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.

64. Streets of Blood, Storms of Ice

Streets of Blood, Storms of Ice

---

Barracks, the Praesidium – Classified Location

5/16/2017 – 10:10 A.M.

Kunio didn't want to do this, but it was something that needed to be done.

He was more recovered now…as much as he could be after the mission. Caelior had been freed, which he supposed made it worth it. That was what they all knew when getting into this; that they could die for a purpose greater than themselves. Sometimes it couldn't be helped, and it was for the greater good.

At least it hadn't been for nothing. It was easier to accept.

He was never going to get the awful sound of that singing out of his head. Or not for a long time. At least he wasn't a listener to opera, because after this he didn't think he'd ever be able to listen to it again without picturing the horrific floating brain-thing that had taken them out with frightening ease.

Carmelita had been found and was recovering. That was the other piece of good news. The people who'd found her hadn't really know what to make of her, but they'd called the authorities, who had in turn called XCOM, and she was brought back in a matter of hours. Kunio planned on seeing her later; when she was more awake.

He wondered how highly this ranked on the harrowing scale in her experience.

Kunio pushed that out of his mind as he approached the lone man near his locker. Said Tariq was putting up something in it, maybe a uniform, or maybe a weapon. His tanned skin had a pale tinge to it, and from the bloodshot and red eyes indicated he'd been crying and hadn't bothered to hide it. He was a big man, at least big enough that Kunio felt fairly small compared to him.

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Mr. Tariq?" He hated how formal it was, but how exactly did you address someone whose wife you killed, even if it was the best option at the time? It certainly wasn't as if he knew him well; he'd encountered him and his wife in the training area, but they were in a completely different discipline.

Said shut the door and turned slowly. "Kunio, right?" His voice was rough.

Had he heard? He had to have. XCOM wouldn't have delayed with something like this. "Yes sir."

He gave a single, somber nod. "With Fatima in the squad, yes?"

"Yes," Kunio confirmed. "I was with her when she died."

"I figured as much," he rubbed his eyes. "XCOM informed me what had happened and who the survivors were. I'm glad you got Carmelita out of there. Glad someone else got out with you."

Kunio kept his face straight as he took a breath. "Did they give you details?"

Said shrugged. "Some. Probably why you're here, right?"

Kunio's initial silence was answer enough. "Tell me then," Said finally spoke, walking over to sit on the lower bunk, lacing his fingers together. "I want to know."

"There was one of the Bringer's creatures in the base," Kunio said, watching as Said's features twisted into a mixture of fury and fear. "A powerful one. It's…not like anything I'd ever seen. It was a powerful psion. It had been trying to communicate with Fatima the whole mission, even though we didn't know what it was at first."

"Did she resist?" Said asked, a tinge of fear in his voice.

"It was…difficult," Kunio admitted. "Carmelita had to knock her out because it was almost overwhelming her. Then it tracked us down and killed most of us. I think it wanted her. It pulled her into its arms and was going to take her away." He shrugged helplessly. "I know what that means. I remembered Beijing. The reports. I didn't want her to have her mind taken by the Bringer."

He trailed off shortly, before shaking his head and forcing himself to continue. "I thought I was going to die, but I didn't want any of us falling to that fate. Being a mind the Bringer absorbed. I killed Fatima before that could happen. I'm sorry." The words seemed completely inadequate for the admission, but he didn't know what more he could add.

Said's eyes were watering again, but at least he wasn't lashing out. He just stared blankly ahead. "We both knew this was a possibility," he said in a monotone. "We'd…come to terms with it a long time ago. We were EXALT test subjects once. Did you know that?"

Kunio shook his head. Said continued. "It was a harrowing time. We both lived knowing we could be executed any day. We'd…almost come to terms with it. Then XCOM came and rescued us. I guess we'd both begun to hope that…" he trailed off briefly. "We've both lasted so long…at least it feels like a long time. Before the war really started. Before ADVENT. Before all of this…I thought it was looking like we'd actually make it. That we'd come out of this war somehow, miraculously, alive."

He gave a hollow, choked laugh that seemed closer to a sob. "But we don't get a happy ending."

"I'm sorry," Kunio said again. "I can't imagine that."

"I'd hope you never have to," he agreed quietly. "I don't blame you, if that's what you were worried about. The Bringer isn't a joke, and this is war. And…I'm glad you did it. You did the right thing. Death is better than being turned into a monstrosity of the Bringer. She would thank you if she could."

"I wish I'd waited," Kunio finally admitted. "Fiona showed up minutes later. If I'd just held off-"

"Fuck that," Said interrupted intensely, lifting a hand. "You didn't know she was going to show up. You said you thought you were going to die. I'll tell you that I'd have done the exact same fucking thing you did in your situation. We can beat ourselves up over hindsight, but none of us can see into the future. You did the right thing, and you don't even know if Fiona would have been able to fare any better."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I felt it, you know. When she died."

Kunio was silent, letting him speak. "We had our own bond," he said, indicating his head. "It was stronger on her end, since she was the telepath. But I could get a sense of what she was feeling when she was around. What you explained…some of what I felt makes more sense. Confusion, fear, fatigue…but the last thing I felt from her was peace." He shrugged. "She was knocked out by your word, but that tells me you succeeded. If she'd been absorbed…I would know. It hurt, but at least I know now."

There was some comfort in truly knowing that he'd succeeded in keeping Fatima from the Bringer's hunger. It had gnawed on him, since he suspected, but didn't know. But now he did, and at least it had worked. "What are you going to do now?" Kunio asked. "I know there will be a memorial soon."

"I'll do that," Said nodded. "Beyond that…" he trailed off. "I owe it to her to get until the end of this war. One of us has to. And I will make sure Paradise is reduced to ashes, and every alien that allowed their crimes executed." He looked up at the other psion. "Thank you, Kunio. For telling me."

Kunio gave a short nod. "You should hear it from me."

"Right," Said wiped his eyes, and looked back at him. "What about you?"

"Me?" Kunio shrugged. "I need to get better so that this doesn't happen again. Paradise is also bumped up a few notches on my hit list of the future."

"I'm glad we're in agreement," Said gave a wan smile. "I'll see you around, I suppose. Give Fiona my thanks if you see her. I'm glad she was able to save at least someone from this mission."

"The other team did extract Caelior," Kunio remembered. "We did ultimately succeed."

"Yes," Said grunted. "He better prove his worth. Good people died so he'd be freed. I hope he realizes that."

Kunio didn't really know much about the young Ethereal, but if Caelior was truly reformed, then he would hopefully realize the sacrifice of those who had died. "I think he will," Kunio said. "And he will show it by bringing down the Collective with us."

---

The Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective

5/25/2017 – 9:20 A.M.

All things considered, Yang figured that it could have been a lot worse.

She had not really wanted to be overly familiar with the newest Harbingers, but at the same time the Battlemaster wanted her to be aware of them and their capabilities. Quisilia in particular was someone who made distinct calculations and was far more aware than he often let on – or portrayed to the world.

Yang had heard the rumors and stories of the Twins who had already made a distinct impression in the short time they'd been here, and if only parts of their personality were accurate to their social media, she was concerned she would strangle one by the end. Ravarian in particular was unhappy with them, and considering what they put him through, she couldn't blame them.

In person though…they weren't nearly as obnoxious as she had feared. Which was highly suspicious.

"You're staring," Sabrina said dryly, stabbing her pancake as they ate. "You normally do that?"

"No," Yang answered neutrally. "Trying to figure something out."

"Ah, I get it," Sabrina gave a thin, knowing smile. "Surprised we're not acting like deranged lunatics?"

"Somewhat."

Both twins chuckled. "Chalk up another one," Micaiah giggled. "Well, if you want, we can do what you're expecting. Isn't that right, sista?"

"Totes, fam," Sabrina said. "We can make this place lit and have fresh and dank memes on cue, ya feel me girl?"

Yang shuddered. "Please never speak to me like that again."

"Figured as much," Micaiah said, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table. "Quisilia said you and the Battlemaster weren't quite as tolerant towards…" she cocked her head. "Well, this. Sad, but hey, I get it, some people take themselves too seriously."

Yang furrowed her eyebrows, not extremely in the mood for mockery. "Your consideration is truly appreciated."

"At least you can be sarcastic," Sabrina nodded approvingly. "Maybe some hope for you."

"So is that all an act?" Yang wondered, looking between both of them.

"Oh, part of it is," Micaiah smiled. "The other part I like to call 'exaggerated character performance'."

"I think it's a reason Quisilia found us," Sabrina nodded. "We like messing with people. Way too many take themselves too seriously they can't think critically. To the point where you can basically control their life, assuming you know what you're doing. It's really fun, you should try it some time."

"I'd prefer not looking like an idiot, thank you very much."

"Oh, that hurts," Sabrina pouted mockingly. "Truly. You do you, but trust me, it's more enjoyable and safer this way."

"Do tell."

"Please, think about it for a minute," Sabrina explained in a near-patronizing tone Yang was finding grating. "See, this is also something good old Ravi also doesn't understand. The name of the game is unpredictability. I bet you have no idea what to think of me right now because you came in with one idea, and now we're having a civil conversation, and that works in my advantage. Whereas I can probably make a number of assumptions about what you would do or how you would react, and you're so serious you'd do them."

That was almost amusing to Yang considering what she was involved in. "I somehow doubt that."

"Eh, time will tell," Micaiah said. "I mean, what would you prefer? To have someone underestimate or overestimate you? You're near the top of ADVENT's kill list. I assume they'd send the Pantheon and the best XCOM squads after you. Us? I bet we'd get the Lancers at best, with some Priests thrown in for good measure?" She sipped her glass of apple juice with a smile. "Just how I like it. They'll never see us coming."

Which was something to keep in mind, and unfortunately the Twins had a point. Yang had to remember that no matter how idiotic they seemed – or pretended to, as it turned out – they were still Harbingers. And Quisilia was no fool. Come to think of it, this is exactly the kind of stunt he'd pull.

So it was worth gaining some more information. "How did Quisilia even find you?"

"We wasted a lot of ADVENT's money," Sabrina said as her eyes lit up. "One thing led to another, and here we are."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Yah," Micaiah and Sabrina exchanged a look. "So, both of us were in theatre, you know. Sabrina was a stage performer. Broadway and all that."

Yang was surprised, looking to Sabrina. "You performed on Broadway?" She'd never seen a show there, but it was something even people from China (and Australia) knew about.

"Understudy, but would have happened sooner or later," Sabrina said with a slight hint of modesty. "Or not. Not a lot of the management liked me. A bit too investigative and 'activist' for their liking. Beat the shit out of a producer that tried moving on me. Probably would have been fired if we hadn't set it up beforehand. Big scandal, lot of positive public press. Couldn't touch me after that, but my career might have been shot."

"Good times," Micaiah snickered. "You wouldn't believe the things these idiots say to each other when they don't think anyone is listening."

"Micaiah's more of the behind the scenes person," Sabrina nodded to her sister. "Also a magician."

The aforementioned magician pulled out a card. "At your service, now you see it," she did a quick motion with her hand. "Now you don't."

Yang narrowed her eyes. "I did see that." It was very quick and slight, but she had seen the impressively fast sleight of hand Micaiah had done.

"Gonna have to mix up my routine," Micaiah muttered. "Difficult to do the old tricks when everyone is gene modded. Ah well, psionics introduces so many possibilities."

"Right, so back to the story," Sabrina cleared her throat. "The aliens come, and out of fucking nowhere ADVENT appears. We know all about the whole new world order conspiracies, but I didn't expect it to be real. One morning we wake up, the UN is gone, and America is part of it!"

"Told you Treduant was a fraud," Micaiah added.

"Quiet," Sabrina shushed. "Obviously, neither of us were going to let the new authoritarian fascists take over America. I mean, America has its problems, but compared to ADVENT? No contest, especially when you saw who was leading them. Literally everyone had no history or very, let us say fascist tendencies," she paused. "It's almost impressive how much I despised our new dear leaders. Lot of other people felt the same way, so we exercised our First Amendment right to protest."

"Aaand we got hit with tear gas, paralyzed with those stun batons, and spent two days in jail," Micaiah finished. "And after all of that we got told that we were on a list, and if we showed up again, we'd be charged with 'public disturbance'. Turns out that they'd sent that warning to pretty much everyone."

"Is that why you accepted Quisilia's offer?" Yang asked.

"Well, it made me hate ADVENT more," Sabrina shrugged. "Honestly, with the depraved crap the world leaders get up to, I can't blame the aliens for taking one look at us and saying 'screw this'. Learning about stuff like how XCOM hijacked the invasion and they killed all those people in Germany, no wonder the Collective wasn't interested in peace. But ultimately, no, that wasn't the reason."

"We had a brother," Micaiah continued. Yang noted the past tense. "Younger. Not quite as cool as us, but definitely smarter. More optimistic too. Liked visiting other countries and cultures. Stand-up guy, wouldn't hurt anyone. Turns out he was in a foreign exchange program in Iraq when Deus Vult went down."

"Thank you ADVENT, very cool," Sabrina muttered, for the first time expressing some sobriety. "So yeah, that was when we both decided that no matter how questionable the aliens were, ADVENT was definitely not any better. It's funny that if ADVENT wasn't so stupidly pragmatic, some of us wouldn't be here. Yeah, civilian deaths are nothing in their scheme of conquering the world, but sometimes they lead to stuff like us." She smiled. "So yeah, we turned our attention to ADVENT."

"It was a glorious few months," Micaiah sighed contentedly. "Little things that fucked with them. Prank calls that made them send soldiers all over the state. It was hilarious how much time we could waste, just pretending to be a scared civilian." Her voice went artificially higher. "'Help me! I saw a chryssalid and it's trying to get into my house!'"

"ADVENT caught on eventually," Sabrina said. "Surprised they caught us, truth be told. We sat in jail, and then the Memelord himself appears and offers us a job. And obviously, we accept, and that is our depressing, but exciting origin story."

And it was one Yang could understand. For them fighting ADVENT was personal, whereas for her it…wasn't. And it definitely didn't mean the Collective was better. The Bringer made that abundantly clear. "I see. Beijing didn't affect this?"

"What, that?" Sabrina snorted. "Please. Screw the CPC, and their brainwashed communist citizens. Such a massive mess. At least this Bringer is creative with his kills. It's actually pretty impressive if you look deeper at the symbolism. I mean, the CPC always eats itself in their political backstabbing, so seeing them all eat themselves for real? Glorious. Screwed ADVENT over too, which was a nice bonus."

Yang stiffened. This had definitely not really gone the direction she had expected. "It wasn't just the Communist Party. Millions of people died."

"Eh, it's not like China has a shortage of people," Micaiah answered candidly. "Almost killed the Chancellor too. Plus, there was the whole smallpox disease going on. Bringer probably did a lot of them a favor." She turned, and her face dropped as she saw Yang's stone-cold glare. "Uh, no offense."

Yang was both shocked and furious at the same time. It…said a lot about the Twins that they'd complained so much about ADVENT's tactics, but then sanctioned the slaughter of millions to the Bringer who was far worse than anything ADVENT had done because…why? Because it hurt ADVENT or because they were Chinese?"

She didn't honestly know which one was worse to her.

Sabrina seemed to pick up on the tension. "Hey, Yang, don't worry, you're cool. You're not with ADVENT or one of those Chinese, so trust me, you're fine."

Yang blinked, almost stunned at how casual she was saying that. It was genuinely puzzling to hear it said so nonchalantly. "I'm sorry? What did you say?"

"You're really hung up on this now?" Micaiah asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Hey, it wasn't anything personal. You clearly don't like ADVENT, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Beijing doesn't bother us that much. Bit disgusting, yeah, but it's just as bad or worse in some movies."

Yang stood, needing to leave before she strangled one or both of them. "You were wrong earlier."

Sabrina frowned. "About what?"

"About knowing what I would do and react," Yang fixed her with a cold stare before turning to leave. "You don't know anything about me." She walked away, then paused, once, closing a fist. "And if I hear you defend the Bringer again, I will kill you."

She kept the chokehold on their throats present until she left the room; not tightening it, but letting it linger long enough for them to maybe reflect on what they had said. She almost wished they were the idiots she had assumed.

This was much worse.

---

Staging Ground - Desolan

5/28/2017 – 10:00 A.M.

The hot Desolan sun beat down upon the flat brown lands. Patricia stood in front of the assembled army in front of her. Over twenty thousand Mutons in total were assembled in front, interspersed with Berserkers, Elites, and the Praetorian Guard. They extended as far as she could see, legions.

Enough to destroy a city definitively.

A light breeze whipped through the air, making her hair rustle as she faced the soldiers. Between the ranks were additional legions of Andromedons, Runianarch, and some of Mosrimor's Meat Puppets. There was a very good chance that ADVENT and XCOM would send everything they could.

They would be prepared.

The Battlemaster also stood ready, together with Yang who would both help coordinate the charge and bring the city down from the inside and out. This was going to be a display that none in ADVENT would forget. She did not think it would cripple them beyond the point of no return, but it would signal the beginning of the end.

"Be ready," she ordered, projecting her voice through telepathy, so even the soldiers in the very far back heard. "When the time comes, you will know when to march. With that, she turned around and unhooked the Avatar mask from her waist and with a smooth motion put it on, stiffening as it clicked into place and the bond was fully established.

Minds merged, and the power lay at the end of her fingertips.

End this conflict.

Bring them into the fold.

Break the hold of the Sovereign.

Break the hold of the tyrants.

She lifted a hand and a small portal appeared before her, and stepped into it, and into the bustling streets of New York. The reaction was immediate as cars veered away, crashing into each other, signposts, and even some pedestrians as all looked to see the Harbinger who hung suspended in the air, cape fluttering and hands hanging idly at her sides.

The pale mask of the Harbinger looked down upon the masses in judgment.

Their emotions were shock.

Shock became anger.

Anger became fear.

And fear turned to terror.

They knew what was coming next.

The many Peacekeepers which patrolled the streets wasted no time. She had felt their minds the moment she entered this place, such were easier to pick out from the crowd; easier still with the Imperator empowering her. She idly closed a fist, and all of them felt an iron grip manifest around their throat.

Within seconds all of them were reaching for it.

She wasn't sure how many. Twenty, forty, it didn't matter. One managed to fire a shot off. The round hung in the air, and without a motion she sent it back towards the source, killing him instantly. But this was a chance for leniency, and she released her grip on the throats of the Peacekeepers.

The crowds were mixed between those cowering in their cars, behind corners, or under shelters, futilely believing that they were able to hide from her. Even now she could feel each panicked thought and breath as they internally begged her not to find them.

I see you.

I see where you hide.

I see what you think.

I know what you are.

It mildly amazed and amused her to realize just how…helpless most people were to her now. Humans and aliens alike seemed to have issues comprehending the utter scale of the power she and other psions possessed. As if they could hide, or stood a viable chance against her. Or any psion.

But especially her.

It was good to remind them that ADVENT's reach and power had limits.

It mattered not their reforms if they could be brought low by a single command.

Still, there were other Humans who were smarter. Some were outright fleeing, while others were holding up their hands in a surrender. Above she heard helicopters flying overhead; media or military, it didn't particularly matter. A quick look confirmed a media helicopter. She let it be.

Let the world see what would happen.

She drew upon the vast well of power within her grasp, extended it far beyond where she knew the city limits were, and with a flash of power, locked down the Psionosphere. There was no tangible reaction, but there would now be no teleporter who could break through. No Gateway would function properly.

The city was in her control, and there would be none who would be able to stop her. The army inside would hold, but without the element of defense, they would not be able to do more than futilely stand and fight as the city was destroyed around them. It was time to give them the ultimatum.

She projected her voice, through her helmet, and to every single mind in the city. Those who were isolated, those who hid, they were unable to protect their minds from what was said. There was no excuse; no plea of ignorance.

The ultimatum would be followed, or it would be ignored.

"Citizens of ADVENT. This war has persisted for far too long. It is time it be ended, else we will sacrifice millions of Humans and aliens in a protracted conflict with only one feasible outcome. The end is ordained. The Ethereal Collective will succeed, no matter how many die, no matter what you develop, no matter what you gain. It is inevitable."

She spread one hand out. "There will be no more half-measures. I issue a simple ultimatum – surrender or die. If you surrender, you will be treated well and be provided for in the remade Earth. If you refuse, you will die. This is only the beginning. Today will be New York. It will be followed by the strongholds you have held. Tampa. Busan. Beijing."

Her tone turned accusing. "You. Were. Warned. There is no escape, and there is no hope for rebellion. Think carefully about the future, for the judgement of the Imperator has been rendered."

She reached back to Desolan, to the many anchors and nuances in the Psionosphere she had painstakingly memorized and trained relentlessly in preparation for this operation. On her own it was nearly impossible to discern, but with the Imperator's power and grasp of the Psionosphere, it was so…simple.

Let them through.

Usher in the endgame.

The Harbinger floated to hover just above the pavement, idle and dead cars telekinetically moving out of the way as she gently landed on the ground, and before her, a massive purple portal opened and a hot burst of wind served as a prelude to the legions of Mutons which stood behind her.

And it was not simply on the street the Harbinger stood upon.

Citizens watched, and media trained their cameras on the dozens of portals which opened up within and outside the city, as the standing ADVENT garrison quickly scrambled to handle the surprise attack. In row after row the Mutons, Vitakara, and Mosrimor's Meat Puppets marched out, annihilating the first wave in a hail of plasma, projectiles, and psionics.

Behind her, Patricia felt the legions, and with one hand pointed forward. "Go. Spare those who surrender. Destroy the rest."

Without need for encouragement, the armies complied.

The word of the Harbinger had been said.

There was naught to do but obey.

---

Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location

5/28/2017 – 10:24 A.M.

The Praesidium was on high alert.

"How many?" The Commander demanded tightly as he observed the holographic simulation which displayed all last known Collective positions. The entire city was filled with red dots and swaths as the Collective cut a path directly through the heart of the city. Small orange figures denoted the last spotted locations of individuals like Patricia, the Battlemaster, and Yang Shuren.

"Still no firm number," Jackson scowled as she had a hand constantly to her ear, fiddling with her headset as she paced from screen to screen, and flipped through her tablet which was getting assaulted with a dozen messages and updates a minute. "They're still coming."

"How many?" The Commander demanded more intently.

"Thousands at least," Jackson threw out. "She's probably maintaining portals directly to Desolan!"

"And we can't immediately intervene," Iosif muttered. "Psionosphere is completely locked down." He looked to the Chronicler who was similarly appraising the room gravely. "I don't suppose T'Leth can break it?"

"He'd have to move closer," the Chronicler said. "And what she is doing is good. Very good. I suspect she's using Mosrimor Orbs to maintain the lockdown. Perhaps the portals as well. She is not the Imperator, even if she draws on his power."

"I've got six squads assigned," Creed marched up to the Commander. "All hands on deck for this one. Patricia, Battlemaster, everyone. For all we know the rest of the Ethereals will be showing up sometime. Should I give the order to assemble?"

"Do it," the Commander confirmed. "Aegis, Caelior, both of them are involved. We cannot let New York be destroyed."

"I can't believe she actually did it," Jackson said, shaking her head as she watched the footage. "Even for her this is an escalation."

"As she said," the Commander said heavily. "She did warn us."

Patricia seemed content to let the footage play. ADVENT had cut off civilian direct feeds, even if the media stations were reporting on what was happening. It was a nightmare. Not on the level of Beijing, but horrifying in it's own way. There was a callous brutality and efficiency that her previous operations had lacked.

It really had been only a matter of time before she tried something like this on a large scale.

Scores of civilians were outright surrendering, and were being led back in groups through the portals. More who fled, hid, or fought back were mowed down by unrelenting storms of plasma. ADVENT Peacekeepers stood no chance against Muton Elites. The more organized ADVENT defenses were extracting some deaths from the Collective, but for every Muton they killed, ten more replaced it.

It had been barely twenty minutes since it'd started, and already Patricia was marching down the streets and collapsing skyscrapers and flattening streets. At this point in time she seemed unstoppable, a woman of purple fire who annihilated whatever stood in her way. No hesitation, no regret, no remorse.

How much she had changed.

There only seemed a small part of her that remained, a part which offered one chance of surrender. Otherwise she succumbed to the feeling of absolute power. He could tell how much she enjoyed it. How much pleasure she took from crushing the less-powerful underneath her. How she toyed with some of them before killing them in simple ways.

The signs had been there, of course. He'd encouraged them to be used against the aliens. In retrospect he had been helping plant the seeds for who this monster would become. No matter what happened, and no matter how much influence the Imperator had, what Patricia was now was in some part because of him.

There was an important lesson to take from this, one which had brewed in his mind for weeks now, but seeing the visceral consequences of his miscalculation and failure brought it to the forefront. But rumination had to wait. There needed to be action and retribution for this.

"What is ADVENT mobilizing?" He demanded from Jackson.

"Everyone they can," Jackson answered immediately. "Every Northeast Legion around, every local special forces squad; Lancers, Dragoons, Celestials are being deployed as we speak. The Pantheon is also being sent over."

"Are we not concerned that this is a massive trap?" Creed wondered. "She knows we're going to be bringing everything down. What stops her from teleporting a nuke in and killing us?"

"Because T'Leth would respond," the Chronicler stated. "Directly. She is clearly trying to provoke a reaction, but she's not that foolish."

"Are we making that assumption?" Creed demanded. "We didn't think she'd directly bring an army into New York, and look what she's doing now! How exactly do we know she's not going to pull a stunt like this? Remember the Praesidium? She knows what she is doing here."

"Which means this is calculated," the Chronicler insisted calmly. "She – nor the Imperator - would risk T'Leth's wrath until they have a sure way to defeat him. They don't. Otherwise she'd be attacking Switzerland, not New York. It's important enough to send a message, not to provoke a direct escalation."

"I agree," the Commander interjected. "She is doing this to send a message. She obviously expects the war to continue, hence her threats to Busan and Tampa."

"Both of which have just been placed on high alert," Jackson added. "JULIAN is also on standby to activate GAIA at a moment's notice."

"Good, Creed, get the squads on skyrangers," the Commander ordered. "All hands for this one. Archangels, Valkyries, I want squads sent over now. Have them move to working Gateways and take off at nearby locations. MECs, MELD Operators, I want to send a message of our own."

"Done," Creed confirmed.

"ADVENT is beginning airstrikes near the portals," Jackson updated. "Missile platforms and artillery are being moved into position."

"That will cause collateral damage," Iosif noted.

"Potentially, but they're more concerned about the thousands of Mutons in the streets," Jackson pointed out. "ADVENT has already lost thousands today. The troops should be sent in when ready, and missile strikes will work to buy time and hopefully do some damage."

The door to the situation room suddenly slid open and a fully armored Fiona and a very agitated Crevan followed her, his features stern and irritated. "You are stopping this now!"

"No!" Fiona snarled, her green eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm not waiting any longer!"

"You're not supposed to be in here, Miss Dorren," the Commander stepped forward.

"No, but I'm going to let you know what I'm going to do," she said, turning to face him. "I'm going to kill Patricia."

"You're on the squads," Creed confirmed. "You'll get as much-"

"No," she emphasized, stepping forward. "I'm going to kill her now."

"Patricia has locked down the Psionosphere," Iosif shrugged helplessly. "We can't move in, otherwise you'd have been sent over."

"Is that right?" Fiona inexplicably smiled. "Well. That still won't stop me. I should have done this a long time ago."

"No, you are not," Crevan stated. "You know what will-"

"Let him come!" Fiona whirled on the towering man, her eyes and body glowing a white-green. "But we both know he won't. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of holding back because you're afraid!"

"You are not ready!"

"I'll take my chances," She growled, pulsing as her fury simmered. She violently put on her helmet. "I will not stand by and watch this monster butcher millions of people when I can end her forever."

"You-"

"I'll see you later," Fiona said curtly, grabbing her sword. "Get your soldiers ready for cleanup, Commander. By the time I'm done, Patricia will be in pieces."

Before any of them could say a word, she vanished in a green-white flash. The Commander blinked, looking to Crevan. "Would you like to explain what that was?"

The Chronicler had already quickly left the room, as Crevan took his place, voice intense. "We need to reach New York as soon as possible. We need to bring her back before we lose her. She is in extreme danger right now."

"She's going to take on Patricia single-handedly," Iosif said incredulously. "What is she thinking?"

"She isn't," Crevan said bluntly. "Patricia is not a true threat; not one who could stop her. She is in danger for other reasons."

"She did hear that Patricia locked down the Psionosphere, right?" The Commander asked.

"That won't affect her," Crevan dismissed. "Nor is it the point I am making."

"I beg to differ," Iosif stated. "How exactly is that 'not a problem'?"

"It's complicated," he scowled. "I cannot emphasize the urgency we need to act to reign her in. We are on limited time, and Patricia has unintentionally made it worse."

"She's on her own," the Commander said bluntly. "I'm not throwing my soldiers into this battle until we're ready. I don't know what's gotten into her, but she is not worth risking everything."

"Commander, there are certain things you do not know," Crevan appealed. "What is important is that Fiona must remain alive, and she has placed herself in great danger. I will explain afterwards, but there is no more time. We need to act now. The Chronicler is gathering the rest of the Agents, and I will join him."

The Commander took a few seconds to think about it. The fact that Crevan, and by extension, T'Leth had kept something from him was not necessarily surprising, but if it was important enough to demand he take action, he was not exactly thrilled with the idea. At the same time, Crevan was not one to exaggerate or waste his time.

"Creed, accelerate squad deployments," he ordered after a few more seconds of deliberation. "Coordinate with the Chronicler and Crevan." He fixed the enigmatic Agent of T'Leth with a hard stare. "I dislike putting soldiers in danger based on something I don't know. You better have prepared an acceptable explanation."

"It will be done, Commander," Crevan gave a sharp nod. "This is what must be done. I need to prepare. You will be informed when we are en-route."

He quickly turned, and departed, leaving the rest of the Internal Council to wonder what had just happened. "I hope this is worth it," Creed muttered. "Had a feeling he was always hiding something."

"Something to do with Fiona too," Iosif noted. "Odd."

"We'll worry about the implications later," the Commander said. "We still have a city to retake. If Fiona somehow got in, let's hope she's able to cause some damage."

---

Barracks, the Praesidium – Classified Location

5/28/2017 – 10:37 A.M.

Kunio had wondered what the retaliation would be.

Now he knew.

Of course, they'd all thought it was the worldwide bombardment. Patricia's own mild attacks on the cities. But it was very clear that this was what she had been building to for some time. An attack on one of the biggest cities in the world – more than that, one of the most important. In the heart of American territory.

Thousands were already dead.

More would soon follow.

Every soldier had, without prompting, suited up the moment that news had trickled in about an attack. None of them knew who would be called, but they knew that when it happened, they needed to be ready to go ASAP. It wasn't even ten minutes before the names of people had been sent out to prepare.

No squads initially, but there were enough soldiers being called to make up six.

It was going to be a massive operation by XCOM standards.

His name among them.

He hoped it would go better than the last one.

He had his rifle, his psionic skills were a bit sharper in the later weeks of training, and he was properly armored and ready to march. The actual squads had been assigned, and the one he had been given – Hunter Squad (not as creative as some of the names had been) – was an odd composition.

Outside of the lone Infantry, Barbara Lawson, every single one of them was a psion or otherwise specialized. "We expecting to fight the Battlemaster?" He asked the Squad Overseer, Lincoln Harper as the soldiers awaited. Kunio noticed something else peculiar was that all of the Agents were tied to, or commanded each squad.

Fiona was conspicuously absent. Even the Chronicler was armored and present.

"No," Lincoln answered, lips pursed. "We may, but that's not what we're expecting."

Kunio furrowed his eyebrows at the answer. "What are we expecting?"

"If we're lucky, thousands of aliens, with a chance of the Battlemaster and two of the Harbingers," Lincoln checked the massive Annihilator Cannon he was carrying. "If we're unlucky, she's going to introduce the Bringer next. If we're really unlucky…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"What does that mean?"

"It means there will be other uninvited guests," was the cryptic, and wholly unhelpful answer. Kunio didn't know the point of the secrecy, but this was clearly the wrong time to press it. All of the Agents were noticeably stressed and antsy as they waited for the go command, as the squads assembled.

"Where is Fiona?" He asked Lincoln. "She should be on this operation."

"Being an idiot," Lincoln muttered, looking around briefly. "You're being trained by her, so keep this to yourself. She's already there. Says she's going to kill Patricia."

Kunio stiffened. "Alone. What is she thinking?"

"You'll have to ask her," Lincoln answered. "You wonder why we're rushing? She's the reason. And thanks to Patricia's methods, we can't immediately pursue her."

"This doesn't sound like her," Kunio shook his head in disbelief. "She's smart. This is…it can't be for this reason."

"Believe me, it is," Lincoln repeated dryly. "She's been wanting to do something like this for a long time. This attack finally pushed her over the edge. So we need to make sure she isn't killed, and retake the city."

"Right, sounds like a plan," Kunio nodded, putting on his helmet. "I do owe her one."

The rest of the squad was similarly prepared. The two Templars had weapons in their hands; Vilhelmina Forslund and Aharon Galoyan, who carried a warhammer and mace respectively. Even though both were psions, they wore Titan armor still. He didn't know either of them that much, but all of the Templars were very skilled.

The other two psions, Zemin and Tang, a Dynamo and Aegii respectively, were kitted out in the Psionic Armor he also wore, along with Psionic rifles and pistols. Zara Venator was the last part of the squad, the MELD Operator standing calmly as she waited. "Skyrangers are ready!" Came the call.

"Load up!" Lincoln ordered, a command that was echoed throughout the entire area, as the squads marched out and onto the Skyrangers, while others went to Gateways which connected to nearby bases to New York.

As he sat down, the rifle resting on his leg, he quelled the worry and concern rising.

Hang in there, Fiona, please don't do something stupid.

---

New York City, New York – United States of America

5/28/2017 – 11:03 A.M.

There was a particularly troublesome spot where ADVENT defenders had formed a barricade along a street, and were managing to hold off an advance of the Collective. Explosions and booms sounded throughout the city as the many buildings and skyscrapers were brought down one by one.

But most of the Humans were fighting back, which would make this take longer than it would have otherwise. Acceptable, she was not pressed for time. The monitoring channel managed by the CODEX relayed that ADVENT was massing outside, setting up missiles. Airstrikes were also occurring.

She would deal with those shortly.

The Harbinger ordered the many soldiers following her to pause as she strode forward towards the barricade, which ADVENT soldiers and Peacekeepers swarmed over like ants. She felt their jolts of fear and panic as they spotted her, and wasted no time opening fire. She didn't slow her stride, barely having to put any effort into stopping the projectiles flying towards her.

There was at least one psion, a telepath, in the group. There was some resistance to pushing against their minds. Not that it mattered, she was in the mood to kill them the old-fashioned way. Rockets were fired and grenades thrown, which she batted away with a flick of her wrist.

The barricade up close was a thrown-together mixture of cars and standard barricades; improvised, but better than nothing, and clearly used to great effect. When she was close enough she leapt into the air, hovering for a moment as she appraised what she was about to kill. Close to two dozens soldiers, over half on the barricade itself, while the others were behind, their weapons pointed up as if they expected her.

The Priest stood out – in fact there were two. One flung an arm, and she saw out of the corner of her eye, one of the wrecked trucks being thrown at her. It was, of course, caught in her passive telekinetic field, and hovered impotently. She closed a fist, turning the truck into a piece of crumpled metal, and tossed it behind her, and with her other hand, yanked herself towards the center of the group.

She accompanied her landing with a shockwave which blasted all the nearby soldiers off their feet, and directed her hands towards the Priests, annihilating them with a short burst of lightning from her fingertips. With another hand she lifted it to the sky, and broke the Psionosphere around her, becoming the eye of a furious maelstrom.

The air whirled around her, screams appeared and were quickly silences as the immediate area was razed to scrap and ash. She released the power, and when the purple storm cleared, all that remained was shrapnel, pieces of ADVENT armor, and pieces of mush and the ground coated with red fluid.

Overhead, a trio of Ravens roared overhead, firing missiles against a different street. Instinctively, she reached a hand out.

They cannot flee.

At such a range, it would have been close to impossible to do it on her own.

But this time, she was not alone.

There is nothing beyond our reach now.

The planes visibly slowed. The engines burned brighter as the fighters tried to break whatever had them trapped. But they had no recourse, and the Harbinger was in no danger of having her concentration broken. She aimed the fingertips of her other hand towards the planes, and saw the atomic path.

She fired.

The bolt of lightning that fired from her hand lasted moments, and almost immediately the power caused the engine to explode. Two more lightning bolts finished the other fighters off, and the flaming metal fell towards the earth; the yellow-orange rain almost beautiful in the distance.

One of the pilots seemed to have managed to eject.

Another lightning bolt ended his hope of survival.

She was curious if ADVENT would continue the airstrikes. It was getting close to the time when XCOM and ADVENT would begin a concerted counterattack – though she estimated there was at least an hour or so before they arrived in force.

"Unknown entity approaching your position."

The CODEX update was surprising – more so the designation. She heard some commotion from behind her, and leapt into the air, hovering as she saw what was happening. At first it wasn't clear, but there was something that was cutting through the dozens of Mutons behind her current path.

A closer look answered the question quicker.

A figure in armor of stone. An Agent of T'Leth.

She frowned. Had one been in the city before the attack? They shouldn't have been able to arrive so quickly.

The Agent wasn't fighting conventionally, but seemed to be using a melee weapon of some kind. Nor was the style something she recognized immediately. The Agent seemed to be perpetually shrouded in some green-white holographic effect, which she would have put to an illusion had she not been able to easily tell it wasn't one.

The weapon was somehow slicing through armor like butter, leaving disemboweled Mutons in its wake, while the Agent itself dashed with inhuman speed in bursts of green flashes, a staccato method of attack that was almost an altered version of the Battlemaster's charge – though far shorter in scope and more controlled.

Almost impressive – and odd.

There was something very off about the Agent heading her direction. It should prove interesting enough. The last Agent she had fought off, and this was one she was certain she could as well.

The Agent didn't seem focused on killing every single Muton, just cutting a bloody path to her or seeming to make them vanish with a touch and flash of green, as if teleporting them away. Patricia lowered herself to the center of the razed ground, waiting for the Agent to reach her. A minute later the Agent dashed in a green flash until they were ten meters apart. The Agent was splashed with yellow blood and pieces of gore, though the holographic effect around her remained.

Patricia inclined her head. "Impressive display."

"Today you are going to die," the voice, a woman's spat in return with a flourish of her sword. It sounded British, almost like her own. "I've let you walk the Earth for too long."

Patricia was interested in her vitriol, and something about her seemed familiar. "I don't even know who you are."

"Then we have something in common," the Agent pointed her sword towards her. "When I'm finished, no one will know who you were either."

Patricia idly looked around her. "I doubt that,"

Ah…it's her.

"Fiona," Patricia said as the Imperator made the connection. "I take it back – I have heard of you. You assisted Yang Shuren in Paradise."

"Do not expect the same treatment," Fiona warned.

"I would never," Patricia gathered her power, hovering slightly in the air as the world crackled around her. "I defeated one Agent. You shouldn't have come without help."

"I don't need help, not this time," Fiona stated, taking a battle stance. "Make your peace, Patricia Trask. After today you will only be a memory."

---

[REDACTED] – Sphere of the Throne

5/28/2017 – 10:42 A.M.

This time was different.

The General had been discussing operational plans for the quarantine when he felt it. An imperceptible; ethereal call. A sense that there was disruption through the Source. There were always flashes of course, rarely did they ever catch his attention, let alone make him pause. It had been many years since he had focused on them.

But there were only a few who could cause such a significant tear.

He was one. His Lord was another. The Sage-King if he so wished. The Entity also had the capability. There were others, but they were all within the Sphere. They were masters. They were controlled. And too many now lacked the Blood which granted such power. Only heavy genetic engineering and decades of training would give one the same power as one naturally inclined.

And to his knowledge, there was only one individual who was capable of what he felt.

And she was in another Sphere.

Even through the ethereal chill, he marveled at the ease by which she could shake the barriers. No, it was never her power which had been in question, but her temperament and discipline – and the power was raw. Untamed. Wild. Sloppy. A mistake which he believed she had learned by now.

The Lord stared across from him, his expression unreadable. "[You feel it.]"

"[Yes.]"

"[What is your suggestion?]"

He considered carefully. "[She knows how easily we can track her when she disrupts the Conjunction. She has not moved from her sphere, yes?]"

His Lord consulted the small display, which was connected to a Sphere-wide system that detected such fluctuations. One of the most complex pieces of mechanical and scientific achievement, which had once been designed to maintain the integrity of the Spheres, had been repurposed to track those who moved between them.

The greater the intensity, the easier it could be triangulated.

It was strong enough where an exact location had been determined.

"[So the instrument says,]" the Lord stated. "[Which indicates she is fighting.]"

"[She knows we are waiting,]" the General said slowly. "[Watching. She does not understand how, only that we are. She would not perform this unless her life was in danger, if she had lost emotional control, or it is the trap.]"

"[From the Sovereign.]"

"[Yes,]" the General rubbed his chin. "[However, her Sovereign protector is unlikely to wish to be drawn into a conflict with us. Such thinking is…unlike her, and the Sovereign is likely smart enough to understand the ramifications if such actions are taken.]"

"[Yet it is a Sovereign,]" the Lord pursed his lips. "[They are arrogant creatures. Perhaps this one is deluded enough to think to challenge us and succeed. It is, after all, in likely possession of precious secrets of the Spheres.]"

"[Perhaps,]" there was a pregnant pause. "[There is a limited window to decide to act. Such a chance may not come again.]"

"[You are certain you can succeed?]"

"[No, my Lord, but I am confident in our capabilities,] the General answered. "[If she is in danger, she cannot be allowed to die yet. If she has lost control, she is likely isolated. If this is a trap, it is a declaration of war. I will take our best warriors and take the land this war is waged in, recover her, and depart with no witnesses.]"

"[Any attack will raise questions,]" the Lord pointed out, eyes narrowing. "[Their technology is more advanced than Sphere of the Fallen. They are not so gullible and superstitious. There will be questions.]"

"[Correct, and there are plausible answers,]" he countered. "[This is a Sphere with many factions and figures of power. It is not implausible to lay any attack at the feet of another such entity or Sovereign One. If we succeed, they will not learn the truth. If we miscalculate, the same result will occur.]"

"[I expect you to not fail,]"

"[Nor do I intend to,]" the General clasped his hands behind his back. "[I will assess the situation on the ground with our own asset. Impromptu as it is, I believe we cannot pass this chance up. Inform the Sage-King an operation to reclaim her has begun.]"

His Lord nodded. "[So be it. You will not be going alone, I presume?]"

He shook his head. "[No, if we are to capture her, there is another who will be at my side.]"

The Lord gave a thin smile as he tapped a small panel beside him. "[I suspected as much.]"

A few moments later, a figure materialized from the holodisplay nearby. It was perfectly colored and sized one-to-one. Each time they spoke, the General remained impressed at the utter titan which stood before them. A true work of art and genetic engineering, one which even rivaled his own creation.

The man stood nearly as tall as the estimated height of the Ethereal Battlemaster – a template he suspected had been the inspiration for this particular bloodline, as the timelines were certainly compatible. He stood clad in silver armor, scarred and dented from his conquests of thousands of worlds.

It gave the impression of being bent out of simple metal or steel, though the actual composition was far stronger than such mundane materials. The chest metal was forged in such a way to resemble a ribcage, the armor of arms and legs a mixture of steel gray and black, and the familiar rounded helmet bearing the irregular eye slits which haunted the nightmares of a thousand species.

Two heavy shotguns were slung over his back, but his true weapon was held in his hand, a humble club of metal which had killed more than the population of most planets. His preferred weapon, one of the few to prefer the less…sophisticated ways of killing. Upon seeing them, he fell to one knee. "[My Lord,]" his deep and guttural voice greeted. "[What is your command.]"

The Lord looked to him, and nodded for him to explain. "[Warmaster, we have located her,]" just once, the General allowed himself to show a smile. "[Assemble your Riders. Prepare for invasion.]"

---

Fields of the Endless Frost – Sphere of the Darkness

5/28/2017 – 11:00 A.M.

It took moments to traverse the spheres.

This one was one of the most familiar.

The cold was almost a friend now; a chill to his core which brought an end to most who were touched by its merciless grip. Sapient and animal, the cold did not discriminate. Even those adapted to such colder conditions barely lasted longer when left to the prolonged frost. It was a cold beyond the densest of ice worlds, a lingering torture one suffered by simply breathing its air.

And yet, it had been conquered.

The world was shrouded in near-complete darkness. In the black of space, the faint blue outline of a dead star twinkled, while green-blue lights manifested in the air at times, providing some long-forgotten light to this world. They were still uncertain what had happened to this Sphere, but they had explored enough to realize some basic things.

There were no stars in the sky. No lingering flashes of supernovas remained. At least if any dying ones remained, they were so weak as to not be seen from this planet. The General had often wondered at times what had taken place here. If there had been civilizations and species who had dominated the stars.

Even on this world there were ruins, indications of life at one point, remarkably preserved in the snow and ice. Archeologists occasionally visited this place, but they were often unprepared and incapable of surviving for long without significant cost to the Throne World – cost which most argued achieved little.

There was a story to this sphere, one which he was interested in.

But the most common consensus was this.

It was a universe that had died.

One by one, the stars had gone out. The worlds had shriveled and frozen. There was likely no more life in this galaxy. It was a dead, empty wasteland filled with dirt, ice, and ruins. Many had wondered what the heat death of the universe would look like – and more importantly how to avoid it.

The answers were in this sphere, the General was sure of it. Perhaps this was an inevitable fate for all spheres, but there was little to back that up other than a gut feeling. Regardless, this was not the time for such ruminations. All that mattered was that they had found it – and turned it into a trial which only the strongest, smartest, and dangerous survived.

It was nowhere near the entire division which stood before him and the Warmaster, but nearly two hundred or the grey-armored Warriors, bulky Nullifiers, and led of course by the gifted Navigators. Outfitted with the results of weapons technology taken and refined from many spheres, this army would be sufficient against the technologically inferior Earthen armies.

Of course, the conventional armies were never the concern.

Scouts had reported, and what they were facing was more alien incursion than Earthen. Both would be caught in the crossfire, but it was necessary. It had not taken long to determine points of entry, all of which the Navigators had confirmed they were capable of accessing. They had been preparing for this day for a long time.

As the chilled wind bit into them, they stood silent. Enduring. The pinnacle of his Lord's Riders and the reach of the Throne World. It would not be an easy mission, but they were more than capable of seeing it fulfilled. There was little time to waste before the situation became more difficult.

They knew where she was.

They knew the stakes.

They knew what to do.

They were prepared.

The General stood, clad in his own battle armor for the first time in…too long. It was a comfortable, familiar weight. It had been improved since the last iteration, with numerous anti-Source countermeasures, a more resilient HUD, and his own weapon had been improved as well.

Most weapons he felt were unnecessary. Why waste energy and effort with rifles and rockets when a waved hand could solve the problem just as easily? Yet there it behooved a General to have a standard of command, and his staff atop which rested a white orb as if forged from the frost itself.

It was a curious artifact, one of the few which had been found here. Impossible to replicate, incapable of being damaged, and capable of responding to a skilled master. As he had found the artifact, so he had been given it. As trivial as he found melee combat, it was an engaging exercise.

It gave some insight into why the Warmaster often risked himself so unnecessarily.

"[Prepare to march!]" He commanded as the warriors stood at attention. "[Navigators! Upon my lead!]"

He turned around, extended a hand in front of him as he opened the gap between the spheres. The blue-white portal slowly manifested before him, which he knew was echoed on a smaller scale behind him by the Navigators as they replicated his efforts. It reached a point where it became self-sustaining, and he lowered his arm.

"[March.]"

---

New York City, New York – United States of America

5/28/2017 – 11:19 A.M.

This Agent was unlike anything Patricia had ever fought before.

Fast. Efficient. Lethal.

She was having to put legitimate effort into surviving.

Not fighting, surviving.

Very curious.

She had realized very early on that if Fiona so much as touched her she was in a really bad position. Whatever she was augmenting her weapon with was strong enough to cut through her armor, as the large gash on her chestpiece now indicated. Fortunately, she had managed to avoid penetrating deeper.

Her mind was shielded, likely by T'Leth, so telepathic attacks were useless. Biopathy was an alternative, but she was simply moving too fast to lock onto her position, and there was every indication that T'Leth was similarly protecting her from Biopathic attacks as well. She was utilizing a form of teleportation that was faster and more staccato any than she'd ever seen before.

Quisilia, Sicarius, none of them were nearly as fast as Fiona was; vanishing with green-white bursts and reappearing steps away, making it difficult to predict where she would strike next. Teleporting was something Patricia had gotten more skilled at as well, so escape was easy enough with her enhanced reflexes, but it was a deadly dance where the first mistake by either of them would mean the end.

For reasons she hadn't been able to figure out, Fiona also seemed impossible to hold telekinetically. It wasn't just that she was vanishing every time she was even somewhat held, it was like the telekinetic bonds were wrapping around something which didn't exist. Like fighting a hologram, only Fiona was decidedly not a hologram, even if the power around her gave that impression.

More disturbingly, she was still teleporting when it should have been impossible.

Either she had somehow found a way to subvert the Psionosphere lockdown – or what she was doing wasn't really psionically-based at all.

Something which should assuredly not be possible.

Patricia had not made her teleporting spree easy, at every moment she was throwing every piece of the environment she could in the general vicinity, almost creating a small hurricane of shrapnel, rubble, and blood. But Fiona didn't seem slowed down, as each relatively big piece that even came close to hitting her she touched, and it vanished in a flash of white-green.

The only method of attack which seemed to be reliably working was Dynamo psionics.

The stone armor the Agent wore had been clipped and the texture scored by the psionic blasts she had manifested; and knowing that, Patricia was transitioning to ensuring that the Psionosphere remained broken in their vicinity. Though that was difficult with the continued harassment of Fiona and Patricia constantly needing to move.

She appeared above her, striking down. Patricia created a portal and moved several meters to the side while sending a shockwave where Fiona had been, who blinked away before it hit her. Immediately she appeared to her left, while Patricia vanished into a portal of her own. No matter who attacked, they were in an effective stalemate.

It was now a measure of endurance, concentration, and skill.

More minutes of fighting, until Fiona materialized a short distance away, both women circling each other, waiting for one to make the next move. "You're skilled," Patricia grudgingly admitted. "But you are no psion, are you?"

"Perhaps you aren't as skilled as you believe," Fiona retorted. "There are some things even the Imperator doesn't know."

No…but there are some he suspects.

Patricia seized the moment with a sweep of her hand, turning the area Fiona was in into a crackling maelstrom, combining it with a shockwave powerful enough that it would snap the neck of anything mortal caught in it. She managed to vanish, though not before she spent a singular precious second in the storm and only just hit with the shockwave.

She reappeared a short distance away, the momentum of the shockwave slamming her into a nearby wall, hitting her head hard against it. She stumbled to her feet as Patricia fired a stream of lightning at her exposed form, which hit for only a moment before she disappeared and rematerialized again nearby, her armor smoking and body jittering. Her helmet seemed damaged, and with a frantic motion she tore it off, as she took another short jump to avoid Patricia's newer bolt.

She was young, younger than Patricia had assumed she would be. Pale skin, green eyes, a curious ashen hair color, and a large scar across her eye. The eyes glared hatefully at her, leaking the white-green energy so similar to psions. Both locked eyes, and Fiona didn't bother moving again when Patricia fired another stream of lightning.

Instead her body turned an almost transparent white-green, and the bolt went through her.

Fiona smirked.

It was only a second of surprise, but that was all the Agent of T'Leth needed.

She was suddenly before the Harbinger, and the sword wreathed in energy slashed up, severing her right arm, and with the free hand, she touched Patricia.

Something equivalent to a sonic boom went off in her head.

The rest of the world seemed to become muted; colors became faded, sound ceased to exist, and her emotions turned dead. The hand Fiona had placed on her breastplate forced her to her knees, and her seemingly paralyzed body permitted it. The pain from the severed arm was oddly muted.

But everything was muted because it was almost impossible to focus on anything but the incredible pain in her head.

She was bombarded with flashes, sights, sounds, all at once, in one screaming choir of chaos and horror. She saw her life flash before her dozens of times, she saw things she remembered, and things she did not; memories she possessed, and things she knew had not taken place.

Then almost as quickly, they began vanishing.

Erased.

Gone.

She had little idea of what was happening now, but a yawning horror grew in her as she felt something was being unconscionably violated. Whatever Fiona was doing couldn't be allowed to continue.

Fight!

She pushed back with her strength, drawing on what little concentration she could muster from the Imperator to hold onto what existed, no matter the utter pain it caused her mind. Fiona seemed surprised, as she cocked her head at the resistance. Patricia realized her body was also being encased in the same white-green energy.

Who was she?

The vanishing parts slowed, but did not stop. She could only pray that someone intervened and stopped her before-

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something charge forward and a massive metal club hit Fiona square in the chest, sending her flying into a nearby building. The world came back to Patricia in a rush, as the trance Fiona had forced upon her vanished, and she crumpled to the ground.

Which was when she felt it.

Cold.

She'd felt this kind of cold once before. The other Agent she'd fought.

She looked up to the sky and realized something very peculiar. It was snowing. In fact, there were snow dustings on the ground. The initial flakes had obviously melted, but with the air as cold as it was, it had soon grown cold enough to begin gathering. Her teeth chattered, and blood dripped out of her stump.

They were no longer alone.

She forced herself up on one arm as she looked to see what had happened. A figure was near Fiona, a massive humanoid in grey armor. He'd thrown or sprayed some kind of mist or dust into Fiona's face, as she was coughing and struggling to stand. Her chest armor was shattered, and the massive club the figure wore lashed out with inhuman speed against her kneecaps, shattering them.

The ethereal power that had surrounded her was gone, and it was replaced by the visage of a terrified woman. The massive figure hooked the fingers of one hand under her destroyed collar and dragged her away, the woman feebly protesting. In her half-delirious state, Patricia had no idea who this person was.

The cold seeped in deeper.

The unknown warrior wasn't the only person nearby.

Turning her head, she saw that there was a similarly armored figure, although unlike the one with the club, the helmet of this one had two distinct eye slots opposed to the irregular pattern of the warrior. He held a staff in one hand, with an odd crystal ball at the top. A cathedral-like halo was also atop his helmet.

All she felt was pain, confusion, and cold.

Biting, sapping cold.

This one appeared to be…the leader? Patricia couldn't tell. He turned the empty eyes of the helmet down upon her briefly, before seeming to dismiss her as a threat. He was flanked by a dozen soldiers in similar-colored armor, who wielded rifles she didn't recognize, with bladed weapons strapped to their backs.

The leader spoke to Fiona, a deep yet oddly beautiful language that she couldn't hope to identify. Two of the soldiers brought forward some kind of body-length restraining machine. The subordinate warrior tossed Fiona towards the leader, and he lifted a hand, suspending her in the air. This one was definitely a psion then – or at least could use it.

The mangled body of Fiona was strapped inside, definitely electronic in some way, and seemed designed to restrain and sedate, from the number of needles that were injected into her. The warrior seemed to realize Patricia was still alive, and turned to face her. Her mind was still sapped and scrambled, yet she tried drawing upon the power, knowing it would not be enough.

The leader lifted a commanding hand towards the warrior. He shouted a word in their language, but whatever he said was enough to stop him from killing her outright.

Instead, the warrior paused, stared down at her with contempt, and turned away.

Which was before hell broke loose once again.

A purple flash appeared across her field of vision and the Battlemaster slammed into the unknown warrior, sending him careening forward. Patricia heard more voices from the distance, and a storm of lightning was shot towards the leader, who vanished and reappeared centimeters away.

He shouted a command, and the other soldiers began moving the unconscious body of Fiona away as they prepared to face newer threats.

She couldn't hold on anymore.

Patricia closed her eyes, and fell unconscious.

---

New York City, New York – United States of America

5/28/2017 – 11:41 A.M.

This mission had turned from something standard into an utter chaotic mess.

Not since the Synthesized War had he seen a mission go completely upside down. His job, as far as he had seen it, had been to maintain the discipline and focus of the Collective forces to hit key infrastructure points, and then summarily depart. Patricia for whatever reason was focused on sending a message.

A very destructive message which he was certain would inevitably backfire.

Unfortunately, he had to bide his time and minimize the damage where he could. It had been going well, until he had received a direct order from the Overmind to go to Patricia. He had been confused initially, even more so when without ambiguity it had been stated she was in danger.

Which shouldn't have happened.

Not here.

Minutes after that an unnatural chill had swept throughout the city. The CODEX network began processing reports of attacks from unknown enemies which had appeared to come out of nowhere. They had supposedly walked out of portals of ice and snow. The Battlemaster had been to his share of ice worlds, and what he felt now was colder than any of them, except an isolated exoplanet that lacked a sun.

It had been an anomaly in the Empire, and a place where many Battlemasters trained for a short time. It became dangerous if one stayed for too long. This was most similar to that, but even colder, if possible. His training would let him endure, though Yang would have more difficulties.

I can do it.

He hoped she could.

They had dashed back to where Patricia's last location was as fast as they could. Turning the corner they found themselves upon a desolate street which seemed to have been purged of anything resembling structure. No cars, bodies, or debris remained. It had been the site of a battle, but a very destructive one.

The sight that greeted them raised far more questions than answers.

A small squad of soldiers stood in the isolated street; tall, at least as tall as Patricia, perhaps a bit more. Humanoids, but definitely not XCOM or ADVENT. Their armor was a silver-gray, and definitely powered to some degree. Their helmets seemed designed in such a way as to evoke the memories of a humanoid skull, and by extension, death.

Two others stood out, a slightly taller individual with a less stylized helmet with a metal vertical halo who held a staff that reminded him of those carried by the Agents of T'Leth. He seemed to be in command. The other was far more concerning initially. It was a warrior who almost massed his own size – or perhaps he did.

In his hand he carried a massive club, and his armor was augmented with wrist weapons, gadgets, and at minimum some micro-missiles were built into the armor itself. They seemed to be securing one of the Agents of T'Leth, a woman. Nearby he spotted Patricia who seemed just barely conscious, preparing to die as the massive warrior turned to finish her off.

The leader lifted a hand sharply towards the warrior, seeming to order him to back off. The language they spoke was oddly haunting; it sounded very old.

So they could speak. From the tone, it was likely the name of the warrior or at least a title. A shame he hadn't heard it; he preferred knowing who he was facing. No more time needed to be wasted. He didn't know who these entities were, but they were not friendly. Follow my lead, he communicated through the bond to Yang. I will focus on the warrior.

Grasping his weapon in-hand, he charged forward – and slammed into a wall.

It was a psionic charge powerful enough to pulverize any enemy if hit directly on. All it did for this warrior was force him backwards. The warrior responded by immediately pivoting on a foot and swinging the club with enough force to dent his helmet if it connected. Instead it met his own sword.

Both warriors stood locked in the stance for a long moment.

Nearby the crackle of lightning struck, as mixture of XCOM and T'Leth agents arrived, forcing the other leader to contend with them. The Battlemaster focused on what was directly before him. The warrior growled and with a flourish and speed that belied his size, broke the lock and unleashed a series of jabs and swipes, while hitting his chest with the other hand.

A blue mist spilled from some gaps in his suit, something the Battlemaster immediately realized as Element-based. It subsequently meant that his telekinesis was not going to be as useful – not that his opponent was giving him time to properly prepare. The Battlemaster deflected a swing, and got in a few swipes and stabs of his own.

The warrior snarled and after another swing, extended a wrist, firing white-purple flames which he dodged, charged away, and charged back within a few seconds. Yang had entered the fight now, pelting the warrior with telekinetic debris and pieces of rubble. With how he wielded the club, one might have thought it weighed nothing, as he used it effortlessly to strike against the Battlemaster and deflect pieces of rubble Yang threw at him.

Assuming he was phased to begin with.

No matter what, it seemed he was always on the attack.

With the exception of the short-lived duel against the Zeal, It had been so long since he had faced an opponent that was legitimately equal to him in training, size, and durability. One who was on the attack, but he was more than capable of defending against him. As they dueled, with Yang staying in the back, he focused more on what his enemy was.

Had he not known better, he would have assumed it was a Human since they shared almost all anatomic features, but it was most assuredly not one. No Human was this large, nor this skilled. Nor did they wear such armor and use weapons like these. His first thought was that another Sovereign One had decided to become involved.

It made the most sense. But something seemed wrong.

A question to ask later.

The snow continued pouring in, and the street they were on was developing a thin sheet of ice. Footing would be an issue for most, but not the two titans who fought, ignorant of the world around them. Sword met club, both scored light hits on each other. Once the Battlemaster used his arms to grab the handle of the club, but the warrior pulled him close and slammed his own helmet into him with enough force it briefly weakened his grip for it to be pulled back.

The Battlemaster lost track of how long they had dueled. Both were moving fast enough that the chill had become irrelevant as their blood pumped full of heat and adrenaline. Such a prolonged duel was almost enjoyable; it was a fight where he was facing an equal on even ground. Paradise had been a harrowing trial, this was a duel of warriors.

He suspected his opponent felt the same way.

Both used every tool at their disposal. With his own telekinesis he tried every counter possible, neutered as it was by the warrior being saturated in the Element, but sometimes it was enough to slow a swing, stop a punch, or distract with debris. Yang continued throwing everything she could at him, and once charged behind the giant, though was quickly forced back after one of the swings connected, briefly knocking the wind out of her.

His opponent altered his own fighting technique multiple times during the fight. Two-handed strikes. One-handed followed up with a wrist weapon or outright punch. Other times he moved his grip closer to the head of the club, turning it into a close-range bashing tool alternating with the empty fist.

Above them a blizzard seemed to be forming. Sleet began raining down, turning the conditions miserable – though for both of them it was an extra challenge. Both temporarily halted their attacks, circling each other, with the warrior occasionally glancing to know where Yang was.

"The reputation of the Battlemasters is well-earned," the warrior said, in rough, but passable English. The voice was not as harsh as he had expected, but still the tongue of one who did little formal speaking. It was hard, blunt, and unrefined. A perfect reflection of the warrior before him.

And he knew what the Battlemasters were.

"And what do you know of such things?" He demanded.

"That it would be an honor to kill the last one," came the response, before the warrior charged forward again, and the duel commenced anew, even as the city turned to ice, and the battles raged within its structures, and on the bloodied streets.

---

New York City, New York – United States of America

5/28/2017 – 12:22 P.M.

Hallian had felt the cold before.

On Vitakar it was commonplace depending on where one lived. He'd been to Borelia multiple times; no one in the Runianarch didn't get at least a few months of training in the Wastes. It wasn't generally something he'd consider pleasant, but it was something anyone would eventually adapt to.

Personally, he didn't find it terrible; in some cases it was almost pleasant, especially after a hard training session where the cold felt refreshing.

This cold which had invaded the city was unlike anything he had felt before.

This kind of cold killed.

There were those rare cases where explorers went towards the coldest places of Borelia where mere skin exposure led to frostbite. Hallian had never went there himself, but he'd seen the aftermath. This was what he would imagine it felt like. A harsh burning sensation; the feeling of your breath turning to frost in your throat; the conscious feeling of your body shutting down every second you were exposed.

None of them were prepared for this.

Their armor was climate-resistant, but cold seeped inside. The heating systems could only do so much, and Hallian was growing more concerned that as the temperature steadily dropped, to points far beyond freezing, that they would all perish from it. Even worse was they had been assigned to immediately charge a position.

Scores of Mutons marched down the streets, the cowering civilians hiding as they single-mindedly pursued their goal. It was to assist Patricia, though what was powerful enough to challenge the Harbinger he could only wonder at. The Battlemaster had sped there at his own speed, as they had rushed to keep up.

Snow and ice pelted them, melting and then freezing as the pavement froze before their eyes.

Teeth chattered. Mutons shivered. They clutched their rifles closely, looking for any source of phantom heat.

What was this?

Focus. Keep moving. Don't stop.

If you stop, you die.

If you fall asleep, you won't wake up.

Hallian already felt weary, the cold had turned into a numbness across his body, a bad sign he knew, because the next stage would be a gradual sapping of strength until he didn't move – or didn't want to move. He couldn't allow that, but his body was already betraying him. "Stims now!" He ordered, taking an executive medical action. He wasn't the only one who was suffering the symptoms.

The Mutons were stronger than the Vitakara, and their training would let them continue a while longer. As the Mutons marched, he distributed stims, some more traditional drugs, others chocolate. Mostly whatever he had, which completely depleted his stock. It might be a bad idea to use them all here, but better they used them now than died to hypothermia.

He looked up into the sky which had once held a blue sky and yellow sun which had been replaced by a portal of blackness and snow. Was this an ADVENT counterattack? It didn't seem like them, and this cold did not discriminate. Someone or something else? A freak tear in reality? His cold-addled mind couldn't fully form a coherent guess, but he didn't think it was ADVENT.

Then who?

They marched down the street and then saw the battle. Hallian had never seen anything like it before. What looked like an XCOM squad, led by a figure in robes and others in stone-like armor battled a figure of a type Hallian had never seen before. He held a staff tipped with some kind of pale-blue crystalline orb, and all sides were battling with portals of blue and purple.

It was moving so fast, and the armored figure with the staff was holding his own, but to his shock, Hallian saw the broken body of the Harbinger laying on the ground, ignored by all parties. Snow had built up around her, and she was missing an arm. She looked dead, but he suspected she wasn't.

At least that's what he hoped.

If she wasn't dead, she would be very soon.

The combatants had noticed the small army approaching, and were moving to attack. The Mutons raised their weapons, and Hallian ducked into what little cover there was when everything was interrupted.

It was almost like a blast of wind, and a hum which lasted only a few seconds before fading so fast he'd wondered if he'd heard it at all. It blew the snow around the center away, and when it cleared, Hallian felt his mouth open at the sight before him. An aura of overwhelming might filled the air, dominating his senses and commanding every single cell of his body.

Standing in the center of the street, was an Ethereal.

But one he instinctively knew who it was.

The Imperator.

There was a surreal aura around the titan before him. Hallian had considered the Battlemaster the peak of Ethereal physique, and yet he seemed a child before the Ethereal who stood towering over the inferior before him. The ornate armor of pure silver glimmered in the snow, the flakes melting to slurry around him. A cape of gold and white fell from his shoulders, having an almost holy glow around it.

The helmet reminded him of an inverted pyramid, with eye slits that flickered between a warm fire and a furious inferno. Hallian forgot the cold. He forgot his weariness. He forgot everything. Nothing mattered anymore. All that mattered was the Imperator. All that mattered was his command.

He said nothing.

He did not need to.

As one the Vitakara, fell to one knee, as only deference was allowed before their ultimate master.

The Mutons stood at full attention, with even their simple minds understanding the power before them.

The other parties reacted immediately.

Hallian heard faded shouts of panic from the XCOM squad - a few brave ones actually opened fire, though the plasma and gauss fire missed or dissipated without the Imperator even moving - and saw them vanish into a portal as the figures of stone armor removed themselves in near-panic. The unknown figure with the staff met the helmed gaze of the Imperator for mere seconds before waving a hand behind him, opening a portal to the frozen realm from whence he came, vanishing.

The Imperator had still done nothing.

Silence fell over the battlefield.

He waved a hand and the body of Patricia Trask floated to him, limp and life fading. In one lower arm he held her, almost cradling her body as he turned to the prostrate army before him.

Then he spoke.

His voice was beyond anything Hallian had heard before. It held a rich command that his ears strained to hear, and which would make any sound besides it seem hollow in comparison. It bored into the center of his mind, anchoring with such power that he knew he would never forget a single word spoken for the rest of his life.

"This battle today is not ours. But leave with your heads high, for you have acquitted yourselves well before me. The time for retribution will come. Depart, for these invaders will be driven from our realm."

Hallian suddenly felt his body almost tumble and before he knew it, he and everyone else were back on Desolan. Already the aura which had settled upon him was gone, and he immediately wished for it back. He stood, shaken yet simultaneously invigorated.

The Imperator had come.

He had saved them.

---

New York City, New York – United States of America

5/28/2017 – 11:34 A.M.

The last thing Kunio expected when charging out of the Skyranger was a snowstorm.

But that was exactly what was happening.

He saw the snow first, and then the cold hit him. Snow was not something that was extremely common in Japan, and he safely preferred the warmer climates. Cold could be dealt with, but he couldn't say he was a fan. It was certainly livable, just unpleasant.

No cold he had ever felt was like this.

It was not just something that he felt, it was more like his body had shifted into a completely different stage. His joints seemed stiffer, every breath felt painful, and his body seemed slower. This was not even getting into the fact that there was a snowstorm in New York in May.

"We're too late," Lincoln cursed. "Come on!"

"Where are we going?" Zara demanded.

"What the hell is this?" Vilhelmina asked as they ran into the city. "Why is it snowing?"

"Because we have visitors," Lincoln said, pointing towards the sky. "I've only been told about them, but this follows standard tactics. They invade from a planet of constant snow and ice, and encompass their area of operations in a globe, making it impossible to penetrate unless the portal is closed."

That followed, actually. Kunio nodded to himself. Looking into the sky, which had turned dimmer in light of the snowstorm, there were large sections which were clear portals that were blowing the snow into the city. "Are those automatic?" He demanded. "Or are they using teleporters?"

"Better question," Aharon added. "Who is they?"

"They call themselves the 'Riders'," Lincoln explained shortly. "Or at least that's the best translation. Aliens who travel across galaxies to conquer other worlds and species. They were one species originally, now they compose hundreds. Very advanced, very skilled, very dangerous."

"Sovereign?" Zara asked.

"That would be the assumption," Lincoln said as they spotted a firefight going on in the distance. "I didn't get a clear answer. There is a leader, but from what I was told, the internal dynamics are complicated. I don't know why they're here now, but Fiona somehow got their attention."

Kunio shivered. "How?"

"You can ask her once we get her out of here," Lincoln said. "Weapons hot! They're ahead."

For being aliens, Kunio was immediately struck by how much they resembled Humans, in anatomy if nothing else. But they stood at least two and a half meters tall, each of them, and bore heavy dark grey armor and weapons that to his eye simply he'd classify as advanced. They were engaged in a firefight with a small army of Mutons.

It was not going well for the Mutons.

The Riders as they apparently were called, were concentrated in a small area, but they were heavily locked down and disciplined. Kunio observed for only a few seconds, but unlike conventional armies which used suppressive fire and taking multiple shots, each of these armored soldiers took each shot very deliberately.

One shot.

A white crack.

A Muton's head vanished.

Repeat.

The armor they wore seemed durable enough to take direct plasma shots, though the Riders never deliberately exposed themselves. They did seem to reject natural cover in favor of some kind of energy barrier they placed around themselves which was capable of complex linking.

The entire setup was connected to a portable power station, managed by another of the Riders who was behind a display, which also managed a half-dozen autoturrets which were just as methodical as the soldiers. In the very back was another Rider, who was sheathed in blue energy as its hands were raised to the sky, where a portal connecting to the ice world opened.

Kunio realized that the armor the portal Rider was wearing was the same he'd seen ir Nara wear several times.

More and more questions.

"We think the armor can take some of the shots," Lincoln said, drawing on psionic power of his own. "But don't take chances!"

"We'll get in close," Vilhelmina readied her warhammer as Aharon joined her. "Kunio, think you can get us on top?"

Kunio briefly checked, and realized that whatever had locked down the Psionosphere was gone. He gave them a sharp nod – then paused. "Let me try something first." He waved a hand, opening a small portal and chucking in the Thought Bomb he'd brought along, setting it to kill. This was not the time to be taking chances.

Over a couple of the Riders the portal opened, and was recognized immediately. However instead of panicking, one of them picked it up and flung it in a smooth motion to the few remaining Mutons, and as it went off, the remainder crumpled to the ground. It had been worth a shot.

Now they were onto them.

Kunio created a portal, and motioned for the Templars to jump into it. Lincoln shot blasts of energy towards the Riders, who raised the shields higher. Barbara and Zara fired at the machinery, to cause it to collapse, as Zemin and Tang unleashed their own psionic power. Once the Templars jumped inside several of the Riders immediately adapted.

Pulling out dark swords they immediately and surprisingly engaged the Templars in melee combat. Part of the barrier gear sputtered, and a portion of the shield went down. Bolts from the Riders shot out in response. One impacted him directly in his chest, sending him stumbling back. He could almost feel the impact, even as the nanites began repairing.

None of them could take sustained fire.

Several of the soldiers were throwing grenades to the massed Riders, and none of them got close once the Riders shot them out of the sky. It was a level of marksmanship that Kunio hadn't seen even from XCOM snipers. The psionics did seem to spook them though, and they ducked out of the psionic blasts of Lincoln and Tang.

The Templars were not faring much better.

They had underestimated the skill of the Riders, as even the regular soldiers were swift, lethal, and graceful. Vilhelmina was managing to hold her own, even managing to get a good hit on the chest. Aharon was faring less well, as the reach of his weapon was lessened, and his opponent was just as skilled if not more so than he was.

Both Templars were incorporating as much psionics as they could into their attacks, with telekinetic pushes from Vilhelmina and Aharon's Aegii psionics letting him last longer than he might have otherwise. Yet even these were adapted to by the Riders, who appeared to have been trained in fighting psions.

It was almost a stalemate in some ways, which Kunio needed to end.

The only one not participating was the one controlling the portal.

"Lincoln! I'm going to take out the teleporter!" He called.

"Do it!" Lincoln stated, sending another blast towards the Riders.

Kunio suddenly got another idea. "Zara! Barbara! Get over here!"

Both rushed over. "Barbara, when I give the order, you fire everything into the portal," he ordered the Infantry. "Zara, send your nanites down. We take down their technical center and teleporter all at once."

He briefly closed his eyes, looked to where his targets were, and opened his palms. The portals were small, but that was all they needed. Barbara fired into the one before her, and he was rewarded by the sight of a hail of green bolts slamming into the teleporter, forcing her to close the portal, and cease the snowstorm even if the damage clearly wasn't fatal.

A stream of golden nanites poured from a portal above the Rider technician, which for the first time seemed to panic as he hit a button on one of the panels, and a massive pulse went out. Kunio was grateful then for the fact that their suits had been EMP hardened, because otherwise they would have been paralyzed.

The good news was that while it had killed the nanites, it had also fried the system itself, taking down the barrier system and fully exposing them. The teleporter, yelled something in the alien language, and opened another portal, though this one was on the ground, and it seemed to be…a retreat?

The fact that the Riders seemed to be only hardening their stances indicated otherwise.

Several of the Riders had been injured by the psions, and were being treated by their brethren, who carried them away while those still alive kept firing at a fast enough pace that XCOM advanced more slowly. They were taking hits, and their advance slowed to a crawl. To Kunio's alarm, the tide actually seemed to be turning against them. The Templars were now almost defeated. Kunio looked just in time to see Aharon miss a swing and the Rider seize the opening and fully decapitate him.

Vilhelmina was on the defensive still, but the Rider fighting her simply sliced her arm and slit her throat before he backed off. That wouldn't kill her with the Titan armor, though it would stun her for a while. But the Riders seemed intent on finishing the job, as two more of the remaining Riders drew weapons of their own and closed on her.

Then there was a blast of power.

Kunio wondered, and all of them had wondered, what it would be like to face the enigmatic Imperator. They knew what he looked like. They knew how powerful he was. Many of them knew they would never face him, let alone defeat this titan. The Imperator was the endgame, but one all of them knew would pose a threat unlike any they had faced.

Today they learned what would happen.

They froze.

Kunio saw the Imperator, the giant in the intricate armor and was immediately overcome with the power that emanated just from his presence. His mind screamed as the compulsion to submit wormed through him, before the Manchurian Restraints took over, freezing his body in a paralyzing grip, leaving his mind scrambled and eyes watching.

Everyone else was similarly affected – for the Riders it seemed worse. All of them stopped fighting, and stumbled back, some of them holding or clutching their helmets as they were similarly overwhelmed. Only the one commanding the portal seemed to have any hold of independence, and they acted.

One by one the teleporter grabbed the stunned Riders, and almost shoved them into manifested portals, while others stumbled into those which were created in front of them. Within a very short period the very presence of the Imperator had been enough to drive them off, and the teleporter finally stepped into a final portal and vanished.

The Imperator appraised them, and Kunio knew if he acted, they were dead.

The power became so overwhelming it was becoming painful.

Without a word, the Imperator lifted a hand and vanished, and instantly they were freed. Breathing heavily they all regained their bodies and minds, staring at each other through their helmets, unsure whether it was a trap or the Imperator sending a message. Relative silence fell upon them, and the cold had almost vanished, pulverized by the Imperator's appearance.

Tang had rushed over to Vilhelmina, who was recovering and shaking. Lincoln looked at where the Imperator had been. "I can't believe we're alive."

"Neither can I," Kunio said. "That was…"

"Terrifying," he finished. "I didn't…I didn't think we'd see him until…"

"We were going to lose," Kunio said in a toneless voice. "Then…"

"Yeah…"

"Hunter Squad, this is the Chronicler," a voice came over the comms. "Good news and bad. Good news is that we located her. The bad news is that the Imperator himself is in play. We aren't sure what he is intending, but we are preparing for the worst. Move to secure Fiona if you can. Report any sightings if you see him"

"Chronicler, we just had an encounter," Lincoln immediately answered. "He showed up, then left once the Riders were gone."

"I see," there was a pause. "There are similar reports coming in. They appear to have drawn him out."

"What is our objective?"

"Continue. If he let you live, then he is not after us this time. Recover Fiona now before she is removed or he recovers her."

"Copy," Lincoln stated, looking to the surviving Templar. "Forslund, can you continue?"

"Yes sir," the Templar grunted. "As long as the Imperator doesn't show up again. And Aharon…we'll come back for his body, right?"

"We will."

"Let's go," she said, gripping her weapon. "I feel we're running on borrowed time."

---

New York City, New York – United States of America

5/28/2017 – 12:41 A.M.

Perched atop one of the intact skyscrapers that still stood after the initial chaos, the Hunter watched through a continuing, but dying storm of snow and ice. Unlike most of his kind, the Frost had little effect on him, as all of his School trained with the Riders on the ice world. He knew little of it, but knew that it had made him capable of surviving any place, situation, and opponent.

Useful for his line of work.

In retrospect, he wasn't surprised the General had taken the opportunity that had appeared. In fact, if none acted, he was prepared to take her himself. The fight between her and Patricia had been illuminating to witness. She was indeed untrained in the use of her abilities – or at least her master was unskilled.

Knowing who that was, the latter was most likely. Some academic knowledge, but nothing practical. Self-learning would fill these gaps, but it would take centuries – time she did not have. Which was why she still would struggle against a psion of this Sphere, and would not have lasted without the aid of a Sovereign One to protect her mind.

Trivial.

And as expected, they had arrived at the most opportune time, and had easily captured her – to be immediately followed up by the Ethereal Battlemaster engaging the one who he assumed was a Warmaster. There were several, and he couldn't make out who it was – not that he particularly cared as much.

More interesting was the XCOM squad which had also appeared, led by none other than the traitor in question. All complete with lightning, a staff complete with a Sovereign Orb, and righteous indignation. Several of the Warriors rushed the restrained body of his intended quarry away. The Hunter took a quick moment to tag them, as he turned his attention to the coming battles.

The Battlemaster and Warmaster took their fight away, though he tagged them as well to know where to avoid. More interesting was how the General would handle his new opponents.

As it turned out, quite skillfully.

XCOM was skilled. That was not a surprise to see them treating the General like a psion, though they would have been smarter to treat him closer to Patricia. Something evidenced by his liberal use of teleportation, telekinesis, and Aegii psionics. However, the Hunter knew very well that direct combat was not his strength.

He was a strategist, and played a very long game.

He had come into this fight without an idea of who or what he would face – not that he would necessarily have to concern himself with who posed a threat in this Sphere short of a Sovereign – but it meant that the optimal path to victory could only be determined in real time. Given enough time, he would emerge victorious.

But XCOM and the traitor had known what they were facing. Given the sudden emergence of 'Fiona', as she was ironically calling herself, he supposed that they had guessed what was coming and prepared accordingly. Intelligent, as he had indicated in his reports. There were powerful psions and Agents of T'Leth here. It spoke to his skill that he was holding his own.

He had noted with some amusement that a sizable alien army had arrived. It was almost certainly going to be torn to pieces, and he was anticipating the show when everything changed..

Of all the scenarios that could happen, the Hunter had not expected the Ethereal Imperator would personally grace the battlefield.

It took all of his extensive training to not become overwhelmed by the sheer aura exuded by this master of the Psionosphere. In his life the Hunter had only felt himself affected in this wholly overwhelming way twice. Once when he had been brought before the Sage-King, and when he had faced the true form of the Entity.

True form. Wouldn't that have been nice.

It had still almost killed him.

Truthfully, he would have been surprised if the operation had continued much further. The longer the battle persisted, the higher the chance that soldiers would die and technology be left to lesser species. Retreat was inevitable, but not before success was certain. The arrival of the Imperator changed everything.

The Imperator could not be allowed to threaten the Throne World.

They were not prepared.

It did not surprise him when the General departed, though obviously not before ordering a retreat. XCOM had fled quickly, and the Imperator had telekinetically called the body of his puppet, before teleporting the army which had come to fight away, then vanishing himself, letting the Hunter take a long breath

The mission was going to fail now. The Imperator was not here for XCOM, he was here for them. By doing nothing he was nonetheless sending a clear message. He almost certainly had no idea who or what they were, but he had seen them flee – and that would tell him that the Throne World knew his power and that they could not match him today.

But he was still here, and still had an assignment of his own.

Improvisation was required. If this mission was to fail, it fell on him to ensure the next one was successful. He was under no illusions that he would be the deciding factor in a conflict between psions – let alone something like this Imperator. He was far too weak, skilled as he was. Without the element of surprise, it was a doomed endeavor, and his weapons were not strong enough to take out enough of them quickly enough.

This mission would be salvaged to a degree. The Imperator wouldn't know about her, and wouldn't necessarily be looking for her.

With that determined, he backed up, and with a telekinetic push sent himself flying through the air as he mentally plotted his path to the tracker. Telekinesis was one of the most useful abilities he could think of, and in this sphere he could use it much easier. It wasn't strong, but it didn't need it to be.

All it needed to do was serve as an amplifier and anchor.

Leaping from building to building, running along the walls and across the rooftops, he made a number of notations about the number of soldiers – both ADVENT and XCOM which were moving in his same direction. So they almost certainly knew where she was being moved too. That was problematic.

He needed to move faster.

Minutes later he spotted the small group. Either they had lost some of their soldiers, or some had split up, because there were only five. Far too small to be a credible threat. With a leap, he softened his landing a few meters behind them, which forced them to react immediately, turning around and aiming their weapons at him.

"Hold!" He commanded instinctively in English.

The nearmost Warrior appraised him. "[Viper. We are in retreat.]"

Right, they wouldn't speak English. He switched to their speech. "[Correct. The Imperator has intervened, and XCOM and ADVENT squads are converging. You will be killed.]"

"[We are aware,]" the leader marched towards him. "[We will not let her be retaken.]"

The Hunter sighed, putting some urgency into his voice. "[The Imperator is here. You cannot let yourselves be captured. The Throne World cannot be put at risk.]"

"[And we cannot abandon her now that she is in our possession,]" was the response. "[We have little choice, nor can we predict where the Imperator will go.]"

"[Allow me propose an alternative,]" he spoke quickly. "[Give her to me, and hide until the soldiers are gone. The General will locate you, otherwise you will die for nothing and your bodies resting outside the Throne World. Worse, you may be captured and the secrets of the Spheres given to the Imperator. The Humans are unaware of me. I will ensure the next operation to acquire her succeeds.]"

There was a prolonged silence as they considered his proposal. In the end, the Hunter doubted it was his appeal to life, but what would happen if they were captured by the Imperator, or their bodies killed here by XCOM. They were already cut off, and the Riders were in clear retreat, and their bodies in addition to providing the Humans here with valuable insight, would never be returned to the tombs.

"[The General is aware of you, Viper?]" He asked.

"[He is. This was my mission before the opportunity here arose]"

"[Proof.]"

The Hunter reached inside his vest and pulled out the silver artifact. It glittered in the dimmed light, before the Warrior nodded. "[Very well. This assignment is in your hands. Do not fail.]"

There was some internal discussion, before the soldiers marched off on a different path, able to move more swiftly without carrying the body. He looked down at the sedated woman, curious as he'd never seen her up close. She'd taken a severe beating, but nothing she wouldn't recover from.

Definitely young, and from the images he had researched, he could see the family resemblance, faint as it was. Such a shame it had ended up like this. Of course, she was ultimately only a pawn. The traitor bore full responsibility for her current predicament, sacrificed at the altar of his own ambitions.

"Hands up! Step away!" The Hunter turned, almost relieved to see an XCOM squad marching up, led by an Agent of T'Leth.

He complied. "Of course. She's all yours."

Three of the soldiers moved to free her and apply med-kits to her body, and the Agent appraised him carefully. "Who are you?"

"An ally," he said smoothly. "I know who they are, and followed here. I am no friend to them, and I know who this is." He indicated the body lying on the ground. "As do you, I suspect. I do not know why she is here, but better here than with them – or the Imperator."

The Agent stared closer, no doubt noticing his eyes – and his strong mental defenses. "I have no interest in staying long," he said, looking to the portals in the distance which were continuing to fade. "I do not belong. But here-" he reached into his pocket, pretending to fumble. "When she awakes, give this to her. She will know what it means."

The man gingerly took the seal with the cat's head on it. It was a calculated risk, but telling the truth was certainly a bad idea, nor was picking the obvious way to gain her tentative trust. Without another word, he leapt into the air, activating his cloaking field so that when the Agent inevitably wanted to question him more, it would be almost impossible for him to lock on.

Sure enough, they called out for him, but he ignored them and put a significant amount of distance between him and all XCOM squads. Once more perched atop a skyscraper, he simply watched as one by one, the portals closed and the sun broke through to shine upon a frozen city.

He hoped the Imperator had left for good.

---

New York City, New York – United States of America

5/28/2017 – 1:23 P.M.

Sword and club continued meeting in quick succession.

The battle had continued far beyond what the Battlemaster suspected either of them were used to. He could also feel Yang start to tire as she exerted herself psionically and physically, as the duel continued down the streets. Though he wasn't ignorant of the fact that the warrior seemed to be leading the duel; taking the aggressive posture like he had this entire time.

Neither had scored significant wounds on the other, but the Battlemaster had penetrated some gaps in his chest armor, and his opponent had bashed him on the thighs and two of his arms, which still bore developing bruises. The minute pain such injuries caused was easily ignored in the heat of battle.

The warrior battered down some rubble Yang threw at him while with a fist he bashed away another sword swipe. Turning quickly on his heel he directly charged the Battlemaster again, sliding his grip of the club closer to the head. Either by luck or speed, he bashed the hand that held his sword, causing him to drop it.

His opponent followed up with a series of hard strikes towards less-armored parts of his suit. The elbows, armpits, and throat, mixed in with a number of center blows to keep him off-balance. However, engaging in a melee was not wise to do with a Battlemaster with an anatomical advantage.

With one hand he gripped the arm of the warrior, while with his remaining ones he gripped the club, arm that grasped it, and with his final arm he unleashed one of the strongest telekinetic pushes he had done thus far in the battle. At such close range, even the mitigating effects of the element couldn't cushion the blast.

The warrior was not sent far back, but he'd been forced to release his club, which now rested in the Battlemaster's hand. It was not a weapon type he had used in a very long time, but he remembered basic principles. He telekinetically called his sword back to his hand, and marched forward, both weapons now in his hand.

He anchored himself in place, and slots above his shoulders opened and fired, sending a series of seemingly impossibly small micro-missiles towards him. The Battlemaster lifted a hand to catch them, and as one they all exploded, the shockwave forcing him back and the explosion blackening his armor.

Once the smoke cleared, he saw that his opponent had focused his attention on Yang, first sending several small missiles her way which she deflected, and directly following up with shooting several small wires designed to entrap her. They wrapped around her neck, legs, and arms, which only lasted for a moment as she used her sword to telekinetically cut them, but he'd yanked her towards him and charged forward.

The Battlemaster also charged, slamming into him and following up with a dual strike with his two weapons. Both were dodged, as the warrior gave a hard kick to Yang before taking the aggressive stance once again by moving in close, and grabbing the club with both hands. The Battlemaster stabbed his sword through a gap in the chest, eliciting a rare grunt of pain, but he didn't let go, even as the Battlemaster shoved it in deeper.

Placing his armored boot on the Battlemaster's breastplate, he kicked himself off, and both stumbled back, the Battlemaster's sword slick with red blood and his opponent wounded, but having his weapon back. The sounds of battle sounded nearby, and the Battlemaster realized that they were near a firefight.

And that his opponent was moving closer towards it.

Blood had flowed through his wounds, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Unsurprising. The Battlemaster would have been surprised if there wasn't an internal triage system, but he suspected that this was a warrior who was not used to being wounded at all. Behind the warrior as they turned the corner, continuing to exchange blows, there was a battle between some scattered Collective forces, mostly Mutons, and these unknown soldiers, one maintaining a portal.

Was he retreating?

Since the Battlemaster was on the objective offensive for one of the few times in this duel, it seemed to be the case. Overhead he heard the roar of missiles, and quickly dashed out of the way as they struck the streets, taking out scores of Mutons and almost hitting him. His opponent did the same, but took the opportunity provided by the ADVENT airstrike to charge directly towards the portal.

Along the way he slew several of the surviving Mutons, either by bashing their joints in, or performing overhead swings that crushed their heads. Most of the unknown soldiers were retreating into the portal, and before he could charge forward, the warrior vanished within, and the teleporter in question soon followed, leaving them alone in a snow-blasted street with buildings covered in a sheet of ice.

Yang had recovered, though was breathing heavily, made worse by the freezing cold, though it was less so now that the portals had closed, as those had clearly been the source. "What," she breathed. "Was that?"

"I do not know," he answered, that question now also at the forefront of his mind. He had never seen anything resembling the warrior he had just fought, or those who had accompanied with him. His fighting style was also dissimilar to what he had seen from other warrior cultures, the few that existed during the time of the Empire.

It was aggressive, swift, and was thoroughly impossible to be performed at that level without decades of training, minimum. Perhaps longer – as well as consistent use. Training was not all-encompassing, and the battlefield had certain elements that you could only truly prepare for through experience.

And given the utter fluidity and adaptability displayed, this warrior was intimately familiar with battle.

Regardless, he was also acutely aware of the fact that this mission was a failure, and that ADVENT would be marching to fully reclaim the city. Which put him in a far more difficult situation – were he not prepared. The Collective had his position from his tracker, and he transitioned it to the extraction variant.

Given what was happening, he knew that the Imperator was certainly paying attention, and someone would come to extract him. Patricia's body had doubtless been extracted at this point, although most of the soldiers had probably been written off. Fortunately, it was only Mutons – and only a fraction of the number Patricia had prepared had gone through before the attack.

Still, he wasn't sure if ADVENT would count it as a victory or not. At minimum, they would be just as confused as he was as to who had intervened. If another Sovereign had entered the picture…that boded poorly, and would make his plans harder to carry out. And all indications were that whoever this was, they were unfriendly to all sides.

Cogitian would probably have the best idea. If not him, then there may be issues.

Because the Battlemaster was certain that this would not be the last time this faction intervened.

Then before him, the Imperator emerged. The Battlemaster was genuinely surprised to see the Imperator step foot on this planet. His mind immediately sprung to the ramifications. Regardless of the necessity, and it had likely been Patricia's extensive injuries, XCOM would not take the provocation of their greatest opponent stepping foot on their planet.

But that was not the primary concern right now.

The Imperator looked to where the portal had been. "They retreated."

"They did." A pause. "Who were they."

The Imperator did not immediately answer, simply still staring at the place the portal had been. "I am unsure. A mystery which we must immediately unravel." He looked back to the Battlemaster. "I have extracted what remaining forces we had. We must speak, there is much to consider."

With a nod, the Battlemaster awaited the Imperator to teleport them back to the Temple Ship. This battle would have ramifications beyond today, but just to what extent was to be determined. With a wave of his hand, the Imperator transported them away from the frozen city, only now just starting to melt as the pale yellow sun shone down overhead.

---

To be continued in Chapter 62:

Wills of Steel, Hearts of Stone

---

A/N: There will probably be two different reactions to this chapter; those who know what just happened, and those who do not. If not, don't worry, it will become clear eventually :)

I'm amazed that there was only one person who put the pieces together before this point. Even the Editing Team didn't figure it out until this chapter. Congrats Potius, speak to me to claim your prize.

Finally, there are a couple of other things to say – first is that I got artwork for the Commander done, which you can probably find in the same places I mentioned for the Saudia artwork. Second is that Areleh has started writing a spin-off/side-quel to the Advent Directive which follows the formation and exploits of the Pantheon. Look for "XCOM: Pantheon Rising" to check it out. It's very good, and I look forward to working with him more as the story progresses.

- Xabiar