to say. What is with you. I can't tell what's worse, the fact that you're either doing this for sick kicks or trying desperately to be him. I'll tell you something; you won't. You won't ever be and if you're scrambling for something that'll make people like you now that you have to live with yourself, you will never get it." Her voice dropped. "You won't, and will never be Tomko."

Oh. The coup de grace. Mordenna physically staggered back a step, breaching the line he was supposed to respect. This should be nothing. Nothing. Maybe the second to last part would sting a little coming from anyone else, but from Elena? Mordenna's hands shook. He didn't know what to do. It hurt to hear this all from her, like he was being betrayed by someone he considered a true friend.

"I've heard enough."

Both of them looked behind him, to where Eliza was standing, eyes hard and posture firm. She strode over, moving past Mordenna and standing between Elena and him. He could hear footsteps behind him—assuredly Volk coming out of the tent. He focused on Eliza, though. "Elena Dragunova. May I remind you that Mordenna is a soldier under my care just as you are, and should it come down to it, I will defend him if his character is being attacked unjustly. Just because you are one of my soldiers alongside him does not mean you are above having actions taken against you for antagonization and attacks regarding events he likely doesn't even remember. What were you hoping to accomplish with your words? Mordenna is a person just as the rest of us are. He is no less deserving of being treated kindly now that he fully intends to better himself. Would you like to explain yourself?"

Elena's stare was tough, but whatever front Eliza was putting on that he couldn't see from his angle, it was tougher. She backed down. "He's here pretending to be someone he isn't—"

"I'm going to have to correct you there," Eliza interjected. "Mordenna is here as my bodyguard. Although, judging by today's events, it seems to be him needing my protection. He is here to shadow me as I go about my duties, and indeed, keep me company. Whoever Mordenna was before, whoever he was to you... does it matter? You made it very clear that he is not who he was. And will never be, if I remember correctly. That should mean you have no reason to bother him about this, and yet you went out of your way to corner him while he was waiting for me. Consider yourself lucky that I am sentimental and soft, or else I would think your actions becoming of Reapers as a whole, or entertain more punishment than what is deserved."

Elena didn't say anything after that. Mordenna felt like a statue, simply forced to stand there as she got the life chewed out of her by the Commander. Eliza took a step and leaned past him, assuredly addressing Volk. "Send the rest of the info to the Avenger. We're leaving."

"Commander—"

"No," Eliza said, in a tone of voice that sounded entirely unlike anything he'd heard out of her. Far harsher. "You've made your opinions very clear, and even I have my breaking point. I'm aware of Elena's relationship to Mox and will allow her back on my vessel, but unless you intend to keep her here to discipline her yourself, she will have a punishment I deem worthy of the pain she has caused. Is this clear?"

There was silence. Mordenna's hands were still shaking and all he wanted to do was disappear into the night, never to be seen again. Eliza must've caught his distress, as she went ahead and started to walk, patting Mordenna's side as a sign to move. "I'll take your silence as a yes. Elena, either come and answer for what you've done or stay here and delay it. Your choice. If you're not on the ship by the time I close the ramp, I will consider your stay indefinitely extended."

Numbly, Mordenna followed Eliza, the pencil he was playing with earlier held limply in his hand. If Elena was following behind them, he didn't hear her, so focused he was on not fleeing or even breaking down in the middle of the Reaper camp. Elena had shoved a knife right into his ribcage and it felt as if every breath was just making the wound bleed more and more.

Eliza cut a quick path through the camp, and they were at the ramp in no time. She walked right onto it, casting a glance behind her. "Elena. Go to the Resistance Ring and wait there. That's an order."

"Yes ma'am." So Elena did follow. She overtook them as they walked, passing in front of them and into the ship beyond. Lily was working on ROV-R, but she seemed deterred from asking what was going on by the expression on Eliza's face. They passed through the Workshop without issue.

Once they were in the hallway, she looked back again, this time with a much softer expression. "Just a little longer. I want to get to my quarters so this can be private. Is that alright?"

Mordenna could only manage a nod, as determined as he was to shake it off before then. It shouldn't bother him. It shouldn't bother him. But what Elena said, what she meant stuck to him. Who was he kidding? He wasn't anybody. All he could be was the Hunter. Someone meant to maim and kill, and nothing else. The fact that he managed this far was just as she said; a joke. She knew Tomko. She'd know more than ever that this new version of him would never make it with the kind of path he was trying to cut. He'd never be really liked. He'd never be loved.

He didn't even register where they were until Eliza was taking his hand, guiding him over to one of the couches in his room. "Just a moment," she softly assured, her thumb running over the back of his hand as she pressed a finger to her ear. "Bradford? Need you in the Resistance Ring. Elena's there. The situation is that Mordenna was down in the Reaper camp, waiting on me as I was getting info from Volk. Elena approached him and began harassing him over who he was before he was the Hunter, insinuating he was down there to be someone he wasn't and making it very clear he would never be his former self. I want you to chew her out." A pause. "Thank you. I'll be there soon. Drag it out."

With that, she turned her attention to Mordenna. Before she could speak, he started, despondently muttering. "She's right, you know. Who am I outside of the killing? Take that away from me and I'm nobody. I'm only here because one of the Elders figured out I was really good at it. I'm nothing. I'll always be. You shouldn't waste your breath on me."

In response, Eliza propped herself up on her knees and pulled him into the firmest hug she'd given him since the roof incident. She pressed her head close to his. "Mordenna," she said, voice soft and low, right next to his ear, "you are somebody. You're the man who made a dampening headset for his sister so she wouldn't have to suffer from something the Elders forced on her. You're the man who got me and Jax to finally talk and sort out a situation that was never going to see a resolution otherwise." Eliza placed a hand on the back of his head and ran it over his hood in calming, repetitive motions. "You're the man who got me to open up about the things that were bothering me that I hadn't told anybody else yet. You are so much more than what the Elders intended for you. I know you want to know who Tomko is, and that's ok. It's ok to want to know more about yourself. But you don't have to be him. You are Mordenna. And Mordenna has done some wonderful things."

... what was he to say in response of all that? Mordenna didn't think he could do anything—right up until he felt his chest constrict. He wrapped his arms around Eliza and buried his face into her shoulder, trying desperately to fight off the oncoming wave of sorrow. He hadn't openly cried in fourteen years. He didn't intend to start now.

Yet. "Hey," he heard Eliza whisper as he shook, "it's alright. Don't hold it in. Grieve. It happened. Let yourself mourn."

Tears were weakness. Weakness was to be punished. But you are not there anymore, he heard that tiny voice of hope say. You are on the Avenger, with someone who loves you enough to comfort you. To let you cry. Grieve.

It happened. His first sob was silent as he still protested against the show of emotion, chest aching as he held it back. But as he felt Eliza give him a squeeze and assure him it was alright, the next was louder. He could feel the patches he was soaking into her uniform with her tears and wanted to stop. He couldn't as the years of repressed sorrow came roaring out and he clutched Eliza for dear life, sobbing his veritable heart out against her.

It was weakness. It was freeing. To be able to so openly express that he was hurting and needed to vent took a weight off of his shoulders even as he was still crying into Eliza's. Her patience outshone his as she stayed there with him, stroking the back of his head and keeping him held tight. She was there for him. She wasn't leaving, or calling him pathetic. She was just whispering gentle reassurances and giving him someone to pour his soul out to.

Eventually, tentatively, his sobs relented. He could feel the tears slow to a stop as he was left merely holding Eliza, gently rocking with her in his arms. Though his chest still ached, it was a hell of a lot less than before, and he felt so light. Now that he'd regained his words and his wits, he angled his head just enough so he wouldn't be muffled by Eliza's uniform. "... I-I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She gave him another squeeze. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. You vented, and I'm happy for it."

Well, if "I'm sorry" wasn't the answer, this was his second guess. "—thank you, then."

Eliza nodded. "Of course, Mordenna. You deserve someone to cry against. And I'm happy to fill that position." She gently pushed him back, just enough to look him in the face as they continued to loosely hug. "Did you get what you wanted out of your system?" When he limply nodded back, she smiled warmly, which made him feel even better. "I'm glad. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

He took in a deep breath in an attempt to steady his voice out. "I... I think I-I've already decided that being Mordenna is... what I'm going to do." He leaned forward, closing his eyes. His heart stilled when Eliza didn't move, allowing him to rest his forehead against hers. "I don't know what I'd do without you. Thank you, again. I'll... I'll be fine eventually. Maybe... I can go find Jax. Or Fal-Mai. Hash it out with them."

"A good idea. I'll be letting Elena know what she said was uncalled for."

Mordenna opened his eyes just enough to look at the wet patch he'd thoroughly soaked into her shoulder. Yeah, that was... that was pretty obvious as to what it was. "... sure you wanna go without changing?"

"Oh, absolutely." She looked him in the eye. "I intend to show her just what she's done without saying a word."

Killer. Eliza was the whole package and so much more. He wiped at his eyes, taking another steadying, deep breath. "I. I can't stop saying 'thanks,' can I? I just... yeah." He was out of words again, but this time, he was happy. He'd gotten to grieve.

Eliza ever so gently nodded, mindful of their contact. "Anything else before I head off to handle some commanderly duties?"

He gave a single chuckle, leaning back from her and letting go of her. "Nah. I'll gather myself and then go have a chat with my siblings. Anything... anything upcoming I should know about?"

"Just an investigation mission, with possible fighting." Eliza stood up, tousling his hood. "I'll let you know the details in a better moment. For now... I know you don't need to sleep, but feel free to relax in here, alright? I feel bad about not giving you a proper room, so consider the couches, at least, yours."

"Will do, Liza." He leaned back on the couch, letting himself relax. "... take care of yourself as well, alright?"

She nodded, making for the door. "Will do."

Mordenna watched her leave, sinking into the soft cushions of the couch. He really wasn't thinking on anything in particular, which was a comforting first. Just relaxing in the relief of having thrown that weight off of his chest. Soon, he was sure his brain would find something else to bug him about, but for now?

He was happy.