"Nothing like finding out where you want to go! That's both literal and figurative of course/ All the best sayings are." Gary "Preacher" Thomas, lunatic zealot and XCOM sympathizer, January 3'd 2031, in what can only generously be labeled "a sermon."

Russia, New Moscow City Center: The Palace of Authority

Yuri "Moose" Chepurnov had been in the business long enough to know that what President Boris was suggesting was a bad move. Twelve years in Spetsnaz followed by ten as the personal bodyguard to former president Vladimir had given the old moose near perfect combat instincts. Instincts with information occasionally so accurate he might as well have had a built in radar. So when President Boris decided reassuring the Advent citizens of the Russian district, the people under his direct control, that the rumors about a Russian resistance were outright fabrications and any terrorists claiming affiliation to the old government were liars not to be trusted, and that he wanted to spread this assurance from the Palace of Authority balcony, Yuri became concerned.

"Mr. President," the big man rumbled, double-checking the drum was safely locked into his minigun, "I wouldn't recommend you make this speech from the balcony. Plenty of clear shots from nearby windows, even someone on the ground floor with an automatic could get lucky. If you must speak in these troubled times, do so from behind glass or via viewscreen."

"Yuri, Advent will keep me safe!" Boris laughed a great booming laugh clapping the bigger man on the shoulder with a meaty hand, "Advent keeps all its friends safe, and rest assured, we are most certainly friends of Advent."

Boris certainly was a friend of Advent. Former president Vladimir had resisted the idea of surrender until the bitter end but the rest of the Russian government went behind his back and signed the surrender papers. As for Vladimir himself none could say, the disappearance of the disgraced president was not entirely unexpected. With the position of Russian president vacated, Boris, an extremely pro-Advent politician whose popularity skyrocketed with the surrender of Russia to the invaders, graciously took the position.

All this left Yuri with the awkward position of Boris' bodyguard, a job he did out of love for Russia, his birthplace, his everything. Yet every day it seemed more difficult to put on his uniform, such as it was, and go out protecting a man he struggled to believe in. But Moose was tough and devoted to the motherland, nothing could break him, not even himself.

Turning his ballcap backwards the grey-haired Russian sighed once and walked onto the balcony behind Boris.

USA, New Mexico Wilderness: Advent Rail network roughly 1500 KM from the boarder

Operation: Rolling Thunder

Thomas "Sparky" Edwards was nervous, his body sweating from a combination of heat and fear. In hindsight bringing a wool toque to the deserts of old New Mexico might not have been the most brilliant decision he ever made.

His equipment was stored in a rucksack, ready to be removed as soon as the train was disabled. Advent's rail line, like all their technology, was sleek and mechanized, lacking the straights of old human railroads. Even so, there were still tracks though they were inhumanly smooth and perfect, gleaming with a brilliance that was certainly not iron. Because it still relied on tracks the impossibly fast train could be stopped. All it would take were some high powered explosives and proper timing. Hopefully none of the prisoners would be too injured in the process but regrettably there was no alternative. If all went well, only the engine itself would be flipped but the nature of the timing was so precise that Sparky got a headache just thinking about the math required for this event.

Crouching between the tracks, laying down the appropriate amount of explosives was an XCOM member Toby hadn't met those few days ago in Jacksonville, or during his flight over on the Skyranger, the small troop transport that delivered XCOM troops wherever they were needed.

The assault rifle was an unfamiliar weight and felt awkward in his hands. He was more used to a pistol or datapad, not a fully loaded rifle. The rest of the troops however seemed more than comfortable with their weapons and handled them with a level of casual familiarity that was impossible to fake. Peters and Kelly were present, each on opposite sides of the tracks, ready to rush the stalled train almost simultaneously.

Standing beside Jan Peters was a young woman whose name Toby hadn't learned. Judging from her accent and the flag on the back of her uniform she was German. Her features were angular, though pleasant, jet black hair cut short to roughly the collarbone. A nose stud glinted in the sunlight, an addition highlighting the beauty of the young woman's nose. The only deviation from standard light combat and Kevlar equipment on her person was the costume gloves that made the hands appear skeletal and an unbuckled World War 1, Kaiser-style German military helmet resting haphazardly upon her head. The shotgun in her hands and sword on her back clearly showed she meant business and wasn't concerned about how close that business was.

The man laying the bomb down along the tracks was cursing mightily with each action, grumbling and growling in a posh British accent that somehow exaggerated the profanities to a comical degree. The smoke from a cigarette clenched between his teeth floated upwards as apparently nobody had told this gentlemen that smoking and explosives weren't a particularly good combination. A ballcap was pulled tight over crew-cut black hair, a shade similar to the pencil thin moustache that covered the demoman's upper lip, the military precision of the hair sharp contrast to the haphazard, slapped together look of the jet-black Advent armor he wore, with hastily spray-painted XCOM sigils above the relevant logos. A minigun rested on the tracks beside him as did a missile tube, liking holding no more than a single rocket.

"Oi! Bulldog! Move your pansy ass! This train'll be up ours in no time!" The forth and final visible member of the XCOM squad shouted in an overly Australian accent, chomping on a cigarette as he spoke. The big man was tall, with reddish complexion and a dark ginger beard covering his chin unaccompanied by any mustache. His clothes were military style and dyed in a variety of camo patterns as was the fold up, leather Outback hat covering his head. His exposed arms were a mass of swirling tattoos, varying types of snakes in bright orange, ending at hands covered in a pair of fingerless gloves. The boots, while apparently military, were made of some other material, evidently snakeskin, a banned substance from what Toby could glean from Advent records. Yet all that paled in comparison to the man's hard features, a windswept face with a nose bent from healing broken and three vicious, claw-like scars that raked their way down, leaving the Australian man's lips twisted upright in a parody of a half-smile were one claw caught the mouth. Like the German woman he was armed with a shotgun and blade, though he wore his upon his hip and it seemed more akin to a machete than the woman's two-handed sword.

"Taylor, bugger off, it'll be done when it's done. You can't rush a man's art," The British explosive expert responded rather curtly, seemingly unafraid of the very real danger that the train would arrive before they were ready.

The headset in Toby's ear crackled to life as John Bradford gave instructions across the channel, "Gator! Bulldog! Stow the chatter, we're on a tight schedule and we need to be laser focused." The voice stopped the fight before it began and both men grit their teeth, buckling down to work.

Toby, for his part simply did nothing but sweat nervously, looking down at the unfamiliar weapon in his hands. The weight, shape and texture were all foreign, even the smell was strange, yet somehow he knew before the day was done, he'd be all too familiar with its function.
"Done and done!" Bulldog shouted after a moment more of furious work, picking up his minigun and missile tube, scuttling away from the bomb he'd laid out as quickly as possible. Even as he spoke the other XCOM agents were moving towards the shadows of the cliff faces on both sides of the tracks. The valley dipped just enough where they'd planned the ambush that hopefully Advent dropships would require more maneuvering to deploy, enough for them to hit the train, recover the data and prisoners and escape with minimum harm.

Sparky Edwards, for his part, stood beside Bulldog, Banshee Kelly, and Gator, aiming his assault rifle towards the tracks in badly shaking hands. The Australian reached out and gently held the barrel steadying it, "Easy now lad, it won't be as hard as you think. Jabbers fall quickly enough and we'll have 'em by surprise. They don't like that."

He held Toby's weapon still until the Canadian found himself keeping it steady on his own. "Thanks."

"Nah problem mate. Name's Patrick Taylor but folks call me Gator. You?" The man called Gator offered his hand with a smile that seemed genuine unaffected by his lip scar.

"Toby Edwards," the hacker responded, shaking the hand offered with some degree of nervousness.

The voice in his ear crackled again, Bradford was speaking from the emergency command center aboard the Skyranger. "All right people, head's up, the target is inbound in less than five, get in position and get ready. It's about to get loud!"
Toby closed his eyes and prayed everything worked out with this crazy plan.

USA New Mexico, Advent Rail network, exact location unknown.

He couldn't begin to fathom how long he'd been locked in the dark prison cell. It could have been hours, it could have been weeks. A caged animal has no understanding of time, no fathoming the ticking of the clock, his only concern is to get out and find his freedom, to escape and bloody his teeth once more.

They'd moved prisoner number 6512 from the holding cell in the Western United States supermax prison and placed him aboard this train, blindfolded and drugged, gagged and bound. If they'd come at him honestly in the yard he'd have taken a few with him, but the alien puppets were nothing but cowards and found it easier to drug his food.

Alex Cooper didn't blame the aliens' pet Advent, he'd have drugged him too rather than get within shiv range. Enough of his fellow prisoners had learned that lesson the hard way. Advent was watching, it was always watching. They had seen him in the yard and in the block. They didn't want to waste lives moving him, yet, for whatever purpose, felt the need to do so. They wanted the Madman moved, so drugs it was.

One moment he was eating the same slop he'd always been fed, the next he awoke on a train car in a darkened cell, legs split and clamped to the floor, arms trapped and chained to the ceiling, he was an immobile X, unable to move in the slightest. Gradually his eyes ever so slowly adjusted to the darkened train car and he saw its emptiness, not even a chair to sit in. Nothing but a small table holding his few earthly possessions, close enough to see and taunt him, far enough away that he could do nothing to reach them, not utterly bound as he was.

They were two small items, though both infinitely important to Alex. The first was his knife, simple, razor-edged, and used both on himself and on those he liberated. The second, the item of his liberation, the mask he wore. An antique hockey mask, black, with a single white skull painted across it, representing freedom from the lies of smiles and false emotions.

He'd been stripped down to shoes and cargo shorts for the transfer, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. Yet were he free things would be different, were he free he'd carve his way out of this prison and escape into the wilderness. But he was not free, and the armored soldier standing between him and his things was an even more obvious sign of that than the bars holding him in place.

The Advent soldier wore armor of pure white, a stark contrast to the black and red armored soldiers and officers he more typically saw around the prison. His helmet was more ornamental than those of the other Advent troopers and he was unusually soft spoken. The Priest, as he called himself, seemed to move with an air of power that radiated around him, a power more than physical, seemingly spiritual in nature.

Alex despised him.

"Tell me, Mr. Cooper, why did you kill those nineteen people? And so barbarically at that?" His words were stilted, as if he didn't fully understand or feel comfortable with the English language. Yet he appeared perfectly calm. Still, his posture and body-language were not quite human. Alex honestly doubted if the Priest was human, but he doubted that about plenty of people.

"I meant to set them free." The words fell from his lips as they always did, blunt and uncaring. This agent of the false powers was only there to lie to him, trick him, lead him off the chosen path. He cared nothing for this Priest nor his "Gods."

"As you set yourself free?" The Priest moved behind Alex, the prisoner feeling the interrogator's eyes burning across the scar he'd made in the back of his head. The chip had to be dug out; he had to be free of the Advent influence, the Advent message.

"Yes. I was free, they'll be free." Alex maintained his stoic silence, letting that answer be enough for the Advent interrogator. He felt the whisper in the back of his head, that faint suggestion that somehow someone was moving inside his mind, planting thoughts not his own. This new voice challenging the old voices, new voice growing stronger in the Priest's prescience, as if somehow it was being fed by outside forces.

"You felt that forcefully cutting them open and digging out chips implanted only for their benefit would help them?" There was a remarkable lack of judgment in the Priest's tone, a simple factual inquiry that suggested legitimate curiosity.

"Worked for me."

"Yes it did." The Priest mused, moving away from the bound Alex Cooper. After a moment, he spoke again, "You're a unique individual, Mister Cooper, and the Elders want to speak with you. That's why we're traveling across the rails, to meet with them."

"I want to kill you." Alex said bluntly, "That's why you tied me up."

The Priest chuckled, "Quite." He waved an armored hand. "However, that threat means no more to me than the ones uttered by most other prisoners aboard this train. You will arrive on schedule, you will meet with the Elders and you will submit to their will, as all eventually do. This ride, Mister Cooper, is likely to be your last."

"We'll just see about that," he snarled, straining against his restraints, "We'll see how you like it when I wrap my hands around your throat!"

"Unlikely."

USA, New Mexico Wilderness: Advent Rail network roughly 1500 KM from the boarder

The train moved ever closer to the ambush, running silently despite its great speed. The Advent technology that powered it produced no smoke, no obvious sign of fuel. Likely some sort of Elyerium generator, the mysterious energy source the Aliens used for most technology.

Lewis "Bulldog" Samuels crouched low, detonator in hand, eyes narrowing as he waited for the exact moment to trigger the explosion. Gator stayed low as, across the track, Dutchie and the German did the same. Toby felt a surreal sense of calm as he waited for destiny to arrive. "Any moment now, Strike One," Bradford's voice whispered in the headset. "Just a few moments more."

Bulldog watched the train rush towards them, moving at incredible speed, almost a blur against the desert landscape. He waited waited and waited some more. Yet the waiting was worth it because, without fanfare, he hit the button, detonating the explosives directly beneath the locomotive. The explosion was remarkably muffled, far more than Toby expected, yet the effect was immediate.

The train leapt the track, screaming as it derailed in a spray of sand and metal. Several smaller explosions followed the first as individual fuel and power tanks blew from the heat of the ensuring fire, further damaging the fallen Advent vehicle.

Toby rose to rush the train before a firm hand grabbed him. Patrick Taylor pulled him down sharply, "Wait a minute!"

The central car of the train hissed as an Advent superheavy turret rose from the wreck, scanning the immediate area for the source of its recent trouble.

"You might want to cover your ears." The British voice beside Sparky was the last thing he heard before the rocket flew out of the missile tube. The hacker hadn't been paying attention to the heavy, who'd taken the time to prepare his missile launcher, aim at the turret and fire. The rocket struck true and tore the turret free in a shower of fire and sparks.

Toby watched intently with the rifle in hand, wanting both to move and remain frozen. The fire licked the sky as the chattering screams of Advent peacekeepers could be heard within. The first armored trooper staggered free from the wreckage in a daze, his magnetic rifle hung loosely between open fingers. Sparky hesitated but Gator didn't, firing his shotgun towards the dazed soldier. The shell punched through the trooper, dropping him in a spray of orange blood.

Bradford's voice cracked in his ear again, "Alright, move on the train. Be careful, there's bound to be plenty of survivors."

"Right then!" Taylor chuckled, spitting out his cigarette and pumping his shotgun, "Let's go hunting."

As the XCOM forces approached from both sides, several doors along the train opened, revealing Advent troopers determined to make a fight of it. The bark of the magnetic rifles spat rounds towards the oncoming XCOM agents. Sparky fired back with little success. He managed to miss the entire car, sending the bullets into the mountains and earning himself a serious bruise on his shoulder as kickback responded.

Gator and Banshee fired their shotguns eagerly towards the troopers, dropping two of them as Bulldog's minigun seemed to wound several others while driving the rest back behind cover. They were close now, Sparky somehow keeping pace with the rest even as his assault rifle jammed. At the exact moment his panicked brain realized how bad it was to have a useless weapon in the midst of combat, he saw the red-armored officer leading the troopers aim at him.

The shot was like a distant thunder, booming out across the canyon. The officer fell back, clutching his neck in a desperate last attempt to stop the flow of blood.

So XCOM has sniper support. That's good to know.

The final visible trooper fell to a well-placed shell from the lady German and the exterior fell silent. The team reached the ruins of the train, near the third car, and Toby realized just how hot the flames were. While several cars remained upright and intact the locomotive and lead car behind it had been pulverized by the ambush, twisted husks of metal. A few bodies lay scattered about, thrown from the train and killed on impact, all appeared to be exclusively Advent. As Gator Taylor drew his machete and clambered into the train, Sparky began praying that the terminal he needed would still be active.

USA New Mexico, Advent Rail network, exact location unknown.

The Priest had leaned in close, reaching out towards Alex with the twisting tendrils of his mind, desperate to learn the Madman's secrets. He fought hard, threw up the barriers in his mind, trying desperately to keep the thing he despised at bay and out of his private thoughts. Cooper was strong but the Priest was stronger and Madman could feel his control slipping.

Until the explosion.

The car shook violently and the Priest tumbled to the ground, severing the mental link. Alex's body was wrenched against the restraints, sending extreme pain throughout his limbs as the snapped against the bonds. Yet that pain told him he was alive and renewed his determination to fight against the alien domination. He tasted copper and realized that, in all the excitement he'd bit his tongue.

The Priest picked himself off the floor with something resembling panic; reading these so-called peacekeepers was easier than most realized. Alex strained against the bonds but they held tight. He heard gunshots and magnetic rounds and knew someone was attacking. He longed to join the fight but alas, he remained bound.

Another trooper, black armor, ran into the interrogation car, chittering away in that ridiculous language. Cooper didn't know what was said, as the Priest returned the chittering in kind, but he assumed it had to do with the attack and the prisoners. The trooper rushed out, magnetic rifle in her hands as the Priest turned back to Alex. "Don't you go anywhere now."

Madman was still straining against his bonds as Advent began executing the other prisoners.

USA New Mexico, Advent Rail network, exact location unknown.

Patrick "Gator" Taylor didn't like the indoors, he didn't like trains and he didn't like Advent. It was a regular sandwich of suck, indoors, aboard an Advent train, but the mission came first and he was, after all, a professional. Immediately upon entering, an Advent trooper appeared from behind a bulkhead and aimed his magnetic rifle at Gator. But the trooper as too slow and Taylor took his head off with a quick blow from his machete. A second trooper came in from one of the others cars but Jane Kelly's sawed-off made short work of him.

Silence descended over the car for a moment as Gator took stock. "That blinking thing over there?" He gestured towards said blinking thing with his bloody machete, "Is that the terminal?"

Sparky took off his aviators and squinted. Taylor noted his eyes were blue. "Yeah, yeah it is."

"Get to work." Gator's orders were followed without question by Sparky. Technically Jan Peters was in charge at the field level but he and Gertrude were in another part of the train, so Sparky could answer to him.

The hacker dropped his rifle and fished his datapad out of the bag. "This will take a bit of time…"

Bradford's voice cut in, "The Advent network is going to close any minute, time is something we don't have much of so get to it!"

Sparky took a step towards the terminal before he heard the magnetic shot and the cry of agony that followed. He froze, unsure what was happening.

"That wasn't Icepick or Dutchie," Bulldog pointed out helpfully before a second shot and another cry. Gator watched Toby's expression falter as he stepped away from the terminal. "They're killing the prisoners! I have to save Cooper!" His loyalty to his psychotic friend was admirable but the mission came first, every XCOM agent knew that.

"You stay put and hack that damn computer or I'll hack your damn hands off!" Taylor ordered sharply, "Banshee, stay with him, keep him safe and working." He turned to his British heavy, "Bulldog, you come with me, we'll stop Advent from killing any more people."

Before Sparky could protest, Jane had given him a nudge towards the access point and reloaded her sawed off. "Nothing's getting by me." When Banshee Kelly made that promise she kept it.

Giving a nod, Gator stated, "We'll be back, keep your eyes open for the others, they'll be making their way over here soon enough." Taylor tapped Bulldog on the shoulder, ensuring that he followed, the two men approached the nearest car door, took either side of it and then, with a nod, Gator Taylor flung it open. Before the Australian had the chance to look inside, Lewis "Bulldog" Samuels had fired several dozen rounds from his minigun down the hallway. Gator peaked his head around to see a pair of Advent corpses, laying dead in a pool of their own orange blood. The car was a row of cells, all of which were occupied. Unfortunately the first four prisoners had already been executed.

"Get us out of here!" A man yelled from across the aisle at the XCOM operatives. Despite the rather plain features and unremarkable brown hair he looked vaguely familiar.

The familiar-looking man was drowned out by the wailing of another man, this one pale and pudgy, likely a political type. "I didn't mean what I said!" He howled, "Get me out of this cage! Please don't hurt me!" He actually sank to his knees and began pleading, holding both hands in front of him surrender.

"We aren't here to hurt you," Lewis' words were crisp and simple, "We're here to get you out." The Brit turned to one of the cells and bashed the butt of his minigun against the control panel. The force field failed and the man blubbering within unceremoniously fell to the floor.

"You can take your chances in the wilderness or let us take you back to our base," Gator further explained, "Nobody's going to force you to do either but we do need you to make up your minds in the next few minutes." He followed up his instructions by putting a shotgun shell into the nearby control panel and releasing the remainder of the prisoners within the car.

Bulldog was halfway to the other side of the car when the far door slid open. The Advent trooper rushed in, jabbering and pointed her magnetic rifle just like they all seemed to do. Yet something unusual happened with this one, something bad.

Lewis "Bulldog" Samuels sent a wave of minigun fire towards the trooper, more than enough to shred the average Advent goon but the trooper didn't go down. The minigun's burst seemed to disappear into nothing.

It wasn't until the trooper's rifle was up that Gator noticed the purple aura that surrounded her. The psonic energy shielded the trooper like a suit of armor and, much to Bulldog's shock, deflected his otherwise devastating swarm of bullets away. The Brit stared in abject dismay for just a second, but a second was all it took. The sounds of the magnetic rifle echoed in the train car as several rounds punched through Bulldog's chest with gory abandon. The cigarette fell from the heavy's lips even as his body struck the ground.

"Lewis! No! You stupid bastard!" Gator Taylor roared in agony as his friend died before his eyes. He raised his shotgun and fired. The psionic projection that had previously surrounded the trooper must have collapsed because this shot had an effect, blowing the head clean from the trooper's shoulders.

He dropped next to Bulldog in an attempt to stop the bleeding but it didn't matter, Lewis was gone. Gator clenched his teeth and buried his grief. The mission was not yet over, there would be time for mourning later.

He looked up and saw the Priest standing in the hallway, his psionic amplifier already in hand. "You'll join him soon enough," the Priest warbled in broken English.

Before either XCOM or Advent could react, a razor-edged blade came slicing down from behind the Priest. The blade went clean through the Priest's elbow at the joint, slicing the forearm off. Before he could scream the back slash from the same sword took his head off.

Gertrude "Icepick" Hahn stood in the doorway, a blood sword in her hands. She took one look at Bulldog's corpse and her eyes watered "Scheisse!" She swore, wiping her eyes with the back of a bloody hand, leaving red streaks across her pale cheeks.

"He won't be the last," Gator murmured, knowing full well Gertrude wasn't and never should have been a soldier, shouldn't have had to watch friends die, but that was the world they lived in.

"Where's Peters?" He asked grimly, almost afraid of the answer. He looked down at Bulldog and sighed again. Removing the packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, Gator placed them on the dead man's breast.

"Dutchie?" She responded after a moments pause, "He's checking the last car, seems like we're in the clear. Central isn't picking up any more local call signs but Advent dropships are closing in fast."

"That settles it." Gator turned to the gathered prisoners, "Alright, time to make up your minds, you coming with us or wandering off into the desert?"

They decided to come along.

USA New Mexico, Advent Rail network, exact location unknown.

Cooper heard the gunshots, heard the slicing of blades and tasted blood in the air. He strained all the harder against his bonds, trying desperately to regain and rejoin the fight. His knife, his mask, they called out to him, begged for a release. Yet he was bound tight, unable to move at all, despite the power the pain gave him. He could not break free.

When the door to his cell opened, Madman Cooper expected to see the Priest return, his crisp white armor stained red with blood. Yet the man in the doorway was not the Priest but rather some sort of paramilitary figure. He was a haggard, older man, his hair cut short, with scarred features and a prominent eyepatch. The shotgun in his hand stank of gunsmoke and the sword on his back had been used.

"Are you Alex Cooper?" He asked, in a voice like thumbtacs and coffee. The accent was subtle but present.

"Yeah, who's asking?" The gruff front had returned, this man wasn't Advent but his loyalties were unknown.

"My name's Jan, Jan Peters. I'm with an organization that doesn't like the aliens very much. A mutual friend told us where to find you."

That peaked his curiosity, he didn't have many friends and someone who claimed to know someone he considered such was worth meeting. "Who is this, mutual friend we share?"

"You know a scrawny Canuck named Toby? Calls himself Sparky?" Jan asked with the subtle intonation that suggested he already knew the answer and merely wanted confirmation of said answer.

"I do know that name." Alex Cooper actually smiled, despite the pain in his body and the fire in his mind, he actually smiled. "I thought I'd never see that man again."

"He cooked this operation up, just to get you out of here, the kid feels like he owes you."

Alex grinned again. "He certainly does."

"He says you're a killer."

"He's correct."

There was a long pause. The comments Alex made hung in the air, unapologized for and very real. Alex knew what he was.

Jan Peters drew closer, moving towards the first lock that kept Madman Cooper bound. "I'm here to offer you work killing aliens."

"It's work for which I'm well suited." As he gazed upon his mask and knife he knew, this was the purpose for which he'd been born, for which the cosmos had lovingly crafted him, he was happy to be of use. His actions were set regardless in stone regardless of his attitude, so why not use them.

"Who would I be killing the aliens for?" Not that it much mattered.

As Jan undid the first bolt, allowing blood to mercifully return to Alex's bruised right arm, he said simply, "Are you familiar with the XCOM project?"

AN: And so the first mission is a success. What are the files? How does this all tie in? Answers will be forthcoming.

Expanding on the topic of the Liberated, do you want me to stick purely with XCOM aliens or would you like me to tap into some of the aliens from the allies unknown mod? If so would you want me to leave those aliens as they are or tweak them a bit into something that avoids cross-over territory? Thanks for the opinions!