Dedicated to fargusth.
Another day in the fantastic life of the resistance. As far as Max saw it, anyhow.
Things had been picking up somewhat around their little sleepy ship. Their Chief Engineer had finally began work on plasma-type weapons, which he was happy about. He didn't know heads from tails on how that tech worked—all he knew was that he was tired of the Mutons on the field having the bigger guns than him. He needed something that could stop a Berserker dead in its tracks without being as outrageously heavy to carry and cumbersome as the cannons they had on offer. Tiffany could go on and on all day about how practical it was to bring her "baby" to the fight; Max knew where the real value was. Preferably one shot was all he needed—maybe a good stab with his axe after that.
Still, bigger guns meant that ADVENT was paying more attention to them. The Commander had began to run patrols whenever the ship was landed. Fair by Max, it helped curb his sense of cabin fever. If he had to hear one more joke out of Zach... well, they'd be down a Specialist, he'd say that much.
So he welcomed the crisp, vaguely autumn air of the area he was patrolling. Getting visibility past the trees was a task to be sure, especially with the occasional falling leaves catching his attention, wearing his alertness thin. Better to look and it be nothing than not look and have it be something, though. Surveying the landscape, he spared a hand off of his mag shottie to scratch at his mildly graying stubble. He kept it trimmed best he could, but clean razors were a bit of a commodity. Same with anyone who could cut hair and not make it look ridiculous, so he'd settled with a braid that one of the girls had set him up with. As long as it kept his hair out of his face, he was fine about it.
More movement caused him to look over. Still more leaves. Were they always distributed on the ground like that, though? He eyeballed it for a second before going back to his patrol, keeping a mental note to watch in the direction of that area. Too little to focus on, but too much to dismiss.
Suddenly, there was some rustling off to his left. He snapped over, raising his shotgun. Nothing immediately revealed itself. Could've been an animal... though, more likely it could've been a Chryssalid. He considered the pros and cons of going to check. Going off on his own was bound to get him killed. Wasn't Langley on the patrol route with him right now? He clicked his radio, speaking into it. "Hey, Bombshell. Got some suspicious noises over here. Mind coming with me to check it out?"
There was a moment of concerning silence, but eventually his response came back. "Yeah, sure. Where you at?"
He looked back, using the Avenger as a reference. "Seven o'clock relative to the Avenger. Was just some rustling, but you know how the Commander—"
"Help!"
Max raised his gun again instinctively, head trained towards the woods once more. That sounded like a woman—couldn't have been older than twenty. He gently inched towards the woods, Langley's words lost on his ears. "Hello?!"
"M-my leg!" She couldn't have been far off. "There was a bear trap—please, I'm bleeding!"
Max's sense of altruism kicked in, and he radioed in again. "Bombshell, run in the seven o'clock direction, got a wounded civvie in the woods, I'm going after her."
"Stay safe," he advised, "I think I heard something about a bear trap? Might be another."
"Got it." With that, he took off deeper into the woods. The rustling earlier must've been the woman trying to get through the woods. Maybe the smart move would've been to wait up for Langley, but Max had dogs bite his legs before, and he knew how much that hurt. To be caught in a bear trap must've been magnitudes worse. Plus, if she was losing blood, best to get her back as quickly as possible. Tygan could probably fix her up, right? "Where are you?"
"Over here!" Her voice was a little to his right, more ahead.
He kept running, though he was scanning the ground per Langley's instructions. A few twists around trees later, he came upon her. She was ginger-haired, freckled, and wearing some pretty nice clothes for what he'd assume. Most of all, she was sitting down without a bear trap around her leg. He looked her up and down, scanning for injuries, opening his mouth to ask what she thought she was doing.
A bug bit his neck, and he reflexively slapped at it. That just brought slightly more pain, and he took away his hand. His glove was unmarked by insect guts—so what was...?
Max didn't have to ask much longer when the feeling went out of his legs and he hit the ground.
He was still fully conscious, but his body didn't want to respond to him whatsoever. Words died in his throat as his mouth refused to move, and he couldn't even readjust the pose he'd fallen on the ground in. He could only watch the cover of the trees gently shift through half-lidded eyes. Fear rose in his mind. He'd walked right into a trap because he let his better side get the best of him.
There was the sound of something gently hitting the ground, then someone shifting through the leaves. "Maxim Zinchenko." Oh. Oh no. That was the voice of the Hunter. A little bit more walking, and the Chosen fully came into his vision. He wickedly towered over Max in this situation, a smile matching his aura on his face. "Tricked by a pretty face, hm? Tut tut, would've taken a guy like you to play a little harder to get. I'm almost disappointed."
"Kon-Il, please." That was the woman. "Don't. I did what you asked. Just take him."
"You're in no position to be requesting that, Greta." The Hunter's eyes shifted in her direction, and he crossed his arms. "Do you think you can get in the way of me playing with my food, hm...?" There was a moment of silence, presumably her shaking her head. "Yeah. Didn't think so." He turned his attention back to Max. "The Elders talk about you a lot, Max. It's no secret that you're something of a celebrity. XCOM's best agent, and all—"
Suddenly, the Hunter whipped his head to the side, and faster than Max could track, he drew his pistol and fired, with the background noise of Greta yelping. Something thudded against the ground dully, and Max had the sinking feeling he knew who it was. Kon-Il chuckled sadistically, holstering his gun. "Tried to get backup on me? A coward and an idiot, and your friend's dead for his troubles."
Max didn't doubt that the Hunter had the ability to shoot someone dead. He made one last push to try to strain his limbs, to scream, to do anything—but all that came out of him was a muffled gurgle. The Hunter cracked his knuckles, looking down at Max. "Well, I suppose I've got what the Elders wanted. I'm sure they'll get off of my back for a while, especially after bagging one other poor schmuck."
"Y-you didn't..." Greta sounded on the verge of tears. "You didn't say y-you would..."
"Oh, quiet." He jabbed a finger at her. "Would you really want your identity revealed? I'm sure you're just living your little double-life between the resistance and us. Would hate if word got back to XCOM that you're a dirty spy. So I did you a favor. Get yourself back to the recovery point. I'm sure we'll find use of you again."
She sniffled, sounding like she was getting up and walking off. That left Max presumably very alone with the Chosen Hunter. He stared long into the distance in the direction that Greta left, then slowly shifted his gaze back to Max. "... I ought to kill you right now. I know what the Elders want from you—they want another Chosen." He dragged his upper lip upwards, revealing his razor-sharp teeth. "And the last thing I need is another sibling giving me grief. But, considering we've already got a Ranger type in my sister... I don't think that's what they're going to do with you, exactly." He crouched down, resting his hands on his legs. "Plus, if I killed you, that'd get me another round with the Elders, and I'd rather not. Easier to throw you to them than it is for me to kill you."
He reached down, pushing Max onto his front roughly. He was then picked up around his midsection, watching the ground beneath him get farther away. The Hunter was slinging him by his side. "Well, Max, say goodbye to the Avenger. I'm sure it's the last you'll see of it for a long time..."
The bottom of Max's stomach dropped out, and with a sensation like he was free falling, he blacked out.
When he came to, Max couldn't say he liked his situation any more than his previous one.
First of all, he was groggy to all hell. Whatever that Chosen did to knock him out, he was still feeling it however much later it took to wake him up. Second of all, well, his limbs were starting to respond to him. He would've considered that as things looking up, if not for the third thing he took into account—he was completely bound. Max was suspended almost vertically, with his arms and legs locked into braces. His chest was similarly locked down, leaving him with hardly any room to breathe. He angled his head around, trying to get a better view of his surroundings.
As far as he could see, he was in some sort of ADVENT facility. It almost looked like an operating room, with the tables full of tools nearby and a few cabinets full of supplies. Concerningly, there was a drain on the floor near where he was bound, hinting that this wasn't a usual medical facility. One of those sliding doors was in his sight at the end of the room, and it looked like there was a monitor overhead. Maybe it was meant to flip down and show him something.
Well, if they were hoping to get something out of him, he wasn't going to budge. Even if it seemed like they had a mole that lured him away, well, that was Greta's fault. Not the Commander's. He half-thought of biting his own tongue out, but if XCOM pulled off a rescue like they'd done for Mox, he didn't want to shoot his chances of being able to fight in the foot. Nothing to do now but wait, and maybe think on a plan of escape.
Still, what the Hunter said came back to him. He'd heard rumors that the Hunter himself was a Reaper that got kidnapped and turned into the monster he was now... but based off of his behavior, that was something that was a little hard to believe. Kon-Il was too sadistic, too conniving to be anything human. But if he was to be believed, the Elders had their sights on Max as well. That wasn't the least bit concerning. Internal snarking aside... were they going to put him through the same process presumably used on the Hunter? The other Chosen? Was he going to end up turned against XCOM?
Not if he had anything to say about it, at least. They were going to put him through hell, but surviving the last twenty years without XCOM had been hell as well. He was going to make it. He just had to weather the storm before XCOM arrived. He could take a few beatings in the meantime.
Max half-thought they were playing the long game with torture with how long it took for anything to happen. But eventually, the door on the far end of the room slipped open. In walked the most smug man Max had seen outside of Jerry—short, brown hair, brown eyes, and pale skin like he avoided the sun like the plague. Behind him came a Sectoid, and the guy in the lab coat came over, chuckling. "This is the candidate? Can't say I'm surprised. The Elders sure know how to pick the cream of the crop."
Max would've loved to exchange some witty banter, really, but he didn't even want to give this guy the benefit of hearing him if he could help it. He merely stared at him. The scientist sighed, gesturing to Max while looking at the Sectoid. "No fun. No fun whatsoever. I guess I'm glad XCOM isn't completely full of cocky types." The Sectoid replied, but it was in ADVENT by Max's guessing. "You'd certainly think that, given his kill count. Maxim Zinchenko, codename Juggernaut. I feel like we're going to have a lot of fun prying info out of you."
He simply opted to glare at the man in front of him, not daring to give up a word. He rolled his eyes. "Many words, this one." He chuckled darkly. "We'll be getting more out of him here soon enough." He unclipped the datapad from his belt, messing with the screen on it. "As fun as it would be to drill holes in your teeth to get the information out of you, the higher ups want you in as pristine physical condition as could be managed." There was a whirring sound around Max's ears, and on either side of his head, a disc-like headset was put on either side of him, suspended just about an inch or so from his ears. The Sectoid approached, running psionics through its hand. "Mental condition, however...? That's negotiable. So long as I don't have to lay a finger on you, my associate and I here can do just about whatever we want—which we intend to do."
The scientist nodded to the Sectoid, who extended its hand forward, psionics lancing towards Max's head. Now, he'd been mind controlled before—enough times that he'd learned a few mental tricks for keeping them out. But this was ten times worse than it usually was, probably thanks to the device around his ears likely serving as an amplifier. He struggled and squirmed in his bonds, feeling the Sectoid pass his first few defenses, easily overpowering him as it mind was opening up in ways he didn't want it to—he had secrets to keep, like the location the Avenger was going to land next over in—
No! Max tried his best to mentally strain away from the Sectoid's probing questions, to try and be evasive at this point rather than defensive. But with the amplifiers around his head, it was proving more and more futile. The Sectoid pulled at his memories and Max struggled, straining against his spot on the table. Give in. A voice that wasn't one he recognized hissed in his mind, but he knew what it belonged to. It's easier to let go. You won't struggle so much. Max hated how tempting it was to just give up—and the prospect was only seeming more viable by the second as the Sectoid invaded his mind. He was panting hard, trying to catch his breath. It was too much. Maybe he should just give in.
The location of the next landing site flashed in his mind. So did the faces of his fellow soldiers. The havens that ADVENT hadn't raided yet. Max tried one more time to slam the Sectoid out, but his will had been exhausted. It was easily turning over the stones of his mind, finding out everything it wanted to know.
After an eternity, the Sectoid's psionics withdrew, and Max hung his head, breathing heavily. He'd done it. He'd given away almost everything they could have wanted without hardly so much as a fight. Infuriatingly, he could hear the scientist tutting at him. "Got everything out of him already? Pity. I was hoping to use that psionic probe the Hunter designed. Apparently they're really fun nowadays." The Sectoid said something else. "I know they said that, but I'd like to think they'd account for a little wiggle room on our parts. Brainwashing isn't too exact of an art."
At that bombshell, Max began trying to pull himself out of his bonds anew. In his heart, he knew there was no way he was getting out short of a miracle, but he had to try. He couldn't just sit there and wait for the cavalry to arrive. He'd already given away so much intel about XCOM. The least he could do was try to cause a little trouble for it.
No such luck. The man in front of him just laughed. "Someone not liking the idea? Well, tough. Went and got yourself captured by the Hunter, so I think you've got no say in what happens from here on out. Still, you were compliant enough in giving the information. I suppose we can spare you the worst measures." Like hell they were going to. Max knew they were just taunting him at this point. "Besides, the higher ups don't want you in too bad of a state. But, considering we made good progress on the intel extraction, I think we can move the timetable up a bit."
Max looked up in time to watch the scientist playing with his datapad again, and the screen in front of him descended. The Sectoid approached him once again and though his muscles ached, he tried in vain to get out again. It hissed something in ADVENT again, in something of a dismissive tone. "He'll stop struggling soon enough," the man replied. "Now, Max. We've got some things to show you, and I'd like to think you'll agree with the Elders after you've seen them."
The screen lit up, and as it did, the Sectoid channeled its psionics into the amps again. Max could hardly resist anymore as he was made to straighten his head, eyes forced open and trained on the screen. It was an aerial shot of an ADVENT City Center at night. The lights on in the buildings flickered, then went out. The voice of the Speaker came on over the images. "Maxim. I am sure you think XCOM is in the right. But there is more to their actions than you realize." As he spoke, he could feel the words being drilled into his head a second time by the Sectoid. He tried to close his eyes, but no dice on that.
The image swapped to some cell phone recording of the inside of a hospital, the lights going out and the sounds of machinery petering out before lower lights came on, presumably a generator. "When XCOM meddles, when they destroy our systems and damage our transmitters... the harm is more than just us. It's them. It's every person in need at the hospitals." The scene shifted to a grocery store, with them throwing away presumably expired food. "It's our food suppliers." The display continued to shift to various scenes of the city centers suffering without power. "It's all of the people they claim to be fighting for. XCOM does not consider the wide-reaching implications of their actions."
Now the display went to a memorial monument, where citizens were putting down roses. Max tried to ward off the implications by thinking it was just for ADVENT troops before the Speaker spoke again. "XCOM kills civilians with actions such as these. Such destruction of our power supplies tests our failsafes... and under duress, not all of them successfully activate. Lives are lost, and for what? For a war that will only see more of them taken for some futile goal? Do you know what XCOM fights for, Maxim? Do you remember at this point?"
Of course Max knew... but when he reached for the answer, it was like it wasn't there. He was sure he knew and the Sectoid was hiding it from him, but wouldn't it feel more foreign? It... it just felt like he never bothered to ask why. Did he ever ask what they were fighting for other than just getting the aliens off of the planet?
"Perhaps you do remember. Perhaps you remember it's for the removal of ADVENT. But what for?" Scenes of ADVENT descending upon havens played—but instead of the bloodshed Max was used to, the resistance members came to the troops with open arms, some even willingly staying behind. "We have been trying to reconnect with the havens. I am sure you think you know the story—but every haven we quell has struck out against us first. The fringe communities, those living out in unsustainable conditions... we reach out to them and offer them the choice of a better life, somewhere they will have beds, food, shelter." A man in a clearly improvised wheelchair comes out from behind a building, and two Troopers help him onto a vehicle. "We offer them accessibility and aid that XCOM cannot. Tell me, Maxim, has XCOM ever accepted the disabled into their ranks? Have you ever touched down with a haven to build them accessible facilities? Talk with their members and address what they need?"
If he did... he didn't remember. But surely they did at some point. He was sure. He was sure... regardless, the Speaker trudged on. "XCOM does not help those that are not useful to them. They do not stop to think about the ramifications of their actions. XCOM fights against those it is trying to save..."
On and on, the Speaker went. Every time that he brought up something XCOM had failed to do, Max was sure he was lying, but... he couldn't remember anything that would counter it. He remembered joining up with XCOM because he'd been facing hell with the aliens during those twenty years. But wasn't it your fault? You fought against ADVENT when they came, so they merely responded in kind. Did you ever stop to try to reach out to them? No, he didn't, but that was because... because...
He didn't know.
Eventually, the Speaker's video seemed to be coming to a close. "I hope I have given you a great deal to think about," he concluded, the video swapping back to a feed of him sitting with a backdrop of the ADVENT logo behind him. "ADVENT fights for a better future—not just for humanity, but for all those among the stars. Give my words thought, Maxim. I look forward to being able to speak with you one day, as equals."
The monitor went dark, and after a moment, it retracted back to the ceiling. The Sectoid stepped away from him, and he could feel its psionics recede. The scientist was still there, and he gave an impressed whistle. "Man. Hard to say how much of that vacant expression is the Speaker's recording and how much is thanks to you." He stepped closer, appraising Max. "So, Max? What do you say?"
Max blankly stared at the scientist. His wits slightly came back. That Sectoid was likely messing with his memory. It was hard to remember why he'd joined up with XCOM or hadn't approached ADVENT to live in the city centers, but he was sure he had his reasons. He'd cling to that, knowing the Sectoid was trying to make him give in. "Fuck you."
The scientist was dryly unimpressed. "Well, maybe a few more rounds. After all, need you complacent before we move onto the truly fun part." He stepped away from Max, tapping the datapad in his hands. "We'll have you consider things in solitary confinement for a little, let you stretch your legs." Max heard some buzzing at the side of his head, and when he looked over, a syringe was being moved towards him. "For now, go ahead and say goodnight."
Max wanted to struggle away from it, but he knew damn well that was a ticket to internal bleeding and probably a few more puncture wounds than he needed. He just defiantly glared at the scientist as it entered his skin, the serum hitting him almost immediately as his eyes drooped and he slipped into unconsciousness.
When he next woke up, it was as the scientist described—solitary confinement.
He came to, slumped against a wall and still harboring some grogginess. He rubbed at his eyes, muttering for a second before trying to see where he was out. A fairly nondescript cell—dark gray, with a bed, toilet, and sink being about the only available things on offer. As much as he hated following the advice of assholes, he shakily stood up, stretching out.
So. Captured, interrogated, and they were trying to brainwash him into going against XCOM. Fairly typical life in the resistance, right? He sighed, rubbing at his face. Well, he failed the "resist interrogation" part with flying colors. He was starting to see why the Commander didn't let him in on too many details about how the whole operation was run despite being their best soldier—caution that paid off in the end. Even if he'd given basically everything else he knew. Maybe he should've tried to feed the Sectoid false information... but hindsight was 20/20, he supposed.
Probably the more concerning part was the bit about the brainwashing. They were trying to make him into some new agent of the Elders, and... he was somewhat frightened at how easy it had been to forget why he'd joined XCOM, or what he did for twenty years. It was coming back to him a bit now—he'd joined XCOM because they extended their hand to him after the haven he was protecting got raided, and he was pretty sure it wasn't because the haven fired first at ADVENT. They were trying to take that reason away from him. Max clenched his fists. Even if he forgot why, he'd hold onto the fact that he joined XCOM for a reason. He just needed to manage that much.
Max leaned against the wall after he was done stretching. There wasn't much to do now but wait—and this looked like one of the holding cells he watched Mox get busted out of. Nothing to be used here—hell, the bed didn't even have any blankets for if he wanted to off himself. Or ambush a guard, either way. He let his head rest against the wall, staring at the ceiling. His downtime would be best used reinforcing to himself that XCOM was in the right. ADVENT were the ones who came in and took over the Earth. Because you humans were about to make yourselves extinct, a nagging thought went, and he stonewalled it. He needed to stand by XCOM no matter what they fed him, what lies they tried to spin.
It was hard to tell the passage of time in the cell. Max eventually went to rest his legs, continuing to reinforce the idea that XCOM were the heroes, as cheesy as it was. By the time he'd trailed off into just mentally repeating "XCOM will come for you," he figured he could get what sleep he could on practically a slab of metal, and tried to catch some sleep. If he did, it felt like it wasn't for long before the door opened, which was enough to rouse him. In ducked the Hunter, grinning. "Aw, did I wake the supersoldier up from his nap?"
Max wanted to groan. Half of him also wanted to lunge for the Hunter, but there was no situation where that ended well. Maybe if he was trying to provoke him enough to kill him, but Kon-Il supposedly already had his reasons to keep him alive. Max sat up rubbing at his eyes as his back complained. "—the hell are you doing here."
"Wow, someone's grumpy." Kon-Il shoved his hands in his pockets, idly strolling in the cell. "And here I am, dropping in to thank you. The Elders think I've done a good job for once, which is about as rare as a Trooper who can think for himself." He then shrugged. "Not like it'll matter for long, but eh. You've bought me some time where they're not breathing down the back of my neck. I supposed I'd do you the courtesy of saying thank you."
"You're welcome," Max muttered flatly, "now do you mind getting me out of here?"
"As hilarious as that would be, no dice." Kon-Il continued to pace. "After all, that would set them right back on me, about ten times worse than they were before. And I like not having the daylights beaten out of me, if you can imagine it."
Max scoffed. The Hunter was known for talking out of his ass at any given time, and right now was no different. "Figured someone like you would get off on it, if it happens at all."
The temperature in the room suddenly seemed to drop. Kon-Il looked towards him, an icy edge to his expression. "You know," he began, voice low, "I tell the truth more often than people think. But I suppose XCOM wouldn't have any reason to believe me, hm? Especially not when it 'doesn't concern them.'" He shrugged with his hands out, faux affably. "Oh, but hey, water off of my back. Wanna know something funny? Guess who doesn't tell the truth so much?" He tilted his head up, looking down his nose at Max. "Your precious little Commander."
This was a hell of a time that Max was in for, he knew it. He matched the Hunter's stare, as genuinely terrifying as it was. "You're brave, I'll give you that. But what about your Commander? Sitting there, giving orders in the Avenger, almost no safety risk to 'em? Y'wanna know why ADVENT's on Earth? Because the Commander couldn't do the one job assigned to him. Run XCOM, twenty years ago." He gestured with a hand. "The 'battle with Earth's militaries' nonsense that ADVENT spews? Wrong. XCOM existed back then too, run by him. And he wasn't even competent enough to put up much of a fight."
That was news to Max. Around the time of the invasion, he didn't even know XCOM existed. The aliens came, invaded his home, and then he had to fight for himself for twenty years. He was on XCOM's side, he reaffirmed. But... if they were doing something, wouldn't he have heard more of them?
His expression must have changed, as Kon-Il grinned wickedly. "Ah, the realization's setting in, hm? Well, here's the haymaker." He pointed at Max. "I read up on you. All that surviving you did before XCOM? Every time a haven was raided, you were on the run, more of your friends died to ADVENT? That was the Commander. Up there, pulling the strings, making sure every shot to execute a civilian was on the mark. He was the one all plugged up into ADVENT's system and doing things before I was even around."
The Hunter had to be lying. He knew there was a twenty year stint where XCOM didn't even seem to exist, but he figured that was because the Commander had been in hiding, gathering up resources. Max hadn't joined at the inception of XCOM, he supposed. The second inception. But... was the Commander really responsible? Max stared the Hunter down. "You're lying. Where's the proof?"
Kon-Il grinned like that was the best question he'd been asked all day. "Good thing I brought this, then," he said, taking a datapad off of his hip. It activated and began swapping through menus without him touching it, eventually swapping over to a video feed as he presented it to Max. "Take a look, boy scout. And you'll see I've been telling the truth this whole time."
Begrudgingly, Max took the pad. The scene displayed was of a lab-like arrangement, made of the dark metal typically found in ADVENT facilities. It was a camera's view of a room in particular, covered in monitors. An upright containment tube was at the far part of the room, with a variant of the ADVENT logo on it.
As he watched, a gurney was rolled in from one side of the screen. A few scientists were rolling it in, overseen by some very strange looking Sectoids and men that were too tall to be human. On the gurney, in a suit like the one he'd personally gotten out of the Forge...
Was the Commander.
The faceplate on the suit was off, but next to him, allowing Max to see who it was. They rolled the gurney close to the tube, putting the faceplate on as one of the too-tall men threw a lever on the side of the machine. The covering of the tube parted, revealing glass and a strange fluid that was steadily draining. Once it was fully drained, the Commander was lifted as the glass slid down, eased against the back of the tube. As the scientists seemingly hooked up a few connections at the back, one of the tall men radioed something in on his watch. Eventually, the Commander was all hooked up, as the switch was thrown again and the glass came back up, filling the container with fluid and closing the cover once more.
The Hunter took the datapad back. "Ask Jane or Bradford—or your beloved Commander himself—they'll tell you that was the room they sprung him out of. Right there, he was serving as a battery for the whole Network, carrying out orders and making sure the war crimes were happening at peak efficiency. He got so good at it, too!" He shrugged once more, clipping the datapad back onto his belt. "You guys probably wouldn't have stood a chance had you not ran a diversion tactic near Unification Day proceedings to get him out. But, there you have it. I've been telling the truth, as much as I'm sure you don't want to believe it, hm?"
It was all too much to process. All the people he'd grown to protect at Humanity Falls... their faces flashed in his mind. The screams echoed in his ears, made all the louder by knowing that, fundamentally, the Commander was behind that attack. All this time, he'd been working for the person who sent him on the run for twenty years...?
The Hunter's dark chuckling drew him out of his thoughts. "Not so patriotic now, hm? Didn't think so." He began pacing towards the door. "Still, I'll let it all sink in some more. Hope you have a lovely time here, Maxim."
With that, the Hunter tapped the pad, exiting the cell, the door closing faster than Max could react in his shell-shocked state. There... was hardly anything he could bring to mind. The Commander had been the one to kill the people he had loved back then. He was the one who had been forcing him to keep switching locations, keep him without anywhere to sleep as ADVENT chased after him and spread their occupation. He was fighting for the very person who did that to him?
Stunned, Max fell back onto the bed, sitting down. He didn't know what to think anymore. He had been resolved to stick by XCOM no matter what they did to him. But now that he knew the Commander was the driving force behind his suffering no more than a year ago? All the drive had been sucked out of him with Kon-Il's words, and Max had the sinking feeling that it was exactly what the Hunter had aimed for.
Something beyond the numbness came in. It made him clench his fists, made him want to scream. The Commander did this to him. He was the one who got him into this whole situation to begin with, powering the Network as he did. If the Commander hadn't been on the Network, if he hadn't screwed up at First Contact, if he hadn't existed...
Some part of Max was fighting back against his thoughts. Surely the Commander had no say in matters in his state, it pleaded, but Max was already finding reasons against that. You had to be reasonably in your senses to command an army that large with any amount of accuracy. The Commander had to be somewhat lucid during his time. He probably knew about everything he was doing and didn't lift a finger to stop it, didn't even try to exercise mercy. He just killed without question, without morals, without hesitation.
XCOM does not consider the wide-reaching implications of their actions.
No. No, they didn't. No, the Commander didn't. Max finally had a tangible face to put to all of his rage. The Commander had made no effort to even brief Max on what had happened before. He'd made no effort to explain himself or even give a disclaimer of what he had done in the past. Max bet he was hoping that it all could fly quietly. Not on his watch.
For the next stretch of time, Max simply stewed on his anger, his resentment against XCOM steadily building. Far from his mind was the resolution he had made before the Hunter had walked in, before the Hunter had shown him just what was going on. He still resented the Hunter, but at least he had opened his eyes. Was the Commander even planning to get him back? Maybe, but likely only because Max was their best man. They couldn't let an asset like him go. But how long would they have had him wait for? How many lashings were they going to make him endure? What were they even doing right now, with him captured and Langley dead?
The door opening broke him out of his thoughts, and in stepped the scientist, backed by a Muton guard. "Ah, hello, Max. I heard the Hunter had a bit of a visit? He told me you seemed to have a bit of a revelation."
Max still held his hatred for this guy, but it wasn't as much as it had been before. He stared straight ahead after he was addressed. "—what are you going to do to me. After the whole induction process."
"I thought you would never ask." The scientist stepped further in and his Muton shadowed him. "After we've fully convinced you that ADVENT is who you should be fighting for, there are some additions to you to make. The higher ups have already expressed that they're done with the Chosen Project, which I certainly had a bit of fun with, but I understand why they're retiring it. No, we're moving onto something new." He grinned. "Cybernetics. I'm sure the higher ups want to see what the data is like—"
"Do it."
The scientist blinked, the smug look finally wiped off of his face. "... excuse me?"
"You heard me." Max raised his vision to him, staring him dead in the eye. Something in that glare must've changed from before, as he could see him falter just a bit. "Do whatever it is you're going to do to me. I have a score to settle and I figure it's what you guys wanted after all."
The scientist blinked a few more times before grinning triumphantly. "That Hunter certainly does an effective job! He told me you had a revelation, but this moves up our timetable!" He offered his hand. "Richard Tristley. I'll be happy to get you suited up, Maxim."
Max looked at the offered hand. He stood up to his full height, accepting the handshake. Whatever was intended for him, he was going to see it out to the end. The Commander was going to pay for his actions and for never having explained them, and Max was going to see to it that he personally would be bringing down the axe.
The next few months were a blur of activity.
He was constantly shifted through facilities as the various surgeries happened, presumably to keep him hidden and shake off XCOM's trail. He'd do exercises and make benchmarks for the strength he was accumulating, the implants he was hosting. It had taken him a while to truly get used to them all, but eventually controlling them and working with them came as easy as breathing.
Dr. Tristley had done a truly fine job. All of the implants served to heighten his physical attributes, and the chip in his spine linked him up to the Network, benefitting from commands and info streamed to him over it. The good doctor had definitely kept his physical appearance intact as he did, either implanting everything or creating a skin mesh over parts he simply replaced. The one thing he couldn't properly mask was the eyes... but the Juggernaut thought it was perfectly acceptable. Red on black was intimidating, and it would be the first sign to XCOM to show that he wasn't playing their games anymore.
Eventually, the day came. The Juggernaut was doing one more round of training to make sure all of his cybernetics were working correctly. Understandably, all the implants and growth treatments had buffed him up a bit—the Warlock had once come to gawk at him and the Juggernaut would say he was fairly on that Chosen's level now. Not that he hadn't been strong before, but this was a whole new level. He was busy trying to make new gouges in the reinforced punching bag that had been provided to him when he heard a voice call out behind him. "My dear Juggernaut! I have some news for you."
He landed one last blow on the bag, making the chains holding it up shudder. He turned around, facing Dr. Tristley. "Doctor."
The doctor was holding a datapad, grinning. "We've gotten news of XCOM moving on your old facility!"
He quirked an eyebrow. Took them long enough, and they even had the wrong address. "Usually that's not good news. What's with the giddiness?"
"It's the prefect setup." Dr. Tristley approached, gesturing with a free hand as he did. "XCOM doesn't know whatsoever of your new status and loyalties. They think this is a simple stealth extraction like the others. If we were to, say, plant you back at the location..."
It pretty much instantly clicked for the Juggernaut once he'd gotten to the XCOM part of that sentence, and he nodded. "I could take out the whole squad before they could so much as blink."
"Ideally you'd let them take you back, was my thinking."
The Juggernaut tapped the side of his head, implying a gesture to his eyes. "These are a dead giveaway, doctor, and besides—we'd have better chances grounding the Avenger and launching an assault from there. I kill the stealth operatives they send—who are likely to be the best they've got—and they're down one aspect of their operations. No more sneaking around as much as they're used to."
Dr. Tristley nodded. "Excellent, excellent, though I would not have expected anything less from you. Yes, the Hunter has been working on his siege cannon project for quite some time now, and I'm sure he'd be interested in having you along once he finally finishes it."
"Even if he didn't want me," he replied, "I'd go anyway. Scores to settle, and all that." He'd been thinking a little bit on the rest of XCOM, as well. The Commander had some repenting to do, but as for the soldiers he once fought with? He didn't want to kill them, but understandably they'd get in his way of the Commander. He'd probably give them a warning down there, but he knew for a damn fact that the Commander would have them fight him anyway. He could probably just pull some career-ending injuries, or at least ones that would take them out of the running for a little bit.
"Your actions, not my guidance. I'd hardly want to test the Hunter on a good day." Dr. Tristley's words brought him out of his thoughts. "Even so, I would prefer all hands on deck for such an event, but you know how much the Chosen despise cooperating."
"Very much so." He hadn't seen much of them while he was training with ADVENT, but he'd heard the stories back at XCOM. That was the most dysfunctional family he'd ever heard of. "Still, back to the point—how soon are we moving out?"
"Right now, if you're ready."
The Juggernaut rolled his head, popping what organic bones he had left. "Alright. No guns? A quick reversal and I'd be armed down there regardless."
"If we want their guard to be totally down, I would advise such."
That he could do. "Lead the way."
Dr. Tristley gave one of his trademark grins, turning around and walking out of the room. The Juggernaut followed after him, though he couldn't help but catch his reflection in some reinforced glass. They'd taken great pains to keep him looking identical to what he'd looked like before—save for his muscle density. But the Juggernaut had counted himself build before he joined ADVENT. About the only thing they'd majorly changed was cutting his hair back, but he'd allowed it to grow out enough to tie it into a braid like he had before. Perhaps the mildly shorter hair would draw their attention away long enough...?
Eh, it wasn't worth thinking over. They wouldn't have much reason to suspect foul play—there was hardly precedent for it. The Juggernaut continued to trail after the doctor, following him out of the room.
The trip from there was fairly straightforward. He boarded one of the dropships along with a little extra security detail for the site, letting them in on his plans on the way in. Best the people he was working with were in the loop—and the ingrained knowledge of the ADVENT language helped. This would be his first combat engagement since, well, the Hunter kidnapped him. Things were bound to get interesting.
Eventually, he was corralled into his "holding cell," his old one to be exact. They'd changed him into the standard prisoner's outfit to help with the deception, and it would likely buy him a few more seconds. He had more than enough armor going on beneath his skin to compensate for the fact that he was essentially wearing nothing to protect himself. He stared at the far wall, putting together his plan of attack. First things first, what position should he adopt? Standing like he was, with his back turned to them, would be pretty suspicious. Sitting less so, but he'd have to keep his back to them even as the door opened for it to work. Wasn't Mox unconscious when they came for him? Yes... he could lie facedown on the floor, eyes closed and unresponsive. They'd roll him over and move to pick him up, and then he could strike.
The Juggernaut moved into position, closing his eyes. Now he played the waiting game. It would be too suspicious to have all of the guard concentrated around his room, so he'd asked them to go on their normal patrols. He'd send a distress signal the moment he confirmed his engagement, and they would know where to collapse.
The Juggernaut kept track of the time on the Network, and to XCOM's credit, they arrived a little earlier than he would've expected. He heard the door behind him open, and it took a bit of willpower to not react. Same went for the voice he heard. "Max?" That was Johnson. He'd trained that man a fair bit, himself, though he chose to go the more subtle route to the Juggernaut's former style. Damn shame what was about to happen.
When the Juggernaut didn't respond, he heard another voice. "ADVENT's likely got him knocked out." Elena! XCOM really did send their best operatives after him. Real damn shame. "Pick him up. I'll cover our six."
"Got it." Footsteps came closer to him, and it took more restraint to not flinch as a hand sought under his side and flipped him over, with some effort. "Damn. Four months and I think he's gained muscles."
"That's Juggernaut for you." The Juggernaut would recognize Sadie anywhere. It really figured that XCOM would want a medic on the mission. "Bet you he was doing whatever exercises he could in here."
"Enough chatter." Elena sounded impatient. "The patrol's due to sweep by here. Pick him up, Haunt."
There was a rustling of equipment, likely Johnson holstering his shotgun. This time, when he was touched, he let all hell break loose.
The Juggernaut's eyes snapped open, greeting him with the sight of Johnson, his shaved head and blue eyes not as familiar a sight as it used to be. Sophie was in the door, a helmet covering her face, and Elena was likely still outside. No matter. In a split second, the Juggernaut lunged at Johnson, dragging him down and planting him on the floor, wrenching the shotgun from his back. Huh, looked like the plasma gun Lily had been making. That would speed things along. He stomped a foot into Johnson's back, pinning him and taking aim, burying a shot into Sophie's leg. She screamed, careening to the floor, and as he pumped the gun, he sent out the distress signal. The gun primed, his next shot was at her GREMLIN, with it practically exploding under the hail of plasma.
A shot felt like it grazed his cheek, and he snapped to the source. Elena had fired upon him, backing up. "Max, what are you—?!"
She didn't speak long. A hail of mag fire cut her down and she slumped to the floor, motionless. He hadn't intended for her to die, but some things couldn't be helped. The MEC that shot moved forward, aiming at Sophie. As it finished the job, he looked down at Johnson, still squirming underneath his shoe. Two down, one to go, perhaps? Perhaps not. Perhaps Johnson here could see as he had what XCOM's failings were. He didn't have to die as well.
Sending a quick command on the Network to disregard Johnson, he brought the stock of his shotgun down on his temple, and he was motionless, but breathing. The Juggernaut took his foot off of him, priming the shotgun once more as he surveyed the carnage. Elena and Sophie were motionless in pools of their own blood, and he could see the ADVENT Officer radioing in the successful ambush. It looked over to him, then to Johnson. "Juggernaut," it began, speaking in ADVENT, "is he dead?"
"No, but I figure he could see as I had whose side he should be fighting for." He looked over the gun in his hands. It looked almost brand new, but Johnson had already modified it as he saw fit. The man still took good care of his guns after all this time. "Take him to another facility. Perhaps Dr. Tristley would be interested in another for the project I underwent?"
The Officer nodded, telling the Troopers on the scene to pick Johnson up. As they did, the Juggernaut finally took a moment to feel his check. Huh. What he'd taken for a graze from the pain was a direct shot, and it seemed like the skin masking at the area had been blasted off—but the metal underneath wasn't too damaged. The doctor had done a good job, indeed. Still, he'd need to have some cosmetic repairs done. He stepped out of the cell, walking out.
"Your tenacity is to be admired, Juggernaut."
That voice... he turned around, and sure enough, the Assassin was standing in the hall. He idly wondered how long the Voidqueen had been here before he responded. "I appreciate the compliment. I don't suppose you were just here to watch how things went down?"
"I am not my brothers," she replied. "Were the mission to turn out rough, I would have stepped in to provide my assistance. Still, judging by the success of it, your planning seems to have paid off."
"Thanks again." The Assassin seemed like the far more personable one of the three Chosen. Perhaps he could cooperate more with her in the future. "Seems right to have someone overseeing things that will actually wade in themselves if things start going sideways."
"I may lurk in the shadows, but I am far from cowardly, Juggernaut." She walked towards him. "You have clearly proven your worth. See to it that you continue to do so—I would hate to see you disappoint as my brothers have."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"As it should be." Ref-Mai turned to leave, regarding him as she did. "I shall be watching you. Your potential is something to be admired." With that, she bled out of sight, leaving no indication she was ever there.
Left with a successful mission on his hands, the Juggernaut went right back to leaving. Even if Johnson didn't want to cooperate, he'd provide them useful intel as to the whereabouts of the Avenger. Soon, the Commander would see that what he had done would come back to bite him. Yes, he had been told the Elders wanted the Commander back, but someone as incompetent as he was didn't have a right to live. There were others who could fulfill his duty—hell, Kon-Il fit the bill well, as much as the Juggernaut didn't want to give him credit. The Commander had to die...
... and the Juggernaut was going to be the one to kill him.