XCOM: The Advent Directive

by Xabiar

Australia has been annexed, the United Nations is in chaos, the world is under siege and the Ethereals have taken the field. Facing the full might of the Ethereal Collective, the Commander must rally XCOM, the newly formed ADVENT, and several other allies and rivals to unite the divided nations by any means necessary, for failure now will mean the fall of humanity once and for all.

29. Siege: North America

Siege: North America

---

Washington D.C. – United States of America

11/21/2016 – 9:47 P.M.

Night had fallen some time ago, and the Battlemaster ducked into one of the many alleys in the city to pause and think.

The situation here was not ideal.

Treduant was dead, and Washington D.C. was coming apart, with fires spreading throughout the city and lighting up the night. The primary objective had, albeit with some difficulties, been accomplished. The issue was he was more or less stranded deep in enemy territory, and ADVENT was going to be closing on him with every soldier in the area.

Treduant's last order had been tactically brilliant, and had placed him in what could be considered a dangerous situation.

The Spectres, which had been his largest advantage, were all dead; Fectorian's soldiers were either damaged, or by this point, likely destroyed by the surviving ADVENT soldiers. Senorium was likely alive, but he'd seen no psionic manifestations or any indication he was in the area. While the Battlemaster didn't believe he would just run, he was aware that the Warlock probably wouldn't stay in the same place, nor did he have the energy to maintain an attack for hours.

By now ADVENT likely knew what was happening, and while it was risky to stay around the same general area, it was arguably more risky to just leave the city entirely.

He was not small. Stealth and subtlety were not his skills, and with his size, it was impossible. It was not a matter of if he would be found, but when. ADVENT was not going to negotiate or try anything other than killing him once and for all, and he suspected that they wouldn't restrain themselves in the tools they used.

If he was caught far enough out, there was little stopping a nuclear strike from hitting his position and not only would he be ignorant of it being launched at all, he had no means of escape; no means to contact the Collective, and as an unfortunate result, staying near D.C was the safest place to be.

However, it would not take the Collective long to figure out where he was. The problem was going to be breaching what would soon be the heaviest concentration of ADVENT and XCOM forces in the country. At this point in time, he was vulnerable. That of course did not mean he was in danger, but he recognized that this was perhaps the best chance ADVENT would have to kill him.

He looked down at the red-stained sword. It had been decades since he'd been in a sustained fight. Bodily fluids wouldn't affect the metal, though it was a different sight than what he had become accustomed to. But he did not train for mere show. He could fight for days at full strength, and he would receive help long before he began to tire.

He walked back out onto the street and continued forward, stepping around, between, and over the abandoned cars as the cracking fires burned around him. The city was eerily silent, and the silhouettes of the hundreds of corpses on the ground did little to change the feeling. All the civilians had fled some time ago, although the Battlemaster saw flickering shadows every so often.

Likely homeless Humans, not a concern for him. There might be some others staying in their homes, but they were not a danger to him.

The EMP had at least worked against ADVENT. Every soldier in the blast would have no communications, and their weapons would be incapable of firing. At least their gauss weapons; the Battlemaster had already encountered some soldiers who had reverted to pre-invasion ballistic weapons that, while laughably ineffective, did seem to still work.

But largely he had been left alone; left alone to wander the city as it burned around him. It was a curious sensation to see the aftermath of the conflict around him. Very rarely did he stay after a battle, leaving the cleanup and organization to his subordinates, but winding around now reminded him of the latter parts of the Synthesized War, when the core Imperial worlds had been attacked.

The first Siege of Etharia Prime reminded him of this. It had been one of the first worlds colonized by the Empire, and had eventually turned into one of its most culturally and historically important planets. It had been home to some of the most advanced labs, experimental architecture and archives supposedly dating back to the formation of the Empire.

Having such an important planet slowly be destroyed had almost been worse to witness than it simply being destroyed at once. There had been no way to retreat, and the rest of the fleets had been caught out of position, and at the time he'd known it would be days before they would get reinforcements, leaving him with only a few soldiers of the Division of Battlemasters, several of the Guardians, and several thousand civilians to work with.

Entire sections of the planet had to be sacrificed; entire records of Imperial history had been simply erased; homes, relics, and more were destroyed by the indiscriminate horde. The cities retained were consistently under siege, with it slowly crumbling around them as they desperately tried to hold the lines.

By the end, they had saved a world that was little more than rubble.

It had taught him a lesson about the uselessness of sentimentality. Strategically, the world had held little value to the Empire, and was simply considered such because of the emotional value assigned to it. And that had brought them nothing but thousands of dead Ethereals.

If he'd had to do it again, he would have abandoned the planet and had a Reaper destroy it, killing the dozen or so Director Flagships on it. At least the victory would be worth something, as they had barely managed to destroy half that number before help had arrived.

He did wonder what lesson the Humans would take from this. Looking up at the shattered Lincoln Memorial, with the Capitol Building collapsing in fire opposite it, he imagined the Humans would be furious. But he understood the effective psychological distress this would cause, because it had happened once before.

Oddly enough though, as he turned to walk down by the reflecting pool that led to the Washington Monument in the center, he did feel some regret. While this was a war, attacking symbols and monuments of history could be seen as dishonorable. Something that the Zar'Chon or Quisilia would have probably come up with, now that he thought about it.

He found himself unknowingly walking down a pre-determined path, one with a wall that had been directly targeted with missiles. There were some corpses on the path as well, which seemed to be leading to a circle ahead with some toppled flagpoles. Ironically, the United States flag was still flying below.

He looked at what the missiles had hit and noticed that the wall had originally seemed to be a large mural of sorts. Soot and cracks covered what was still left, but he could see what was likely originally supposed to be there. To the right there was a triangular field that held statues, and though most were melted, warped, and had clearly sustained some damage, their original forms were still recognizable.

The Humans depicted were equipped differently than modern ones were. The statues held rifles, which while clearly aged, were recognizable as guns. However the statues were also depicted as wearing some kind of poncho-jackets. Odd clothing, and it seemed more of a hindrance than anything else. There weren't any Human females either, which seemed strange to him. Perhaps they had not been as involved in the past.

Times had clearly changed if that was the case.

A memorial of some kind, most likely. As he approached the center he saw the dust of the Spectres and multiple dead ADVENT soldiers around it. There was also some writing which likely explained what the purpose of this was. It didn't appear to have been completely destroyed, so he spent a few moments reading it.

A memorial to something that was called the Korean War. One that, from the brief history written, did not appear to have gone well for anyone. With how many had died, he was surprised he hadn't seen it covered as much in his rather brief search of Human history. There had only been a few conflicts that had seemed relevant at the time, namely the World Wars and the more recent War on Terror, since those were most equivalent to the tactics he would be facing.

In truth, the history itself was not as important as learning their military specifications and modern tactics. He had assumed that, while the wars in the past would certainly shape the future to an extent, modern warfare would take cursory inspiration at best. It would be different; evolve and improve. With how the current war had gone, and with the Humans clearly adapting tactics used in older wars, that was perhaps a mistake.

He shook his head at nothing. When planning the attack, the only place he had thought to really avoid was the Arlington Cemetery, as that was simply not an acceptable place for combat. It was disrespectful and an unnecessary target. However, he could have made the same justification for monuments like these. Regardless of their irrelevance to this war, he could respect those who fought and died in battle; to ignore that was disrespectful regardless of species.

He sighed to himself and turned to walk back to the Reflecting Pool, almost wanting to be attacked as it would be less distracting than thinking. It appeared he had likely made something of a mistake, not in the actual target, but by setting few restrictions on the targets. Military targets were acceptable, and his original mindset had been that anything aside from civilians was a fair target.

But it did raise the question of if it was necessary. In the end, Humanity would be conquered; in which case, was it really needed to have their relics and history attacked as well? If they were an actual threat, this would not be a debate, as the situation had changed, but this was far from a full war. The Humans were clever; far more so than he had initially given them credit for, but they would not win a war, that was simply impossible.

The Humans should be beaten militarily, and only that. This war did not need to be won through trickery or terror; that was not the right way it should be conducted, and something he had put to the side when attacking D.C. The message needed to be sent, but it could have been done just as effectively had he simply targeted the Pentagon, White House, and other military targets. Making the city itself a target had perhaps been a mistake.

The recent conflicts with the Humans had made him realize that the Collective Military itself was deeply flawed. While the Humans were not holding back, and advancing at a steady rate, the Collective had been stagnant for entire decades, not just the military. All of them were preparing to fight the same war again and had not been learning anything about how to improve.

There had been no drive. No reason to innovate. Advance.

If this was what a primitive, and the Battlemaster was no longer sure that word applied to Humans anymore, species could do against them, then what chance did they have against a more advanced species, much less the Synthesized?

Fectorian, Revelean; the Imperator had allowed both of them to work on their projects, but never allowed them to truly affect what was supposedly the organization his species was to lead. Perhaps Aegis was more justified in making a statement against the Imperator than he had originally assumed. While a traitor, perhaps there were more reasons than what the Imperator had said to him.

For an organization called the Ethereal Collective, he was wondering why he was the only one to actually have a public presence.

If they were supposed to be the leaders of such a Collective, why weren't they?

Was that one reason why they were struggling to such an extent?

The Battlemaster stopped walking, wondering why exactly he was thinking about this now. He was not anywhere close to being out of danger, and this was something that required a safer environment to really consider the implications.

A battlefield was not that place.

Thumping in the distance reached his ears, signaling the sound of helicopters arriving in the distance. They were arriving.

He flourished the blade in his hand, and marched forward to fight ADVENT's reinforcements.

---

The Citadel, Situation Room – United States of America

11/21/2016 – 11:51 P.M.

"I have every nearby Garrison closing on D.C. now," Laura updated the hologram of Saudia, as well as those of Weekes and Patricia. "The Battlemaster will not be able to get far before we locate him. He also won't be able to call for reinforcements, and can't be picked up without us noticing."

Saudia looked understandably skeptical. When the nuke launched by Treduant had gone off, no one had initially known what to make of it. However, some of the communications equipment was EMP hardened and they had been able to piece together at least some of the situation. It appeared that the nanoweapon the Battlemaster had brought had been destroyed, and Fectorian's soldiers had been damaged as well.

With that said, the city itself had reportedly sustained substantial damage and museums, monuments, and government buildings had been targeted. Civilians hadn't, which was perhaps the only good news to come out of the situation.

Either way, this was not what anyone would consider 'good'.

"Are you sure about that?" Saudia demanded. "Because I'm going to have to give an update, and I can't exactly cover up the fact that there was a nuclear weapon detonated above D.C. As it is this is hard to portray as a positive, especially as Treduant is dead."

"Then don't," The Commander interrupted flatly, raising a palm. "This was not just a military target, this was a psychological one. The only intent here was to pacify us and scare us into submission. Don't hide what happened. Show it." Laura nodded beside him as he continued. "This was an unprovoked attack on not just our government, but on the history and culture of America itself. We still don't know what we lost, and we haven't even mentioned the people who have been killed. Use it to make people angry. This was a direct statement that there are no places that are safe from attack. Perhaps we should respond directly in kind."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Weekes demanded, his helmet on as he was still on the front lines. "It's not like we can hit their own bases, otherwise I agree. We can't let this go unanswered, and our offensives are already stalling. At best this is going to turn into a sustained siege."

"Two options that I can see," the Commander said. "There are areas that the Collective controls on Earth, primarily Australia and Japan. We detonate nukes over those countries and disrupt them at the very least. If we want to send a more permanent message, we hit them with nukes directly."

"No," Saudia shook her head, scowling. "I already don't like that we are using nuclear weapons in the atmosphere. Using them on land is not something I will authorize."

"Maybe not on land," Laura interjected. "But the Commander has a point. I am not going to let this go unanswered. The aliens have escalated this conflict, and if they feel safe attacking our capital cities, than we need to respond in kind. Disrupting their hold on Earth will send that message, even if it won't permanently destroy them."

"If you do that, it needs to be done now," Patricia added. "This will only work a few times before they figure out countermeasures. I doubt many aliens even knew about the EMP aspect of nukes. Now they will. Use it before they adapt."

"It will take them time, even if they do," Laura commented. "They can't exactly overhaul their entire army overnight."

"I'm in agreement with both commanders," Weekes said. "Let's exclude the attack on D.C. At least some of us are Americans, and we're not exactly rational about it. The fact is that D.C. is…was a valid military target. The civilians weren't harmed. I doubt the Battlemaster cared about anything beyond expressing how much he disliked us having the gall to attack his bases." He finished that sentence with a snort.

His gaze swept around. "With that said, it doesn't fucking matter where he attacked. That isn't an escalation in my opinion. What is an escalation are those nanoweapons. Nanoweapons that are self-replicating. If we aren't justified in responding appropriately to that, then whoever holds that opinion can go straight to hell. Black out Japan and Australia. Chancellor-"

"I can guess what you're going to say," Saudia interrupted, looking over at him. "And yes, research into nanotech is going to be accelerated. We don't exactly have a choice now. Commander, does XCOM have anything to share on that front?"

"We've been conducting research," the Commander said. "It is a relatively new area, but we will share what we have learned to help you. But at the moment, we need to focus more on defending against nanotech than weapons of our own. Those will come later."

"Agreed," Laura nodded. "Chancellor, with your approval I will prepare our nuclear subs to launch EMP nuclear strikes over the discussed locations. After it has of course been approved by the appropriate divisions."

Saudia was silent for a few moments. "Granted," she said. "I will have Minister Kyong inform China of the impending strike over Japan so they don't panic when they detect a nuclear launch."

"Good idea," the Commander said. "I'd add every nearby foreign nation to that list. No reason for everyone to suddenly panic."

"If I may offer a suggestion," Weekes interjected, raising a hand. "We don't need to use our nuclear subs. India has land-based ICBM capabilities, correct? Why expose our nuclear subs unnecessarily?"

The Commander exchanged a glance with Laura. "Can India hit Australia? Japan is obviously in range."

Laura pursed her lips, briefly looking down at her tablet and pressing buttons on it. "Yes," she finally said. "India has the capability to reach Australia. In fact, North Korea's nuclear arsenal would be best deployed over Japan. India will target Australia."

"It's settled then," Saudia looked between Weekes and Laura. "However, keep several nuclear subs on standby if there are issues."

"Certainly," Laura nodded, setting her lips in a thin line. "But now we need to focus on how to proceed with Sherman." A holographic map of North America appeared. "We have penetrated Collective territory, but they are holding steady at LA and Sacramento. Hawaii will soon be taken by us, but I don't know if it's a good idea to hold onto that if they aren't driven off completely."

"We're not giving it up now," Weekes practically growled. "And what exactly is the Collective going to do? Send another fleet to take it back?"

"I doubt it's an actual concern for them," the Commander interrupted. "The bigger issues are that Canada is coming under attack, as is Mexico."

"Alaska is heating up first," Laura corrected, pointing at the map. "Anchorage is already coming under attack. There are multiple cities that are also being struck. There aren't enough soldiers to protect them all. Fairbanks is the only location aside from Anchorage with Gateway support. I've diverted several Garrisons who helped in California to there."

"How long can they hold?" Saudia asked.

"Anchorage?" Laura paused. "Based on the size of the alien force, they can hold out for a few days, minimum. Fairbanks…that depends on how badly the aliens want it. Even a medium-sized force will probably take it. They aren't prepared."

"How are Vancouver and Guadalajara holding?" Saudia asked.

"Surprisingly well so far," Laura updated. "The good news is that the aliens don't seem to know how to handle trench warfare. Even with the defenses half-finished at best, they are holding out extremely well. The bad news is that they're expanding to strike the less-defended areas. Seattle has just come under attack. Again."

The sigh that went around the room was almost palpable. At this point there wasn't much left of Seattle except empty buildings and damaged skyscrapers. There hadn't been time to even dig the trenches fully yet, much less build Flak Towers. "Portland should prepare for another attack," the Commander suggested, looking at the map. "It might be best to adapt our strategy in Seattle."

"How?" Saudia asked.

The Commander looked to Weekes. "You mentioned one the SFD chiefs specialized in inter-city guerilla warfare tactics, right?"

Weekes snorted. "By 'one of the SFD Chiefs" you mean Chief Ranta, yes?"

"Yes," the Commander nodded. The Finnish Chief of Hussar Operations Niklas Ranta, formerly a sniper of the Utti Jaeger Regiment, and supposedly one of the best living snipers in the world. These days he had apparently had a more administrative and tactical role, which, combined with his skills, was likely why he'd been chosen to lead the Hussars.

He'd also apparently made himself specialize in urban guerilla tactics, and was a proponent of using more of them in the war, most of which had been temporarily denied. Now though, it was as good a time as any to see how useful they would be in this war. "Commander Christiaens, looking at the numbers, Seattle will not hold out against another sustained assault. Instead of wasting soldiers, we should at least attempt to experiment in weakening the Collective in other ways. Weekes, is he as good as he says?"

"Absolutely," Weekes nodded. "Give him what he needs, and he'll make Seattle hell for the aliens. Although he'll likely destroy a lot of the city with it. But he'll make sure there are dead aliens."

"My only concern is that this may be out of his jurisdiction," Laura warned. "We don't have a guerilla division-"

"Then clear it with Chief Operator Schalit," Weekes interrupted. "We're the Special Forces Division for a reason. Asymmetrical warfare is what we do. I'm not going to let 'jurisdiction' of all things be a problem."

"Your point is made, Chief," Saudia interjected. "Laura, make sure Chief Ranta actually can do what we need before giving him resources. Otherwise, I'm in agreement. If we can't hold Seattle, we should ensure the aliens die by the thousands to take it."

"Patricia," the Commander looked over to her. "Anything you want to add?"

"No," Patricia shook her head. "Apologies, I'm distracted. The Overmind is directly supporting the aliens, and from what I've been able to tell, on every battlefield. I've been trying to figure out some way to subvert it, but it's rendering any kind of offensive telepathy difficult."

"Little we can do about that," the Commander said grimly. "Let us hope he doesn't turn his abilities against us."

"In some good news, South Korea is holding steady," Laura updated, giving a brief smile at that as she turned the map to the respective country. "I don't know what the aliens were thinking here. They were clearly not expecting this level of defense, or even how to get through them. And they apparently have some kind of homicidal alien that's shooting at, and I quote, "Whoever the fuck he wants"."

"Funny." The Commander honestly wasn't as concerned with Korea. There were enough defenses there to possibly hold out for half a year against a Battlemaster-level threat, much less the somewhat half-hearted attempt they'd seen so far. "How close are the Garrisons to D.C.?"

"Helicopters are already there," Laura said. "The main army won't be far behind. An hour or less."

The Commander nodded, wondering if that would even be enough. Still, he was trapped behind enemy lines without a way to escape. Contacting Aegis was something that wasn't exactly…easy to do here, but if there was anyone who might have an idea on how best to capture him, it would be their resident Ethereal.

"Excuse me for a moment," the Commander said, stepping back. "Call from the Praesidium."

Laura simply nodded and he stepped out into the hallway and after ensuring the call would be secured, put a call towards the Praesidium. "Commander?" Jackson asked. "What do you need?"

"Aegis," the Commander answered. "I need to speak to him. Concerning the Battlemaster. I assume you've been following the developments?"

A pause. "Yes. We're lucky Shen had the foresight to harden the more delicate systems of Aegis armor from EMP attacks. Operatives Nira and Tendai retreated, and are alive. They're trying to locate the Battlemaster and provide location data."

Some good news there. He wasn't surprised he hadn't been updated yet about their status, as this had happened such a short time ago. "We held Shinobi Cho back, correct? What is the status of Roaring Sky?"

Another pause. "Crashed. The skyranger was hit by the blast and Roaring Sky had to punch out. MEC Pilot Cho is alive though, and the Shinobi is largely functional, although all the healing nanites were disabled. She is currently protecting Roaring Sky, and is outside D.C at the moment. Should I order her to pursue the Battlemaster?"

The Commander shook his head. "Negative. Have her get Roaring Sky to safety and regroup with Nira and Tendai, as well as the ADVENT forces. Given how easily the Battlemaster took Knight Team apart, it would be suicide to attack."

"Agreed," she said. "I've got Aegis now."

"Commander," the voice of the Ethereal greeted. "I have been appraised of the situation. I would advise your remaining soldiers approach the Battlemaster peacefully. He can be reasoned with, if you are willing to accept his surrender."

The Commander gave a humorless chuckle. "How serious are you now, Aegis? Do you really think he would surrender? And that we would do anything except execute him?"

"You of all people should understand the tactical usage of similar tactics, and have performed worse than the Battlemaster ever has," Aegis answered flatly. "So yes, I expect you would. XCOM is not ADVENT. The Battlemaster is an enemy combatant, and if captured, he would be treated well and not turned over to ADVENT who would desire only to execute him."

Aegis didn't hold back. Fair enough. "And what is the problem with that?" The Commander asked. "If we win this war, I don't see him surviving. I also don't expect him to surrender."

"If he did," Aegis said slowly. "Would XCOM hold him as a prisoner of war, one treated well, until the war was decided one way or another and ultimately not turned over to ADVENT? You would also not be bound to inform them of his capture, if you wish to avoid the issue altogether."

"What is your plan, Aegis?" The Commander demanded.

"Let me speak to him," Aegis said. "We were friends. I know him better than you. I know that he can be convinced to surrender if he knows escape is impossible. Let me at least attempt this, as there might not be another opportunity. If I succeed, we retain a valuable asset in the coming war, and increase your chances of victory significantly. If I fail, ADVENT still has a chance to kill him."

The Commander considered that for a moment. "Fine. Once my soldiers see an opportunity, they will put you in contact with him. However, if the Battlemaster just kills them, their deaths will be on you. And I won't forget it if it happens. Do you understand?"

"If they approach peacefully, the Battlemaster will not attack," Aegis assured him. "But they must follow my instructions. The Battlemaster will not be taking chances now."

"Central, did you get that?" The Commander asked Jackson.

"Yes, Commander," Jackson confirmed. "I'll patch Aegis into their comms as soon as possible and give their orders. For the record Aegis, I'm not expecting this to work."

"Truthfully, neither am I," Aegis admitted. "But I will at least make the effort. He deserves that much. He is ultimately not your enemy here. He is only following the directive of the Imperator."

"Directive or not, he's still the enemy," the Commander grunted. "But good luck, Aegis. Hopefully he'll listen to you. Commander out." He tapped his headset and ended the call, before turning to head back to the Situation Room.

Depending on how things went, this day could potentially get a lot more interesting.

---

Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit

11/22/2016 – 2:11 A.M.

This entire operation was not exactly going, as Ravarian would put it, well.

Not just because everyone seemed to be forgetting that he wasn't an actual military leader. He was the Zar'Chon, but no one actually bothered to think if the head of the Collective's Intelligence organization was actually qualified to make military decisions. He was certainly knowledgeable on the subject, and could offer certain insights from the perspective of an intelligence operative.

But he wasn't the Battlemaster, nor from the Runianarch, Lurainian, or Federation Military for that matter. He was, unfortunately, the highest ranking Collective officer in the Solar System, and thus, he was having to make decisions outside his comfort zone.

And as such was the immediate target for being yelled at by, admittedly, justifiably furious commanders.

"What do you mean 'you can't do anything'?" Runi'callista'vitiary, the Collective Commander in charge of the Korea invasion demanded. "I am losing soldiers to some crazed traitor! Where is the Battlemaster?!"

"The Battlemaster is currently fighting," Ravarian answered calmly, knowing there was little he could do to lessen the anger of the Borelian. And technically, it wasn't a lie. He was very sure the Battlemaster was in combat. "I've attempted to pull the Hunter back, but he…ah…isn't responding."

"You're Zararch," Callista growled, stepping forward. If she hadn't been a hologram, Ravarian might have been concerned for his own safety. "If you can't order him back, I want your snipers to kill him."

From what little Ravarian knew of the Hunter, that was probably not going to work. "Do you have a location? Snipers aren't good without targets."

"No, I don't," Callista snapped. "So I'm stuck with a trigger happy traitor sniper? Is that what you're saying?"

Ravarian paused briefly. "Unfortunately, yes. I'm overseeing and providing logistical support to a half-dozen major operations at this time. Every Ethereal I know is indisposed. I'm afraid I can't help you now, I'm sorry."

Callista raised one finger at him. "I'm keeping a list of every soldier that's died because of your incompetence. And anyone else who put this traitor on this mission. If this problem isn't solved soon, I will ensure that the Aui'Vitakar hear the full extent of your failure. And don't even think of trying to cover this up, as I know you are."

The hologram was abruptly shut off.

This was a problem.

He was honestly surprised the Hunter had actually been this much of an issue. He had easily been identified as insubordinate, but Ravarian would have never guessed him to be a traitor. Now he was directly threatening the peace on Vitakar. He sighed, activating the holodisplay in his hand, and quickly navigated to the list of Collective commanders.

This was a problem for the Battlemaster to solve, once he was recovered. Callista would calm down when he returned. But for now, a communications restriction was needed. For the remainder of this operation, she would not be able to communicate outside the Solar System, despite her threats. As much as Borelians were fearless, they were not always the most intelligent, especially in fits of anger.

However, her anger was justified so she wouldn't be removed for now. It would be ironic, but helpful if she was in the Hunter's sights at some point.

Actually no it wouldn't. It would just be further evidence of the need to execute the Hunter, which there frankly didn't need to be more of.

He did not like being so visible in the Collective. Quisilia was off in Australia, the Battlemaster was fighting somewhere in D.C. while they were still trying to determine his location, and both Guardians had left for unknown reasons. At least the Second Guardian had said she was going to assist in the operations in Canada. The First Guardian had just disappeared.

Typical.

Typical, frustrating, and annoying Ethereals who couldn't be bothered to put a cohesive plan together. Oh no, each of them had to do their own thing and not tell anyone else about it, because each Ethereal was always on a top secret mission and didn't have time to inform the mere Zar'Chon about where they'd be and what they'd be doing. No, that information was certainly useless to him.

Ethereals may be immortal gods wielding psionic energies to destroy entire armies, but they were exceptionally bad leaders. The only ones who seemed to have any sort of idea how to work with aliens were Quisilia and the Battlemaster. The others obviously could care less.

It was part of the reason he hadn't contacted Caelior about possible assistance. There was a greater possibility that he'd get his neck snapped than the young, arrogant alien actually listening to what he had to say. He could imagine how the conversation would go:

"Elder Caelior, if it would be possible, would you lend your assistance in an operation to extract the Battlemaster-"

"What? Has your incompetence put him in danger? I will not work with such a failure as you!"

And in a fit of juvenile rage, Caelior snapped the Zar'Chon's neck.

Ravarian grimaced, feeling an overwhelming sense of frustration. The Sargon of all things was more helpful than any Ethereal. More polite too, for that matter. He was quite sure Quisilia would be reading his mind after this, and frankly, he didn't care right now. If one thing had become apparent over this conflict, it was that most of the Ethereals, the Battlemaster and Quisilia excluded, had no idea how to run the Collective they supposedly led, much less interact with aliens they obviously saw as lesser.

It turned out that war revealed the nature of beings much better than words and propaganda ever could.

He doubted Quisilia would execute him. Maybe thinking this had crossed a line though. But was it really a crime to accuse Ethereals of (in his mind) incompetence if it was true?

While the Battlemaster had his faults, he was actually someone he could respect. Quisilia too. Not the absent Imperator or any other arrogant Ethereal. No, this was not something he was going to tolerate any longer. Once this conflict was resolved, he was going to make major revisions to the Zararch and how they interacted with the Collective.

If the Ethereals didn't like it, they could kill him, but he was going to reexamine certain rules and guidelines given by the Ethereals and determine their merit. If they had a problem with it, they could speak to him in person.

He felt something rub up against his leg, and unconsciously bent down and picked up Cali'Zar'Chon, who had grown quite a bit over the past few months. It was nice to hold it while considering various tactics on holodisplays; a surprisingly good stress relief. A few of the analysts had given him some odd looks when he'd brought it out the first time, but everyone had gotten used to it.

Some of them had seemingly given jealous looks too. Over a cat of all things.

Maybe he should bring in several cats to wander around and provide moral support to his staff. The little furballs did have their uses, it turned out. Apparently dogs had a similar effect. Maybe he could run a secondary experiment on which one was better.

Something for later when he wasn't as stressed.

"Zar'Chon," Disciple-7 said into his earpiece. "We believe we have intercepted communications displaying the location of the Battlemaster. I am beginning to put together an extraction team."

A competent subordinate that communicated things. Amazing. "Excellent," he said, moving to walk back to the main hub. "I'm on my way down to assist."

---

The Island of Hawai'i - Hawaii

Operation: Kamehameha – Day 2

11/22/2016 – 8:32 A.M.

Sleep was somewhat fleeting for Sierra, but now that several of the major islands, including Hawai'i were taken, they had gotten a little bit of downtime while the rest of ADVENT kept the pressure on the alien strongholds. So she'd gotten some food and a few hours of sleep, and right now was doing some socialization with several ADVENT soldiers before heading back out to battle.

"Did you see anything through that Gateway?" Peter Hale, one of the regular soldiers asked. He was about the same age as her, if a bit more chipper than she was. He'd said he was originally from California, which clearly gave him a more personal stake in what was happening.

"Nope, just purple," Sierra answered, shaking her head and pushing around her morning rations before finally deciding to just eat it. ADVENT rations were definitely not as good as what XCOM had. At least for now she'd have to get used to more bland military food. At least it wasn't bad.

None of them were wearing armor, obviously, the ADVENT soldiers were wearing their standard fatigues, and she and the other Archangel pilots had a more sleek undersuit as even normal clothing would be too bulky. There were some more regular clothes, but considering they would be leaving in…she glanced over to the clock…roughly a half-hour, she hadn't thought it was worth it.

The price of that was that the suit was…rather tight and not exactly what Sierra would consider modest. It had been somewhat amusing to see some of guys being very unsubtle in checking her, and Anna for that matter, out, while the others kind of just tried to look everywhere but at her. However, being an Archangel came with certain expectations, and people kept their distance.

"So how are the suits piloted?" Dianne, a soldier from Florida asked, sipping from her plastic cup. "You just angle your body? You're not handling levers I assume?"

"Not quite," Sierra explained, setting down her food briefly and standing. "Yes, angles help and direct us. But how those are controlled is through a…kind of neural implant." She reached back and pushed her hair off her neck and turned slightly to give them a look at the implant in it. "Don't ask me how it works, but from my understanding it reads certain brain patterns associated with actions. Essentially this allows us to control propulsion, weapons, speed, all with our minds."

"Wait…" Dianne frowned. "You're plugged into the suit?"

She exchanged a glanced with Anna. "Yes…" Anna said after a pause. "I think that's accurate."

Some of the soldiers looked visibly uncomfortable. "Just through that one implant?" A soldier she didn't recognize asked. "Or are there others?"

"A couple," Sierra recalled. "There are two that line the spine, and two more just above the joints of the arms and legs. Improves speed so I'm told. It doesn't hurt either, if you're curious."

"These definitely were," Ted chimed in from the corner, a smirk on his face. The psion had largely kept out of the conversation, and she could tell he was still tired. He had the arms of his undersuit unzipped and was lightly spraying them with a Medkit as more of a preventative screen than to actually heal them.

Psionics really did take a major toll on their bodies. When he'd taken off the suit his arms had been literally ripped and it looked like an entire layer of skin was gone. How he'd still been walking around with not much more than a grimace was something she didn't know. She knew that Offensive Psions did have the Biomuscular Regen modification, but that seemed to function more as a way to ensure that the psion wasn't rendered useless after a few displays of power.

"Hey, don't scare them," Anna chided lightly. "They're still getting used to psions."

"Don't worry," Ted reassured them. "I can't read your mind, just pick up on certain emotions." He raised a hand. "I'm better at killing aliens."

"All of you seem to be," Peter noted. "Although since you're from XCOM…"

Sierra chuckled, thinking of the ironic fact that they were housing quite a few aliens themselves. "You have no idea."

"Are you all from America?" Another soldier asked, cocking her head their direction. "You don't have accents."

"Yep, born and raised in Florida," Sierra said.

Ted shot her a suspicious look. "I would not have guessed that."

Sierra rolled her eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, not everyone from the South has a so-called southern accent."

"Montana for me," Ted added. "Don't have anything to add beyond that. No psychic powers as a kid either."

"Anna?" Sierra prompted.

"I came with my family from Ukraine," Anna shrugged. "Lived in Vermont once we settled. Nothing more interesting beyond that."

Huh, she hadn't known that about her. Sierra had just assumed she'd grown up American from birth. Despite what Anna said, there was probably some story there, but that was for later when the aliens were gone. Her earpiece buzzed, indicating that they needed to get ready. "Nice chatting with you all," Sierra said, giving a little wave. "But duty calls. See you all out there."

"If you die, can I get your suit?" Someone called, to several scattered chuckles.

"No!" Sierra called back, then paused. "Actually, sure! But only if you record your face when the suit skewers you where the implants are supposed to be."

"Never mind then!"

Sierra smirked and followed the other Archangels out, getting her thoughts organized for the battle ahead.

---

Washington D.C. – United States of America

11/21/2016 – 10:29 P.M.

The helicopters wasted no time in opening fire on him.

The Battlemaster had chosen to make the first battle along the Reflecting Pool, as it was an open space that would provide plenty of maneuverability. Gauss machine guns spat slugs from the air as they attempted to circle around him, in a vain attempt to keep him in one single place. There were six in the air currently.

Too many.

The Battlemaster lifted one fist into the air and enveloped himself in a telekinetic field that stopped all the projectiles instantly. With his free hands he reached towards two helicopters and clenched his fists, crumpling the rotors and blades that allowed the machines to levitate. But all things had their weaknesses, machines included.

Soldiers were marching in the distance, and guns were already being fired at him from the ground. The air turned purple as he transitioned into a charge and dashed forward as the helicopters began falling to the ground. With a free hand, the Battlemaster reached towards one turning to let its gun fire on him, and telekinetically grasped it.

He directed the machine into a nearby one, and although it was clumsy and required a brief amount of effort, he was successful and the two machines connected. Teams of ADVENT soldiers were now taking positions, especially gunners who were unloading their gauss autorifles into him. He simply transitioned into a psionic dash and performed several quick zig-zags towards the line.

"Hold him!" One of the soldiers screamed, and the Battlemaster belatedly noticed that there were the distinctive ADVENT Priests in the reinforcements.

So this might be a pleasant initial challenge.

He then paused as he suddenly realized that there was quite literally an army heading towards him. He was on the latter end of the reflecting pool, and everywhere from the Washington monument backwards had entire squads of ADVENT soldiers, with healthy mixes of Gunners, Snipers, Rocketeers, and Priests.

MDUs also dotted the army, and several of the ADVENT soldiers had the small SHIV machines. There were also the Lancers, and many ADVENT Special Forces units leading the charge behind the initial sacrifice.

This was potentially a problem. It was one thing to fight soldiers, but now that psions were involved, and the army more diverse, it was more difficult. No holding back today.

The Priests were extending hands his way, and he felt the iron grip of telekinesis wrap around his legs and quickly threw a hand forward, blowing back the soldiers immediately in front of him and transitioning into a psionic charge. While not lethal, it disrupted the hold on him and he was free. One swipe slaughtered a swath of soldiers, while his free hands were clenched fists that similarly found targets.

The armor of ADVENT did not protect fully against the steel of his armor, and soldiers went flying or stumbling backwards when hit by him. The Battlemaster twisted one lower hand violently and all soldiers within his hastily constructed telekinetic field were twisted around. Some bones snapped, some were bent in two; all were disrupted.

The Battlemaster slashed down at a Priest and cleaved through her armor with relative ease, the force crumpling her body to the ground. Gauss fire became a melody to him as it flew around and bounced off his armor. One hand slammed to the ground, sending a telekinetic shockwave that unbalanced everyone around him.

He psionically dashed forward and spun in a complete circle within the blink of an eye killing all the ADVENT soldiers around him; the now-headless corpses collapsing to the ground. Without pausing he began cutting his way through the ADVENT soldiers as they desperately tried to contain him, but they had never faced the unrelenting strength that was a Battlemaster unleashed.

Armor was punctured by metal; skin and bone were crushed under a telekinetic grip; time was a commodity that was not allowed, as the Battlemaster moved too quickly, and targeted the vital soldiers in the army to remove possible threats. The Priests he killed barely had time to shout before their heads exploded, necks snapped, or they were thrown straight up into the air.

The soldiers within the range of his sword fared even worse. They were short enough to be like fighting children with how little they could withstand his strikes. His free hands picked up and threw, slammed, or mutilated them with ruthless abandon. The air around him became tainted with the smell of blood and discharged weapons.

The MDUs and machines assisting them were turned on their own with simple applications of telekinesis. The bipedal machines were compressed into balls of metal and thrown into more soldiers, while the little SHIVs were stomped underfoot. The iron skin of the Lancers did little good as they were drawn to his hand and slammed onto a knee or the hard concrete, leaving them as broken wrecks.

Yet it was exhilarating.

Two Priests attempted to coordinate in the chaos, one shooting streams of psionic energy at him, while another telekine attempted to hold him in place. The Battlemaster telekinetically raised the second psion, crushed him and tossed the broken corpse away, before psionically dashing towards the first psion and decapitating him with a single strike.

Three MDUs stood before him then, their laser weapons already lighting up and with an upwards swipe one was destroyed, while his two lower hands grasped the machines and clenched them into fists. The white bipeds crumpled into balls, and a stab into the center of the standing MDU shut the machine off for good.

Time had essentially stopped for him, caught up as he was in the battle and seemingly massive army he was caught in the middle of. Soldier after soldier died to him; none had time to even escape his reach, much less strategize or prepare. Every strike was a deathblow. Every motion a death sentence. Each motion; every move the Battlemaster made involved the death of another.

Even as he cut down a trio of ADVENT he was already taking in the immediate soldiers around him; the next sword stroke, telekinetic grip, and psionic dash already being calculated. Multitasking was one of the first things taught to potential Battlemasters; how to effectively manage large groups of enemies in close proximity to each other.

He had to not only be cognizant of the threats themselves, but thinking three steps ahead every second. It had been difficult to fully visualize at first, but with thousands of hours of training, the War against the Synthesized, and countless more hours in the Prism, it was second nature to him, but admittedly something he hadn't allowed himself to be immersed in for a long time.

One soldier was slammed to the ground by his hand; a swipe of his sword killed another Priest; his other two hands crushed an MDU and blasted back a squad of ADVENT soldiers. All simultaneously; all within moments of each other; and already he was moving to the next targets.

A stab to kill an MDU. A SHIV crushed underfoot. The screams of ten soldiers lifted and then bent in two, then throwing their broken bodies at their comrades. Sprays of blood and bone adding red layers to his armor from each punch and sword slash. Over and over; on and on; a battle that seemed like there would be no end.

And then everything went silent.

The Battlemaster deliberately pulled himself out of the trance he'd fallen into and observed the carnage around him. Wrecked helicopters, faint sobbing and screams of the mortally wounded soldiers, and corpses covering the ground around the entire Reflection Pool, with some floating in the water itself.

MDU and SHIV wrecks sparked and smoked intermittently, and the ground was stained with blood, soot, and metal. The Battlemaster quickly reviewed his own status. His armor was coated and splattered with blood, the gauntlets were a deep red, as was his sword. His cloak was ripped, burned and torn, and even the armor had suffered small dents.

Still, the effort had tired him. He was fully capable of falling back into the trance, but he would eventually become sloppy, and those would not be the last soldiers ADVENT sent. He needed to keep moving, maybe go to somewhere they wouldn't immediately expect. He had memorized the basic layout of the city, and knew a place he would have a brief reprieve.

With that decided, he began the march towards Arlington, knowing that if the Warlock was still around, he would most likely be in that area. Much as he had derided the Chosen as a tool, they would stand a better chance of surviving together than alone.

---

Busan – South Korea

11/22/2016 – 5:18 P.M.

Duri had never even known that it was possible for an alien to talk as much as the Hunter did.

The battle had persisted for over twelve hours straight now, and the Hunter had essentially been providing live commentary throughout the entire thing. If he hadn't been a terrifyingly effective sniper, making shots that no one could begin to guess at how they'd been pulled off, Duri would have found it hilarious.

Even more so since the Hunter had also not stopped the trend of shooting his own side.

"Sectopods," the Hunter was musing now. "I've always wondered what the Sectoids were thinking when they made them. Not a bad idea, but far too easy to outmaneuver."

"He is not seriously going to do what I think he is," Beatriz said flatly, looking through her scope. "No fucking way."

"Oh, but I am, ADVENT sniper number one-hundred and two, or whoever the fuck you are," the Hunter chided mockingly, making Beatriz immediately duck under the firing slit as if she was afraid of a sniper bolt hitting her. That was another thing he'd been doing. He'd occasionally address soldiers at random. He didn't seem to know the names thankfully, so he called them random numbers.

It was a bit unsettling though. No one knew how he was still in their network, although Miguel said he was probably spoofing their network with stolen ADVENT proxies. Whatever that meant. Duri wasn't a computer guy, much less a network guy, so he'd taken the engineer at his word.

"You are not going to be able to make the shot," Beatriz muttered. "I don't care how bullshit your sniper rifle is."

"Watch and learn, little human," the Hunter chuckled. "And I don't blame you. I'm much better than you'll ever be."

The curiosity apparently got the better of her, and Beatriz propped her sniper rifle back up and peered through it. The aliens had managed to erect some form of barricade in the no man's land, but it was extremely far away as to be ineffective, and the area had already been besieged with artillery, although they had also deployed scattered Andromedon shields to provide some protection.

Behind the lines there were the clear outlines of Sectopods and Cyberdisks. Ironically, the latter had proven to be little more than floating targets as they didn't have the range to actually move forward without being shot out of the sky. Not only did they have to worry about the hail of gauss fire from the ground, but also the Flak Towers which had shot down a few more additional spacecraft that had been foolish enough to get too close.

"Cara! Setting ammo behind you!" Miguel told her, tapping the elevated turret ground she was standing on. "Anyone else need reloads?"

"Three more mags and I'll be set for a while!" A nearby soldier called out, and a few more voices added to that. Miguel made a hasty note on a pad and dashed off to get the ammo. All of them had adjusted to the trenches fairly well, more so than Duri had expected. Miguel kept all of them supplied with ammo, and Nobuatsu had kept them well-hydrated and fed.

Although right now he was assisting several soldiers who'd been shot nearby by stray Collective plasma. Even they had to hit something.

For his part, he'd felt somewhat useless, as he couldn't really aim at anything with an acceptable degree of precision. Only Beatriz had any kind of accuracy, and Cara with her Browning could inflict damage reliably. He was mostly relegated to directing fire and keeping everyone in line. He'd instructed Mana and Aleksandra to hold their fire unless they could actually aim for something. Otherwise he'd occasionally had them relieve Nobuatsu and Miguel.

Beatriz had kept him updated on what the Collective was doing on their lines, and occasionally asking what she should be targeting. He really needed binoculars, and had requested some but they had yet to actually come. But she was doing a good job illustrating the battlefield, so he didn't feel too hampered.

Cara meanwhile had seemed to be having far too much fun with her gun. She was exceptionally good with it, and had audibly taken great pleasure in ripping the initial alien charge apart, and more recently overwhelming Andromedon shielding and cutting through Cyberdisks.

The biggest threat they now faced were the Sectopods, which were visible monoliths in the distance that were growing ever-closer. They were at the alien line now, but it looked like they weren't in range yet to actually begin firing. The Collective had also begun firing at them, but their aiming was just as bad as ADVENT's own. If they had their own snipers, they had yet to show them.

"They've got the Andromedon shield back up," Beatriz reported, and Duri saw a square of red light up in the distance. As it was still night, the line itself was rather hard to see.

"Enemy composition the same?"

"Mutons and Borelians," Beatriz confirmed. "Sectopods behind them. They've got some kind of support soldiers helping their wounded."

Tactically, it would probably have been a good idea to have her target the support soldiers. But there were some things that shouldn't be done, and attacking medics was one of them. Maybe a bit old-fashioned for ADVENT, but he would prefer their own medics not be attacked, so he would allow them the same courtesy.

That didn't apply to their tools though. "Hit the Borelians if you can," he instructed. "Cara! The shield is back up!"

"I see it!" She yelled, chuckling as she began unloading onto the shield in the distance. "I'll take it down again!"

If Duri recalled right, if she did it, it would be the third time so far that shield had been erected, and then overloaded. In general the Andromedon shielding only lasted until someone in the trenches noticed, realized that no one was firing on it, and then had their gunners focus-fire it. They clearly didn't have the infrastructure to properly power any equipment they had.

"Sectopods are moving forward," Beatriz updated in between shots. "Got one Borelian too."

"Good shot," he patted her shoulder and activated his squad channel. "Alright everyone! Ready positions! We've got Sectopods coming in!"

"About time I do something," Aleksandra stated, coming up beside him and readying her rifle. "Boring combat otherwise."

"Speak for yourself," Mana chided as he took a similar position beside her. "Personally, I prefer battles where my chance of dying is low."

"Focus!" Duri chided as the ground rocked as missiles suddenly shot from the two dozen Sectopods, right from the back of the primary 'pod'. The streaks in the air looked intimidating and were angling down towards the ADVENT line, and it was at an angle that none of them had a good shot at it.

From behind him he heard the pounding of one of the THAAD and Flak Tower defense systems, and sniper fire from the Hussars accompanying it. At the same time, various points along the trenches were encased in a purple bubble, likely from the supporting Priests anticipating where the missile strikes would be.

Several of the missiles exploded in a burst of green fire, but many streaked down towards the ADVENT line and hit with explosions that shook the ground. Most of those hit the psionic shields created by the Priests, but several hit the lines themselves with the accompanying screams of pain. One directly hit a Flak Tower a short distance away, destroying most of the rooftop weaponry and setting it ablaze.

"Going to help," Nobuatsu updated and dashed away. Duri simply nodded and began focusing on the advancing Sectopod in the distance.

"Wow, amazing, the supposedly superior side actually hit something," the Hunter commented. "I was beginning to wonder if they were all incompetent, or if I'm just stuck with an inferior bunch." A pause. "Alright, for what I'm going to be doing next, I'm going to require a few volunteers. Anyone want to sacrifice themselves for the good of humanity?"

"Oh, that's not good," Duri breathed. "Everyone get down until he…does whatever he's going to do!"

Because the alien lunatic was clearly planning to kill some number of them. "Clever, little Officer," the Hunter chuckled as the soldier next to him suddenly slumped forward, most of his head gone and showering his nearby comrade with blood. "Just for that, I'm not going to shoot any of your squad. However, medics always annoyed me." A few shots rang out. "Nothing more irritating than shooting something and an idiot medic saving them. Kill stealer."

"He-he just shot the soldier I was patching up!" Nobuatsu stuttered, sounding completely shaken and terrified. "Right in front of me! The other one who survived is dead too!"

Duri scowled. "Coward," he swore. "At least go after something that actually gives you a challenge."

"Oh, shut up," the Hunter drawled. "I'd argue that hitting those damn Humans without scratching your precious medics was challenging enough. Why do you care anyway, not like you knew them?"

He opened his mouth to spit something out, but felt Cara grip his arm and could easily image her shaking head. "Don't let the alien goad you, Duri. Let's blow up their little army."

"Duri, then," the Hunter chuckled. "Listen to your less intelligent friend. Blow up the Sectopods, be a good little soldier. Leave the moralizing to others." Another series of shots, though these were towards the alien line. "Everyone is equally worthy to die out here today," the Hunter continued. "And ultimately, none of you actually matter. The ones who do aren't here. Die or not, the galaxy will continue on without you."

"Get this alien out of comms," Aleksandra spat. "Ignore. Kill Sectopods."

And that was what ADVENT was not doing. White-orange streaks of gauss and Browning fire were fired towards the alien machines, which were seemingly able to take it all. The artillery booming behind them though signaled that was possibly going to change. Plasma guns popped out of the top of the Sectopod center pods, and began firing at the ADVENT line.

No-man's land lit up with artillery shelling and rocket bombardment. Several Sectopods stepped on mines which blew apart their clawed feet, and sent one tumbling to the ground. Several stumbled and exploded as the shelling took out their more delicate systems. Others weren't heavily affected and only suffered superficial damage.

The centers of the pods began opening up, revealing a glowing red center that was getting more intense. "Aim for the center!" Duri roared, aiming his own rifle as best he could at the machine. Then the Sectopod suddenly stuttered, and the pod exploded, blowing into nearby Sectopods and unbalancing them. Another explosion followed suit; then another.

"Now that's what I call a finale," the Hunter stated, humming a tune. "You're welcome, Humans. I've wanted to blow up those things for ages."

"He didn't get all of them," Beatriz said, even as ADVENT did manage to take out a few more of the Sectopods. However, a couple did manage to unleash their main laser cannon which was not aimed at the trenches, but at the Flak Towers and artillery behind. One tower exploded and began falling apart; multiple pieces of artillery blew up in the distance as the red laser struck them.

Still, all in all, the majority had been destroyed.

But as useful as the Hunter was, Duri would have preferred he just not interfere at all instead of treating all of this as some kind of game.

There was enough to worry about without a mocking alien on top of it.

---

Sydney Outskirts – Australia

11/21/2016 – 12:13 P.M.

The fight through Sydney had led to Abby seeing the sheer destructive power the Chronicler had at his disposal. His soldiers now stayed a fair ways back, although even they were being affected by his ever-growing fury at the aliens facing him. The very air cracked and splintered around the Chronicler, and his psionics had turned lighter, until there were flickers of blue in them.

Psionic energy enveloped the Chronicler, and no alien could stand against him.

Those that tried were blasted into pulp by purple circular blasts that threw the destroyed being back, or they were compressed into broken balls of bone and flesh. Despite being a medic and having a high tolerance for bodily damage, it was disturbing even to her. And now the Chronicler was taking random aliens and drawing out their deaths to presumably make a point.

"Do not hide, Quisilia!" He roared, standing in the middle of a now-torn street, a dozen various kinds of Vitakarians lying on the ground, one of his hands raised over them as he methodically snapped their bones one by one. "I will rip this city apart, Elder!"

Abby was watching from a distance as usual, keeping to the rooftops. She pursed her lips and considered just killing the aliens as she suspected this wasn't going to make Quisilia do anything. Pain for the sake of it was pointless, but she felt disrupting the Chronicler now was…dangerous. He wasn't acting like he normally was.

"So uncivilized," Quisilia chided from right behind her again. "Fine then puppet, let's see if you really want to fight me."

Before Abby could even turn, she caught a glimpse of the Ethereal as he vanished and reappeared down at the edge of the Chronicler's force. He held some kind of blade in each of his hands and slashed and stabbed simultaneously, and within a few seconds a half-dozen of the Chronicler's aliens were dead. The Chronicler immediately materialized next to the alien, a purple hissing blade of psionic energy in his hand, which slammed into a small psionic shield Quisilia had summoned.

"You made a mistake coming here, Elder One," the Chronicler growled as his aliens began raising their weapons and he stabbed forward with another psionic blade which Quisilia also deflected. "You don't want to challenge me."

"Do I now?" Quisilia answered lightly, tossing some kind of grenades with his free hands towards the traitor aliens around him. Nanites spewed out of them and began filling the suits of the aliens. Abby also saw two black figures coming forward, red lines down their face. Some kind of mechanical unit she hadn't seen before.

The Chronicler blew Quisilia back with a psionic blast, and the blades dissipated right before he brought them forward to form a shockwave that straight-up collapsed the building behind Quisilia. It unfortunately didn't hit the Ethereal, as he vanished from sight only to materialize behind the Chronicler who met him a reformed psionic blade.

"I'm curious," Quisilia mused almost mockingly as they began dueling more conventionally. The nanites were eating through his alien force, and it turned out those figures were also made up of nanites who were engaging Harper and his soldiers. "You are quite weak for a puppet. Disappointing. No wonder you've done nothing for generations."

"Enough!" The Chronicler pushed Quisilia away, and raised his left hand into a clenched fist, picking up the Ethereal and slamming him into a nearby building with enough force to crack the foundation. Except when the form of Quisilia fell to the ground it dissipated, and the Ethereal stepped out of this air.

"How very impressive," he chided. "I would have thought a puppet would be able to tell the difference between an illusion and the real thing. But I suppose you are too blunt for that kind of-"

He was forced to vanish as the Chronicler sent a blue-tinged psionic wave at the Ethereal that tore right through the buildings and caused them to begin crumbling to pieces. Quisilia reappeared a few feet away from his original position. "Now, as I was saying-"

"Be silent, Elder One," the Chronicler snarled, and Abby realized that his voice was no longer his own. It was like a groaning giant, slow, ancient, methodical; like a monster that had just been woken. The Chronicler was no longer surrounded by purple energy, but that which was a bright blue. The air felt charged with…something Abby couldn't describe.

It felt as though something dangerous was now here; something old. Everything suddenly felt oppressive and like she was moving through molasses. Quisilia was suddenly trapped in a perfect cube and lifted into the air. While the Ethereal tapped on the blue wall, the Chronicler spoke.

"He warned you not to make him angry," the thing speaking through the Chronicler said. "Now you will die, Elder One. Die as your brethren did to the Replicators."

"Curious," Quisilia didn't seem particularly concerned, even as the walls were closing in on him. "That wasn't what we called them." Quisilia made a motion, and froze. The Chronicler chuckled.

"Did you really think I would let you simply step through a portal of your making?" He mocked, completing the reversal of fortune. "You are a child in this galaxy, as is your mastery of it."

"And you are as arrogant as your brethren, Sovereign One," Quisilia answered. Gesturing down and the Chronicler suddenly vanished into a shimmer in the ground, although he burst up again from another opening he had likely created. But it was enough to loosen his concentration and allow Quisilia to vanish from the cracked blue cage.

Abby didn't see where he went, but the Chronicler turned his attention to the nanites that were slowly destroying his army. The air around his army suddenly charged with lighting-like blue strikes that hit the nanites themselves, while not hurting the soldiers. One of the black figures was suddenly alight in blue lightning and fell to dust.

Four Quisilias suddenly stepped out beside the Chronicler, their movements mirroring each other as he reached for another strange bladed weapon. "You are powerful, Sovereign One," Quisilia chided as he struck down, only to be met with the Chronicler shielding himself in a blue psionic shell. "But that is all you have."

The Chronicler squeezed a fist and the Quisilias were suddenly levitated into the air, and began to be compressed. Abby didn't think he was actually there, but it was still mildly concerning to see a perfect replication of an Ethereal being crushed like a toy. "Who does your species serve?" The Chronicler hissed. "Lacesseran? The Black Fleet? Exspirant? The Bringer?" A sharp hiss. "The Leviathan?"

Abby didn't know what he was possibly referring to, but she suddenly knew that whatever the Chronicler was caught up in, it was much, much larger than what they could imagine. Whatever was happening, it did not seem like a good idea to stay around. Maybe Quisilia knew what he was talking about, but she certainly didn't, and she actually assumed that the armor she was wearing…that all of them were…it came from whoever was speaking now.

The Quisilias all dissipated, and another one stepped out in front of the Chronicler. "You'd like to know, wouldn't you?" He asked. "Interesting. That narrows down the list of...names."

"You will answer the question," the Chronicler stated, pointing a finger at the alien. "Or I will take you back with me and tear the knowledge from your mind. You cannot resist forever."

"Then find me, Sovereign One!" Quisilia taunted, giving a wave before he vanished.

"Run, Elder One," the Chronicler taunted back, lifting a hand and the air in the distance flickered with blue sparks and rifts. "I do not tire. I do not die. I will crush this city and drive you away or kill you. Run back to your master, puppet. This species is mine!"

Oh fuck.

Oh no.

The air in front of her became a blue charged maelstrom that roared more powerful than a hurricane and collapsed down on the buildings below it, shredding them into small chunks of rock within seconds. The Chronicler ceased the maelstrom a few seconds later, leaving a massive section of the city reduced to rubble.

Abby instinctively ducked down as the Chronicler and what remained of his army marched forward. But they thankfully didn't seem to care about her anymore, which was a massive relief.

There was the slight problem of being stuck here, but she needed to at least stay and watch who would win. She wasn't getting out of here right now, and the Commander needed to know what was happening here.

---

Sacramento, California – United States of America

Operation: Sherman – Day 2

11/22/2016 – 5:17 A.M.

"Here," Nuan said and handed Iosif a bottle of water. The disheveled Templar gratefully took the water and gulped it down.

"Thanks," he told her earnestly. "Gonna need it since Geist will want me back maintaining the barricade in…" he paused for a moment. "Probably pretty soon."

Nuan grimaced. "That barricade isn't necessary. He's going to kill our psions if he makes them maintain it another day."

"We'll see, we're still alive in the same blasted spot we were in before," Iosif shrugged, looking exhausted. "Considering how outgunned and outnumbered we are, I'd say that's not bad."

Nuan had to admit that the only reason they were still here and not retreating was because of the iron will of Geist who had stated in no uncertain terms that they were not going to give up any ground whatsoever. To this end he had organized the available psions and effectively taken command of the several hundred man army.

It would be unfair to say it had been a unilateral takeover, as he had gathered up the ranking Lancer, Hussar, Cuirassier, Dragoon, and Protopriests, as well as the highest-ranking officers to form a makeshift strategy team of sorts. He'd apparently had a spat with the Chief Marshal of the operation, Theresa Lambert who had apparently been shocked that they had still held their position, which was presumably much deeper than any other one.

She'd ordered them to fall back for their own safety, and Geist had flatly refused. Chief Marshal Lambert had apparently been placated when several of the Officers had offered support for Geist, and once the plan was explained, she'd tentatively allowed it to move forward. That had been the last of her protests, and Geist had begun turning their position into an unbreakable fortress.

The most important aspect of this consisted of the massive psionic barrier between them and the aliens. It had sustained a relentless pounding, but Geist had every single Defense-oriented Priest taking part in forming the barricade and sustaining it. He'd then had the Officers have their Engineers begin erecting defenses.

Since the offensive-oriented psions were not in a good position to help, he'd ordered them to assist the Engineers in constructing the barricades by using their corrosive and destructive powers to weaken concrete, metal, and stone. The telekines had also similarly assisted, moving heavy debris out of the way, or creating temporary cover themselves.

The telepaths had been ordered to mentally sustain the psions erecting the barrier. Geist himself had gone into some kind of trance to, as he had explained, 'keep everyone awake and alert'. Since Nuan had not once felt tired during the entire night, she figured that it had worked. However, this couldn't go on forever.

"How are you holding up?" Iosif suddenly asked her.

"Well," she answered noncommittaly. "I don't really have to worry about physical exhaustion anymore, although maybe that's Geist's trick." She didn't really know though, as her cybernetic limbs had allowed her to handle much heavier loads than she could have previously. Which she'd done a lot of to help ADVENT set up a line.

She eyed him suspiciously. "But I should be asking you that. You look like you're going to collapse."

"Hey, I might," he admitted with a weak smile, as he held his helmet under his arm. "But I'll get a boost from one of the psions. With any luck we'll be getting actual reinforcements, and the barricades are probably good enough to reach even Geist's absurdly high standards."

Nuan glanced over to where the psion, helmet still foregone, stood speaking evenly to one of the Protopriests. If there was one thing she could say about him, it was that he knew how to command large groups of people. He knew what to do and didn't waste time debating it. "A shame you're not a telepath, otherwise I'd say you can transfer some of my focus into you."

He raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't do that. No reason to weaken you."

"Quiet," she scowled. "I mean it. It's not like I'm really doing anything right now anyway. Even now that the break is over."

Iosif put on his helmet. "Thanks, Nuan. I appreciate the offer. Really."

"Dying to exhaustion would be an idiotic way for you to die," Nuan said as she copied him by putting on her own helmet. "In fact, I would say that for every way you could die. Otherwise I'll be the one writing your tombstone."

"Oh no," he said in mock sarcasm. "Truly a grave threat. I'll have to do my best to stay alive then."

Nuan lightly chucked as they walked to the line of erected barricades. "If you're going to collapse though, just stop. If Geist says no, I'll punch him in his robot face. He probably wouldn't feel it anyway, since he's essentially a robot already."

"I'd urge you not to test your luck," Iosif gently warned. "I don't think he understands humor." With that Iosif gave a quick salute to her and jogged to where one of the Priests was to relieve him. Nuan instead walked to where Geist was standing, overlooking the barricade, barrier, and alien fortress before them.

"Where am I needed, Overseer?" She asked, making sure to be polite now.

"Right here, currently," he said in the same monotone as usual. "I've deployed Scout Man and Jin and several Hussars to determine what the aliens are holding. I am awaiting their return, and when they do, we will attack again."

Nuan glanced over to him. "I assume the plan of attack will be different?"

"To an extent," Geist said slowly, crossing his arms. "While I could request Archangel Hammarström to raze this to the ground, she and her Host are needed elsewhere. Our options are limited, and reinforcements are still hours out. I have estimated the strength of our psions, and we would be able to hold out perhaps another day; longer if we relied on our barricades."

Nuan was waiting for him to get to the point. "We are going to take this without firing a shot."

"Really," Nuan said skeptically. "How."

She was aware it was more of a statement than a question, but she didn't see how that could possibly work.

Geist frowned. "Perhaps I misspoke. The aliens will doubtless send machines to help. Those will need to be destroyed, but I believe I know how to deal with their organic components." He actually had a brief moment where pride lit up his face. "I have been experimenting with the aliens, testing the limits of this Overmind. Powerful to have so long a reach, but sloppy. Ineffective to someone with creativity."

He shook his head. "My experiment during the night was a success, and now I simply need to apply it more aggressively."

"What experiment?" She asked.

"Sustaining my forces telepathically," he answered. "The effort would have exhausted me. However, as the majority was drawn from the aliens, this was not a concern. I simply need to transfer this knowledge to the telepaths and make the aliens die from exhaustion. Even the ones with machines in their brains are still dominated by their organic component. And from that power, we will make our soldiers fresh."

He glanced down at her. "Your offer to Templar Bronis was noble, but unnecessary. The aliens themselves are an untapped resource, and we will sap them of it."

"Stop reading my mind," Nuan growled.

"And if you attack me, I will make you remember the moment your arms were severed from your body," he added flatly. "While I understand humor, contrary to your belief, it has no place here and I am your superior officer. I know more than you here, and it is why we have advanced while ADVENT has fallen back. Do I make myself clear?"

She gulped. "Yes, Overseer."

"Good, then prepare to take the fortress," he said, turning his attention back forward. "When the time comes, you will know when to move forward."

Nuan didn't risk saying more, even if she knew he was probably reading her mind now, so she gave a salute, and dashed away from the psion as quickly as she could. Directly to Iosif in fact. If Iosif was the friendly psion; Geist was the one who everyone was scared of.

She felt it best not to interact with him too much more after that. Because at the moment, he scared her more than any alien.

Funnily enough, she wondered if the aliens felt the same about their Ethereal masters.

That would be suitably ironic.

---

Los Angeles, California – United States of America

Operation: Sherman – Day 1

11/22/2016 – 12:01 A.M.

The alien fortress was easily overtaken with the majority of defenders dead, and the cybernetic enemies were quickly overpowered by the combined forces of ADVENT and XCOM. Right now the majority were taking a rest and fortifying their position in the fortress itself. There was a wealth of stored weapons and equipment within it as well, with what appeared to be alien rations of some kind as well. No one had been brave enough to test them yet.

What was interesting were some of the corpses they had found, particularly aliens that had appeared to be Vitakarians, but they hadn't died when the Imperator had performed his little trick. It turned out that they were machines; replicas designed to apparently look like Vitakarians with uncanny accuracy. If not for the machine fluids and metal skeleton, she never would have guessed that the corpse in front of her wasn't organic.

"No organic parts at all?" She asked Harkin who had been performing preliminary battlefield autopsies with several ADVENT medics and engineers. "So it's not a cyborg."

"No," Harkin shook his head, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "No organic components at all. Honestly, with how much empty space is in this body, I'm not even sure it's finished."

Patricia furrowed her eyebrows. "How?"

"Based on how it's designed," Matt Freeman, one of the ADVENT Engineers answered, nodding to the wreck on the table. "It's a skeleton in a near-literal sense. There is space that would normally hold organs. But there's nothing there. The power cells are built into the spine, and the 'brain' of this machine isn't complex or large enough to handle anything more than very simple commands."

Sussan and Creed stood beside her, helmets off and clearly thinking hard. Sussan was definitely approaching this from a data standpoint and trying to figure out how many there were, and how to pick them out. Because they posed a distinct problem to telepaths in that these wouldn't be able to be sensed in the first place.

Ideally, it made them excellent assassins and served as an anti-psion weapon.

Creed on the other hand was focused on a much simpler question. "Why bother with this in the first place?" He wondered out loud. "I assume that this was, or will be, used to create a Human variant for infiltration purposes. But the aliens don't need that…?" He frowned. "There isn't much of a reason to have this in the first place aside from a somewhat more durable soldier."

"He has a point," Sussan finally commented, biting her lower lip. "It would be one thing if they were being used like the Seekers. Assassins against us. But they weren't. These were fighting on the front lines."

"Maybe to cull division in the ranks?" A medic suggested with a shrug. "Do you know if that's a problem?"

"No, they don't work like that," Patricia disputed. "Division in the ranks isn't a problem, especially for Mutons."

"Either way, the fact that they can make something like this is concerning," Harkin interrupted. "And it potentially means that any civilians we encounter will be…" he nodded down. "Fake. We'll need telepaths to verify each one."

"I'll be ready if needed," Sussan said.

"As will I," Patricia confirmed. "Get some rest everyone if you can, this is not going to end anytime soon."

She departed the room and walked out onto the upper wall of the fortress, some distance away from where ADVENT were trying to set up plasma defenses built into the alien fortress. "I'm surprised you didn't realize the reason such units were designed," the Imperator said, appearing beside her, this time taking on the appearance of the Commander. "In fact, you were most likely the reason for them."

Really, Patricia wondered. So would you enlighten me to the actual reason?

"This time I can," the Imperator said with a mocking smile. "Machines are invisible to us. They are immune to our influence. Thus, they are something that is a threat, but also a means of defense against psions. Your display in Las Vegas was so successful because there was nothing to indicate that anything was wrong. That is an advantage of such a machine, to observe, report, and watch for possible psionic influence."

When put like that, it did make sense. Interesting.

"Fectorian will be doing what you suspect," the Imperator continued. "He would not overlook such an opportunity. But it will not be as obvious as planting them in controlled cities. No, it will be a gradual insertion into Human society. Into ADVENT. Replicas that replace unknown citizens and function as sleeper agents much like EXALT did. So how will this be combated?"

Patricia sighed. That is a problem for another time. Preferably when there is no battle being fought.

"If you insist," he said nonchalantly. "So I would focus on ending this battle then. Did you figure out what I did?"

Patricia crossed her arms. She had quite a few theories as to how the Imperator could have bypassed the Overmind, besides cheating and telling the Overmind to leave temporarily. It had to have been far beyond a surface-mental attack like she was used too. It was likely an attack on the deep biological components of the brain, much like how a computer functioned. She was used to attacking the high-level code of the brain, whereas the Imperator had focused on the machine code of the brain itself.

Clever if true, and she hadn't truly experimented with the possibilities there. The alternative was that he had exploited some weakness in the Overmind's command and protection of the minds. Since this presumably spanned over multiple battlefields and countless soldiers, it meant that each soldier couldn't have the best protection imaginable.

So it was entirely possibly to have a wall that blocked out certain attacks completely, but let others slip by. Anything malicious would be blocked, but, for example, telling them to do something which would almost certainly-but not for sure-get them killed might be able to bypass the defense due to it not being inherently malicious.

"Good," the Imperator said approvingly. "Memories, thoughts, emotions, those are indeed powerful attacks, but the strength of a telepath lies in how deeply we can affect the body itself." He motioned out to the city. "There is no such thing as a perfect defense, and there never will be. Even I almost certainly have vulnerabilities in my defenses, and a clever enough psion will be able to experiment and find the imperceptible loophole."

You make no sense. Patricia still couldn't really believe they were having this conversation right now. What exactly are you trying to gain by telling me how to beat the Overmind? Or you for that matter? Are you trying to lose?

"No, I'm trying to make you think," the Imperator stated, his voice deepening sharply. "Your perception of psionics is limiting. For you, ADVENT, and nearly everyone else, it is a way to levitate objects and control minds. You do not push what is actually possible. You discover the power, and as little can contest you, you maintain the status quo."

His voice became slower. "I will tell you something, Patricia, that is why we ultimately lost the war with the Synthesized. We were comfortable with our own power and saw no reason to advance. We had no drive, we had no reason to do so. We were not challenged, and as a result we were unprepared for an enemy that had done nothing but improve."

Patricia saw several explosions and heard the resounding booms in the distance. Another attack or something else it looked like. It barely registered because she was thinking about what the Imperator was saying. That didn't sound quite like how Aegis had described the Synthesized, which she had equated to more of a horde than something that could critically think.

"Because that was a lie," the Imperator stated, leaning on the wall. "Not from Aegis, he would not lie about something like this, but it was a lie that was all they were. Aegis participated in the entire war, on the front lines in many cases. He only saw a fraction of what was happening near the wars end. They stuck with overwhelming numbers for the majority of it because they realized they didn't need to adapt."

He raised a hand and a shimmering figure appeared in front of her. It was a strange amalgamation of flesh and metal, with odd growths and bulges protruding out of it. The left hand was some kind of metal melee weapon, and the right was a misshapen hand. "This is a simple Synthesized 'soldier'," the Imperator began. "What inspired the name for them. Look at it and what do you see? Sloppiness; inelegance; brutality; you see something that can die easily."

Right. Patricia nodded.

"Exactly," the image vanished and in its place appeared something completely different. It was a bipedal figure, extremely thin, and the body was covered in a sheet of some black metal. Vine-like flesh-colored tentacle-things wrapped around the legs and up across the torso. But it wasn't a mishmash of organ and machine, it was symmetrical and clean. The fingers of the alien were similarly closer to tentacles than jointed fingers.

More tentacles fell from the supposed 'mouth' of the alien, and the head itself had red-orbed eyes and obvious black cybernetic implants around the skull that seemed to drill right into the brain of this creature itself. It held no weapons from what she could see, but it looked like a near-perfect fusion of machine and flesh in an aesthetically pleasing way.

On the center of its chest, she saw what appeared to be a front-facing image of a Director Flagship, encased within a triangle outlined in red. "This is what killed four Imperators," he said. "There was only one survivor, who managed to acquire the first glimpse of the true ingenuity of these Synthesized. However, I do not think it was designed in response to us, but it was activated because we began adapting to their initial tactics. I never learned what it could do, but as best I can tell these were the warriors of the Director Flagships themselves."

Aegis didn't mention this. Patricia recalled.

"Because he never fought against them," the Imperator answered simply. "They were, as I recall, only deployed against Battlemasters, Reapers, or Imperators. And of course, whatever entered a Director Flagship. Quisilia would be able to tell your more, as he was one of the few to kill one."

The history lesson is interesting, Patricia admitted. But what is the point?

The figure vanished and a new one appeared. This was again a bipedal figure, one that was also thin, but unlike the previous one, it was covered entirely in armor. It had double-jointed legs with small rounded feet. The limbs were almost normal, culminating in three-fingered hands. The head itself was also encased in armor, with an almost ovalish shape and slightly tinted red helmet receptors. The top of the head also appeared to take into account some kind of horns or growth.

The design was definitely of the Synthesized, and it also had the same Director Flagship symbol on the arms, also within a red-outlined triangle. Another one? She looked up to the Imperator. Ones Quisilia fought?

"No," the Imperator smiled. "This is a Synthesized that exists in this very galaxy right now. The Synthesized never left the galaxy, not really. They are simply watching and waiting. For what, I have yet to determine, but I have my suspicions."

Does Aegis know? Patricia demanded; the implications of this immediately dominating her mind.

"No."

Why the hell not?

The Imperator lost his smile. "Because Aegis is, and has always been fixated on the obvious. He does not, nor does he wish to understand the higher level that the galaxy operates on. He thinks in simple terms of 'ally' and 'enemy' but not about the why. If he learned the Synthesized were already here, he would simply demand all plans be accelerated and potentially cause a civil war because he does not understand why they are here. All he would accomplish is ensuring that we die out."

Will you please enlighten me as to the larger picture then? Patricia demanded.

"Not now, not here," the Imperator said. "But considering certain events that are happening, I suspect you will begin to realize the situation sooner than you think. But the point this leads to, Patricia, about why I am helping you, it is because it ultimately benefits us."

Patricia waited, and he continued. "I specifically chose the Ethereals with me now because they, in some way, broke the mold of the Empire," the Imperator continued. "They were exceptional in their adaptability, power, ingenuity, or vision. I believed that would be enough. For some, it was. For many others, they were simply content to resume the status quo. They have no challenge. You cannot command or instill drive, not when nothing can challenge you."

The Imperator smiled once again. "So that is why I tell you how to defeat my Overmind. That is why I help you when it makes little sense to do so. My species is arrogant, it is our greatest weakness, and I have allowed them to continue as such for too long. There is little point in coddling them any longer. Change will come to the Collective, Patricia, and should you listen to what I have to say, you will be a catalyst for it."

He motioned to the city. "Now defeat my Overmind and take this city for your species. Perhaps he will realize what is happening, perhaps not, but you have what you need to beat him. I will be watching with great curiosity."

And he vanished once more. Patricia stood silent for a moment, then closed her eyes, and began once more touching the minds of the aliens in the city, probing and testing the limits of what the Overmind had instilled.

It was odd, to actually want to prove the Imperator right.

But considering he was advocating against his own species, she supposed that was acceptable.

---

Washington D.C. – United States of America

11/21/2016 – 11:02 P.M.

The darkness made it easier to hide despite his size. The blacked out city also certainly contributed to this detail, as the Battlemaster had walked across the bridge, and as a consequence got closer to Arlington, and the edge of the city proper, he came across more civilians. Most ran at the sight of the silhouetted giant walking down the street, but he barely paid attention to them as he walked.

He had been fortunate that there was a bridge almost directly to the area close by. There had been a small team of soldiers at the entrance, but he had killed them before they could actually do anything more than shout a warning. He felt that there were more coming soon, and the next engagement would probably be fought differently.

How different was something he didn't know yet.

But he would be ready to meet it.

Now that he was in Arlington, he was surprised to see that there were actually people hiding out there, or at least as much as they could. But there were others that were just sitting near the various memorials or on benches, almost as though they were expecting to die there. Most of them made themselves smaller, or ran away when they caught a glimpse of him, but he didn't really notice them.

The cemetery itself was rather peaceful, if a somewhat oppressive air hanging over it. The Battlemaster knew little about it, save that it was the gravesite of American soldiers and important public figures. He'd specifically made sure to keep the fighting out of it, since fighting on the graves of soldiers, enemies or not, was something he would never willingly do.

As it was, he did not intend to fight here, it was simply a place he doubted ADVENT would expect him to go, and it would allow him some time to regroup and potentially allow Senorium to find him. He suspected ADVENT would be hesitant to fight here as well, but if pressed even they would just for an opportunity to kill him.

But he would prefer to avoid that. The cemetery itself was relatively untouched, and it was an almost haunting experience sightseeing the rows of white crosses, tombstones, and other symbols he presumed had religious connections, which he could only assume rested on graves.

While he would normally take the most direct route, for now he was staying on the designated paths to avoid going over the graveyards themselves. If ADVENT arrived, he would take a more direct route, but for now he was content to move briskly along the paths. Up ahead he saw a fairly large structure, an amphitheater of sorts it looked like.

Out of curiosity more than anything else, he walked towards it, thinking it was likely another memorial. Given the importance that seemed to be placed of it, it was likely important. As he got closer, he also saw something that made him grip his sword tighter. It did appear that it was actually under guard.

However, these soldiers were much different than standard ADVENT soldiers. In fact, there weren't any at all. Their uniforms were clearly more ceremonial, with badges and pins on them, white gloves and old military caps he recognized from studying pre-ADVENT human militaries. In their hands they didn't hold gauss weapons, but older traditional rifles with bayonets.

Not a threat then, not really.

He considered killing them, but in the context of where he was, and how little threat they actually posed, there wasn't necessarily a reason to. It was likely they were guards tasked with protecting a monument or tomb of something important. But it depended on the soldiers, if they wouldn't attack, neither would he.

But he was at least going to see what they were guarding.

The guards raised their weapons as he approached, but seemed smart enough to realize that he wasn't planning on attacking them, not yet. He was impressed that they barely seemed perturbed by his approach, and their faces were complete stone as they aimed their unwavering rifles at him, for all the good it would do them.

The Battlemaster was aware he posed an intimidating figure, but if that affected the guards in front of him, they did not show it. He moved around the building until he saw what was probably the object they were guarding. There were no less than a dozen guards around it, and all of them had their weapons raised.

It appeared to be a large box, made out of some kind of white stone or marble. Perhaps it represented a tomb. There was clear inscription on it as well, and it was rather ornate indicating its importance. The Battlemaster carefully walked around the soldiers in front of the perimeter, who followed his every move with their rifles.

In front of it, he finally got a good look at what was inscribed on the monument itself: "Here rests in honored glory, an American soldier, known but to God"

Ah, this was the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. He'd seen mention of it, but had not known it was treated with such reverence. The concept was one he could admire, as he was aware of the number of those who would die and never be remembered again. Against the Synthesized it had not been uncommon, and in this war…it was again the same.

Even symbolically, it was a noble gesture.

He was curious if they would change the wording now that they were a part of ADVENT.

But that was ultimately not his concern. His curiosity had been sated and after looking at it for a few moments longer, he walked away, leaving the guards alone, even if they never lowered their rifles once. Dedication to a simple tomb. Respectable, even if it was something of a waste. But perhaps it mattered to the Humans more than him.

With that done, he kept walking to the far exit that would lead to the subdivisions and housing areas of the Arlington area. Staying near the Pentagon was not a good idea, and he knew ADVENT would be hesitant to nuke him so close to the city itself.

"Battlemaster!"

He immediately froze and swung to where the voice was coming from, sword at the ready, and saw something he was not expecting. It was one of the XCOM snipers that had retreated earlier, except that she had her hands up and was weaponless from what he could tell. This couldn't be a surrender. He was the one at a disadvantage here, not her.

So she wanted to talk? About what?

"Do not come closer, XCOM," he warned, pointing the bloody blade in her direction. "What do you want?"

"I have orders from the Commander," she said, a bit gruffly. "An opportunity for you to surrender to XCOM. You would be treated well and kept from ADVENT who would likely execute you."

The Battlemaster stared in disbelief. "No."

"Not my job to convince you," she said, slowly and deliberately reaching down to her waist and unlatching a device. "I'm just supposed to deliver this. You made a good decision coming here. ADVENT is looking in the wrong place, so you'll have some time to talk. In the meantime, I'm ordered to lure them elsewhere temporarily. But you'll have to make it fast."

She tossed the device at him and he telekinetically caught it roughly halfway between them, keeping it suspended for several seconds in case it blew up. When it didn't, he brought it forward until it was in one of his lower hands. The XCOM soldier was already backing up and sprinting away from him, so he turned his attention to the communicator before him.

He pressed the button and a hologram of Aegis appeared before him. "Battlemaster," Aegis greeted. "I wish this were under better circumstances."

"As do I, traitor," he answered, calmer than he felt. "I suppose it should be expected that you wish me to simply give up."

"You cannot run forever," Aegis warned. "ADVENT is ensuring that no reinforcements can come and save you. Yes, many will die, but that is what is considered acceptable for them. More of the Priests will come, and at some point even you will become tired."

"Then I will die," he stated flatly. "Unlike you, I don't avoid what threatens me. But I will not surrender. Not to XCOM, and certainly not to a traitor."

"I am not a traitor." Aegis said. "I am performing what has to be done, which is preserving our species."

"By allying with our enemies?" The Battlemaster demanded.

"The Imperator is no longer concerned about the Synthesized," Aegis said. "The purpose he recruited us for has changed. He will go to war against the galaxy to restore the Empire as it was, without realizing that is how we'll be destroyed for good."

"And the best way to accomplish that was by betraying us?" The Battlemaster growled. "I do not know why you think the Imperator has abandoned our mission. I have seen nothing to suggest that."

"If that is the case," Aegis said, pointing a finger at him. "Then why are we on opposite sides? Why was this war fought in the first place? If the Imperator really wished to prepare for the Synthesized, then why do we fight our potential allies? What is different about the Humans as opposed to the Vitakara and Andromedons?"

Early on, the Battlemaster had wondered that.

However, he potentially had an answer.

"I am not the Imperator," he admitted. "I cannot read his mind, nor would I have made the same decision. But I believe that it was to force us to change. We have been stagnant for hundreds of years, and yet we cannot win a war against a species confined to their homeworld. War brings refinement, and the Humans were chosen to be our catalyst."

He paused, considering. "The Collective is flawed, Aegis, I am no longer blind to that. You might have had your reasons for leaving; ones I cannot say were invalid. But you ran instead of trying to fix them."

"Do you really think I didn't try?"

"No," the Battlemaster shook his head. "Not really. If you had, I would have known about it. Sana would know about it. Nebulan, Sicarius, the Guardians…You left to make a statement and it was received. But if change was what you truly wanted, then you are a coward who ran in fear of the Imperator. He is our leader, but not our master."

Another pause. "The Humans are not as I was expecting. Perhaps they didn't deserve it. But their fate was decided long ago. You have stayed out of it so far, Aegis, and if you wish to survive the end of this war, you will continue to do so. I will not surrender, traitor, and if I die today, so be it. But I will not take the easy way out of this. If you truly wish for this war to end, convince the Commander to surrender. Otherwise it will not be decided until ADVENT and XCOM are destroyed."

He shut off the communicator and tossed it away. Unsurprising in retrospect that Aegis would wish to convince him to surrender, but it was always doomed to be futile. But now he had to focus on leaving; finding Senorium, and plotting a path where he survived.

Despite Aegis's warning, he was confident he could survive.

If he had survived the war against the Synthesized, he could survive against ADVENT.

---

Sacramento, California – United States of America

Operation: Sherman – Day 2

11/22/2016 – 8:16 A.M.

"Prepare to lower the barrier!" Geist commanded, as the respective soldiers readied themselves for the fight to truly begin. Oliver and David similarly readied their weapons. According to Geist, the main barrier would dissipate and the Priests would erect defensive cover similar to their initial push. They would assist and protect ADVENT Engineers as they constructed permanent defenses, and presumably continue forward until they reached the fortress.

Geist had also said that he would be applying 'his own abilities' to the push, although what those were he hadn't specified. It was primarily telepathic, likely. Oliver wasn't entirely sure now what the aliens were doing in the fortress, as they had stopped firing some time ago, and he had noticed the subtle changes to the guard.

"What do you think they have?" David asked as the Priests began shimmering in purple energy. "They have to know what they're facing now."

"Don't know," Oliver shrugged. "But it isn't anything good. They've been replacing everything with those cybernetic Mutons."

"Begin!" Geist ordered, and the purple barriers flickered and dissipated, as an unbroken line of cover appeared a short distance ahead, and that was their cue to begin. The aliens in the fortress began raining plasma down on them, most of which missed the initial push, but a few ADVENT soldiers succumbed to the rain of plasma.

However, most of the initial charge was successful in making it to the psionic barricade. Oliver slid into position, and noted that Iosif and Nuan had also made it successfully. Darego had also made it to his left, and all of them were returning fire at the alien fortress. Cracks from the gauss sniper rifles of the Winged Hussars in the back rang out and already there were a few aliens that stumbled back.

"Scoot over some!" One of the Engineers beside him demanded, laying a small rectangular bar on the ground which he knew was the first step in establishing permanent cover. A sheet of metal was pulled up, locked in place, and another Engineer beside her began passing metal pieces which she began welding in place.

Oliver looked back to see Geist still standing back at the initial line, one right hand extended to the fortress ahead and the opposite held behind his back; a posture of a man who had no fear of death whatsoever. Psionic energy shimmered around him, although it was less pronounced than in the Priests holding up the barricade.

"We've got hostiles on the ground!" One Officer shouted, and from the fortress Berserkers stormed out. These weren't standard Berserkers, but something that had been similarly enhanced like the Mutons. These Berserkers were clad in black armor, were somehow bigger than regular ones, and twin alloy blades protruded from each of their hands that looked at minimum half the size of himself.

Behind them came out the largest Mutons that Oliver had ever seen. These stood far taller than the Elites, and were constructed out of the same black armor as the rest of these enhanced Mutons. But as they lumbered forward, Oliver saw the extensive array of rocket launchers on the wrists and shoulders, and the visibly thick armor.

The enhanced Berserkers were charging forward, and the other Mutons were moving forward as well. "Dragoons, target oncoming Berserkers," Geist ordered calmly. "Hussars, target explosive dispensers on the armored Mutons. Priest Telekines and Offensive forces, lift and destroy oncoming Berserkers. Once Berserker threat is removed, Telekines prepare missile defense techniques. Goliath Beauvau, target the armored Mutons."

It sounded good. The problem was that there were at least more than a dozen Berserkers charging forward, and at least a dozen of those armored Mutons. This wasn't counting the fact that they were still under fire from the fortress itself and the forces within. The Goliath behind him fired its weapon, the crack of the massive railgun drowning out every other sound around it.

One of the armored Mutons stumbled back, but amazingly it appeared largely intact, only sporting a hole in the armor. It raised its weapons to the MEC and fired in retaliation. It was joined by several more of the Mutons. The Berserkers were also close to the line, surprisingly not making any noise except for the thumping when they ran.

Oliver fired at it, but all it seemed to do was irritate it slightly. They simply didn't have enough firepower to take them out fast enough, and the front had obviously been designed for frontal charges. The Berserker charging them was suddenly lifted into the air by one of the Priests beside him, one hand extended.

"Shoot it now!" He yelled. Other Berserkers were suddenly lifted up, but not all of them. The Offensive-affinity Priests then unleashed their own powers. Streams of psionic energy flared and small maelstroms and purple flares erupted on the battlefield. Another Priest behind him screamed as she fired a stream of psionic energy at the raised Berserker, corroding and destroying its armor.

Everything suddenly seemed to become much…calmer. The sounds of the battlefield became less distracting, allowing him to concentrate more easily. He no longer really felt tired or weary, as he'd become over the past several hours once the telepathic sustenance had ended. But that appeared to be back now, and it seemed a simple matter to aim his rifle up to an obvious gap in the head and fire.

The gauss slugs splintered the corroded material and lodged deep into the brain of the alien. More psionic energy followed the slugs, destroying anything in its path. The corpse was slammed to the ground and it didn't rise again. Across the line, more Berserkers were meeting the same fate. Several had broken the line, however, and were wreaking havoc on the ADVENT positions.

The enraged aliens stabbed, grabbed, and threw soldiers around them, immune to pain and tickled by weapons. Iosif was currently trying to kite one of the Berserkers, slamming his mace down on the armored hands of the aliens, while Nuan tossed several grenades at the feet of the alien, which exploded in black goop.

Symbiote Grenades. Smart. The alien swung at her and instead of jumping out of the way, she used her prosthetic to straight-up block the strike, and then grabbed the blade itself while she threw another Symbiote Grenade at the face of the Berserker which roared as it exploded in its face. Iosif meanwhile was working on smashing the joints of the alien, bringing it to the ground and Nuan finally let go and jumped back. Her entire right arm was sliced and damaged, but did seem to still be functional.

He didn't want to know what that would have looked like if she hadn't had prosthetics.

Iosif was joined by several Executors who first slammed their weapons on the joints of the Berserker, which took far longer than normal since the combination of metal and flesh was more interconnected that even he'd anticipated. It took a few times smashing the head, but eventually the alien was still.

On the battlefield itself, the Goliath was easily holding its own against the armored Mutons. Oliver hadn't known that the Goliath had a point-laser defense system, but it did and had effectively taken out at least half of the missiles shot at it, and even though the others hit, it was designed to be a tank and take extensive damage.

Four of the armored Mutons were destroyed now, and then, unexpectedly, all of the aliens suddenly fell down. Oliver cocked his head as the fire abruptly ceased from the alien side. "The hell?" David commented to no one in particular.

Oliver glanced behind him to see Geist walking forward towards them, the distorted psionic energy surrounding him. "I'm going to guess this is because of Geist."

"Wasn't he being blocked by one of the Ethereals?"

Oliver shrugged. "Maybe he beat him?"

"Exploited, would be a more accurate word, Infantry Ilari," Geist stated as he walked up. "A theory, but one which has held up in practice. The enemy soldiers are not dead, I am preventing that from happening. They have simply collapsed from exhaustion as I have pushed their minds to that point. Their lower mental functions will keep them alive, but they will not pose a threat to us."

He glanced over to them. "Well done, both of you. The line recovered quickly despite those Berserkers breaching it. However, such was inevitable with our limited numbers."

"So what's the plan now?" Iosif asked, walking up with Nuan.

"We secure the fortress and prepare the alien captives for extradition to secure ADVENT facilities, as well as taking some of the more interesting specimens for ourselves," Geist explained, motioning forward to the Officers who were advancing across the now-safe concrete field. "Killing them, while satisfying, will not allow us to gain as much information as the alternative."

"They're not all dead!" Someone shouted, and all of them raised their weapons to see two black figures walking out of the fortress. They appeared humanoid, and in some kind of armor with green lights on their face.

Which then turned to red.

"Don't open fire!" Geist called, raising a hand.

"Why not?" Nuan demanded.

Geist's lips twitched. "I want to see how it works. Apparently DC has come under attack by these. I want to know if the reports are true."

"Having also caught up on that," Iosif interjected. "I don't think I want to see how it works."

Geist turned to one of the Priest behind him. "Protopriest Darrah?"

"Yes sir?" The Priest answered.

"Bring the defensive and offensive specialized Priests forward," he said as the machines in the distance began moving on the fallen aliens, and seemingly shooting black dust into them. "If I understand how these machines work correctly, this should render them ineffective."

"What are they?" Oliver asked as he saw the humanoids advancing forward, and now were apparently joined by the black ghosts of some of the armored Mutons.

"They are called Spectres," Geist said, motioning the Priests to move forward, and began moving himself. "A nanoweapon that can be impossible to stop if handled incorrectly."

"And you wanted to see how it works?" David demanded. "It seems pretty damn apparent!"

Geist furrowed his eyebrows. "Calm, Gunner Cannon, I know what I am doing."

The Spectres were halfway across when one of them was suddenly encased in a psionic box. Two more found themselves in similar situations, and the Priests soon figured out what Geist was doing, and followed suit and before the now-four Spectres realized it, they were trapped in psionic cages.

They clearly didn't know how to handle them, as one placed a hand on it, and the entire being rippled, as the nanites tried to eat through the psionic shield. It was unsuccessful, obviously, and several of the others dissipated into black dust and tried flying against the shield to brute-force a way out.

"Psions, burn the area inside the shields," Geist commanded. "Be thorough."

The psionic shields were suddenly alight with energy as the Priests created entire maelstroms in the prisons. Normally these would spread out, but contained within a psionic shield they essentially annihilated anything inside. At the same time, it extracted a toll from the psions maintaining the shields, but they held on.

A few seconds later the psionic storms ended, and there was nothing in the shields. "Maintain," Geist commanded. "We cannot take chances with this kind of weapon."

One of the Protopriests shouted a command Oliver didn't hear, and the cages were again alight with a psionic storm. Maybe overkill in the literal sense, but with nanoweapons, Oliver didn't think that kind of precaution was especially unreasonable. But once that finished, Geist and the Priests lowered the shields and nothing perceptible happened.

The effect on the Priests however, had been extensive. Most of them collapsed to the ground as the shield collapsed, and the offensive-talented Priests no longer had any armor on their arms, which were covered in blood and scars. Medics were rushing forward, and the rest of the army advanced as well.

"Good job," Oliver told the psion who for once, looked actually pleased and not completely emotionless. He might not really like the guy on a personal level, but he had to admit he wasn't sure even Patricia would have been as successful.

"Appreciated," Geist acknowledged. "Now come with me and help find a more…organic alien. Once the captives are secure, I will need to attempt to interrogate it."

"Won't that be a problem?" David asked.

"I don't need for it to be awake to extract what I need," Geist explained as they walked forward. "If I understand the methods this Ethereal uses, it requires the alien to be cognizant. If it is not, it does not receive protection. However, it is difficult to locate unconscious minds and thus I need one in front of me."

"Will do," Oliver nodded as ADVENT took the alien fortress for themselves.

He wasn't sure how the rest of the battle was going, but he was feeling a hell of a lot more optimistic now.

---

Fairbanks, Alaska. – United States of America

11/22/2016 – 9:33 A.M.

Roman had never gone through a Gateway before, and now that he had…he found it slightly anti-climactic. Once you got past the purple lights and strange psionic-like visuals, it was relatively uneventful. However, stepping out into a completely different area was a realization that left goosebumps on him. The difference between Redding, California, and Fairbanks, Alaska, was night and day.

After Redding had been taken, he and several other squads had been redirected to assist in the defenses on other cities that had come under attack. There sadly hadn't been time to enjoy their victory, but the day had been good and they'd been able to get some brief rest.

Now they were marching down the street with the Chief Marshal beside him, Halli Cursan who sounded understandably tense. "The situation isn't as good as where you likely came from," she warned as gunfire in the distance reached his ears. "We don't have trenches complete, nor do we have many Flak Towers. We have limited air support and a similar number of Priests and Special forces."

That indeed did not sound good. "Enemy composition?"

"That's the good news," Halli nodded. "Seem to largely be Borelians and Mutons. We're holding the perimeter for now, and they are being sent in numbers we can handle. Losses are fairly equal for both sides from what we've recorded."

Roman looked around the area, noting that it was much less developed compared to other cities, with no building reaching higher than four stories that he could see. It was all downtown buildings and houses. Up ahead he saw two Flak Towers beside the main road, which dwarfed everything beside them.

In the distance he saw plasma fire heading towards the ADVENT line, from aliens that were taking cover behind trees, cars, and cover they had established themselves. It was definitely primarily Borelians, and they did seem to be employing some tactics in their attack. "Where are the other attacks coming from?" Galina asked.

"The Airfield is one," Halli said grimly. "The college has also come under attack, as has the airport. They are attacking us from all sides, and we can't be everywhere."

"We'll assist here then," Roman assured her, motioning his team to join the fight. "Request us if you need help elsewhere."

"Good luck," she said, and briskly turned to speak with one of the Cuirassiers that had walked up behind them.

"[I'll be activating my field,]" Roman told them as he got a good look at the ADVENT line so far. Just in front of it were the half-dug trenches, but the line itself looked solid. Black alloy barricades and rows of ADVENT soldiers, with a few Priests that were providing various psionic support, although it only appeared to be defense and telekinesis.

"[Copy,]" Elena confirmed as their weapons were raised. Roman activated his field and once the line was reached the plasma bolts fired from the Borelian forces were deflected to the sides. That gave the aliens clear pause, enough for Maksim to snipe one from the back as he moved to enter the leftmost Flak Tower.

Galina immediately began laying down fire, rallying the other ADVENT gunners to begin concentrating their fire at the main alien barricades. The Borelians were dressed slightly different than the standard Vitakarian soldiers he'd been fighting, these seemed more armored and designed for colder weather than others.

He clipped one in the shoulder and it fell back into cover, though Konstantin and Stanislav were more successful, the former catching one trying to move to closer cover and was immediately ripped apart by the autorifle. Stanislav also wounded another Borelian. "Field ending!" Roman warned. "It's going to get hot again!"

Sure enough, the moment he shut off the field green plasma shot towards them, managing to hit some ADVENT soldiers who fell to the ground. The ones still alive were immediately tended to by Medics and protected by the Defensive Priest. The other Priest moved to the front line beside him. "Provide covering fire!" She yelled, beginning to become distorted with psionic energy.

Roman nodded and complied. Galina and Konstantin laid down suppressive fire on the alien forces, forcing them temporarily back into cover. However, that only proved to be their deaths as the Priest raised her hand, and the half-dozen Borelians closest to the ADVENT lines were lifted up into the air, and…compressed.

Roman glanced to the woman to see her using her other hand to clap together with the first one, in a crushing motion. The results were…unpleasant. From there they could hear the aliens screaming in pain as their limbs were twisted and bones splinted as they were quite literally ripped apart and forced into the psionic equivalent of a hydraulic press.

Yellow blood dripped from their corpses and destroyed bodies and they dropped to the ground. The Priest fell back down into cover, breathing heavily. "Nice work," Anton complimented. "That should give them something to think about."

Roman agreed, and it looked like the aliens had gotten the message as they didn't seem eager to take control of the forward point again. More snipers confirmed kills, even as more aliens began arriving. "Andromedons," Maksim reported from the Flak Tower. "And…some kind of armored figure." A stunned pause. "Roman…I think the Battlemaster is here."

He, and every other soldier nearby briefly froze at that. Roman felt his blood freeze and exchanged a quick look with Elena who was similarly paralyzed for a second. "Repeat that!" Halli demanded. "Did you say the Battlemaster was here? That can't be, he's still in D.C."

"Well, if it's not the Battlemaster, it looks pretty damn close," Maksim insisted. "Getting a closer look now…uh…actually, I don't think this is The Battlemaster. I think it's another one."

"Another one?" Konstantin growled. "They have another one?"

"It has some other aliens with it," Maksim updated. "Some kind of Vitakarian it looks like. Snipers. The other Battlemaster is coming up now."

"Hey!" One soldier called out. "They've stopped firing!"

Roman suddenly noticed that the battlefield had gone quiet. In the distance he saw the first glimpse of the oncoming Ethereal. He couldn't fault Maksim mistaking the alien for the Battlemaster, as the Ethereal was as large as the Battlemaster himself. But there was something clearly different about this one; first was that this one wore some kind of hood and a cape, both of which were deep purple.

The next was that the helmet, as much as some of it was hidden under the hood, was different from the Battlemaster's, not as ornate and looked like it just covered the entire face with little decoration. The armor also looked slightly shinier and more durable. But what was interesting was that this Ethereal didn't have a weapon in its hands.

"Should we open fire?" Elena asked.

"It looks like it wants to talk," Halli said slowly. "Let it come to the front alien line. No further. And be ready to retreat. We can't defeat a Battlemaster."

"Copy that," Roman muttered as the alien got closer. The alien was massive, and even from a distance he knew it towered over all of them.

"ADVENT!" The Ethereal called out, with a distinctive female voice, despite the layering indicative of Ethereals. "By order of the Battlemaster of the Ethereal Collective, I have been allowed the freedom to allow your surrender. I will only make this offer once. Refuse, and your soldiers will die and citizens be taken captive."

"This is Chief Marshal Halli of ADVENT," she responded. "Considering what we know happens to captives, your offer is rather hollow. Who are you?"

"I am simply giving an offer," the Ethereal said, taking an aggressive stance, one foot in front of the other. "How you answer is your decision."

"We refuse."

"Understood," the Ethereal answered, and something flew to her upper hand. A cylinder of some kind flew into it. "If you must know who you will die to, it is the Second Guardian of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective, and in his name, you are marked for death. Fight well, Humans." An orange-yellow beam sprang from the cylinder and extended to a length Roman suspected was as large as him.

"Fire!" Roman yelled, and gauss slugs and lasers from the MDUs flew towards the Ethereal Guardian who flourished her strange energy blade and thrust out a hand, stopping the projectiles in the air and at the same time jumped forward, pulling forward with the two lower hands and several ADVENT soldiers were lifted and went flying towards her.

The hand holding the energy blade slashed twice, and the ADVENT soldiers fell to the ground in pieces. The Ethereal thrust out with a hand and the ADVENT soldiers in front of her went flying backwards and she leapt forward and stabbed into one of the MDUs, then slashed up, and pushed the machine back with a telekinetic push.

The blade apparently could cut through anything, and now that the Ethereal was at the line, the soldiers were retreated. "Fall back!" Roman called to his team as the Ethereal cut through two more soldiers easily.

"Stay!" The Ethereal called out, and all the soldiers around her froze, including Roman, who while he could aim and think freely, couldn't move. The rest of his team was frozen as well, and Roman watched in horror as the Ethereal decapitated Galina and followed up by stabbing Stanislav through the heart.

Elena shouted something Roman didn't quite hear, but the Ethereal briefly stumbled as something hit it in the head. The sniper fire only seemed to barely distract her as she continued cutting through the soldiers with bloody and brutal ease. Upon closer inspection, Roman saw that it couldn't have been an energy blade the Ethereal wielded in her hand.

The bodies, while clearly cut, weren't cauterized and bled profusely. Now Roman could also hear a strange electronic buzz from the weapon, one which rose and fell in intensity whenever the Ethereal swung it. One arm reached towards him, and mimed a pull and Roman found his, Elena's, and Konstantin's weapons pulled out of their hands.

The Ethereal sliced her blade through the air and executed several more soldiers caught by her mental trap, and followed up with a stab towards another MDU, and Roman saw the beam of the weapon narrow and lengthen as it moved, until it was long enough to reach the MDU and stab it in the center. The blade retracted until it was the original length a second later, and the Guardian's lower hands reached towards them and mimed lifting them up.

Roman barely had time to scream as he saw Elena crushed in a telekinetic grip and Konstantin's neck snap before the Guardian lunged forward with her blade towards his neck. The last thing he felt was a searing warmth with his last thought hoping that Maksim would get out in time.

Then there was nothing.

Only black.

---

Washington D.C. – United States of America

11/22/2016 – 2:01 A.M.

The Battlemaster heard the discharging of gauss weapons in the distance, and saw ADVENT soldiers rushing towards them as well, a surprise considering he was supposedly the primary target. But for now they were distanced with something else. The Battlemaster broke into a run towards the commotion, opening with a psionic dash that pulverized an ADVENT soldier and decapitated another.

They were in the Arlington subdivision, where apartments and housing complexes dominated the landscape. From what the Battlemaster could tell, they were seemingly empty but he figured there were at least some civilians staying in them. The area he was in now had clearly seen recent combat, as many of the houses had bullet holes, scorching, or had entire chunks blown out of it.

Once the Battlemaster turned the street, he saw a fairly welcome sight: Senorium.

The Warlock had clearly been in a fight, if not for his life, something that was pretty close. ADVENT soldiers were strewn around the area, most of which had sustained heavy damage indicative of psionics. Senorium's armor was bloody, marred, and missing entire pieces. His helmet had been discarded or too damaged to provide any use, and as a result the Battlemaster could clearly see the rage that enveloped the alien's face.

ADVENT had the Warlock surrounded, and were keeping their distance while firing gauss weapons. Blood spurted from his wounds, but the Creator had somehow enabled them to survive seemingly fatal injuries. The Warlock roared and extended his hands to one of the groups, shooting gouts of corrosive energy towards a group, while gesturing to another squad who stopped firing and dropped their weapons before collapsing to the ground in apparent pain.

However, the purple flare, size, and the Warlock's more sluggish reactions indicated that his consistent usage of psionic was taking its toll. Much like a Battlemaster, the Chosen could not avoid becoming tired. He suspected that the alien could hold out for a while longer, but the issue was that Senorium didn't seem to know how to pace himself, and if he wasn't careful, he might quite literally burn out and allow ADVENT a perfect opportunity to kill him while he was paralyzed on the ground.

Something to watch for.

But there were more coming. Priests were in the mix as well, telekines and defensive psions it appeared, who were likely responsible for anchoring him to the ground, leaving him an easy target. Time to change that.

The Battlemaster thrust out an arm and the soldiers in front of him were thrown back several feet, while the ones closest to Senorium simply stumbled. With another clenched fist he collapsed their helmets into their heads, mixing brains with bone and metal. He killed one of the Priests with a simple decapitating strike, and the other he simply pulled into his hand and slammed the body onto the concrete where he followed up by smashing the face with his armored boot.

The Warlock gave a bloody grin as he saw the Battlemaster fighting towards him, and redoubled his attacks on the ADVENT soldiers, who began backing off once they saw the Battlemaster in the distance. A psionic maelstrom appeared on one of the ADVENT-controlled streets, cutting through the ADVENT soldiers and destroying the nearby houses many of the soldiers were using for cover.

"Battlemaster!" Senorium roared as the armored Ethereal joined him, flourishing his blade as he saw the ADVENT forces frantically communicating with each other in confusion and terror. "I'm pleased to see you survived."

"I assume you have been kept busy," the Battlemaster answered, declining to return the pleasure. "You've held out long."

Senorium's mouth formed into a sneer. "The Humans have attempted to kill me, all have failed. As one Chosen by the Creator herself, I cannot die to mere flying chunks of metal. I have held this position to give you a chance to find me, as I am certain you came to ensure my survival."

The Battlemaster gestured to twin MDUs that were marching up, weapons raised and lifted them into the air before crushing them into steel balls. "We have a better chance of escape together."

"That we do, Battlemaster," the Warlock grinned, empowered further by the aura the Battlemaster commanded. More corrosive energy spat from him arms, hitting one of the ADVENT Gunners. "I am certain our extraction is coming. ADVENT knows we are here, and they will attempt to kill both of us. But we cannot be killed!"

Even in the middle of battle, he was tempted to let out a sigh at the idiotic fanaticism of the Warlock. Only idiots believed they couldn't be killed. The chances of them dying were low, true, but those went up if they decided to stay in the exact same place. "No," the Battlemaster interjected, walking forward. "We keep moving. Staying in one place is a trap. We cut a path through ADVENT. Follow my lead or you will die, no matter what you believe."

He brandished his blade and began moving towards the street ADVENT was concentrated on. Senorium seemed briefly taken aback, but hastily dashed to his side. "Of course, Battlemaster, an Elder's wisdom is far greater than my own."

The Battlemaster didn't bother to respond, and instead charged the ADVENT line and commenced the battle anew.

---

Sydney Outskirts – Australia

11/21/2016 – 4:28 P.M.

It turned out that a fight between an Ethereal, and a being possessed by some kind of entity was a highly destructive fight.

Aliens weren't even attempting to slow down the Chronicler anymore, they were fleeing either out of fear or Quisilia's orders, both of which made perfect sense. Anything that stayed even close to the Chronicler was atomized and leveled. One thrust out hand sent out a shockwave that splintered concrete buildings and turned anything inside into blood and gore.

Abby herself was staying far away, observing through her armor which she felt trapped in at this point. Harper and the others were similarly pursuing the aliens, and even they seemed charged under some unnatural force. They gestured and aliens just melted into goop, surrounded first by black ripples and tears.

Particle beams still fired from their hands, but they ultimately served as the background to the Chronicler's path of destruction. Abby was no longer a participant in this fight, but an observer who simply hoped she'd survive with her mind and body intact.

Both of which had yet to be determined.

Quisilia had reappeared several times, largely by illusions she'd believed, not really taunting so much as commenting on what was happening. No one had been in the mood to listen and after the Chronicler had leveled an entire subdivision in the event he was hiding there, he'd not appeared since. The Chronicler clearly intended to make good on his promise to level the city, or at least the entity within him did.

And now Quisilia appeared on the street before him, surrounded by rubble where buildings had stood as the Chronicler had leveled them once he realized aliens had been inside. "Is this all you can do?' Quisilia asked, a blade twirling in his hand. "Destroy? Kill? I had honestly expected something with a bit more thought. You really think that you can kill someone by just blowing up buildings?" He wagged a finger at the Chronicler, and two more Quisilias appeared beside him. "No, that just doesn't work."

The Chronicler appraised him for a moment. "No, Elder One. But it does put you at ease, and then you become vulnerable." He suddenly reached behind him without looking and Quisilia, presumably the real Quisilia, became visible and encased in blue energy, hovering behind the Chronicler, hand raised in a fist. "I have seen more than you can possibly imagine, Elder One. I am no spymaster, but I understand the nuances of power; of visible and invisible influence."

"Not well enough, it seems," Quisilia said, and that was when Abby noticed that Quisilia was holding something in his hand that exploded into a black mist that began flying towards the Chronicler. She also saw that similar mists had also appeared around Harper and his soldiers who were desperately backing off and trying to get the nanites off of them.

"Insolent!" The Chronicler roared as he flared with bright blue energy, and turned his attention to his soldiers. It was enough for the bonds to weaken and Quisilia vanished, only to appear behind one of Harper's soldiers and stab up through the chin, presumably killing her. He vanished again just as quickly, then reappeared behind another of Harper's soldiers and pushed him forward into a shimmering portal that had just been created.

Just as quickly, he attempted to vanish except that the air around him became charged with something that even Abby could feel it. Quisilia glanced upwards, and realized that the Chronicler was blocking his teleporting again. Abby looked back to the Chronicler, who had one hand raised towards the air, and another towards Harper's soldiers. Blue fire flared and killed the nanites, while Quisilia slowly backed up.

"You fight well, Elder One," the Chronicler complimented, almost grudgingly. "But you are no warrior. You cannot fight me and win. You cannot kill me. You can only try and slow me down."

"I want you to think for a moment," Quisilia said, in the same light tone, although Abby could definitely tell he was faking it. "You kill me here. Or capture me. What exactly do you think happens next?"

"Whoever your master is, they will receive the message to leave this world," the Chronicler stated, slowly walking forward. "You mean nothing in this War, Elder One. You do not belong in this galaxy any longer. Your time is past, and the time for the new species to rise has come. Your interference is at an end."

"I believe I disagree," Quisilia disputed. "Just because we didn't die when we were supposed to, doesn't mean there isn't a place for us." He raised a black blade towards the Chronicler. "And all you've said simply reaffirms what the Imperator has learned. Even if you kill me, you will make a powerful enemy."

The Chronicler laughed.

He gestured with one hand and Quisilia went flying, slamming into a building all the way at the end of the street. He teleported directly in front of the Ethereal pinned to the wall, who had hit it with enough force to crack it. Abby had to sprint forward to even catch what they were saying.

"You have no idea of what you speak," the Chronicler said quietly, mockingly. "Your kind are the same as all Elder species. Believing they are superior simply because they live. Because they survive. And think they will be the ones to end the War. Freed from 'tyranny'; from 'control'. No…you do not care about that. You simply want to rule this galaxy undisputed."

He chuckled. "Not that I can blame you. But your delusion will die. Starting with-"

The world suddenly became brighter than the sun and it felt like an earthquake struck the ground around her. Abby was thrown to the ground and glanced to the sky to see a sight she had not thought to see in person.

The mushroom cloud of a nuclear blast.

The other soldiers had fallen to the ground as well, and even the Chronicler found his monologue cut short as he stumbled and glanced up at the sky. "What?" Quisilia suddenly vanished as the Chronicler's concentration, and likely vision, was broken since he wore no helmet and his senses were overwhelmed.

Quisilia then reappeared behind the Chronicler and pushed him forward into another shimmering portal and this time, the Chronicler didn't immediately come out. He subsequently appeared behind Harper and each of his remaining soldiers and tossed them all into created portals to locations Abby didn't have any idea of.

Then everything went quiet.

That was honestly not how she expected things to go.

"Towards the end, I did suspect the same," Quisilia commented, appearing behind her, sheathing his blade on a slot on his chest. "Ironic. Saved by ADVENT in a likely attempt to cripple us."

Abby had her weapon raised, but if Quisilia could beat the Chronicler of all people…granted, this had been more luck than skill, she really didn't have much of a chance. Not how she had expected, or really wanted to go out. Still, at least it required an Ethereal to kill her, not some stray plasma bolt.

"Please," Quisilia seemed to snort. "I can think of at least five times where I could have killed you. I wasn't keeping you alive to taunt you at the end right before I kill you like some sadist. No," he sniffed. "That's too boring and predictable. There was a very specific reason I've left you alive."

Abby chuckled mirthlessly. "You're going to let me live. Really." It wasn't a question, more a statement of disbelief.

"Oh, it's not because you're not my enemy," Quisilia quickly corrected. "However, I gain more from letting you live than die. I suspect you will soon anyway, so it will all work out in the end. But I am curious, what did you make of this Chronicler's little benefactor?" He nodded towards her. "Who I suspect provided you with what you wear now."

Abby thought for a minute. "Why does every alien species have some interest in controlling us?"

"Ah, I can answer that," Quisilia said lightly. "You are independent. That is rarer than you might expect, but nonetheless something that others simply cannot allow. Independence in this galaxy is a rare and exceptional treasure. All species eventually succumb to one master or another."

Abby smirked under her helmet. "We seem to be doing alright. And I assume you are the special ones who are free?"

"Mmm, a complicated question," Quisilia said, looking up as a kind of drone floated down. "I'm fortunate I had the foresight to make this thing impossible to shut down." The machine ejected something, and Quisilia tossed it to her, which she caught. A thumb drive.

"I suspect the Commander will be interested in this," Quisilia said. "And make sure Aegis sees that as well. Perhaps it will enlighten him to what the Imperator's concerns are. He is under the impression that our supposed allies are…benevolent…which I'm sure even you can call into question."

Abby narrowed her eyes. There had to be another angle to this; Quisilia was letting her go with this information for a reason, and she doubted it had anything to do with what had happened. Either it was to cause division, or more likely, create a distraction.

"None of those, but I don't particularly care," Quisilia reached into a pocket on his suit and pulled out a phone. "Cheap piece of junk. Of course it wouldn't work here. Shame." He looked up at her. "Ah, right, you're stuck here. I supposed I'll have to change that."

"Wait!" Abby said. "Where did you actually send the Chronicler?"

"An unspecified point in space," Quisilia said absentmindedly, as he tapped his phone again. "The same with his other minions. I have no idea where they are, and I'm fairly certainly I didn't kill them. But he'll be forced to spend time coming back to Earth, and for now he's out of the picture. I suspect he'll be back, and then I'll be…well…more prepared than I was."

He casually tossed the phone away and gestured at her. "In the meantime, I can't teleport you back to your base, since your memories are too imprecise, but I do have a location where you can probably help out your human allies. Until next time, Agent."

She wanted to say something else, but the air shimmered around her and she was suddenly in the middle of…some kind of military base? An ADVENT one judging by the soldiers running around. Some of them stumbled back as they saw her, and she couldn't blame them. Gunfire and artillery shelling was in the distance, and she turned towards it.

"Hey!" A man, an ADVENT Officer called to her. "Who are you?"

"Abigail Gertrude," she answered, thinking it was a good idea to take off her helmet. "XCOM Intelligence."

He cocked his head. "We didn't know we were getting XCOM support. They're all busy in America. We won't turn it down though, I'll take you to the front lines."

"Wait," Abby interrupted. "I need to contact my superiors. You have a communication station?"

"Why?" He demanded. "We honestly need you now. We're putting together a strike team to deal with a particularly nasty sniper. We could use you."

Oh boy, how could she begin to explain this? "Classified," she relented. "Look, I'll help you but this takes priority. Let me speak to them, and I'll join your strike team."

She could hear the exasperation in his voice. "Fine," he said. "But make it quick. I'll take you to it right now."

Abby considered asking where she actually was, but that would raise more questions than answers.

She'd have to figure it out on her own.

---

Washington D.C. – United States of America

11/22/2016 – 2:48 A.M.

They were becoming more and more outnumbered, and ADVENT had begun finally using their soldiers far more effectively than they had before. They had quite rightly observed Senorium to be the weaker of the two, and as a result he was under constant assault by sniper fire. Golden ichor spewed out of his throat, face, and now eye even as his regenerative body began healing.

The Battlemaster couldn't stay beside him either, as he was ensuring the front line of ADVENT died to his slices and telekinetic grabs. But on a narrow street, he was limited in what he could do. ADVENT was behind him as well now, the front line being Gunners who sent torrents of gauss projectiles towards Senorium, seemingly calculating that there was a better chance of them hitting the aliens than one of their own.

One punch pulverized an ADVENT Officer, and he slammed the blade of his sword down on another two, severing their shoulders and driving them to the ground. The Battlemaster suddenly found himself being lifted up by two Priests from the rooftops of a house, accompanied by other Priests who extended their arms and shot corrosive psionic torrents at him.

They were getting better.

Not good enough, sadly. His armor could withstand additional punishment yet, and he gripped the offensive psions in a choking grip, before sending them flying back. The other two he simply snapped their limbs and the moment that happened he dropped back down to the ground, readying his lower hand to slam a shockwave to destabilize the soldiers around him.

He risked a quick look behind him to see Senorium getting bombarded not just with bullets, but now rockets from one of the new rocket ADVENT soldiers. They were identified as Dragoons from the initial reports, and Senorium took one rocket directly to the chest, then another, and a third one blew it apart, forcing him to the ground, yellow coating the Chosen.

The Warlock roared and attempted to stand, one arm extended to the soldiers he was facing. The front line immediately started running away, but his telepathic command did not extend to the back row. Sniper fire continued ripping into the wounded alien. The other eye was shot out. The Battlemaster thought he saw a finger become shortened.

A dilemma. He didn't particularly care about the survival of Senorium, but at the same time, if he was killed he was now in a much more difficult position. An executive decision needed to be made, at least until he could regenerate enough to become useful. His initial plan of 'fight through ADVENT' was becoming more and more difficult as he knew that no matter where they went, ADVENT would be waiting.

The Battlemaster sent a telekinetic wave towards the ADVENT soldiers he'd been fighting, then psionically dashed to where the Warlock was struggling to rise. The Battlemaster jammed his sword into a corpse, and leapt briefly up into the air to perform a repulsion attack, a weaker variant, but one that was useful when completely surrounded.

He hovered briefly in the air, crossing his arms as he gathered his power, then thrust them out in an expulsive wave that leveled the nearby houses and left a large crack on the ground beneath him. As the energy was directed primarily to the sides, Senorium managed to not be as seriously affected, but it knocked the wind out of his destroyed chest.

The Battlemaster dropped to the ground, and readied his sword once again. Two hands raised, he erected two telekinetic barriers. "How fast will it take you to heal?" He demanded.

"Momentarily," the Warlock gurgled, spitting blood. "I cannot die, Battlemaster. Even if the Humans send a thousand more, we will defeat them as you just did now!"

"I slowed them," the Battlemaster retorted, turning to the Warlock just in time to see the flesh over his chest reform. "They are not defeated, not yet. You cannot hold out forever, even now you are tiring."

"A momentary weakness," Senorium tried to assure him, now looking slightly worried. "A limitation I can easily overcome."

The Battlemaster didn't have time to explain the concept of pacing himself in sustained combat, and ADVENT was reforming their front line. "You will stay close to me," the Battlemaster said. "Do not stop and fight the-"

He stopped speaking as Senorium's face slowly morphed into one of absolute terror. A UFO suddenly roared overhead and began landing in the ruins of one of the destroyed houses. The sounds of battle continued, but it was no longer directed at them, but inexplicably at each other. A madness had taken over the ADVENT ranks, with some shooting allies, and others just falling to the ground screaming and gibbering.

Of all the ones to extract him, the Battlemaster would not have suspected Isomnum.

The black UFO's entrance barrier slid back, revealing a brightly lit interior, almost pure white emanating from it. Out first stepped the Dread Lord himself, and beside him were his soldiers, who before today the Battlemaster had only heard of. They were a mix of all alien races, even Muton and Sectoid.

Some of them wore a kind of black armor, mostly the Mutons, and others wore clothing that would normally be seen in science labs or ancient Human religions, with sleek uniforms and robes. The Vitakarians carried unhilted black blades of sorts, coated in a colorless liquid, while others of Isomnum's soldiers carried black weapons of a design the Battlemaster had not seen before.

Even the Sectoid stood straight, no longer the little grey creature but something that had been infected with black cybernetics and-

The Battlemaster stiffened as he saw the little creature more closely. He had only seen that kind of technology from the Synthesized.

What was Isomnum doing with it here?

The soldiers seemed to act on unspoken orders from Isomnum himself, and began slowly walking to the ADVENT line. From what the Battlemaster observed, the most noticeable thing about the soldiers was not necessarily the wide array of species, but that all of them were apparently blinded. All of them wore some kind of blindfold, and none of them covered their faces.

"Lord Isomnum," Senorium said meekly, falling to one knee, practically shaking. "It is an-"

"Leave, Chosen," Isomnum commanded, the voice speaking only made the screaming in the background intensify. "Retain your sanity if you wish. You are no longer needed."

"Yes-yes of course Lord Isomnum," the Warlock said, standing and creating a visible distortion that acted as a portal. Once he stepped through, he vanished. Isomnum was flanked by two of his soldiers, a Vitakarian and a Sectoid. The Battlemaster could not read the Sectoid, but the Vitakarian was emotionless, somehow unaffected by the madness Isomnum exerted.

"Your assistance is appreciated, Isomnum," the Battlemaster said, inclining his head. "We may depart immediately."

"We will leave momentarily," Isomnum stated, looking around and walking towards where several ADVENT soldiers lay. "I have seen your reasoning for this attack. You have failed."

"President Treduant is dead, and we have shown ADVENT is vulnerable," the Battlemaster answered. "Her attack was a surprise, but the objective was succeeded."

"If you leave now, you will not leave them with fear, but with hope," Isomnum practically spat. "You were outwitted by a Human. Again. Your honor has done nothing but waste resources and time. The coddling of this species must end. They cannot think to attack what we have with impunity."

A Muton dragged a screaming ADVENT soldier in front of the Ethereal, and Isomnum telekinetically lifted the helmet off to reveal the distraught woman before him. "Humans, Battlemaster, cannot be defeated without taking measures," he said, gripping the woman's chin with his finger. "The goal should not be victory on the battlefield, but to plant terror in the heart of every Human who dares oppose us. Terror leads to distraction, distraction to mistakes, and their mistakes lead us to victory."

The Battlemaster had known of the reputation of the Dread Lord, and now he was beginning to understand why Isomnum had been deemed too extreme even for the Overminds. "Fears, these can be simple and complex. Some are situations, others are as simple as a fear of insects. Push too much; create this image in their mind…and it will inevitably shatter."

He looked to the Sectoid. "Go. Bring me the Venomorph and the eggs."

The Sectoid chittered and walked off. "What are you doing?" The Battlemaster demanded. "We need to leave."

Isomnum ignored him temporarily, looking towards his soldiers who appeared to be picking Humans at random from the paralyzed mass of soldiers. "Bring those marked to the ship." The Battlemaster saw a couple more soldiers walk off and began binding and carrying Humans to Isomnum's UFO.

"Captives?" The Battlemaster asked.

"Unnecessary," Isomnum stated coldly. "Humans, like all species, have their potential. Some will serve me well, should they overcome what they fear most."

So he was recruiting Humans for his army. Or a more accurate word was abducting. He didn't know if he should stop it, but this was one area where the Imperator might override him, and this was not the time to fight, not when he still considered them to be in mild danger.

The Sectoid returned, chittering and holding up a clear vase, which had a small creature inside it. Behind the Sectoid was a Muton carrying a black box. "To answer your question," Isomnum said, taking the vase gently and telekinetically lifting the little squirming insect out of it, before looking down at the woman. "I am completing your mission. Revelean was kind enough to loan me a prototype of his Venomorph."

The Battlemaster only remembered a few details from the project, as he hadn't checked it in months, or even heard about it from Revelean since. "A parasite?"

"One which grows in the host, consuming until it controls their body," Isomnum confirmed. "And once its brain supersedes the host, it will kill and maim all around it." He lowered it towards the woman's mouth. "Be still, Human, you will forget this happened soon-"

He never finished as the Battlemaster severed the woman's head from her body. "No." The Battlemaster stated flatly. "The mission was accomplished. We. Are. Leaving." He looked towards the box and telekinetically opened it. "Chryssalid eggs," he spat, glaring at the Dread Lord. "Do you think so little of our species that we must resort to terror to win?"

"You instructed me to assist your efforts," Isomnum stated. "I have done so. The Humans will treat this as a victory; we can yet turn it into their nightmare."

The Battlemaster clenched a fist and the case crumpled and the delicate balls containing the Chryssalid eggs shattered. "Your suggestion is denied. We are leaving."

Isomnum looked up at him; as impossible as it was to read under the helmet, he suspected the Ethereal was furious, disgusted, or both at him. Not that he particularly cared. "You are weak, Battlemaster, you are why we lost before. I will be speaking to the Imperator to ensure that we do not lose a second time."

He motioned to his soldiers, and they wordlessly began walking back towards the UFO, with the Battlemaster following him. Unfortunate that the UFO was so small, as it would be difficult to avoid the Ethereal furious at him, but it couldn't be helped.

In the end, Isomnum was here under his request, and under his command. Even if his threat to inform the Imperator was not a bluff, the Battlemaster would not pay it any weight. It was not as though the Imperator would actually supersede his military authority.

In the end though, he was out of danger.

Now he had to figure out how to salvage this entire operation and retain what territory they had.

---

ADVENT HQ – Switzerland

11/22/2016 – 6:00 A.M.

It had been a while since Saudia had stayed up all night, but in this case the adrenaline from managing the ongoing media news cycle, attacks on multiple fronts, and the uproar of foreign countries offering support and condolences, had made it somewhat easier. She literally had no time to be tired, much less devote to thinking about it.

The Battlemaster had escaped, which was a loss, but considering the circumstances, it could have been worse. Had that other Ethereal not arrived, perhaps they would have killed him and that Warlock.

But putting the Battlemaster in a situation where he'd needed extraction at all had been a minor victory. It at least showed he could be trapped and eventually worn down. The attacks in California were proceeding well…but it was becoming more of a stalemate, and reports of another Ethereal in Alaska had explained why cities were suddenly falling there.

Seattle had been temporarily abandoned, again, to put into motion a new kind of guerilla warfare, which had been approved by Commander Christiaens and Weekes, so it was likely a reasonable strategic maneuver. Still, she wasn't happy to lose it so soon after gaining it. At least South Korea was going as well as could be expected, and they would probably be able to hold out indefinitely assuming no Ethereal showed up.

The nuclear strikes over Japan and Australia had gone off successfully, and she idly wondered how they were handling that. She suspected that the Battlemaster would be working to negate this in the future, so it might as well be taken advantage of now.

She debated taking a short nap before the press conference today, where there would doubtless be more questions from the media about the attacks. Already foreign media was jabbering about the blast over Japan, and the state of the conflict in the US. For once though, they were all unilaterally focused on the alien threat, and not whatever aspect about ADVENT they chose to attack that week.

It was a refreshing change, and the attack on D.C. had been a catalyst for that. Almost every European country had either condemned the attack, or offered support, most of which amounted to little more than words…but she did wonder if it would make some of them think. England in particular had responded to the attack strongly, with the Prime Minister declaring it an 'inconceivable and cowardly attack'. More aggressive than she'd expected.

"Chancellor," her secretary said, speaking through the intercom in her office. "You…have a call incoming."

She furrowed her eyebrows. The amount of people who were allowed to disturb her were very few. Either something had gone very bad, or very good. "Who?"

"Best you see for yourself, Chancellor. Security reasons."

Which further reduced the options of who it could be. That reason was only given if absolutely no one could risk even knowing the following conversation existed. She wondered if it was the aliens, calling to either insult or congratulate her. "Put it through then," she said, standing up. "Holoprojector or screen?"

"Holoprojector," he answered. "Putting it through now."

Alien then. No one else had holotech. She moved to the holoprojector which flashed red as it booted up and displayed the figure before her.

Who, it turned out, was perhaps the last person she had expected to speak to.

"Greetings, Chancellor Vyandar," Chinese President Qin Yijun greeted. "I felt it was past time we properly spoke in person, or as close as can be expected from a woman of your position."

Well, this was an interesting turn of events.

President Qin Yijun of the Communist Party of China was dressed similar to all Chinese politicians of the country, which amounted to a simple business suit, although the red hologram distorted whatever colors it had. He was relatively young, thirty-nine and from pictures she remembered he had black hair, darker skin than normal for a Chinese man, with full Chinese facial features.

"President Qin," she inclined her head. "I was not expecting this."

President Qin gave a slight smile. "While we could go through the normal diplomatic channels, I believe the current situation emphasizes speed above all else. It is time we make decisions together, not through our respective diplomatic branches."

"I am not opposed to that," Saudia said. "Yet I somehow doubt you're calling to say that China is joining ADVENT."

"No," President Qin said lightly, but firmly. "We have every intent of retaining our independence. With that said, you are not our enemy, and the aliens are on our own doorstep. Their ships have been seen flying over our waters, and it is no longer in our interests to hold our forces in reserve. What I propose is simple, Chancellor, a military alliance between our governments against the Ethereal Collective."

While it wasn't exactly the best outcome of this conversation, even having China at the table was a major step forward, especially in the Asian theatre. "I'm glad to hear you understand the threat, Mr. President, however, I do not want you to have the wrong idea of what such an alliance would entail. We have no intention of sharing our technology with you."

"As anticipated," President Qin nodded. "We do not expect you to do so, and the decision shall be mutual. This would be fairly simple initially. From what we understand of the current conflict in Korea, you are holding out but unable to push them back completely. We can provide you with enough reinforcements to crush the aliens in Korea, and send reinforcements to America if needed." He paused. "It was courteous of you to inform us of your surgical nuclear strike over Japan. It is also an opportunity. You have given an opening for a counter-invasion of the island. Your forces are occupied. Mine are not."

Retaking Japan.

That was not something she had considered as a possibility, but before then, she hadn't had several extra million soldiers to take it over. Still, she wondered what the catch was. "In the event such an undertaking is started…" she began slowly. "The liberated territory will be returned to the surviving Japanese government and citizens, and become a full member of ADVENT. This is not an opportunity to expand your territory, Mr. President."

"Considering what ADVENT is capable of," he answered. "It would be foolish to make an enemy of you. Should a liberation of Japan be successful, it will, of course, be returned to the Japanese."

Saudia gave a single nod. "And what of your soldiers and weaponry? It is not as ours is, I suspect. We will, of course, be willing to provide support from our special forces."

"While we are certainly nowhere as advanced as your army," President Qin admitted. "We have made significant advances, and despite the…attempted intervention of XCOM to deny us the alien Dreadnought, it has allowed us to progress significantly. Do not underestimate my soldiers, Chancellor, they can fight just as hard as yours."

Saudia considered for a few moments. "I feel that we should discuss this in more detail. ADVENT, President Qin, would certainly be open to an alliance against the Ethereal Collective. However, this warrants an announcement in person. Would you be willing to meet in person so our branches can coordinate more effectively?"

He gave a light chuckle. "I suspect you would not stoop to such trickery as to abduct me, and it will perhaps send the needed message that, feelings towards your government aside, this war will affect the world and our species. I will come. Ensure that your staff are ready to coordinate. I will order my forces to prepare to deploy."

"Excellent," Saudia smiled. "I look forward to your arrival."

He returned the smile, one full of confidence and cold fury. "As do I, Chancellor. We will speak shortly."

The hologram dissipated, and Saudia was left alone. She quickly walked to her desk and opened a line to Diplomat Hassan. "Chief, get everyone you can assembled and prepare for a foreign delegation."

A pause. "Now? I can, but who is it?"

"President Qin," Saudia said with a grim smile. "I think the Chinese are willing to ally with us."