The Commander thumbed through some documents on the datapad. Coordinates, pictures, written notes... the Reapers may not be the type for paperwork, but on terms of scouting an area thoroughly, they were unmatched champions. There was hardly a piece of data missing that she required.

"As much as I'd like to brag that my Reapers pulled the work, I've gotta say, you had a hand in this too."

Eliza looked up at the screen in the Resistance Communications room, smiling, tucking a lock of deep brown hair out of the way. Her pale blue eyes caught the light of the screen, revealing a dash or two of purple tint. "I'd still put a lot of the awards on you guys. My soldiers certainly did their best, but without you and your Reapers, we wouldn't have had a chance to find his hideout in the first place."

Her attention went back to the datapad. Everything put together a nice imagery of the Hunter's Stronghold. Deep in the woods, no civilization for miles around... or ADVENT sites, for that matter. Total isolation. That could be a benefit. Then again, she wouldn't pin the Hunter as being one for backup anyway. Still, it meant that once they flew in that airspace, they'd stick out like a sore thumb. No room for sneaking.

She straightened, just in time for Volk to start speaking again. "I'm sure you're aware, Commander, but that thing probably got word of our scouts." Volk shifted, rubbing at his chin and looking to the side. "We haven't heard any evidence to that but knowing that Hunter, I'm sure it knows. Probably just biding time. If you don't crash in the front door soon, you might lose the opportunity when boredom sets in.

The Commander did a mental check of her supplies. She already had a squad in mind for the mission—and that squad included a little bit of borrowed help from them. "Technically speaking, we could drop in right now. More than enough soldiers for a squad, and I'm sure Wukong would like a chance to give the Hunter a new piercing or two."

That earned a smirk from Volk. Arsozu, or "Wukong," was instrumental in many missions, and Eliza counted him as a true blessing from the Reapers. "You'd have a buddy for life, there."

She chuckled, sending the data along and putting down the pad. "In this war, I'll claim as many friends as I can get."

As many friends as she could get... Eliza scanned over the walls. All three Resistance factions were on good terms with her, if not each other. Word of XCOM was spreading and Resistance havens were backing them up. So why was she feeling this melancholy? Her eyes flicked back down to the pad.

The Hunter. A somewhat blurred photo of him taking aim at something out of frame was included in the files. The Commander knew he was the enemy. It was impossible to know how many deaths that rifle he held knew, and how many more he knew personally. But yet, a few things lingered at the back of her mind. Remnants of her time in the network. Queries.

"Volk... you know what's the most interesting thing to me?"

Volk didn't respond. He had already caught her far-off look at the datapad and was now sitting at attention, waiting to see what she was going to say next. She took his silence as a nod to continue.

"When I was hooked up to the ADVENT Network, I was basically an info base. I'd apparently run simulations in the background, but at any time, I could get questions. Mostly tactical data for officers, but regularly, I'd get questions from the Chosen."

"Something tells me I'm going to get a little concerned at where you're going with this."

Eliza's mouth twitched, undecided between a smile or a frown. "The Warlock and Assassin asked their fair share of tactical questions and my subconscious answered the best it could. The Hunter, though? He'd always bounce interesting stuff off of me." She gave a soft chuckle, crossing her arms. Her gaze hadn't moved from the datapad. "He'd prod me with joke questions and I remember automatically snarking back, much to his delight. But he... he asked some fairly interesting ones as well."

"Commander." Volk's tone was hard and she could see his face had set out of the corner of her eye. He didn't sound like he was inviting any further discussion, and she took the hint, sighing.

"Right. Thank you for all of your help, Volk. We'll take things from here."

He nodded, and then the feed cut. Eliza cast her gaze to the door. How long Bradford had been standing there, she didn't know. He was currently leaned up against one side of it, giving her a trained look. Behind it, though, she could see his concern.

"Commander O'Leary."

She nodded at her proper designation. "Did you get the files?"

His shoulders went rigid, and he stood up properly. "'Interesting questions?'"

Eliza gave the datapad one last look before sighing, turning the display off. "Going to cut me off at any point? This isn't a topic I want to be constantly interrupted on."

Bradford paused for a second as he was walking into the room, and then shook his head. "Just know I'm concerned for what you've said so far."

Her eyes flicked to the dark screen for a moment before she crossed her arms again. Central's concern was valid. Volk's apprehension was valid. But yet... she wanted to give stock to her own feelings.

"Where was I... Right. Among the Hunter's 'usual' questions came some interesting ones. Ones the others didn't ever really ask. 'Do you think you'll ever be out of there?' 'Have you ever feared death?' 'Did you ever wish you could be born in someone else's shoes?'"

Bradford opened his mouth, but then closed it into a tight line, respecting her implicit request. The Commander continued. "These kind of questions just started popping up more and more often for him. At some point, it seemed to move from morbid curiosity to... projecting? Seeking help?" She grimaces. "One of the final questions he asked me before you sprung me from that tube was 'Have you ever wanted to die?'"

She turned to Bradford, gripping her arms with her hands. "I know he's the enemy. I'm aware that he's an aggressor. But, Bradford... you'd have to be there." A few images flashed through her head and she suppressed a shudder. "The simulations, the failure states, the memories. If that's what I went through without becoming a Chosen like them, then imagine what's going on behind closed doors." She runs a hand through her hair. More and more white strands were popping up in it every day. "There's gotta be a way other than just killing him. Don't misunderstand me—if push comes to shove, he is the enemy, and I won't hesitate to give the order to end him. Just..."

She trailed off, the hand still on her arm digging her fingertips into her flesh. Bradford shifted on the spot, then sighed, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Eliza. I know you went through hell with the Elders, and I'm sure the process of becoming a Chosen isn't any more glamorous. But you're talking about possibly taking a Chosen in alive."

She nods, sighing, letting a bit of tension go. "It's... it's true. I know we've stopped taking subjects in alive twenty years ago. I know we don't negotiate. Do you think that I don't know? Do you think that I don't realize I'm advocating for sparing a mortal enemy of XCOM?"

Bradford returned her sigh, shaking his head. "I'm sure you're fully aware. Just let me ask: how?"

Her gaze returned up to Bradford. "I don't know. But I'm thinking. Standard knockouts should still apply, hell, you've seen the things that Clint can do. I'm definitely sending him on mission regardless, but maybe he could help."

Bradford grunts, looking off to the side. "Vonnet is our strongest psion... but even against a Chosen, I'm wary." He looks back to the Commander, shoulders relaxing. "I suppose as long as you're willing to off him if the need arises, we might be able to do something. There are those old cells back in the lower deck, and we do still have a room open for planning."

Eliza didn't smile but her appreciation was palpable. "Thank you, John. I promise I'll keep my mind on the mission. You're just one of the few people I can clear this with without them damning me for being crazy."

"Well..." He smiled. "You're not out of the woods there, yet."

She returned the grin. "Let's go round up the soldiers."

The time had arrived. Amidst rubble and ruin, five soldiers and a SPARK touched down in the first room of the Hunter's Stronghold.

Sherry was the first to step forward, keeping her Plasma Rifle at head-level as she did a sweep of the room. Her brown hair was up in a bun, keeping it out of her face and preventing it from covering the burn scar on her face. Her GREMLIN was similarly primed, smoothly flying about, running a scan on the alien containers on racks that formed a loose grid in the area.

Roland was right behind her, though his sweep was much less smooth. He kept his pace steady even as he practically wheeled around, gauging the room for any signs of threat, Storm Gun held at the ready. The dress beret on his head still stayed firmly attached, keeping his short, white hair from falling out at the scalp. A repurposed Muton mask covered his face, and a scar on his left cheek trailed up from it and up his eye. At some more rubble falling down from the breaching charges, his hand jerked to one of the Fusion Axes on his back, but calmed a bit when he realized what it was.

SYNCLARE's servos groaned as the robot rose to a more proper standing position, taking his place at the front of the squad. His sleek, almost alien chassis glinted in the light, the smooth grey material catching it from the new skylight. The heavily modded Elerium Phase-Cannon in his hands remained stationary as he lumbered forward, his BIT staying close.

Rosa was right behind him, already loosely using his big frame as cover, watching his back. A tactical helmet covered her head, obscuring her features. She kept her Beam Cannon hoisted like a trained professional, the weight meaning almost nothing to her in her WAR Suit.

Arsozu was quick to dash to the front, already at one of the open doors, peering in. His Reaper's coat fanned out behind him, while his hood remained firmly in place. Despite his sudden movement, nobody in the squad stopped him. He kept his profile low and his peeks short, turning back to the squad and shaking his head. "No hostiles in the next room," he stage-whispers, voice slightly muffled thanks to his mask.

Clint was the last to start moving, walking calmly with his Plasma Bolt at ease. His long, white hair was kept tucked in his alien-esque helmet, a few locks peeking out the back. Purple eyes scanned the room, the color matched by the psi-amp on his back, glowing with passive power. He raises a hand to his helmet.

"Avenger, this is Menace One-Five. We have landed safely and Wukong says the next room is free of hostiles. Everything's quiet for now."

"Solid copy." The Commander's voice came over comms as the Avenger got a feed of the area. "Approach the next room carefully, and keep to cover if you get near any doors."

"Understood." Clint put his hand back on his gun. "Squad, move out. Wukong, you're on scout. SYN, you're behind him. Fortuna, you're behind him. Rascal, watch flanks and stay near the front. Cherry, you're backline with me. Are we clear?"

He got various affirmations, and the squad settled into their positions as they moved to the next room. Sherry's GREMLIN joined her as she waited for Clint to catch up, the two keeping back.

The Commander watched, pensive, as the squad advanced. Thanks to the support of the Reapers and a nearby Resistance haven, they were getting a clean feed of the scene. The next room seemed like a communications hub of sorts, with desks littered with displays and inputs arranged neatly, monitors on the walls of various venues. She caught a flash of one that seemed to be a shot from the Blacksite, dread starting to settle in her gut.

She dismissed the feelings, casting a glance over to Bradford. "Any input, Central?"

"None so far, Commander." The two were back to professional faces, concentration set on the mission. "Your plans?"

"Sweep the area, look for trouble, expecting to find it. Sensors lit up when we flew in here so they're expecting us. Had no plans for sneaking, anyway. There's got to be some sort of power source for the Chosen to keep resurrecting, and chances are, that's deep in the compound."

Bradford cleared his throat. "Good to hear, Commander, but I was referring to your other plans."

A few staff members stifled chuckles, and Eliza let them simmer down before she spoke. "I've settled on psionic subduing. Clint has more than enough power to get him to at least panic, but the optimal goal would be to knock him out entirely."

"That is quite a lofty ambition, Commander." Tygan's presence was announced by his comment, nearly making the Commander jump. That man could be a Reaper if he wanted to. "We've observed that even the non-psionically gifted Chosen are almost immune to mind-altering effects. Unless our operative plans on completely overloading the Hunter..."

Tygan lets the statement hang. Eliza hums, then gives a subtle smile. "I'm taking the suggestion onboard. Thank you, Tygan." Before anyone could retort, she turned her attention back to the screen. "Wukong, status."

Arsozu paused as he was about to open a door. He continued the action, peering beyond. The room beyond was bathed in a menacing red light, and Arsozu made note of an almost-fresh blood smear on the floor that angled away from some sort of contraption. It seemed to be the stronghold's prison area. Standing in the middle... "I've got eyes on two Stun Lancers, an Officer, and a Shieldbearer, and that's just from this angle. They look alert, but of course, they don't know I'm here."

"Roger." Clint answered for the Commander, voice lowered. "SYN, I want you to activate Overdrive and plow through that wall. Fortuna, follow him. Try to take down the Shieldbearer first. Rascal, follow-up. Cherry and I will pick off stragglers."

"Actually, from your position..." The Commander hums. "Crazo, I want you to move forward about ten feet, to Wukong's right. They're standing close enough together... drop a Void Rift into their midst. Then proceed with your plan."

Clint grins, moving up. "The Commander is ever insightful! One pocket in reality, coming up."

"I think I see some high ground in there as well. Wukong, slip in, and take it. Pick off a straggler if need be."

"Roger roger." Arsozu grinned to himself as he slunk in the room, keeping to sightlines. "Not like these guys could be any more blind if they had buckets on their heads." He scaled a ladder, pausing at the top. "Oh, wait..."

"Cut the chatter or we won't hear a thing!" Roland scuttled forward, scowling a bit. "If something goes wrong I want to be able to know it happened."

That made the Officer's head turn in the next room to the door, readying their gun. Arsozu leveled his rifle. "I blab because I can afford it—you better make the most of your time, because you're about flat broke, boys!"

Clint didn't spare another word, holstering his weapon and bringing his psi-amp into his left hand. His right glowed a rich purple, siphoning energy from the amp, suffusing his whole body with light. At the point where he was starting to become blinding, he hurled it into the next room, a bright spark tracing a trail of energy that went right into the pod's midst. It hit the end of the tracer, and with a ghastly sound, a purple mass of swirling energy opened in the midst of the enemy, buffeting them with pure psionic power.

"I think I've got one." Clint sing-songed, and clenched his fist. The rift closed and the tracer whipped out at the Officer, causing him to spasm from the sudden infiltration. It hung limp for a moment before straightening, taking on Clint's confident posture. "Go for it!"

At that moment, SYN burst through the wall between the two doors. He stopped in front of the enemy, rubble strewn around him and with light blue energy coursing across his frame. "I apologize in advance for your untimely deaths," he quipped, before smoothly taking aim at the Shieldbearer and opening fire.

He gets a clean hit and downs the soldier. The two Stun Lancers exchange a look before bolting in different directions, one of them getting gunned down by Rosa in a hail of plasma.

Roland bursts forth from the hole in the wall, doing a slide around the corner, keeping a frightening pace with the Lancer, axe in hand. With a shout, the blade comes down on the soldier's back, catching it and bringing forth a burst of orange ichor as the enemy crumples to the floor.

"Well," Clint says, his voice coming from the Officer. "My whole squad appears to have died. That's brutal."

"Crazo, don't mock the dead." The Commander sighs. "Or the mind-controlled, for that matter."

"I don't know, I suppose he has a point."

Most of the squad jumped at the sound of the Hunter's voice on comms, nervously scanning the room. "Oh, don't be babies, I've known you guys were here ever since those Reapers showed up at the ends of my yard. You really need to get yourself some better stealth operatives, Commander."

Bradford opens his mouth to speak but the Commander holds up a hand, smirking. "Look, we were playing baseball in the next town over and a Berserker hit the ball and we think it sailed through one of your windows, can we just get it back?"

"Mmm... here's the thing. That was a closed window, mind you, and now there's a draft. Sorry to say, but you racked up some property damage. I think I'll take the ball, along with a soldier or two." The Hunter pauses. "And look at that, you've spilled blood in the hall. You're awfully messy baseball players, and it's not my fault you let a Berserker try to be Babe Ruth."

"Well, can't say I didn't try." The Commander drops her hand. "No chance we can just be friends and play together nicely?"

The Hunter chuckles. "Sorry, Commander. I'm more of a hockey fan."

"Plan B, then." She switches the comms, limiting herself to Clint's channel only. "Crazo, I'm going to be directing you personally from now on. Don't think he can hear me on here. Keep the squad moving in formation, but be cautious. That gunfire probably echoed through the whole facility."

"Understood. People, keep moving!"

"You know," starts the Hunter, "I wouldn't peg XCOM as the type to go storming bases. Maybe mess up some shrubbery here, nick some office pens there... coming here's awfully, I don't know, suicidal."

Eliza switched back over to main comms. "Well, what better way to mess with the Elders than to take out a Chosen? Don't worry, your pens are still under consideration."

The Hunter's laughter fills the comms. "You've got the wrong alien, Commander. If you want to actually make them despair, go for either of the others. They'd practically thank you for killing me. I'd almost let you go so you could do that, if you didn't threaten my pens."

"Someone around here keeps hiding ours, just let us borrow yours for a bit." At this point, one or two of the staff were trying to suppress laughter while Bradford sighs, Tygan trying and failing to stifle a smile, himself. "And hey, we had nothing else to do tonight."

"Well, fair point. Idle hands are the devil's workshop, and everything. I'll give you a hint, you're looking for a room."

"I appreciate your thorough input in assisting us with finding your location." Back on the ground, SYN withdrew his gauntlet from the wreck of a MEC, a few blackened marks on his chassis but otherwise unharmed. "We will be en-route to your position shortly. Thank you for your compliance."

"Ohoho, even the robot's getting lippy! Rubbing off on the bots, Commander?"

"Not a matter of 'rubbing off,'" Rosa interjects, a spray of plasma destroying an ADVENT Priest's cover, "Trust me, he's always been like that."

"He's awfully fun, though!" Arsozu's ensuing shot gets lost in the commotion of the battle, allowing him to remain undetected even as it pierces the Priest, giving it no chance to Sustain. "And you, my dear Hunter, I'm gonna enjoy taking it right to ya!"

"Oh, really? Any Reaper worth half their salt would watch their six."

Arsozu whipped around but by that point, it was too late to do anything about the Berserker fist sailing towards him. He crumpled around it as he was thrown from his position and into a nearby wall, hitting it and slumping, unresponsive. The Berserker's triumphant roar was cut short by Clint burying a bolt into its stomach, doubling it over in time for Sherry to get a clean shot off of its head.

"God damn it, Wukong!" Roland fired another round into the Berserker for good measure before reloading, making sure the coast was clear before running over to him. Blood was seeping from behind his mask and his armor was bent in at the front. "We're gonna need an evac—he's unconscious and I don't think he's getting up anytime soon."

SYN advanced forward, his BIT whirring into the room ahead. It flew back in sight, chirping. "My BIT reports an empty room ahead of interest. It appears to be a portal location housing a transporter."

"Damn. Not my front door. You've found it." The Hunter deadpanned. "Well, I'm a lovely, sporting fellow. You've basically killed all of the guards there and I don't enjoy hunting nearly dead prey. Take your wannabe home—I'm gonna enjoy killin' the rest of you."

Bradford turned to the Commander. "You gonna trust that?"

Eliza stares at the screen. Her face was unreadable. Losing their special operative just before fighting the Hunter was a serious blow, to say the least. Had she been actually able to give direct orders instead of tiptoeing around giving the Hunter info on what she was doing, maybe she could have avoided it. As it stood, she had few options. "Might as well. He pulls a fast one, he forces my hand. Not about to make Wukong march into his inner sanctum like that, grudges be damned. Crazo, get him out of there. Firebrand, prepare an evac."

"Got it, Commander. Firebrand, flying in."

"Understood, Commander. I'll have Rascal cart him over."

She leaned back a bit, watching Roland gingerly hoist up Arsozu and start walking with him. The Hunter's true stronghold was just within their reach. Despite her calm appearance, her heart was pounding, and that dread she shook of earlier was returning in force, settling like a stone in her gut.

The Commander leaned back in, tuning to Clint's headset and speaking low. "Clint."

"... Yes, Commander?"

"You are only to respond 'understood' to what I am about to tell you. Is that clear?"

She watches as Clint looks around at the other members of his squad. His voice drops a bit as he speaks, more reserved. "I understand. What is it, Commander?"

Commander O'Leary sucked in a breath. "You have a special mission. It's within my interests to bring the Hunter back alive, but he needs to be unconscious to do so. You, right now, are our best way of achieving that. If we can get him cornered and shut down whatever means he has of resurrecting, I want you to employ everything you have in your power to disable him. Stun him, mind control him, completely overload him and knock him out if necessary. Just make sure he's in a state where we can safely move him. But, all else fails, if the squad is in danger due to this, you are to drop this order and kill him. Do you read me, Clint?"

It was a while before Clint responded, even after the Commander finished talking. He nodded subtly. "Understood, Commander."

She switches outgoing comms out, letting herself sigh. Bradford moves in a bit closer, hand on her shoulder. "Eliza..."

"I know the mission, John." Their voices were low enough that only they could hear them, drowned out by the ambient noises of the ship or distance. "You heard me, right? I just want a chance to not completely destroy something the Elders have corrupted without the chance to save it."

Bradford gave her shoulder a squeeze, looking to the screen. "... as your XO, it's my job to be concerned. I don't think you'll ever hear the end of it from me, but I just want to make sure that you think you're making the right choice. And, hell, who knows..." He sighs, giving her a good-natured smile. "You might just make this work. If anybody could do it, it'd be you."

She returns the smile, patting his hand. "Thank you, John. Nice to know I've got you, in the end."

They let the moment hold for a bit before before breaking it off, both Central and the Commander returning to their practiced, professional personas. The Commander switched outgoing comms back on, tuning to a channel where she knew the Hunter could hear her. "Alright, Mordenna. We're knocking down your front door shortly and taking our ball back by force."

"Ooh, getting familiar, are we, Eliza?" At that, Bradford bristles, but the Commander remains unfazed. "Well, I invite you to try. Don't knock over the hockey sticks on your way in."

"Just for that, I will."

"Damn. Whatever shall I do."