From her time serving the ADVENT, Natasatch knew how her former organization planned "anti-terror" attacks. Get a location, send a few infiltrators ahead to confirm, and then attack when humans were most vulnerable, which was usually extremely early in the morning. Now, as an XCOM soldier, the Viper discovered firsthand why the timing of those attacks were so crucial.
When Malcolm awoke her at 3:35AM, her verpine physiology meant Natasatch was alert and ready in mere minutes. However, the humans took longer to adapt. Malcolm almost tripped over the clutter of her room as they departed, and she counted dozens of yawns exchanged between the bleary humans as they shuffled into their gear. To Natasatch's confusion, the humans' yawns spread to her, as if a xenovirus of perpetually opening mouths. They were nodding off on the armory benches, and as they sat down in the Skyranger, and only awakened as the red signal lights warned of the imminent engagement.
Despite the humans' lackluster preparedness, one of them managed to question hers.
"You sure she'll remember whose side she's on?" A human male, one she didn't recognize, spoke to the group.
Lieutenant Mercier, the squad leader, raised her voice. "Lay off it, McCann. She's been fine the last times, this'll be no different."
"Well, fine, but it'll be hard to tell her from other aliens."
"I can understand your language, just so you know," Natasatch commented. She crossed her arms. "I can tell you from the human-shaped Advent, and I expect you can do the same. Think of it in the same way."
The new soldier gave a grunt, deciding his shotgun needed some additional inspection. Malcolm, her human friend, poked her from the side with an elbow. "Nice going, Nat," he said, somewhat quietly. "Using your words like that."
"I learned from you," Natasatch said, looking pleased with herself.
"Get ready to deploy, Menace!" The voice of Firebrand resounded through the steel coffin of the cargo bay, and the rear door let out a metallic groan as it ground open. A red glow quickly filled the space, followed by the smell of smoke and distant screams. Unfastening their harnesses, they filed down the rope and into the chaotic night.
"Good luck out there."
The sole upside of ADVENT's massacre in progress was that the enemy started off facing the burning settlement, leading to a number of easy kills for the vengeful operatives. The rest of the alien forces scattered into cover, but a few explosives and Natasatch's poison clouds quickly negated any defense. In few scant moments after touching down, the team penetrated the village limits.
Weaving out of cover, tracking the energy weapons discharges, and covering each corner, they proceeded slowly. Malcolm paused at each fallen civilian to check for signs of life, but after enough sad sighs and clenched fists, they simply started skirting around the corpses and collapsed buildings to focus on finding those responsible, which sat fine with Natasatch. Fortunately, they only had to follow the screaming.
An ADVENT squad laid ahead, which proved a greater challenge than the disorganized mob from before. Yet, they still fell, one by one. An ADVENT officer slumped against a wall, her body riddled with far more bullets than absolutely necessary, while her subordinate troopers were now part of a pile of corpses they had a hand in creating. The final member, a Stun Lancer, opted to die in a blaze of glory, letting out a distorted roar and rushing towards the group.
Natasatch's brilliant green plasma beam impacted the lancer at the center of his chest, and the soldier stumbled and fell with an unceremonious groan. Mirthfully, she noted the lancer hadn't even crossed halfway to his destination before he died. Their fearless tactics seemed far more effective when she was on the same side, but now she appreciated the target exercise.
The squad leader confirmed over the comms, "Last enemy down, at least for now!"
"Were those gun shots? Help!" A frantic pounding caught the squad's attention, and after taking aim at the door just in case, Malcolm approached the door turned the handle. A terrified civilian fell out, but her relief at the human operators returned to fear when she caught sight of Natasatch. The viper wavered, unsure, but Malcolm waved downward to prompt the team to lower their weapons.
Lifting his goggles to reveal his eyes, he spoke softly, but audibly, to the survivor, "Don't worry, friend, the Viper's with us. Now get yourself to the Skyranger, we've cleared a path."
The civilian looked between Malcolm and Natasatch, understandably confused. An explosion sounded off a block away, rattling the ramshackle houses, frightening the girl even more. Malcolm repeated, more firmly, "Please, get moving."
The civilian met Natasatch's eyes, terrified and twitchy, but she could see a glimmer of hope beneath the hazy sheen. Natasatch blinked, briefly tilting her head in the direction of the Skyranger. For some reason, that convinced the girl, and she gave the alien a nod before taking off.
The Commander chimed in on the radio with an updated set of orders; Mercier was to lead the rest of the squad to the source of the explosion, Natasatch was to assist Malcolm with searching for any survivors in the current section. The aliens just started to sink their claws into this section, and hopefully there were more humans to save.
"Looks like there's two rows of houses, Nat," Malcolm noted. The settlers constructed their village without any foresight or logic that Natasatch could understand, but it benefited them in this case. "I'll get this row, you get the next, and call out if you find anyone."
"Very well."
A nod, and the duo split. Opening each door or peering through blasted portholes, she gave a cursory look through each room. Having experienced proper human homekeeping, the houses disarray only seemed worse, even before the battle damage was considered. Fires raged unchecked, plasma scarred the walls, and impromptu barricades shattered on the floor. Tasting the air briefly, she detected no human scents, and continued her staggered walk down her row.
It took her a moment to remember how the process came so easily to her. Natasatch remembered, she was trained to do exactly this. Scan rooms for hiding humans, but to hunt, not to rescue like now. Her nostrils flared, the Viper reminded herself she wasn't aiding those pointless massacres anymore, but her sudden tension remained. The Viper pushed open the final door, the smoldering wood giving easily under the light push of her claws, and she hoped she'd find at least some of the humans the Malcolm asked her to save.
Perhaps due to that desire, Natasatch felt extra cheated when she saw the two corpses on the floor. A pair of humans, lain on the floor, arms wrapped around each other, a continuous scorch from one of their chests to the next. They probably were kneeling or already on the floor when they were executed, Natasatch surmised, refusing to separate and only accelerating their deaths by a few seconds. This wasn't the first occurrence she'd seen; often the ADVENT soldiers were bragging how their targets helped them conserve ammo. But she'd never felt her claws tighten around her weapon at the sight before, or a palpable pain of sorrow despite none of her direct involvement.
The sight wasn't what made her skin feel so cold, though. That was the thought of if she still had the biochip in her brain, and she could easily have been the cause of this sight.
Natasatch heard her human companion calling out as she took in the grim scenery, but it barely registered in her addled mind. She slowly started to come out of the haze, before she heard him call out, in a different direction.
"Nat, what are you doing over there?"
Whatever weariness the Viper felt, it was gone that moment. It took half a second to process it, another half second to bolt.
Natasatch rounded the corner, and sees Malcolm looking away, at another Viper. Thanks to the smoky fog, she might have been fooled herself. She had the same amber and orange colors as her human-aligned kin, Natasatch's repainted blue armor the only visual distinction. Natasatch saw her fellow leaning back in preparation of her lash out, and that Malcolm was about to die, and in a roundabout way, because of her.
Natasatch hissed loudly, raising her gun, but she wasn't fast enough. A pale pink leash shot out from the enemy, the other Viper's tongue reaching out and deftly snagging Malcolm's neck. He let out a alarmed yell, echoed over the human radio, cut short by the force of being pulled in.
A green beam cut the retracting tongue like a scalpel. The renegade Viper's attack, a frenzied shot fired from the hip, luckily stopped the opposing Viper's maneuver mid action, sending Malcolm sprawling to the ash-laden ground. She turned her rage at her counterpart, recoiling and hissing from the pain.
Even through the smoke, Natasatch viewed the loyalist Viper's eyes in razor sharp focus, the red slits colored an identical hue. She saw the widening of the eyelids from the confusion from her fellow's betrayal, and the dulling sheen of rage and indignation.
Those livid, familiar eyes made the perfect targets. Natasatch's next shot struck dead center through one, continuing neatly out the other side of her head. Her life ended with only a quiet gurgle.
Natasatch didn't have any time to think, because she was already in motion. The enemy Viper's tongue had snared his neck, and her counter-insurgency training had noted how quickly humans died were it broken. But her human wouldn't die that easily. He couldn't. Could he?
The human had only begun coughing and pushing his head off the ground when he was ensnared by another Viper, almost tackling him and pulling him upright. The crushing vice failed to tighten, and he blinked as a familiar alien face came into focus. She was so wide-eyed, frenzied, like he'd never seen before.
"Are you okay!" Natasatch tried to ask, but it came out more like a yell.
Her claws scraped against his olive, sootied skin, unhooking the tongue of the viper, which was still flailing around uselessly. She might have been disgusted, perhaps at the gore or perhaps at herself, were she not preoccupied. Her tense face softened as he raised a hand, his palm touching her snout.
Malcolm came to his senses, noticing his friend's concern first. Red dripped from a gash on his forehead, from the long drag in the debris, but otherwise unharmed. He let out a hacking cough before he spoke. "I'm f-fine," he panted. "Thanks there. Nice shot"
"You can't die," Natasatch said. Whether it was a plea or a declaration, she couldn't even tell herself. She shut her eyes, pressing her muzzle harder into Malcolm's hand. Everything was okay.
Whatever moment they shared, it ended quickly. Another XCOM operative hurried around the corner, instinctively firing his shotgun at the sight of a viper coiled around a human. It missed by a wide margin, before McCann soldier recognized her armor and realized his mistake. An awkward and relatively-silent beat passed as their gazes crisscrossed.
"That's XCOM for you," Malcolm cracked as Natasatch uncoiled. For once, bad luck was their fortune.