Alien Abduction: Mexico

The Citadel, Medical Ward

The Commander, flanked by Shen and Blake Harkin, strode down the hallway in the Medical Ward. The new Chief Medic wasn't exactly thrilled about the prospect of them visiting, let alone allowing them to perform the MEC procedure on her; but he'd allowed them to visit Myra, weakened as she was. Not that the Commander was giving him much choice, since he felt Blake was being overcautious. Soldiers were tough, more so than medics liked to believe.

"Commander, I must stress that she might not be physically able," Blake warned again, his tone attempting to remain respectful. "And from what you've told me about this…procedure, it could be highly traumatic for her."

"Which is why I'm letting her decide," the Commander reminded him, not looking back. "This is an option for her to consider. Nothing more."

"That being said, she's going to feel pressured to go through with it," Blake insisted. "No disrespect intended, sir."

"None taken," the Commander nodded, moderately pleased he wasn't afraid to question him. "It's an issue among military personnel. Which is why I'm letting you stay. I'm sure you'll feel compelled to add your medical opinion."

"Oh," Blake verbally seemed to shrug. "Well, I appreciate that."

They reached the room and Blake opened the door and entered first. Myra was awake on the bed staring into the ceiling, a thin sheet covering her body. A few IV tubes were connected, but she was off life support and breathing assistance. It was difficult not to focus on the stump of her arm that already seemed smaller.

Upon hearing the door open, she quickly tried to reposition herself into a more professional position until the Commander raised a hand. "At ease, soldier." She complied and sank back down into the bed for few seconds, then tried to get into a more comfortable sitting position at a much slower pace.

"I didn't expect to see you, Commander," Myra said, her voice cracked and tired. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Harkin tells me you're recovering well," the Commander said, taking one of the seats that had been placed in the corner and setting it by her. Sitting down at eye level, he continued. "But I want to be sure for myself."

Myra looked up at the blank ceiling. "I'm still tired," she admitted. "But no pain. Unfortunately no pain. I can move this arm," she raised her good hand. "And my body. But I can't feel anything below my waist."

The Commander looked over at Blake. The good doctor had failed to mention this. "You didn't mention she was paralyzed," he stated coldly. Blake swallowed.

"As I explained to Mrs. Rodriguez, it's not a permanent paralysis," he explained hastily. "With dedicated physical therapy, she will probably be able to walk again with assistance."

"Yeah," Myra snorted. "A real comfort, that. With assistance."

The Commander sighed. While it might not have been worst-case scenario, he would have preferred knowing if one of his soldiers was that wounded, even if only temporarily. He'd have to deal with that later, since he was sure Blake hadn't meant to omit that information. Probably just didn't consider it important enough.

"I'll get to the point," the Commander said, standing. "As things stand right now, you're incapable of combat and will receive an honorable discharge. I'll personally ensure your expenses are taken care of."

Myra sighed, looking down sadly. "Figured as much. A shame, I'd stay on if I could."

A good start, though he'd suspected as much. "I'm not finished," he told her, raising a hand. "XCOM engineering has developed prosthetics than are arguably as good as an actual limbs. You'll receive them regardless of what you decide."

She looked over at him, an eyebrow raised. "What I decide?"

"Yes," the Commander nodded. "Because there is another option for you," he motioned Shen forward. "Tell her about the MECs."

Shen adjusted his glasses. "We've been working on more advanced technology to utilize against the aliens. Our most promising is the MEC project," he handed her a tablet with drawings and concepts. "It's something of an exoskeleton, but on a far larger scale. There is much we could do with such a modifiable machine. It could be outfitted for close-quarters, long range or artillery."

"You need pilots," Myra guessed, looking at him. "It looks impressive, but how could one person control something this size?"

"The pilots would have to be altered to properly sync with the MEC," Shen continued, his tone reserved. "This requires…" he trailed off. The Commander didn't.

"It will require the amputation of your limbs and reinforcement and reconstruction of your torso and brain," the Commander finished. "You'd get replacement limbs and implants designed to interface with the MEC suits."

Myra coughed. "That is…not what I expected." She frowned as she looked at the pictures. "Just how useful would this realistically be?"

"We've run dozens of simulations with various armor configurations," Shen answered. "The current prototype is designed to withstand an artillery barrage. How this will compare to the aliens, we still don't have field data. But it's not wrong to think that this could alter the course of the war in our favor."

"I believe the MEC project will be essential in the war," the Commander told her. "It is an extreme sacrifice but one that could be key to ensuring the survival of the human race-"

He paused as Myra raised a hand, a slight smile on her face. "Skip the speech, Commander. You don't have to convince me, I'll do it."

He blinked. In all honesty, he hadn't expected she would refuse. But this quickly? "I won't force you to do this," he reminded her. "It's a choice and one I would understand if-"

"No need," Myra shook her head again. "I understand that and I believe you when you say I have a choice. But I also know you don't ask without reason; if you believe that these MECs will be essential in winning the war, than I do as well. You wouldn't ask this if you weren't convinced it was necessary." The corners of her lips twitched up. "I know we have our differences, but you don't lie to your soldiers."

There was silence for a minute.

Moments like these were why he worked to get soldiers what they needed and ensure they were taken care of. Aside from simple decency, respecting those under you cultivated loyalty and in turn, trust. And what reassured him most was that he wasn't lying to convince her, he stood behind everything that he'd said. If the MEC project met his expectations, he truly believed it would change the course of the war.

He was somewhat amused to hear Blake practically stutter out a response. "Mrs. Rodriguez, while your dedication is commendable, I think you should know that there might be side effects."

"Yes," Shen nodded solemnly. "I think you should hear-"

"Is the procedure dangerous?" Myra interrupted bluntly.

Shen and the Commander exchanged a look. "No," Shen admitted. "We have ensured that the procedure isn't dangerous."

He didn't mention that Vahlen's first attempt had killed one of the test subjects accidentally. The Commander hadn't been present, but it had apparently been an…unpleasant experience. Vahlen had assured him that she'd noted the error and that it wouldn't happen again. To prove it she'd repeated the procedure, this time successfully.

The modified test subject was now in the cells and Vahlen had said she would expose him to a variety of stimulants and chemicals to see if the brain reacted any differently. A few days in and already down two prisoners. Ah well, it was an unexpected expense; he'd have figured Vahlen would have gotten a bit more use out of them before they needed to be replenished.

But such were the risks of new technology. He might as well order another batch. More test subjects couldn't hurt. But hopefully Vahlen's monitoring would help either predict issues with Myra or create ways to relieve any discomfort. There had also been a marked change in the way the test subjects had reacted to Vahlen entering.

Before it had been jeers, taunts and threats. When he'd entered a second time with her, the reaction had almost been negligible. All of them had watched warily, not with fear, not yet. But they were starting to understand just what their fate was. Perhaps they thought appeasement would work and compliance would be rewarded. It wouldn't, but neither him, nor Vahlen sought to correct that misconception.

"Will my ability to function be inhibited?" Myra continued asking.

"Technically, no," Shen sighed. "You should be able to perform normal functions. But you won't be quite as…lucid, as you are now."

"You won't be the same person," Blake warned, crossing his arms. "You can't if you want complete synchronization with the MEC suit."

Shen shot a glance his way. "While I do feel that is a concern, I also think it's wise to note that we don't know for sure. You could be completely unaffected or you mind could be reduced to an automaton. That's what you need to consider most. Are you willing to risk losing your personality? Or any chance at a normal life?"

Myra contemplated for a few minutes. "I appreciate the concern," she nodded at Shen and Blake. "From both of you. But my answer remains the same," She nodded down at her legs. "Shen, I lost any chance for a normal life when my arm was ripped off and legs were paralyzed. I'll never have a normal life, whether or not I have the procedure done or not."

Her tone turned softer. "Aside from that, I can't leave now. Not after everything that has happened. Not if I can still help in some way. But the best reason is that it's the right thing to do." She looked at the Commander. "You're always going to have a first subject; a guinea pig, and if things go wrong with me, it'll help make things safer for future soldiers."

The Commander nodded. "It will."

Myra indicated him. "Yes. You of all people understand sometimes sacrifice is necessary. And this is one risk I fully understand and will take."

The three men exchanged looks. "I suppose it's settled then," Shen finally said. "Very well. You will undergo the procedure as soon as possible."

"Just tell me when," Myra nodded.

"I guess I won't change your mind," Blake sighed. "But I admire your bravery."

"As do I," the Commander saluted and inclined his head towards her. "Thank you."

Shen and Blake exited the door and the Commander moved to follow when he heard Myra's voice. "A moment, Commander."

He closed the door and turned around to face her. Myra appraised him thoughtfully. "Question," she said. "Why did you ask me? Certainly there are others who are in better condition."

The Commander paused before answering. "The practical reason is that you were the best candidate for this trial. Aside from that, I didn't think you'd willingly leave and this afforded you the opportunity to stay." The Commander paused. "On a more personal level, this isn't something I want to offer everyone."

Myra didn't look surprised. "Quite honestly, Commander, I don't think you'd have trouble finding volunteers for these type of projects. Even if some of us have reservations about your past, you've proven someone worthy of following. You have our loyalty."

"I know," the Commander sighed and leaned against the wall. "Which is why I'm limiting who I select. Blind loyalty is dangerous and I'm well aware of my position and the pressure I unwittingly exert. You're more skeptical of me than most, and oddly, that makes you more qualified in my eyes. For something like this I need to know you actually want to do it and aren't following out of blind loyalty or fear."

Myra gave him a wan smile. "That's more reassuring than you know, Commander. Keep that attitude and you will retain our loyalty. Keep the skeptics around, they keep you grounded."

"That they do," the Commander agreed, looking over. "It's difficult sometimes. I sometimes don't know if the people are agreeing with me are being truthful or simply afraid of my position. It's a problem I'm not sure can ever be fixed."

He wasn't completely sure why he was telling her this. Perhaps he just wanted a normal conversation where he wasn't the Commander and Myra seemed to be indulging him. As much as he wanted to become more involved with the regular soldiers, it was becoming more difficult as time simply didn't allow for casual conversations between them.

Because at heart, he was still a soldier. The longer this war went on, he felt that he was contributing less and less even if that wasn't true. He missed personally leading the charge; sharing in the terror, danger and thrill of combat. He missed feeling like he was actually contributing to the mission instead of watching it on a screen.

He disliked it when leaders commanded from the back without understanding the risks soldiers faced daily. But people had designated him as "too important to lose" and while he understood it, he didn't know if he agreed or not. He'd never considered himself as a genius or someone who was coming up with new and creative ways to move armies. What set him apart was that he had no restrictions; he had no rules. That was the only reason that he wasn't joining the soldiers on missions as often as he liked.

Because if he died, then the war would be lost. Humanity would fall because the leaders lacked the will to do what must be done. They'd gone against their better judgment when they'd put him in charge and if he died, he had no doubt they'd replace him with someone safe, compliant and lawful.

And condemn the human race in the process.

"I think that if you're asking those questions, you're doing something right," Myra finally said. "I guess you have to trust that they're telling the truth," she shrugged. "I don't know what goes on in your inner circle, but if you treat them with the same respect you treat us, I'd say you have little to worry about."

He smiled at her. "Thank you, Myra. That's more reassuring than you know."

"Don't forget where you came from and you'll be fine," Myra reassured him. "I'll see you after the procedure, Commander." She saluted him as best she could and he returned it solemnly.

With that he left the room, many ideas running through his mind. It wasn't fair for the soldiers to risk themselves with no risk to himself. That was going to change, as much as possible.

Something to remind them why they followed him.

Something to figure out later, as his earpiece beeped indicating something was happening in the Situation Room.

Back to work.

The Citadel, Barracks

Soran regretted putting off reading the contingencies until now. He'd expected it to be dry and boring, like nearly all military documents were. Honestly, it wouldn't kill them to hire some actual writers to make it a bit more appealing for the average soldiers. Then people might actually read those documents.

But quite honestly, he didn't know whether it was simply written better or because it was so brutally straightforward. There was a hard list of bullet points stating the situations and responses thereof.

And the responses…the Thanatos Contingency in particular was uncompromising. He had to shake his head. The sheer gall it must have taken to write this was worthy of commendation. He wasn't sure if he should be impressed or appalled at what was written, but it was certainly not boring.

No wonder there were rumors of tension between the Commander and the Council. He wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure these violated UN mandates in several places, but he was getting the general impression that the soldiers, along with the Commander, didn't really care anymore. Many of them were just focused on winning the war, justifiably so.

He did wonder if they considered what would happen when the war was over. Soran personally wasn't convinced that the Council would simply forget them, especially if they utilized methods like the Hades Contingency. The thing was, if humanity was going to survive, it would be primarily XCOM that would be responsible for it.

Which would leave the organization itself with a large amount of political leverage, something he was sure the Commander would exploit. It would be interesting if after the war, the Council tried to disband XCOM. Something that he personally found unlikely. Like it or not, XCOM wasn't going away.

Another thing that he'd been noticing is that the newer soldiers were "assimilated," for lack of a better word after a few missions. Nationalities weren't as big a deal as he assumed they would be. There weren't any rivalries between soldiers outside of the sparring ring, at least none based on nationality. When Israeli and Iranian soldiers were seen having a normal conversation and laughing together, it was a sign that nationality wasn't important.

It seemed to an unspoken implication when soldiers arrived: We don't care where you came from, only what you'll do to help. An admirable quality that was…quite surprising and should be concerning to their homelands. He wondered if these nations realized that their soldiers likely no longer were loyal to them, but XCOM specifically.

He'd caught himself thinking that way several times. As an XCOM soldier and not any of his previous identities and titles. That feeling of a common cause was one he'd only felt several times in his life and he didn't expect to feel it here of all places. He wondered if there was a similar phenomenon with NATO as it was also a UN coalition composed of various nations.

Hmm. Maybe not, since the common cause with XCOM was literally the survival of the human race. Past national rivalries seemed petty in that perspective, but really, what was NATO's cause? Protecting countries that already had strong militaries? As a deterrent to nations like Israel or Russia? Not to mention that they probably only recruited from UN members whereas XCOM recruited from everywhere.

"Not what you were expecting?" Soran looked from the table up to see one of the soldiers approaching him. Wearing the standard XCOM military fatigues with several knives strapped to his belt, he was one of the larger men at the base. Soran recalled him as one of the newer recruits, though he wasn't sure of his name.

His blue eyes stood out in stark contrast to his black skin and hair, the latter of which was simply a buzz cut. He had a neatly trimmed beard that covered his cheeks and chin, a fairly full one at that. Soran raised an eyebrow. "You even know what I'm reading?"

"The contingencies are probably the only XCOM issue document that could engross you so fully," the soldier pointed out. "I did the same thing."

Soran set down the documents. "And what did you think?"

He shrugged. "Definitely more interesting than the standard bunch. But I don't really concern myself with contingencies. Worst-case scenarios rarely happen and aren't worth getting worried over."

"You think the UN knows about these?" Soran asked, cocking his head.

"Doubt it," the soldier shrugged with a smirk. "I mean, I wouldn't. The UN would pitch a fit, rightfully or no. It'd just be a distraction and ultimately amount to fear-mongering."

Hmm. Considering that some of the contingencies dealt with the potential authorized execution of civilians, UN forces and foreign governments, Soran couldn't help but the think the UN might be justified in being a little concerned. "You don't these are open to abuse?" He asked, a question that had been on his mind since reading the Zeus Contingency.

The soldier appeared to consider it. "Of course," he finally said. "Every contingency is open to abuse in some ways. You can't get around that?"

"I suppose that's my concern," Soran admitted. "With these contingencies in place, the wrong person could order us into subduing a country. Or worse."

"I see your point," the soldier admitted. "But I really don't think it's a concern, at least not with the Commander. He seems like a good, sound leader. Creed trusts him not to make idiotic decisions and that's a pretty good endorsement for me."

Soran frowned. "Not that I'm disputing that, but what makes his endorsement worth more?"

"Ah, right," the man gave a wide smile displaying his pure white teeth. "I don't think we've formally met," he extended a hand. "Samuel Roche, United States Army Ranger."

Soran took it firmly. Ah. Yes, that made more sense, a recommendation from a SEAL was likely to mean more to a Ranger than the average person. Although… "Forgive me if I'm wrong," he began. "But I thought…well, that the Rangers and SEALs…"

"What?" Samuel chuckled. "Have a rivalry? Oh, we do. Internally. But strictly professional, mind you. Sure, there are a few that take it a little more personally, but as a whole we mostly try to outdo each other. Nothing more or less."

"Well, that's good," Soran said. "Guess I should be careful who I listen to. At least when it comes to Americans."

"Hey, even if it did, I doubt it'd last," Samuel pointed out. "We have bigger things to worry about than kill counts and mission streaks."

They actually did that? It seemed somewhat morbid, and unprofessional to brag about your kill count. Then again, he might have been joking.

Although…he'd heard soldiers talking about how many aliens they'd personally killed without anyone batting an eye. But that was alright because they were aliens and thus human norms didn't apply to them.

Right. "Soran Kakusa," he introduced himself. "Japanese 1st Airborne Brigade."

"Impressive," Samuel inclined his head. "The Japanese don't just promote anyone to that unit."

"No," Soran recalled what he'd done to get there. "They certainly don't." He looked over at the Ranger. "Though that isn't quite as impressive as joining the Rangers."

"All a matter of perspective," Samuel dismissed. "No more or less impressive than yours. We're just in different units."

"Which of the states are you from?" Soran asked.

"None," Samuel answered, surprising him. "I'm an immigrant. Haitian, actually."

Well, that was interesting. He considered dropping the next obvious question, but Samuel didn't seem like he would take that much offense. "Did you leave before-"

"During," Samuel corrected slowly and deliberately, tone softening. "I wasn't very old, but my father and I managed to get out before the virus killed the remaining population."

Well, he had a new level of respect for the Ranger. Not only had he escaped the Haitian Purges, but had also made it to America, presumably become a citizen and then joined one of the most elite units in the United States military.

"You definitely had it harder than me," Soran said honestly, shaking his head. "I won't accept false modesty this time."

"Fair enough," Samuel smiled. "Where are you-"

He cut himself off as the wristbands started vibrating, both of theirs. They both looked at each other. "Well," Samuel shrugged. "Looks like we're both going to hunt some aliens."

"Best to get ready," Soran said as he got up. "Wouldn't want to hold everyone up."

"Very true," Samuel agreed, moving to his locker and pulled out his autolaser. "I hate latecomers."

Skyranger, En route to Abduction Zone

"It's an abduction that happened in Mexico," Creed told them as they sped toward the country. "I don't know more than that. The Commander will be updating."

Aside from Samuel and Soran, the rest of the squad were veterans of XCOM. Soran didn't know many well, but he did remember their names. Roman Mendoza was actually from Mexico, so it wasn't a surprise that this mission would include him. The man had been quieter than the rest so far, a sentiment Soran could understand.

Rob Gorman was a United States Marine, and he looked more than happy to be working with a SEAL and Ranger. It was interesting how a position influence how they were treated so much. But he'd probably do his job well and not cause issues.

Vickie Webb was probably the least experienced aside from himself and Samuel. She'd been on several missions, but didn't have quite the track record of Creed and the rest. But she seemed reasonably competent.

"I thought we didn't have to worry about that anymore," Roman noted. "Isn't North America covered under these satellites?"

"They can't get everything," Vickie sighed. "Or it could mean that they've figured out how to sneak under our radar."

"Incorrect, Specialist Webb," the Commander interrupted through their helmets. "The satellites are the only reason we know an abduction is taking place at all. It's an unmarked village that's a haven for the poorer citizens and criminals. No government would care about it, if they even know it exists. But this gives us a chance to strike another blow against the aliens, no matter where it is."

"Why would they target somewhere like that?" Samuel asked, concern in his voice.

"A good question," the Commander agreed. "It is odd. They normally target more populated and fairly healthy areas. It's a change of pace that we need to investigate."

"It's probably run by the Cartels," Roman suggested. "They like to run their operations in places the governments abandon. Perhaps the aliens are taking an interest in them?"

He could almost feel the skepticism from Creed. "And just why would the aliens care about a bunch of thugs and drug dealers?"

"Scoff if you like, but the Cartels are among the most organized criminal organizations in the world," Roman countered. "Trust me, I've dealt with them before. They don't tolerate incompetence or inefficiency."

"It still doesn't explain why the aliens would care," Vickie shrugged. "Did the Cartels do something to them?"

Soran could swear he could have heard the Commander snort, but it might have been static. "The Cartels would stand no chance against the aliens. No, I doubt they're interested in the organization itself."

"Perhaps the narcotics?" Soran suggested as a thought struck him. "If this place is one of their manufacturing labs, they would be able to haul in a lot of high-quality drugs."

Creed glanced over at him. "Not a bad suggestion, Soran. Didn't think of that."

"It's possible," Roman agreed slowly, as he clasped his hands together. "Though I'm still not completely sure what they're gaining from this."

"Perhaps they want to weaponize it?" Rob suggested, looking to Creed. "In large enough quantities, it could neutralize a population."

"They already can neutralize a population," Soran reminded him, gesturing with his hand. "How do you think they're abducting entire towns?"

"While you have a point, Rob does as well," Creed interjected. "I would see it being more effective for neutralizing soldiers in combat. Throw some of that at them and then kill them while they're high and distracted."

"I think you're overthinking it," Vickie suggested lightly. "Maybe the aliens are using for themselves. Who says aliens don't enjoy getting high?"

They all chuckled at that. Soran had the mental image of some of the sectoids sitting around with cigars smoking weed and taking injections of heroin. Yep, that sounded about right. The Commander also sounded amused. "While I wouldn't be concerned with that possibility, I'd prefer any kind of drugs kept out of their hands. Provided this is a Cartel drug lab in the first place. Standard orders apply; go in, secure the area and wipe out any aliens."

"Understood, Commander." Creed affirmed.

"Excellent, Citadel Command, out."

They flew in silence for a few minutes and Soran fiddled with his laser SMG. He was considering just taking a rifle next time, more firepower was more useful than mobility in most situations, especially when the rifle didn't weigh much more. "This is Big Sky to Bull Team," Big Sky informed over the intercoms. "We're approaching the abduction zone. Prepare for aeriel insertion."

The lights flashed to a solid red. Showtime. "Understood, Big Sky," Creed confirmed as he stood. "We're ready when you are."

Soran felt the skyranger descending as they moved into position. Samuel was to his side, his laser sniper rifle at the ready and Creed in front of him, battle rifle also drawn. A few minutes later the skyranger showed until it was hovering and the ramp opened and a wave of warm air hit them.

"Deploy!" Creed ordered and charged out as the ropes descended. Soran grasped one and jumped off, weapon at the ready as he descended into the complex of rotting shacks and bodies.

Unknown Location, Mexico

They all landed within the span of a few seconds. The first thing Soran noticed were the bodies splayed along the streets. Old, abandoned and rusty cars lined the streets, most with flat tires or none at all. Some were completely overtaken by vegetation or stripped completely. The roads were also cracked and practically unusable now. The whole area reeked of poverty and abandonment.

But there'd clearly been at least some people living. The buildings, while haphazard and rotten, they'd clearly been furnished to some capacity, even if it was only a bedroll with a few sheets. Some dirty and torn toys were scattered around the houses, indicating that some of the inhabitants were children. There were also wrappers and some uneaten food lying around. Fresh food, so what happened had to have been recent.

"This is Squad Overseer Creed to Citadel Command," Creed informed them as he raised his weapon. "We've touched down. Multiple casualties already."

"The alien usually don't leave corpses," the Commander answered. "Be on guard."

"Yes, sir." Creed motioned them forward. "Roman, check out the body. Everyone else, take position. Overwatch protocol."

"Yes, Overseer!" They confirmed and Soran carefully approached one of the abandoned cars and crouched in front of the hood. Any weapons fire would likely tear through the rotten shelters, and while this metal wasn't in the best condition, it would give him some legitimate cover.

"Are they Cartel?" He heard Creed ask Roman as they knelt in front of one of the bodies.

"I think so," Roman confirmed. "These weapons are top quality, and this one is wearing a bulletproof vest. Not many civilians with both, so they must have been guarding something important."

"Definitely died to a plasma wound," Creed added, looking closer at the corpse. "Based on his expression, I'm guessing he was left to die after being shot."

Soran looked across the street and spotted another body with blood splattered on his chest. How sad. Well, at least the aliens were efficient.

Hold up.

The body was splattered with blood. Plasma weapons cauterized the wound to an extent, essentially preventing blood loss. So if he was splattered with blood, either he'd killed himself or…

"I'm going to look at this body," Soran called out to Creed.

Vickie looked over at him. "Why? That interested in seeing more corpses?"

"Wait," Creed held up his hand for him to stop and pointed at Roman. "Stay here, Roman. Weapon up." Roman nodded and raised his laser rifle as he watched the street.

Once Creed was by his side, Soran walked over to the body and knelt down. No, he'd been wounded, no question. A trail of dried blood ran down from a hole in his forehead. "They were killed with ballistics," Soran noted. "Odd."

"Yes, it is…" Creed sounded puzzled. "The only form of ballistics the aliens use are from the cyberdisks, and I've seen the damage those can cause. No way this is a cyberdisk; far too clean."

"Then who?" Soran asked, equally confused. "I don't think the aliens chose to abduct when they were under attack from a rival group."

"I doubt it," Creed agreed. "And the body is fresh, so this wasn't done a few days ago?"

"The aliens do utilize a form of telepathy," the Commander interjected. "Perhaps they used it to force them to attack each other."

"Possible," Creed mused, looking further down the street. "But we haven't seen the aliens utilize direct mind control before."

"It doesn't need to be mind control," the Commander reminded him. "You've heard what happened Ramsey. Psionically induced panic would work as well as direct mind control."

Soran frowned. "What was that?" He wasn't familiar with that story.

"Patricia told me," Creed explained. "It was one of the first encounters of psionics. The sectoid forced one of the soldiers into a panic. It worked and he shot another soldier."

"Ah," Soran mentally shivered at that. Psionics had always disconcerted him and stories like these were a good reason why. The fact that the sectoids were fairly proficient at these didn't help matters. He hated the little gray buggers, with their mouthless faces and shriveled bodies.

He shook his head to clear it of thoughts of sectoids and psionics. Then paused as a new thought struck him. "Perhaps we've got it wrong," he looked over at Creed. "If they've gotten stronger, it would make sense to do some field testing. This might not be an abduction, but instead a field exercise."

"Let's hope not," Creed muttered grimly. "Because then it looks like a successful one if that's the case. Although something still seems off," he pointed at the shot head. "That headshot is clean. Whoever killed him knew how to aim."

"Just a theory," Soran defended, standing back up. "If this person was mind-controlled, this might have been the bullet from his friends that put him down. Do you have another reason for why some of the bodies were shot with ballistics?"

"There was similar situation during a France operation," the Commander interjected. "But that wasn't due to the aliens. And I'd be inclined to believe the same organization is behind it, except that some of these men died from plasma wounds."

"What organization?" Rob asked curiously.

"EXALT," the Commander answered. "We're still learning about them. But this is a separate issue from the aliens. I don't see a reason why they'd expend resources on an entire village, not to mention that they don't have plasma weaponry."

"So what's our move," Creed asked, motioning them to advance. "I think everyone is gone. With an area this small, I don't think it would take long to take them, especially if it's mostly civilians."

"This is Central, Overseer Creed," Bradford spoke up. "We're detecting life signs in your area, some we can't make out. We assume these are the aliens."

"Where?" Creed demanded.

"Sending you a map of the area," Bradford answered. "There's a warehouse just ahead. Most of the signatures are coming from around there."

"Understood," Creed looked back at the squad and motioned them forward. "Advance, but watch for movement."

They all affirmed and began moving slowly through the shelters, rubble and corpses. Ahead there was a warehouse, a clear improvement over the current conditions. It wasn't falling apart and seemed relatively clean compared to the rest of the area. The warehouse door was in a pretty terrible position, right in front of a crumbling house, which was arguably one of the best in the village. They would be in a terrible position if they were ambushed.

"This is probably a trap," Soran muttered as they set up outside the warehouse door.

"Which is why we aren't going in," Creed told them, as he tested lifting the door open. "We're just going to stay on the outskirts." Stepping back, he appraised the door. "Locked," he nodded at Rob. "Cut it out, you take the right side." Rob nodded and they raised their rifles at the door and used sustained beams to cut through the door.

Creed kicked the square of cut metal inward and it fell down with a loud clang. At the edge of the door, Soran peeked inside as they both reloaded their rifles. It was very open, with tables covered in substances and powders he assumed were drugs. To the far left were some rooms that he assumed were for administrative purposes. There were some steel catwalks above the room, but they offered little protection.

"Looks like you were right about this being a drug plant," Vickie muttered. "Look at all this stuff."

"All this stuff that's still here," Creed noted, concern in his voice. "So the alien apparently didn't want it."

"Overseer Creed, be advised all the signatures we've detected have vanished," the Commander warned. "Find a defensible position now!"

"Fall back," Creed ordered stepping back. "We wait-"

Soran saw a flicker or orange coming from inside the warehouse and frowned. Was that-?

"Rocket!" Roman screamed and Soran leapt to the right, swearing he could feel the heat as it passed him. All of them managed to dodge out of the way except Vickie, who barely had time to scream as the rocket directly hit her.

"Look up!" Creed ordered pointing over to the right as Soran saw a figure aiming another rocket launcher at them kneeling in front of a shack across the street. And he looked just in time to see another rocket fired. This time everyone got out of the way in time and the rocket sped past into a shack and exploded with a loud boom. A volley of laser fire from Roman eviscerated the figure and it was dead a few moments later.

The sound of automatic fire filled the air directly behind him and Soran looked into the warehouse to see it filled with…soldiers? Human soldiers? There were at least ten, and all of them looked heavily armored, some wielding rifles and others SAW caliber weapons. Steel armor covered their legs, arms and chest with heavy padding on all the joints. All of them had some sort of orange shoulder cape and oddly enough, orange bandannas, some of which seemed to have symbols or markings on them.

"Barricade!" One of the soldiers, a woman, ordered as she motioned at them.

With a shock, Soran realized she was wielding a plasma rifle. How had she…? He was forced to back into cover as a few of the heavy gunners laid down suppressive fire on the entrance.

"They're coming in from the right!" Roman yelled as the squad tried returning fire. Soran looked to the right to see a trio of soldiers approaching. A few more followed behind them, taking cover behind cars and shacks. The leader of the trio slammed a large metal pole down and a second later it shot out metal sheets to the side, effectively creating new cover.

"Who are these guys?" Rob shouted as he fired a sustained beam at a soldier hiding in a shack. A scream indicated it was a hit. Roman fired a sustained beam at the shining new cover, but the laser curved upward as if reflected. Soran cursed, these soldiers had clearly come prepared. How could they possibly have known about XCOM, let alone developed specialized tech to use against them?

"Ask that later!" Creed snarled, leaning on the opposite side of the entrance as Soran. "Soran and I will hold down here. Take care of the flankers!"

"Yes, sir!" Roman acknowledged and he began shooting at the trio hiding behind the makeshift cover.

"The leader's got a plasma rifle," Soran told Creed urgently as he peeked in to see the other soldiers had also set up makeshift cover.

"I saw," Creed confirmed. "And those metal shields are resistant to lasers. We'll figure that out later. Twin sustained beams, that should cut through them."

"On three?" Soran asked, readying his weapon.

Creed nodded and on three Soran took aim at the far left soldier and began firing a sustained beam and quickly moved right, Creed followed suit. The first soldier was caught off guard and the beam decapitated him, but the remaining soldiers got wise and ducked under the beams.

Soran scowled. Creed had gotten one as well, but getting two out of ten was not good. Under a hail of bullets, he quickly reloaded a new power cell into his rifle. He could hear the bullets clanking into the wall he was taking cover behind. Suddenly, he felt a lot less safe. He snuck a glance inside and saw the remaining soldiers advancing. That woman was clearly in charge, going off how she was clearly directing and ordering the rest of them.

"Status on the flankers?" Creed called over to Roman.

"Almost done!" He called back from behind a rotten shack. "Two dead-" He was cut off as two sniper shots rang out and he stumbled back. Soran saw his helmet now bore two black marks, and cracks ran along the visor. The remaining soldiers took advantage of his weakened state and began focusing all their fire on him.

Samuel also took advantage and targeted the standing troopers with his autolaser. The red bolts tore one almost in half and forced the others to fall into cover. It did little to stop the sniper fire, which again fired off two shots.

Barely conscious, Roman pushed himself behind a rusted car and clutched his battered helmet. Soran looked back into the warehouse to see one of the soldiers readying another rocket. Hissing, he raised his rifle and shot a laser beam directly into her forehead and the soldier fell back. The woman made eye contact with him as her comrade fell.

The bandanna obscured her face, but her eyes were filled with fury and glee. Despite her short stature, he couldn't help but be a little unnerved. He could swear she was smiled as she raised her plasma rifle and fired it.

"Shit!" Creed cursed as Soran saw him looking to his left. Heart sinking, he saw more soldiers approaching them. "They're boxing us in!"

"We can't stay!" Samuel called furiously. "We're too exposed here!"

Not exposed, trapped. Soran amended mentally, though he completely agreed.

"Fall back!" Creed ordered. "Soran! Grenade!" Soran nodded and waited for a lull in the storm of bullet fire and took aim directly at the woman then tossed the grenade. It was a perfect throw that landed just by her feet. There was no way she could escape. The soldiers around her dived to the sides but she didn't bother.

In one smooth motion she reached down, scoped the live grenade in her hand and tossed it behind her without looking. All within two seconds and the grenade exploded behind her another second later. "Not bad!" She called out sounding oddly excited, which he assumed was directed at him

"I'm suppressing these ones here!" Samuel called out. "This way!"

Soran and Creed dashed past him and took positions behind a rusted truck and also began suppressing to give the rest of them a chance to fall back. Some bullets thudded into his back, but the armor absorbed them. For now, anyway.

"Rob, got you covered!" Soran called out as Rob was still shooting from his position inside a shack.

"Understood," he called back. "Moving!" He jumped out and began running until a plasma bolt clipped him and he spun into the street. Two more plasma bolts followed and also hit their target. The woman marched around the corner, flanked by several more of the soldiers.

"We're down two," Soran told Creed. "We can't hold them off forever."

"No," Creed reloaded his rifle and managed to shoot two more. "We can't. Big Sky, we need an evac now!"

"Understood, coming in."

Roman was still disoriented, but was doing his best to shoot at the soldiers. That sniper, or snipers, really wanted their kill as more sniper fire rained down around him, fortunately not hitting him anymore. They were managing to keep these soldiers from advancing, but they were simply outnumbered and were outplayed from the start.

Samuel managed to score a couple more kills as his autolaser tore through the flimsy cover of the shacks some of the soldiers had hidden behind. A roar above his head made him look up and he saw the skyranger flying over.

It pulled a one-eighty turn and angled itself at the ground. "Suppressing," Big Sky said calmly as ballistic fire shot out of the skyranger at the general area of the soldiers. "Move to the evac point!"

"Go! Go!" Creed shouted and motioned them towards the area under the skyranger. "Roman, you good?!"

"Yes, Overseer!" Roman shouted and they all began running, turning occasionally to fire a wild shot. Their armor was able to take a few rounds, but anything sustained would eventually get through.

"Landing now," Big Sky told them and the skyranger slowly lowered to the ground, ramp already opening. Almost there…

"Ah!" Soran glanced back to see Roman collapse to the ground, his lower left leg splattered in blood. Soran began rushing towards him as the skyranger landed. "No! Go!" Roman screamed holding up his hand frantically as the soldiers bore down on them. Soran hesitated, not sure what to do.

"Go!" Roman shouted again as they got closer. "They'll just kill both of us!"

He was right. Plasma and bullets filled the air around him and there wasn't any time. "I'm sorry," he told him and dashed to the skyranger. Roman pushed himself up to rest on his good knee and began firing at the approaching soldiers.

They simply took cover, rendering his shooting useless, but it did force them to stop their advance, giving the rest of them time to board the skyranger. Two more sniper shots rang out and Roman collapsed to the ground. Blood dripped from the shattered helmet indicating the snipers had gotten their wish and their kill.

As the skyranger closed up as they sped away, Soran couldn't help but feel like that was the better way. At least he'd forced them to kill him and wasn't captured.

In mournful and shocked silence, they flew back to the Citadel, trying to figure out what had happened.

After-Action Report

Operation: Playful Cocoon

Bull 1 (Squad Overseer): Specialist Anius Creed

Status: Active

Kills: 3

Bull 2: Specialist Roman Mendoza

Status: Deceased

Kills: 4

Bull 3: Specialist Rob Gorman

Status: Deceased

Kills: 3

Bull 4: Specialist Vickie Webb

Status: Deceased

Kills: 0

Bull 5: Specialist Soran Kakusa

Status: Active

Kills: 3

Bull 6: Specialist Samuel Roche

Status: Active

Kills: 4

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot: Jason Olgard – Call sign: "Big Sky"

Artifacts Recovered:

None: Mission failed.