Chapter 2

1

The 'Chaser' Daniel was referring to was their mode of transport. It was a sleek-looking security vehicle that had been decommissioned from Advent after the convoy it had been a part of was raided. It was in pretty good condition when they got it, and it still had that fresh-new-car smell lingering around it. Daniel called it the Chaser because even though it looked discreet, it went 'like the clappers' in his words. She didn't know what the clappers were, but had a general idea after the first time Daniel'd floored the pedal, and the little speed dial went from 0 to 80 in just a few moments.

They'd fled over twenty blocks from the club where Ramos had been apprehended, doing seventy. Daniel always drove because of two reasons. One, her lower body was way too large to fit in the foot space comfortably, and two – because it scared her. It wasn't outright fear of course – she wasn't a hatchling – just a paranoia that she just might scrape the curb, or the possibility that she would graze another passing vehicle and end up killing the both of them. The fact that this was pretty much the exact same thing as fear went right over her head, but it was a handy tool she'd come to appreciate after it had gotten them out of many tight situations. Plus, it was interesting to listen to Daniel explain all the complicated inner workings of the engine.

Neon lights reflected off of the calm waters of the river outside her window, and she watched a pair of police boats race across the bay in silence. It was such a contrast to what lay across that body of water. Highland Square had tall buildings and bright lights. This part of town was mild and damp and always gloomy, even in the daylight. "Maybe that's why they call it Old Town," she said under her breath. The wave of modernization had stopped short round these parts, and you could tell by the people who lived here – the starving and the homeless and the drunks all gathering around the barrel-fires underneath the busy highways – that Advent's grip was weak. On purpose or not she had no idea.

"What's that?" Daniel asked. He was fiddling with the center console touchscreen. There was a list of several radio frequencies, and the one currently selected was playing a synthetic tune quietly through the speakers.

Zima didn't realize she'd spoken aloud. "Nothing," she said, coiling her body a little tighter against the leather chair. Half of her tail sat in her side's floor space, and what couldn't fit down there draped over the compartment between the seats and into the back. The only vehicles Advent bothered to accommodate her kind's longer bodies were either troop trucks or transport gunships. At least the Chaser cruised along the stretch of road smoothly.

The radio music slowly quietened. Zima was about to huff annoyingly at this but stopped herself when she saw why her partner had muted the song. Daniel had changed the frequency to one labeled DISPATCH in big letters. A few minutes ago, just as they pulled out of sight of the club, she had told Daniel not to mention the assassin that had shot at them if he had to, but when he had asked why, she'd struggled to reply. The reason why wasn't because of some silly phobia like crashing the car, this time it really was fear that caused her to stutter.

Dispatch didn't tolerate deviancy. Simple. That included asking too many questions, and Daniel asked a lot of those. It was only natural to ask about the subtle things, like why there was a strange lack of security checkpoints around town nowadays. Zima had deduced that troops were being moved. But moving where? Something was happening and Advent didn't need anyone getting any more curious than they had to. Zima was just fine with that. The less she knew the less trouble would find its way into her life.

But Daniel had entered her life, and that had caused a lot of confusion that she found hard to turn into words.

The low humming sound of a call waiting to be answered. When it ceased, Zima unconsciously curled her hand around the door handle. After a short burst of static cleared up, a soft voice that made Zima's blood run cold filled the cars dim interior. "Agents. Is your task complete?"

It was Daniel who replied. "Yep. We left him in the spot you specified, Dispatch."

"Excellent," Dispatch replied dryly. "We'll have him brought in for questioning. I trust you did not run into any problems?"

"That's the thing," Daniel said. A sour taste filled Zima's mouth. "The guy had a second bodyguard, with military-grade gear. You made it pretty clear earlier that he only had the one escort. We nearly took casualties because of this incident."

"Did you apprehend this... other guard, as well?"

"No, he's dead. We left his body with the target."

Dispatch was quiet for a moment. In her mind's eye Zima imagined the lips of the man on the other end falling into a frown. "We will dispose of the corpse appropriately. We told you there was to be no killing tonight."

Daniel frowned. He didn't like the subtle condescending tone in Dispatch's voice. If he or Zima had died tonight, Dispatch would have still had that same tone when someone brought him the news, and he probably would have said something like, "Well, I did warn them to be careful." He bit his lip and pressed the matter.

"Where's your intel coming from, Dispatch?"

"We have eyes and ears in every street, Agent. Was that question rhetorical?"

"Your sources are blind or deaf or both. This new guy might have been Resistance. How could he slip into a city center with all that gear so easily?" Dispatch didn't immediately respond so Daniel continued. "This is the third time this month your intel's been faulty." And nearly got us killed, he thought, but chose not to add. He wouldn't have been surprised to know Zima was harboring the exact same thought.

Dispatch answered after an uneasy moment, his voice still cool and collected despite Daniel's poke at Advent's incompetency. Zima expected Dispatch to snap back but he didn't, but that made her tighten her tail in stress all the same.

"Your concern is noted, Agent. We've had some technical difficulties recently, as I am sure I have told you. Rest assured there will be no more interruptions on your next operations. But if there are, it is your job to deal with them accordingly. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"

Daniel opened his mouth to say something about what Ramos had said, about the Network being weak, thought about it for a second, but in the end held his tongue. "No, sir. Nothing else."

He noticed Zima's eye on his side glance at him but he ignored her. "Excellent," Dispatch said. "You are relieved from your duties for the night. We will call you tomorrow. Usual time. Glory to the Elders."

"Glory to the Elders," Daniel echoed. Dispatch cut the connection. They came to an intersection, and the light was red. As Daniel slowed the car to a stop, he noticed Zima still staring over at him, and when he looked right into her eye and saw a tiny reflection of himself there he suppressed a shiver. "What?" he asked.

"You did not mention Ramos' comment about the Network."

He checked the traffic light, then turned to look at her oddly. Her serpentine head was as still as stone, her 'hood' connecting the top of her head to the base of her neck made her look like a rearing cobra. The way it flexed and moved in different ways compared to her moods always fascinated him.

"Wasn't worth the time, I guess." Daniel shrugged, relaxing his hands on the wheel a bit. "People say anything that comes to mind when they're beat."

"I suppose," she said. She angled her snout away and peered out at the river. "Doesn't feel any different to you, does it?"

"The Network? Nope."

What did feel different was the faulty intel Dispatch was delivering. For a world-wide administration they were very much coming up short recently. During the early days, back before Daniel had even met Zima, every detail about every target was on point. All the way down to whether they were right-handed or left. It wasn't a total surprise to see Dispatch become a bit more obstructed over time – somehow the Resistance had started to tap into Advent channels, learning troop movements and whatnot – but they were still the Hand of the Elder's Will, and didn't that kind of title count for something anymore?

If someone told him years ago that the mighty Advent were going to be the ones lurking in the shadows, encrypting radio messages and hunting don sympathizers in their own city, he would have laughed in their face. Now the Resistance was becoming more and more bold, gaining supporters and even managing to get well-armed soldiers inside the city walls.

How's that for 'technical difficulties'?

He coughed into his hand and made a right turn when the light went green. Maybe he was just overreacting. It was like Dispatch had said, if there were problems tomorrow, it was his and Zima's job to deal with them. He wasn't an idiot – he had noticed Dispatch's impatience with him and knew when he'd pushed his luck far enough. He'd probably brought some flak onto Zima indirectly, and she had warned him to keep his mouth shut.

Maybe I could find a way to make it up to her.

"What about you, Zee?" he asked, using his nickname for her. For a moment she just stared at him, the streetlights they drove beneath lighting up and then darkening her lithe form in short intervals. She blinked slowly, like her eyelids were heavy. Her lazuli-coloured eyes were fierce and almost scrutinizing.

"What about me?"

He returned her blink. "Do you think the Network feels weaker?"

"No," she said, and returned to staring out at the passing view. Daniel suspected that answer.

"Ramos was just talking bull," he said, repeating his assurance. "We humans are good at that."

"'Talking bull'?" she asked, still not looking at him. "What is that?"

"Just an expression," he explained. "Means we're lying, pretty much."

"A bull is an animal, right?"

"Er yeah. Big cows with short tempers. They defecate a lot too, hence the saying."

"A little like Muties then, aren't they?" She snickered.

Daniel shook his head, though there was a smile across his lips. "You really hate Muton's don't you? Why was that again? You knew one ages ago, right? Foil? Doyle?"

"Boyle," she corrected, rapping her nails on the door. "He was an angry cow too. Even saying his name isn't worth the breath. Elders, what a shithead."

How she said that last word made him grin. It sounded a little like she said, 'Shissthed'. About ninety percent of every English curse word she put her strange tongue's twist on it, and it was one of the most charming things about this space-cobra companion of his. He turned off the road and drove inland.

2

The motel was a large, L-shaped structure that had not been touched since the first days of the Occupation. Graffiti signs like Fuck ADVENT and Hands off our planet XENOS! and many other colourful slogans lined its walls. In front of the motel, tucked in the corner of the 'L' was a barren parking lot, and Daniel pulled in between a pair of white lines. As Zima opened the door and stretched her body outside, the cold and clean air hit her like a punch, and the gravel that crunched beneath her tail was frosty and hard. Was it the end of autumn already? Time flies in City 31, Daniel had once said. She hated the winter.

Zima blinked away the bright glare of the sodium light set up high on a pole on the lot's edge. She retrieved her bag from the car and shut the door. After she checked if anyone was watching them, she slithered over to the motel proper, Daniel behind her, his boots clicking harshly on the pebbles.

The check-in booth was deserted, and beside it a small tunnel cut through the motel to the other side, where the swimming pool was located. Leaves and sticks and other flora floated steadily on the water's surface, and bits of algae grew in little patches on the walls of the pool. It was probably the nicest thing about this place. Somewhere across the street a dog barked.

On the other side of a booth a short set of stairs led upward. The handrails were flaky with rust and old paint. Daniel had to wait until she was at the top before he could walk up and join her, as her long tail took up all the room. They stopped outside a room labeled 15. Below and behind them Old Town was a dark blanket of hovels shaped vaguely like a grid.

While she rummaged in her purse, Daniel folded his arms and said out of the blue, "You gonna be okay?"

"Why would I not be?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. (Her brow was like Daniels, only hers consisted of slightly duller shade of scales, and no hair). She found her key and put it in the lock.

"You did get shot at an hour ago."

"I've been shot at before."

"I know, but you don't seem to be reacting about it at all. You didn't say a word to Dispatch either. You okay?"

Zima let a grin creep along her snout as she examined him with her aqua eyes, and her hood straightened. She turned away, finding her key ring easier to look at than the human, and pushed the door open. She realised his concern for her felt rather flattering.

"Just tired," she lied, glancing over at him in the dark shade of the motel. "It was more exciting night than usual."

"That's one way to put it." Daniel stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Well… Call if you need anything. 'Night Zee."

"See you," she said, and watched him turn and walk down the aisle. His room was downstairs, but he always walked up with her for some reason. Sighing, she entered her room and closed the door behind her. Room 15 was barren save for a bed in the corner, a nightstand beside it, and a walk-in wardrobe on the far wall. In the back corner a doorway led off into the bathroom. She moved over to the nightstand and pulled the lamp cord, lighting the room a drab yellow colour.

Throwing her bag at the foot of the bed, she began to strip the dress from her body, but not before stopping halfway through to see her faded reflection in the window glass. Daniel was right, her dark scales didn't contrast well with the red fabric. She pulled the shoulder straps away and shimmed the dress up over her chest.

His name bounced through her head as she discarded the damn thing as a forgotten red clump on the floor. His comments about her had always left her to pout over them at night, and why wouldn't they? She'd never so much as made one friend in her time before becoming an Agent.

She crawled into her bed and curled up into a naked ball, shutting off the lamp with a tug of her tail. Even since she'd been reassigned from the European Division she was a loner at heart, and not once had she tried to change that. The other species in her old squad – Sectoids, Andromedons, and the Archons – were just fine with that. They silently brought up the rear while she scouted out for the main force.

The troopers – the humans making up the bulk of her unit – had been a bit more friendly, but they mostly clustered among themselves, and she was more than happy to remain at a distance, isolated in her bunk at the end of every day. Every single human she had ever met was either a bumbling drone who didn't so much as blink without asking permission first, or a condescending officer or politician without a shred of independent thought.

All except Daniel.

He still had that certain individuality about him, and for all the trouble it can and will cause, she found it rather exhilarating to be around. Here was someone who called her nicknames, gave her quips as well as compliments, and flustered up whenever she did it back. She never let anyone else talk to her like that. There was a word that fitted him well, one she heard a long time ago... What was it...

Goof. Daniel was such a goof. She'd expected him to be a cold hard killer when she joined this line of work, like the rest of his fellow brothers and sisters, and he was, but she hadn't expected for him totake such an interest in her right off the bat. She tossed and turned in the bed's sheets as she confirmed the interest was mutual.

He wasn't like the other humans (or whatever those troopers were, with their garbled voices and those big helmets that covered everything up except there thin mouths). He was so alien with that smooth skin of his, the stubble of hair on his head and face, the blunt little nails. Total opposite to her scales and claws. He was her only source of conversation in the whole city, and thus she had no one else to talk to when it came down to these feelings stirring her up inside and keeping her awake at nights such as this one.

He had called her tempting back in the club, but whether out of a joke or not she wasn't so sure. She didn't confront him about it when she had the chance and probably never would. She didn't know the first thing when it came to dealing with the opposite sex. Males of her species had died out a long, long time ago, that not even the oldest of her kind had a clue what they even looked like. Just like every species, her body had certain needs, and being such a loner and never willing to admit that, had caused so much pent up frustration.

I need a drink.

A few months ago, a unique opportunity had presented itself, and had the plan gone through correctly, it would have helped with moments like tonight. Somewhere in the arctic a group of scientists were running experiments to create some sort of 'Viper King', and she had been on the list of candidates to help kick-start her population again after a high number of recent casualties. But before a ship could arrive to take her there the King had been slain by XCOM not days after its creation.

XCOM. Her body agitated and her already-closed eyes clenched up in frustration.

It was their fault for all this. Their fault for setting back Advent's progress, their fault for all the unrest in the city, their fault for killing off her only chance at relief. Maybe not my only chance, she thought, remembering how despite Daniel's quips, his eyes had lingered over her stupid dress just long enough for her to notice. She decided that tomorrow she might try a more direct approach to goad his attention. Her experience with flirting was lacking, so to say, even though she possessed physical traits good enough for a King. A Viper King, of course.

She tried to relax herself by kneading one of her exposed breasts, but found it more electrifying then soothing. Reluctantly, she let her hands shift back to beneath her snout. Maybe she should start speeding up this little game she was playing with Daniel. The paranoia that plagued her told her that things would not end well for either of them if things kept running this course. It wasn't intuition, just an instinct that had gripped her mind like a disease ever since her militaristic and hostile childhood. It was telling her that whatever she did, she would die on this world, and it wouldn't be a peaceful fairy-tale end. She'd added too much wrong to this planet for that outcome to be possible.

She pulled the blankets over her, and tried to blank out her mind to get some rest. But the sun had started to rise long before she was able to get some sleep.