//------------------------------//
// Operation: Idle Hands 
// Story: Research Project: Sparkle 
// by Axquirix 
//------------------------------//

11:59, 2nd March 2016

Dr Dysart looked up as the door to his office slid open. “Ah, Miss Sparkle,” he greeted the purple alicorn walking into the room, “how are you this afternoon?”

“Feeling good,” Twilight replied with a smile as she hopped into the chair facing the psychiatrist’s desk, “got a nasty bruise on my muzzle though.”

“Oh dear, what happened?” the doctor asked, pushing the lid onto the fountain pen he’d been writing with and setting it down.

“Rifle butted by one of the other team,” Twilight replied, “he got disqualified, so I won by default.”

“That seems rather harsh on his part,” Dysart noted.

“Well, he was panicking,” Twilight explained, “I… kind of did a little sound magic to disorient him, and might have taken it a little too far.”

“You feel there are limits to what’s acceptable in training, and that you overstepped them?” the psychologist asked.

“Well, it… I had other options I could have used which wouldn’t have been as harrowing,” Twilight argued, “but the purpose of my training is to determine what would make sense to use on an actual battlefield, which this would have, so… I’d guess it was acceptable, since I apologised afterwards.”

“Even after being punched in the face,” Dysart pointed out.

“Rifle-butted,” Twilight corrected him, “and, well, if I hadn’t taken the course of action I had, he wouldn’t have reacted like that.” She paused for a moment before frowning. “Wait, you’re not suggesting that I’m claiming it was my fault due to the self-defensive conditioning, are you?”

“I’m a psychologist, Miss Sparkle,” Dr Dysart replied, “it’s not my place to suggest anything, merely to ask some of the questions you might be avoiding asking yourself, to help you understand how you actually feel about yourself and your situation. Of course, you’re free to ask my opinion whenever you like.”

Twilight thought for a moment, before nodding. “So, about Stockholm Syndrome, it… it’s basically misconstruing the facts of a situation to put one’s aggressors in a sympathetic light, correct?”

“That’s reasonably accurate,” Dysart agreed, shuffling in his chair to lean forwards a little, his arms crossed on his desk, “it can also derive from putting one’s aggressors in a sympathetic light without requiring any misconstruing at all.”

“So, if we take the biggest picture possible into scope,” Twilight followed, motioning her front hooves apart in the air in front of her, “and work out the facts of the situation not involving me at all, then work down from there to work out where I fit in,” she closed her hooves to being only an inch apart as she continued, “would that help?”

Dysart bit the inside of his lip in thought for a moment. “It might certainly help,” he agreed, “although I’m only aware of many of the broad facts myself, not the specifics.”

Twilight nodded. “Well, okay, so we have this planet, Earth, and the population are all human,” she started explaining, “and then it’s attacked by a variety of alien races acting as a cohesive army, with member species varying between startlingly humanoid to utterly inhumanoid, with a significant number of them being somewhere in the middle.”

“That’s true, yes,” Dysart agreed, “many of the research team believe that the various races were altered to their current bipedal forms.”

“Exactly!” Twilight agreed, “Nearly all of them are bipedal! Even Chryssalids have hands, or hand-talons or whatever they are. The only alien forces lacking a manipulator appendage are the robotic ones.”

“And cyberdisks, assuming they aren’t wholly mechanical,” the psychologist noted.

The alicorn nodded. “Right. So there’s a war between these two forces, which humanity ultimately wins, and then XCOM, the organisation responsible for said war being won, start clearing up the remaining aliens where they occur because they haven’t just left.

“And then I come in,” Twilight continued, “bearing none of the distinctive characteristics the aliens share; no hands, no cybernetics, no evidence of genetic tampering. And when discovered, XCOM scientists just assume I’m part of the same force?”

“An inaccurate assumption on their parts,” Dysart agreed, “as I understand, Doctor Vahlen had a few incidents of working with presupposed notions throughout the war.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Were they ever right?” she asked.

“Once or twice,” Dysart confirmed, “her theories on the underlying mechanics of psionics turned out to be fairly accurate, although I’ve heard Doctor Shen complaining that she ought to have learned from the ‘pure energy’ incident.”

Twilight blinked. “‘Pure Energy?’ That… what. That isn’t a thing.”

“Apparently it was one of her first comments regarding the alien that the soldiers came to refer to as an Outsider,” Dysart explained, “from what I understand, they’re a sort of solid hologram projected within many of the alien ships as a self-defense mechanism. She was likely referring to the fact that to all equipment we have, they register as having negligible mass, despite being the size and rough shape of a human being.”

Twilight covered her mouth with one hoof for a moment, deep in thought. “That’s… hard light constructs are doable with magic; even just projecting a sphere around oneself makes for an effective physical shield, but if the ship was doing it, and could manage to make and manipulate a humanoid structure… are they living beings, too?”

Dysart shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that one, Miss Sparkle.”

“Right,” Twilight said with a nod, “I’ll have to ask about that later. Anyway, so I end up captured by XCOM, essentially on false charges.”

“You did incapacitate their response team,” Dysart noted.

“Because they attempted mental control and then opened fire first,” Twilight countered. The psychologist nodded in response, and the alicorn smiled. “So XCOM essentially don’t have a right to hold me here.”

Dysart stroked his bald chin for a moment. “Legal affairs also aren’t one of my specialties, Miss Sparkle, but I think XCOM does have the legal right to keep you contained. Whether or not that is fair is entirely open for debate, however.”

“Okay, so they’re keeping me here unfairly,” Twilight corrected herself, “because they thought I was something I’m not and don’t know how to correct their mistake. Or because I’m too useful as a potential educator for their psionic soldiers.” There was a short pause as the mare waited for the man to interject, but he simply waved at her to continue. “So, while if I were home in Equestria I’d be more than willing to help in a situation like the ones they’ve been facing, it still isn’t fair of them to repay any such assistance with ‘bending the rules’ to grant me things I ought to have fair access to anyway, such as decent food and a proper place to sleep, not to mention that I haven’t seen the sun in more than a week.”

“So you feel you’re being insufficiently rewarded in your present circumstance?” Dysart summarised.

“Yes,” Twilight replied, before adding, “but largely because I feel the things I’m being rewarded with ought to be a staple of being detained as a non-hostile entity.”

“Do you plan to stop cooperating with XCOM?” he asked.

Twilight hesitated for a moment. “No,” she denied, “because I do feel that the efforts they’ve been making against the aliens have been just, from having seen both their side of the argument as well as one of the aliens’. Plus what they’ve been asking of me so far has actually been sort of fun, incidents in the cafeteria aside.” Dysart opened his mouth to reply when Twilight cut across him to add “And the electrified panels thing when they first started, that was pretty terrible. And the bit where the Thin Man kicked me. Okay, maybe it’s actually been kind of awful,” the alicorn resigned, slumping in her chair.

“And yet you’re willing to give them another chance, trusting that future testing will be fair?”

Twilight mused quietly for a moment. “The research staff in particular are being a lot more friendly, but that could be a front. The tests themselves seem… well, they’re stacked against me in odds, but they won’t - or, well, shouldn’t,” she corrected herself, gingerly touching a hoof to the bridge of her muzzle, “cause actual physical or mental harm. It’s the same training regime they use for their soldiers, so in that respect I’m being treated as an equal.”

Dysart looked over his reading glasses at her. “And in other respects?” he pressed.

There was an extended pause as the princess took a few deep breaths. “Well, the soldiers have their own bunks whereas I’m still in an observation cell, none of the other XCOM psions have to wear inhibitors as a matter of principle, punishment for misuse of their powers aside, whereas I’m required to wear one at all times that I’m not within a dampening field. According to some of the soldiers I’ve become friends with they get ‘shore leave’ where they get to walk around on the surface and visit some of the local towns, whereas I’m stuck down here with no mention of release, and they have a whole barracks of facilities they can use in their free time, while I’m ‘heavily advised’ to remain within the cell at all times outside of eating or testing.” Twilight sighed. “I mean, I like the privacy of my bed and a good book as much as anyone, and most people I know would say I like it more than that, but when one whole wall of the room is a glass screen with two people sat twenty meters away monitoring my every action… okay, usually chatting idly and barely paying attention, I’m not really angry with anyone who gets put on that duty, but the principle of them being there?”

“So you feel imprisoned?” Dysart asked.

“Yes! Yes I feel imprisoned, I sleep in a testing tube!” Twilight raised her voice a little. “I’ve got guards at the door of the chamber - inside, not outside, so keeping me in - scientists constantly thinking up ways to determine how useful I could be to them, and… well, I...”

“I understand two examples as well as I understand three, Miss Sparkle,” Dysart said with a smile.

Twilight huffed in her seat, before slumping again. “I think… it doesn’t help that on top of that, I’m worried for my friends and family, and what they must be going through while I’m here, not knowing where I am or what’s happened to me.”

The psychologist nodded. “There were a lot of similar sentiments from most members of staff during the war, Miss Sparkle. You aren’t alone for being concerned for those back home.”

“True,” Twilight nodded, “but everyone here was fighting to get rid of the aliens, which would let them get back to their families. I’m sat here doing nothing productive to getting back home, aside from some vague idea that the aliens are responsible for me being here.”

“So you’re feeling guilty from your inactivity, and failing to fulfill your commitment to your friends?” Dysart asked.

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we getting a little off of the central issue?” she asked.

Dysart tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. “It’s possible, if you do feel that way regarding your inactivity, that you in turn feel that some of the things XCOM and its staff are subjecting you to are a form of punishment for not trying to return home, and that you deserve them.”

The alicorn blinked. “That doesn’t logically make sense,” she countered, “because if I were to ignore XCOM and focus solely on returning home I’d be ‘punished’ harder.” She waved her hooves slightly for emphasis.

“And you recognise that logically, yes,” Dysart agreed, “but do you recognise it emotionally?”

Twilight paused, thinking back to the cafeteria incident, and her psionic self-analysis afterwards. “I… I don’t think I did, when I got attacked in the canteen,” she agreed. “I still can’t tell if the alterations in my mind were entirely the result of the attack or partially self-made prior to that, as a result of my captivity. Either way, I’ve undone that damage now, and… and now I’m not quite so happy with the original agreement I had with Officer Bradford and Doctor Vahlen.”

“Which was before the cafeteria incident,” Dysart noted, and Twilight nodded. “So is it possible the damage was already present at that time?”

“...No,” Twilight replied after some thought, “because I had only just finished removing Sergeant Murray’s personal memories from my mind. I’d have recognised the damage then, even if it was fairly subtle.”

“So your disagreement with the arrangement now is because…?”

“Because a lot of what I had been offered, besides access to better food and a decent bed to sleep on, hasn’t been granted. I haven’t even had the big ceiling light in my cell being turned off, they just issued me a blindfold.”

“So you feel they aren’t upholding their side of the bargain,” Dysart summarised, and the princess nodded. “Do you have any ideas as to why that might be?”

“Issues with XCOM policy, I’d assumed,” Twilight sighed, “but that would be subject to overhaul in the wake of a non-hostile alien, surely. Now I’m wondering if I’m not upholding part of my side of the bargain somehow.”

“Which was?” Dysart prompted.

“To willingly be subject to additional testing for combat capabilities and applications of my psionic powers,” Twilight explained, before her eyes widened, “and teach their psions how to use them! Even if there have only been two training sessions so far, I can still work on determining if humans are capable of codified magic or if I ought to be focusing on pure psionics! Then they’d have to grant me a… well, they could close the shutters for some privacy sometimes. And turn the big light off!” she added excitedly.

Dysart smiled. “You’d consider that sufficient reward for the extra effort?” he asked.

“Well, those and help from the research team, or at least access to some of their resources, so I can work on finding a way home in my free time,” Twilight said, before nodding decidedly. “I’d argue for a proper bunk as well, but again, they’d need to change policy for that.”

“Every other member of staff has one,” Dysart observed, “and if you’re going to be teaching and researching…”

Twilight smiled coyly. “I thought you said you weren't allowed to suggest things?”

Dr Dysart raised both hands in a surrendering gesture. “Caught red-handed,” he chuckled. The rule did mostly refer to trying to convince his patients of things that weren’t true regarding their mental states, and Twilight had guessed as such, but she laughed with him all the same.

“Well, I think that’s a good course of action going forwards,” Twilight noted with a sense of finality. “Do you think this is a good place to close the session?”

“If you want to close it here,” Dr Dysart agreed, “either way works fine for me.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Twilight said, beaming as she stood from her chair, “this has been very helpful.”

“My pleasure, Miss Sparkle,” he replied, standing with her and stepping forwards to open the door, “my office is always open should you need anything.” He held the door for her as she left, and watched her walk down the corridor for a few moments before closing it and returning to his desk. He picked up his fountain pen, uncapped it, and continued the surprisingly detailed doodle of a cat he had been busy with before his patient had arrived.


***


06:27, 3rd March 2016

“Alright Strike One,” Officer Bradford spoke, standing in the main hangar of XCOM’s subterranean facility, “today’s operation is going to be a little different from usual. We’ve isolated the landing location of the unmarked helicopter from yesterday’s attack on Fireteam Oscar, in the Bay of Natal in Durban, South Africa. Fireteam Oscar was advancing on an alien presence located at the end of the centremost pier of the docks when radio contact was lost and they came under fire. Fireteam Oscar’s heavy armour protected them from harm by small arms fire from their assailants, but the presence of heavy weaponry and specialised armour-penetration rounds claimed two casualties.”

“Bastards,” Sgt Theodore ‘Hazard’ Lefevre spoke, followed by a muttered agreement from the rest of the squad.

Bradford waited for their simmering anger to quiet before continuing. “Recon Satellite Foxtrot tracked the helicopter as it headed south along the coast, before heading inland to Ixopo and landing on the roof of a warehouse near the middle of town. We’ve maintained surveillance ever since, and no other vehicles have been seen approaching or leaving the building. Whatever group in South Africa is opposing XCOM’s operations and siding with the aliens, they have considerable resources and production capabilities. It’s possible that this warehouse has been soundproofed and converted into an arms factory, but we suspect that it is only a satellite storage and deployment facility for a larger operation throughout the region.

“You’re going in to verify that,” the officer explained, “by whatever means necessary. You should concern yourselves primarily with the seizure of documents and computer storage devices, and with the capture of any non-combatants located at the site. We’re expecting enemy presence, and you have full authority to neutralise any and all opposition as necessary. South Africa has enjoyed XCOM protection on several occasions, and it seems they’re willing to return the favour; local police have been reinforced from the main city and are ready to establish a perimeter and secure the operational zone once you’ve extracted. They’re preparing a cover story for today’s events, likely an organised drug bust or something along those lines, so you’re advised to leave the surrounding buildings standing. The more we can give ourselves the trappings of a police force than a military one, the smoother everything afterwards will go.”

“Do the police in South Africa have VTOL dropships, now?” Sgt Cameron Murray sniggered as he glanced back at the Skyranger.

“No,” Officer Bradford replied, a stern note in his voice commanding the sniper to face front again, “which is why you’ll be deploying to a temporary staging point in the forestry north of the town and taking a police helicopter from there.”

“Analysis of enemy forces, sir?” the squad’s leader, Cpt ‘Congo’ Bakker, asked.

“We can’t be certain, as no alien orders means nothing for the Hyperwave Relay to intercept,” Bradford replied, “but from our assessment of the retinue that assaulted Fireteam Oscar, we can expect primarily assault rifles and smaller personal arms. No standard rifle-calibre rounds are capable of penetrating the plating of your carapace armour; even our X-9 rifles only make a dent. However, they will cause bruising and fatigue, and may penetrate the softer areas, so stay in cover.

“Additionally, the enemy has been noted to field limited heavy weaponry, such as light machine guns and rocket launchers similar to our own equipment. These can cause significant damage; any fully automatic weapon’s volume of fire will cause broken bones and internal bleeding, even through your carapace. I shouldn’t need to explain the rocket launcher.” There was a few seconds of silence, as the squad again remembered Bryant and Barnes.

“Finally, a singular assailant was seen to be firing these,” Bradford continued, lifting a smooth conical shape off of the table behind him. “They’re made from alien alloys, and they can pierce your armour. These were being carried by a sniper wielding a highly modified Remington 700, most notably with a wider barrel and mill-machined detachable magazine. Any opposition you encounter wielding similarly modified equipment is to be considered a high priority target, along with any heavy weapons.

“In terms of personal defense, the assailants were dressed in plain clothes, possibly as a result of a need to infiltrate the ambush site. However, in a facility under their control they may well be wearing better personal defence, and while few earth-material body armours will resist your assigned laser weaponry for more than a single shot, unarmoured targets had been sufficiently genetically modified to resist two in plain clothes. It is possible that on-site guards will have been spared this in favour of restricting it to live combat personnel, but we’re not taking that chance.”

“It seems like they’re holding nearly all the cards, sir,” Sgt Cunningham noted, “even if most of their guns won’t do nothing. What do we have in return?”

“You have psionics, for a start,” Officer Bradford replied, nodding at Sgt Murray, who smiled a little cockily. “We’d been auditioning supplements for Fireteam Oscar prior to their mission; hopefully, your team already being prepared in that field will make a difference. You also have heavier weaponry loadouts than Fireteam Oscar did,” he said while pointing between Sgt Cunningham and Lt Hayashi, the team’s twin heavies, “which should give you the firepower to put down targets quickly and keep them suppressed.”

Cunningham budged Hayashi with his elbow and grinned. “Plus today you’re allowed to hit them with it,” he joked.

Hayashi fixed him a flat stare. “Could you perhaps not?” he asked, as two more of the squad tittered.

“Will that be all, sir?” Cpt Bakker asked, remaining professionally stoic.

“That’s all the intelligence we have, Captain,” Officer Bradford replied, “the rest will be up to you and your squad. Bring in who you can, take out who you can’t.” He lifted his head a little to address the hangar as a whole as he announced “Strike One, clear to deploy!”



***



The loud thwup thwup thwup of the helicopter’s blades prevented much conversation from passing between Strike One’s members as they made their final approach. The silvery alien alloy portions of their armour had been fitted with firm dressing, disguising them as more typical ceramic plates that matched the blue uniforms they wore underneath. Not much had been done regarding their laser weaponry, however.

As the chopper passed into the town’s borders, the men inside spotted police cars entering alongside them and beginning to deploy roadblocks. “They’re not keeping it subtle down there, are they?” Cunningham called into his radio.

“They don’t need to,” Murray replied, one hand on the long laser rifle across his lap and the other gripping one of the loops attached to the vehicle’s ceiling, “We’ve got a cover story, remember?”

“You really think a drug bust would require blockading a whole town?” Cunningham replied.

“Not our problem,” Hayashi countered. “Leave that question for the Council.”

Murray nodded out the window. “There’s our building down there,” he notified the squad, before picking up the slim binoculars hanging from his neck and peering through them. “Doesn’t look like there’s anyone waiting for us.”

“I’m gonna drop you guys on the roof, alright?” the pilot informed them, having been patched into the team’s comms system earlier. He could be detached from it by XCOM base personnel as needed.

“Sounds good,” Bakker replied, fixing a rappel line to the belt of his armour. “Strike One, ready to deploy.” Each of the team fitted their own rappel lines before calling their own ready. “Hazard, Nova and Shield, you’re team Alpha. Deploy first, followed by Collateral, Godfather and myself as Team Bravo.”

The doors of the helicopter slid open, and the first three members of the squad jumped out. Once they radioed their touchdown they were followed by their comrades. “We need to move fast if we’re to keep the element of surprise,” ‘Nova’ Hayashi suggested.

“Team Alpha, advance,” ‘Congo’ Bakker ordered before he’d finished unclipping himself from the rappel line, “Hawk, we’ve touched down, clear the area.” The pilot signalled affirmative before the helicopter tilted away, heading back towards the staging point.

‘Hazard’ Lefevre kicked down the roof access door without a second thought. “Stairwell clear!” he shouted, before quickly stepping down it with ‘Shield’ Marquez covering him, both pointing their weapons ahead.

“Team Alpha, advance,” Congo ordered as the assault reached the bottom of the stairs. The corridor he was in stretched away before and behind, with windows on one side overlooking the main floor of the warehouse.

“Looks like they’ve set up a proper machine shop down there,” Shield commented as he rounded the corner to cover the corridor leading behind. “Congo, which way are we going?”

“Team Alpha, take the back route,” Congo ordered, “Loop around and meet us back at the main stairwell.”

Hazard nodded, before setting forth with Shield and Nova close behind. The next door he kicked down revealed a small set of offices, housing two men with assault rifles. Nova and Marquez made short work of one of them before either could react, as Hazard plunged into the room and ducked behind the desks.

“Team Alpha, contact!” Marquez radioed as he and Nova took positions either side of the doorway, the first volley of return fire spreading brick dust around the area. “Looks like a standard assault weapon, nothing serious.”

Hazard popped up from the desk he was behind to take a shot, catching the attacker square in the chest with a spread laser blast. The man’s attention turned long enough for Marquez to deliver a follow-up shot, finishing the job. “Tangoes down, clear the room,” Nova ordered, stepping into the room with his heavy laser ready.

“Contact!” Collateral radioed in, accompanied by the sound of gunfire, “laying suppressive fire!”

“Rear office clear,” Hayashi  commented following his team’s sweep of the room, “Team Bravo, do you need support?”

“Negative,” Congo replied, “We should… Godfather, the guy on the right?”

“On it,” Murray replied, and there was a brief silence before a clatter of gunfire rang out. “Control established, but he’s resisting hard. I don’t think these guys’ guns do much to each other, either,” he commented, sounding strained.

“Noted, but keep him under,” Congo ordered. “Team Alpha, clear to advance.”

“Team Alpha, advance,” Nova ordered, as Shield took position by the only other door in the office while Hazard got ready to break through it. It broke down after the second kick, revealing a small server room; Hazard had barely stepped inside before calling in the clear. “This doesn’t loop around, Central. How old are those blueprints?”

“Wait, I- Merde!” Hazard shouted as he ducked, throwing himself behind one of the server towers as the wall to the entrance’s left being pockmarked with bullet holes to the sound of a heavy gun opening fire. “False wall! I can’t move!”

“Bastards!” Shield shouted, before half-stepping into the room with his laser rifle aimed at the wall. He took a few blind shots, not seeming to hit anything but causing the incoming fire to stop for a moment.

Hazard roared as he jumped to his feet and threw himself through the thin plywood barrier, revealing another attacker ducked behind a metal crate with a light machine gun a matter of metres away. Nova stepped into the middle of the server room and opened up, burning lasers pinning the foe in place while Hazard threw a grenade behind the box.

The grenade exploding in the small space forced the crate forwards, where it tipped onto its front and revealed the scorched but still alive attacker. He desperately tried to raise his gun, only to find that it hadn't survived the blast anywhere near as well before being shocked by Hazard’s arc thrower. “One captive,” the assault radioed, hauling the man to one side and looking over the back of the room properly. “This is a sturdy looking door…” he mused, studying the blackened panel of metal that had already tanked the grenade blast.

“Man there’s a lot of these guys!” Collateral shouted over the radio. “We’re making headway, but any extra haste you guys could put in would be welcome!”

“Strike One, this is Central,” Officer Bradford’s voice came over the radio as Nove signalled Hazard out of the way, levelling his heavy laser at the door. “Local forces have established a close perimeter and have already caught two non-combatant personnel attempting to flee. They’re now trading sparse fire with enemy combatants but are holding secure; most of the internal security look like they’re focusing on you.”

“Copy that, Central,” Congo replied as the door began melting into slag under the constant fire of Nova’s weapon, “We’ll make this quick to prevent them trying to break out.”

Hazard fired off his scatter laser at the nearest combatant as he jumped through the door, barely winging the man. Team Bravo was across the small upstairs storage area from them, with both teams now neatly flanking the remainder of the upstairs security; they didn’t last much longer under incoming laser fire from two directions.

“Team Alpha-One, we have secured the stairwell entrance,” Nova stated as he stepped up to the door clearly marked STAIRS. There was a loud bang from the other end of the storage area as Collateral kicked a door open, followed by shouts to surrender from both him and Congo.

“Team Bravo-One, we’ve taken the security room,” Congo called back, “two captives and enemy forces are without organisation.”

“They certainly look like they’re considering their chances,” Godfather called in, glancing out of one of the upstairs windows into the main body of the facility, “wonder if they’ll make a run for… ah. They’re busting open crates, and those weapons look modded.”

“How many?” Nova called back, pausing in his countdown to break through the stairwell door.

“Three assault rifles. And… huh. They’ve modded an LMG,” the scotsman said, hesitantly glancing at his rifle.

“Can you take the gunner down?” Shield asked.

“Better,” Godfather replied, dropping his rifle into one hand and raising a fist before his face. He extended it outward, as his whole body began to tremble slightly. “Jesus, these… guys are…”

“Team Bravo, move quickly!” Congo ordered, as he and Collateral moved to the upper windows to support them, “Doesn’t look like Godfather can hold him long!”

“Copy that,” Nova replied as Hazard stopped waiting for his countdown. The assault jumped and grabbed the rail over the lower flight of stairs, choosing to drop the whole flight instead of running down them. He hit the floor with a loud bang before quickly bringing his scatter laser up and snapping off a shot.

“Tango down, but not one of the modded guns!” he shouted, running forward to duck behind one of the workshop machines.

“Flash out!” Shield shouted as he paused on the stairs to throw a grenade past Hazard’s cover. It detonated loudly, blinding most of the enemy in the room. Hazard took the opportunity to fire off another shot as Nova ran into the room to support him.

Every one of the opponents in the room returned fire, mundane rounds tearing through the steel machinery the three soldiers ducked behind but only rattling their armour. One of them ran forwards, jumping a lathe to flank Hazard before opening fire on him with one of the modified rifles.

“Argh! Blessé!” the Assault shouted as his armour failed to stop hardened rounds from digging into his abdomen. He fired off a shot to make the man duck back as Shield took position at the bottom of the stairs and aided him. Nova’s heavy laser lit up, liberally spraying the room at large with red light.

A whirring and high-pitched whining sound emanating from above matched the noise from his weapon, as Collateral fired shorter bursts that began to thin out the number of enemies in the room. “I don’t have a great angle from here, people!” the heavy called out.

“It’s hell down here!” Shield shouted as he leapt towards Hazard and pulled him to the ground, both narrowly avoiding a second burst of specialised rounds that shattered the blockwork of the warehouse’s walls. “We’re fighting out of a corner!”

“Copy that, can anyone establish a flank?” Congo replied over the radio, before cracking an upstairs window with the butt of his laser rifle and lending his firepower to Collateral’s efforts.

“I… can’t...” Godfather grunted over the comms, “get him...”

“Got it!” Shield shouted, snatching a grenade off of his belt. “Flash out!” hew roared as he pulled the pin with his thumb and threw the explosive. It sailed cleanly through the air before landing in the back line of the enemy forces.

The effect was near instant. “Everyone duck!” Godfather bellowed as the machine gunner at the rear of the facility lifted his gun, bracing for full auto. Half a second later all words and thoughts were drowned out by the heavy thuk-thuk-thuk of the modified support weapon firing. In seconds it began to click on empty, prompting Congo to fire one last shot before the warehouse went still.

“Oh, shit,” Shield said, scrambling up from the floor and looking over the facility floor beyond the torn-apart machine before them. The warehouse-come-manufacturing plant was a mess, with the lifeless bodies of their opponents littering the spaces between punctured and broken machinery.

“Congo, got a moment?” Hazard weakly called from the ground, to be met with his squad leader dropping down the stairwell much like he had and pulling out a first aid kit.

“Good job with the flashbang, Shield,” Congo commented as he sprayed the assault’s wounds with a mixed disinfectant and coagulant spray.

“Godfather, you okay?” Nova radioed.

“Y-yeah,” Murray replied, panting. “I… I’ve never… so many and so quickly…”

“Easy, man,” Cunningham replied, placing a hand on the sniper’s shoulder, “can you hold it in until we get back to base?”

Murray nodded. “It’s not the first time it’s been a human life, but after this long fighting the aliens…”

“These assholes took Bryant and Barnes,” Marquez spat, “let’s not forget that.”

“We know that,” Hayashi replied, “It’s just… I kind of hoped after the war, there’d be a longer-lasting peace, I suppose.”

“Besides, this wasn’t a kill mission,” Lefevre grunted. “Central, how many captives we got?”

“The local enforcement picked up several non-combat personnel attempting to flee the building. Combined with your own captives we have nine total.”

“About a third of everyone that was here, then.” Cpt Bakker noted. “I’ll call that acceptable performance, people. What do we do with the site?”

“The local enforcement will keep it secured until a Council team can comb the area and recover artefacts,” Bradford replied. “More or less the same protocol as for a UFO site. Leave the captives you’ve taken where they are and report to the roof for transit back to the Skyranger, we’ll handle it from here. Good work out there, Strike One.”