ASUNA POV

“Rise and shine, freaks!” Strikers booming voice interrupts my slumber, triggering my sense of defense. My cobra hood spreads wide in irritation. I hiss my discomfort loudly.

“Striker!” I hear Deadeye holler, rushing down the steps. “...you didn’t have to wake them like that,”

“Why not? We wake our own like this, they don’t get special treatment,” Striker argues, kicking the metal bars of our cells with thick black combat boots. The bars rattle very loudly, grating our nerves.

“Can you fuck all the way off, already?” I hear my sister hiss, rising to her full height as she smacks the metal bars with the back of her tail. Striker steps back cautiously, though he wears a wide smug grin.

“Oh? Did I ruin your beauty sleep?” He cackles, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a pair of keys. He jingles them in front of us, taunting. “....you better be good and nice, or i’ll leave you in there to rot- hey!”

He gets interrupted by Deadeye, who swipes the keys from his hand.

“That is why you don’t get to hold the keys,” Deadeye snaps, eyes narrowing. “...you think it's wise to piss off two vipers, at close range?”

“I aint fucking scared of some overgrown snakes,” Striker bites back, dark eyes locking with my orange ones, staring me down.

“You should be! I’ll crush your thin spine in half!” My sister roars, baring her elongated fangs. I slither in front of her body, to block her from view.

“Yeah? Are you wearing your hazmat vest right now? No?” Deadeye begins to lecture his squadmate. “... Okay what about your nanoscale vest then? Surely, you wouldn’t taunt vipers who can spit venom up to like.. ten feet away from them, without your vest? right?” Striker's face grows red in anger. The ranger scoffs while walking away a good distance, arms crossing over his chest dramatically in defeat.

Deadeye sighs heavy in frustration, standing in front of our cell with his hands on his hips.

“Anyway,” He mumbles. “...sorry about that,”

“Do you need something?” I snap back harsher than I mean too, irritated. “...or did the block-head just come down here to vent some stress?”

“Block head??” Striker hollers. I watch as Deadeye snaps his head back at him, glaring harshly. The ranger quiets back down, grumbling under his breath.

“Yes,” The sharpshooter finally replies, turning back to me. “...Dr. Tygan got the okay to let you go shower up. Forewarning, we do have a time limit though. Afterwards-”

“How long?” I interrupt him, slithering close to the metal bars. Deadeye blinks rapidly at me, surprised by my interruption.

“Uhh...it's about fifteen minutes. So anyway-”

“Fifteen minutes? Practically luxury,” My sister hisses with a grin. To the humans I am sure she sounds angry, but she is just as excited as I am.

“I hope their soap smells nice. The humans on the field never smell very good,” I reply back to my sister, the tip of my tail slowly swishing back and forth. “...maybe even some lotion?”

“Is there a problem?” Deadeye asks, clearing his throat.

“No. My apologies. What were you about to say?” I reply, as polite as I can.

“After your shower, we are to bring you both to the briefing room,” Deadeyes states, professionally.

“The briefing room?” I inquire. “...why?”

“The Commander would like to speak to your both,” the sharpshooter replies. My blood runs cold.

“The Commander??” My sister hisses behind me, surprised. “...we are either going to die or be forced to join them. Those are the only outcomes,”

“Shut up,” I hiss back at her in frustration. I hear the key slot in the lock of the cell door, the metal creaks as it opens wide enough to let us out.

“Where are the handcuffs?” I ask, waiting to be allowed out.

“We are trying without handcuffs today,” He replies simply, smiling at me. I hear Striker scoff, commenting under his breath in the distance.

“They are so fucking stupid,” My sister laughs, slithering up next to me. “...We can take them,”

“And do what?” I reply quickly, returning Deadeyes smile and slowly leaving the cell. “...we are on a ship, in space. Where exactly do you plan to go?”

I watch my sister follow my lead. Striker leads in front of us as we go up the stairs, Deadeye in back behind my sister.

“I am sure they have small vessels that leave this ship. Maybe even emergency vessels,” Xena responds as we exit the door at the top of the stairs. When we move into the hallway, we notice the guards have increased in number. All of them hold a large stun baton, a stun gun also holstered to their hips with their normal pistol. I give my sister a sarcastic look.

“...we could still take them,’” She huffs back at me as we follow Striker through the halls.

The walk to the showers is shorter than the walk to the cafeteria. We pass by several halls along the way, where I spot more activity at the end of them. When we pause at the opening to the showers, a guard goes in first to check for others.

“I feel bad, clearing everyone out first…” I mumble to my sister.

“Oh well. They can take a shower whenever they want,” My sister replies, unbothered.

We wait patiently as other women exit slowly over time. Eventually the showers are clear, and we are given the go ahead to go in. Xena practically runs into the door, without looking back.

“Here is some soap and stuff. We included some tank tops for you as well,” Deadeye states, handing me a small bag. “...we are giving you twenty minutes total, fifteen for the shower and five to dry off and dress. I’ll be coming in to get you at the time,”

“Alright,” I respond simply, taking the items from him and following my sister in.

The inside of the showers are damp and warm. All the mirrors are fogged over as I pass them. I find my sister already under the warmth of the water, two showers running simultaneously over her scales.

“This is amazing!” I hear my sisters breathless yell, filled with happiness.

“Yeah?” I laugh, turning on my own showers. “...twenty minutes, and we have to be out of here,”

“Yeah yeah…” she replies, scrubbing at her scales after I toss her the soap. The scent is next to nothing, no floral or fruits. I am a little disappointed but would rather smell like plain soap than the stench of filth.

A small reprieve, among the darkness.

Twenty minutes pass faster than usual. Before long we are pulling the white tanks over our hands, nestled down to our waists and slithering out of the shower as brand new vipers. Deadeyes is leaning against the opposite wall when he spots us, pushing off to meet us with a wide grin.

“You look… refreshed,” He offers kindly, eyeing the slightly skewed diamond pattern on my shoulders.

“Thanks!” I reply in kind. We assume our travelling positions, following our guards to the briefing room. The walk is quick and without incident. When we step into the room, we are met with a large table. At the end sit four individuals, one of whom is Doctor Tygan. My sister and I sit on the opposite end. To my surprise, Deadeyes settles next to me; Striker beside my sister.

A squad of four.

“Welcome,” Dr. Tygan begins, adjusting his glasses. “...May I introduce to you our Commander, Chief Shen, and Executive Officer Bradford,”

“Thank you for having us,” I reply diplomatically. Officer Bradford’s gaze squints, analyzing me closely. My sister slouches back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest.

“I suppose you have a lot of questions,” Bradford takes control of the conversation. “...We also have a lot of questions. As well as some requests,”

“Requests or demands, so you don’t kill us?” My sister chimes in harshly. Her accent is thick in the common tongue, but judging by their reactions they understand her just the same.

“Blunt. Straight to the point. I like that,” The Commander replies with a slight chuckle. “...I would consider it a little mixture of both demands and requests,”

“Great,” My sister responds sarcastically.

“What are the demands?” I inquire, nervous settling in my stomach.

“They will come,” Officer Bradford states vaguely. “...first let's make something clear. We don’t trust you. That’s a given. You don’t trust us--,”

“Obviously,” My sister cuts in with a hiss. Bradford ignores her outburst, keeping his focus on me.

“Dr. Tygan tells us that you think we are going to experiment on you. That is not going to happen,”

“Not while you are alive, anyway,” Chief Shen comments with a blank expression, finger drumming on the table.

“Whatever ADVENT has told you, I am not going to sit here and tell you it is all wrong. I am sure some of it is partly true. Both sides in war believe themselves to be the right one. We are offering to set some things straight, however, and give you... better insight, for the side you are currently on,” Bradford finishes.

“You mean manipulate us.” My sister argues, stubborn to the core. I put my hand on her arm, giving her a look. She glances away from me in clear irritation.

“How do you plan to do that?” I offer back calmly, though anxiety sits heavy in my chest.

“We have composed some footage for you to watch,” Dr. Tygan picks up the conversation. “... You’ll have access to one of our laptops, that also will have news clippings, testimonials… all sorts of information for you to sort through, if you feel the need,”

“Why would we agree to that?” My sister cuts in, sitting up in her seat. “...sounds like a whole slew of brainwashing. Even worse- what makes you think we are gonna listen to a bunch of humans? Of course your content is going to be biased,” Xena laughs.

“You have humans who choose to remain under ADVENT control, correct?” Dr. Tygan asks my sister directly.

“Yeah. Because we take care of them. Give them homes and food,” Xena comments back.

“Do you think all the aliens, in their numerous races, also side with ADVENT?” He questions her. I watch my sisters jaw clench, her tongues slithering out in irritation.

“No. All the stupid ones fall for your traps. Everyone knows XCOM only cares about getting earth back. They only care about other humans,” My sister hisses, anger rising into her eyes.

I watch curiously as Dr. Tygan unclips the folder from his board. A guard walks behind him, taking the folder and walking to place it in front of me and my sister.

“Do you remember the photos I showed you the other day?”

“About the traps?” I ask curiously, opening the folder. My sister hovers over my shoulder, eyes widening at the images.

“Yes,” Dr. Tygan replies. “...the photos I showed you that day were cropped. What you didn’t see…”

“Were the non-human civilians…” I finish for him. My sister pulls the folder from my gasp, sorting through the photos to analyze the details. Off the side are various aliens with their children, dragging along their things, the same as the humans in the photos.

“Yes,” Dr. Tygan finishes.

ADVENT had always told us XCOM hated aliens.

My sister and I are quiet as we look over the photos. The room stays silent as we do so, hardly a murmur through the group. When I look up the Commander is staring us down, patiently.

“So… what happens next?” I ask

“That depends,” The Commander replies to me, arms crossing over his chest. “...Would you like to hear our side of the story?”

I nod my head slowly, turning my head to my sister. She offers no rebuttal, just locks her eyes with mine for a moment before looking back down at the pictures.

“Why?” I question quietly, eyes drifting back down to the aliens in the photo. “...why didn’t you just kill us on the field?”

“That was not my decision, at the moment,” The Commander replies almost bitterly, looking at Deadeye as the sharpshooter adjusts in his seat. “...but nonetheless, you spared our soldier in the hopes we would spare yours. I’d call saving you... just equivalent exchange,”

My orange irises turn to the sharpshooter, but find him avoiding my gaze.

“Thank you,” I offer honestly, tilting my head with a small smile. “...my sister may not act grateful, but she is,”

Xena scoffs in response, avoiding the conversation.

“Do not thank us,” Officer Bradford chimes in. “...We ordered them to kill you. However, watching back the footage from the body cams… I will begrudgingly admit, Deadeye made the right call,”

“I’ve never seen ADVENT peacekeepers display emotion like that,” Chief Shen interrupts, with a solemn expression. “...I thought most of you had your emotions wiped away. Mind controlled,”

“Vipers are special cases,” I supply, leaning back into my seat. “...we have a small amount of independence. We chose to be loyal to ADVENT, per our Matriarch, who submits to the ADVENT elders in exchange for the continuation of our species,”

“What?” Striker scoffs, almost laughing. “...What do they do? Keep your men locked up in cages like fuck toys?”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Disgusting neanderthal,” my sister hisses, glaring at the ranger before pushing the folder away.

“Not quite,” Dr. Tygan states before I can respond. “...The viper species are currently strictly female. All their men have long been extinct. Obviously ADVENT has found a way to counteract this?”

“I do not know the details,” I offer back. “...Our den mothers have offspring, but they are only ever female. I assume it has something to do with implanting dna, but if that were the case--,”

“They are purposefully making sure you only bare females, to keep your population under control,” Chief Shen finishes, cutting me off.

“They wouldn’t do that,” My sister hisses to me. “...are you actually believing these humans?”

“What is it you want to show us?” I reply instead, directly to the commanding Officers while ignoring my sister. Dr. Tygan bends to pick something off the floor, it looks to be a small black laptop bag. He hands it to the guard, who walks it over to place in front of us.

“You can keep that for a while, look through it. Your new room will have access to electricity so you do not need to worry about it dying,” The Commander states loudly. “...We will give you two days to decide if you would like to continue working with us. Not as XCOM necessarily, but maybe as informants,”

“New Room?” I ask, surprised.

“Your intel proved extremely useful,” Dr. Tygan responds with a small smile, hands interlocking with each other on the desk. “...all of our civilians remain safe and unharmed through the journey,”

A strange awkwardness falls over the room.

“At any time we can return you to the field,” Officer Bradford cuts in, clearing his throat. “...You will not be given any rations. But we will deposit you close enough to ADVENT territory where you should be able to find your own way. However, there will be no next time. You will be executed on sight,”

“We understand,” I reply, pulling the laptop bag towards me. “...what happens next, if we choose to stay?”

“We have… a mission, we would like your input on,” Officer Bradford states carefully.

“Of course they do,” My sister grumbles. I tilt my head towards her, considering her words.

“Are we allowed to know any details?” I ask.

“No,” Several of them reply in unison. My sister chuckles sarcastically, in response.

“That is all for now,” The Commander sighs heavily, standing from his seat. “...Deadeye and Striker will show you to your new room. While you are receiving better facilities, in response to your cooperation; I want to make it clear you are still active prisoners. I will not hesitate to have you executed for endangering the lives of anyone on this ship. You are still to be on guard with meals at scheduled times...Your lives are forfeit if I even suspect that you are contacting anyone from ADVENT. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I supply easily, meeting his gaze with courage. His eyes shift to my sister.

“Do you understand? Xena?” My sister shifts her orange irises to him with a bored expression, before looking away.

“Yes,” She snaps.

“Good. You are dismissed,”

Deadeye and Striker were silent as they walked us to our new room. The path was much different than it had been before, all around us were other rooms and board. We passed many troopers along the way, all holding the same look of confusion and apprehension. I tried to ignore the stares, focusing on Deadeyes back.

“Here we are,” Deadeye announces, stopping in front of a stainless steel door. There is a black band across it, electronic lettering scrolling by. I spot our names in the scrolling, the word ‘confinement’ following after.

“I am not gonna say this is the luxury suite but.. much better than a cement bed,” Deadeye chuckles awkwardly. “...has all the standard furnishings. Two beds, two dressers, a small television, small bathroom and sink. Compact and comfortable,”

“No shower?” I ask, already sensing my sister's complaint before she speaks it out loud.

“No, unfortunately. But you are allowed a shower a day, we just have to escort you,” He replies. Turning away from me, he swipes a card from his pocket that opens the door. He gestures with his hand for us to go inside.

“We will be back later to escort you for your meal,” He states simply.

The doors slide closed behind us, leaving my sister and I with our thoughts; as well as our new laptop of information.

“What a fucking joke,” My sister hisses, throwing her hands up in the air. “...You just went right along with it! Did you lose your backbone while I was unconscious??”

“No,” I reply quietly, depositing the black laptop bag on the ground next to my bed. “...I am simply more aware of our situation than you seem to be,”

“More aware??” My sister growls, slithering close and stretching to her full height. She may be taller than me, but I do not bow in her obvious and childish, show of dominance.

“What do you suppose we do? Fight? Get executed? Dropped off in the middle of nowhere so ADVENT forces can find us and then fight, get executed?”

“You are already sinking into their bullshit propaganda, listen to you…” My sister hisses loudly at me. “...at least we know now how easy it is for your loyalty to turn. Just some food, a shower, and nice pleasantries,”

“Stop acting like I am the only one here,” I snap back at her. “...You are happily taking everything they give you, just the same as I am,”

“So what?” My sister bites back pacing by her bed. “...what is your great plan now? Join XCOM?”

“No,” I state. “...I never said I would join them,”

“Then what are you doing?” Xena yells exasperated. “...because it sounds like, to me, you are getting pretty fucking chummy. You even called their commanding Officer,SIR. Our den mother would-“

“Our den mother is not here!” I argue back. “...and if she were, she would tell us to do whatever it took to survive. Collect any information we could and fight back to ADVENT,”

My sister stares at me harshly for a moment, our tempers burning out. Closing her eyes, she breathes deeply before opening them again. Xena looks calmer now, almost friendly. I hear her scoff, laughing afterwards. My head tilts in confusion.

“Of course,” She begins, laughing louder. “...of course! You were playing them!”

“What?” I respond, quietly with my brow bones furrowing.

“So that was your plan! Oh god. I feel dumb now. I am sorry,” My sister laughs. “...you are trying to gather intelligence so when we return, we can prove our loyalty and innocence. That is so smart,” Xena laughs, rubbing her face with her hand.

I do not accept or deny her statement.

“In any case,” I continue. “...we need to see what is on this laptop,”

“Sure, yeah,” My sister replies, waving me off. “...I am taking a nap first though,”

“Really?” I deadpan.

“Yeah! They woke us up early. And I am still recovering!” She gestures to her abdomen, still wrapped in bandages. “... I’ve only been awake like a week now, does not mean my wound just magically repaired,”

I roll my eyes at her antics, giving her a soft smile.

“Are you going to be upset if I go ahead and start looking through everything?” I ask, climbing onto my bed.

“Nah… you can just tell me later,”

“Okay. You should still come look at some of it yourself after your nap,” I offer, pulling the laptop bag onto my lap.

“Yeah I will,” She replies, pulling the thin cover over her body. “...man this pillow is comfy,”

“Oh yeah?” I laugh, watching her settle.

Unzipping the bag, I immediately see a folder laying on the laptop. Pulling it out, it is stuff to the brim with news clippings and pictures. So much so, several spill onto my lap. I gather the materials, opening the folder fully so I can sort through everything.

The first thing that strikes me is the images of humans encased in large tubes, various cords attached all around their bodies. There is a series of pictures all connected to the same room, zoomed out photos showing the massive size of the laboratory. I can easily estimate hundreds of humans confined to these tubes… but the question is, what for?

The next series of pictures are of whiteboards and blueprints. I do not understand all the writing that is present on them, and if I was being honest I could not even begin too. Our education into the fields of science and medicine is extremely limited in the ADVENT program, We are only taught what is necessary. Looking at these images, it appears to be various scientific formulas and a collection of a large variety of samples- both human and alien. I am beginning to suspect why. I put a couple of photos to the side, along with some of the photos with humans in tubes, to show my sister later.

Underneath is a series of news clippings. Various headlines depicting ADVENT as destructive and corrupt. I skim through the paragraphs, not really spotting anything concrete or relevant. Most of the clippings read like opinion articles, something heavily prevalent in human newspapers. It isn’t until I get to a page with a picture of humans in tubes, that I have my interest piqued.

In the article next to a picture of a human screaming inside a tube, they discuss the possibility of DNA manipulation. It's common knowledge among vipers that ADVENT offers to help advance our natural capabilities, though no one ever accepts the offer. Inside the article they discuss the secret to extending the elders' lifespans, which can be found in human DNA. Further going into detail about human farming and the massive amount of disappearances in ADVENT run human cities, frequently blamed as XCOM kidnapping.

I push the clippings aside, a harsh anxiety rising in my throat.

Removing the laptop from the bag, I open it slowly and press the power button. The screen fizzes lightly for a moment before the display pops up, immediately showing a home screen with various labeled icons. I browse through the titles, landing on an icon with the words ‘start here’ typed underneath it.

The next couple hours are filled with videos. From interviews to body cam footage, the camera pulls from inside ADVENT bases… my mind is stuttering to keep up, while my eyes are glued to the screen. Time passes quickly while I absorb all the information I can, until I hear the fainting knocking on the steel door to our bedroom.

“Ready to eat?” I hear deadeye call. My sister tosses in her bed slightly, but does not move to stand up.

“Coming!” I yell in reply, placing the laptop and folder off the side of my bed while I slither up to wake my sister.

“Xena,” I hiss, shaking her lightly. “...let us go eat,”

“Mmmm.. yeah yeah,” She mumbles, yawning wide with her fangs elongated. I shuffle over to the door, opening it and slithering out to greet them. Deadeye looks behind me, eyeing my sister as she crawls out of bed.

“Have a nice nap?” He calls, to which my sister very obviously ignores.

“She did,” I answer for her, stepping between the guards. Striker stands at the end, looking just as grumpy as usual.

“You didn’t nap?” The sharpshooter asks me.

“No. Too much to do,” I reply quietly.

Xena eventually manages to slither in behind me. We are escorted to the cafeteria as usual. Our table is already cleared and sectioned off. My mind is preoccupied as we go through the motions, stuck in the videos I had been going through. It isn’t until my sister patts my arm that I come back to reality.

“Are you okay?” She hisses in xeno, giving me a concerned expression.

“I am fine, just thinking,”

“You are thinking too much,” She responds, eating a bite of food. “...those videos are already wrapping your mind. I told you it was brainwashing,”

“It is not,” I quickly argue back. “...just a different perspective is all,”

“Yeah? I bet it all was trashing ADVENT, wasn’t it?”

“I would not say… trashing is the right word,” I offer quietly, eyes turning to the televisions propped on the top of the walls.

“I knew it,” She snaps. “...stop watching them. We are throwing that bag out when we get back,”

“No, we are not” I bite back. “...I think it is a bit childish to assume ADVENT has never done anything wrong or suspicious, don’t you?”

“Everything they do it to protect us. Of course they have done shitty things. XCOM just spins it to make it seem like it is worse than anything they have ever done,”

I take a bite of my food, not sure what else I am supposed to say back to her. There are a million things swirling in my mind, but none of them will matter till she sees them for herself.

“Are you freaks about done yet?” Striker heatedly snaps at us. I glance up at our guards and realize they have moved closer, all of them stationed around our table. I shift to the side to see around them, and spot several pairs of human eyes staring us down.

“What’s going on?” I ask quietly.

“The news,” Deadeye sighs.

My sister and I switch our attention to the screens again, the whole cafeteria seems to have quiet down to listen.

Executions are happening on the screen. A XCOM Commander kneeled on the ground, helmet discarded. Behind him his wife and daughter are held hostage. I am not sure what kind of video this is, ADVENT never shows executions on the standard networks. However, listening as it continues, it becomes clear this is directly shown to all XCOM vessels. The ADVENT troopers hold a pistol to the head of the Commander, a loud blast following. Half the humans look away from the screen as his body slumps to the ground. His family behind him cry in terror, as the camera walks closer to them.

“How long will you sacrifice yourselves for a planet that does not want to be saved?” An old voice speaks over the video. The daughter is dragged away, held down to the ground as her mothers clothes are torn from her body.

I look away from the screen.

“Let’s head back,” I hiss low to Deadeye, my appetite gone.

“Why? All of a sudden can’t handle watching your own videos?” Striker states harshly. “...but you are right, of course, we are the one who are monsters right?,”

“You are,” My sister snaps back. “...I would not be surprised if those so called ADVENT soldiers were just your men in disguise,”

“You are fucking delusional,” Striker growls back at her, scoffing into a laugh. “...I almost feel bad for you. So paranoid of being brainwashed, but yet; here you are,”

My sister jerks form the table to her full height, the table sliding and clattering violently. Within the split second Striker has his pistol drawn, aimed directly at her face. My sister hisses loudly, threatening while her cobra hood spread wide. My hand reaches for her arms, trying to tug her back.

“Calm yourself,” I hiss, glancing at the crowd forming around us. “...this is not the place,”

“I unno what your sis is saying, but you better listen to her,” Strike threatens. “...seems like she is the only one with any brains,”

“We are about to see your brains,” My sister bites back, hood flailing out as wide as it can go. Striker doesn’t seem the least bit scared.

“That is enough of that,” Deadeye interrupts, bravely walking to stand between them. I tug on my sister's arm, breaking her stare down.

“I think it is time we go back sister,” I say to her, intertwining my fingers in her own. “...leave them,”

Eventually she listens. The transport back is tense and suffocating. Along the way a fight breaks out around us, other XCOM members threatening my sister and I as they walk by. I do not know what the rest of that video entails, but it has rallied the XCOM soldiers into a frenzy.

“I am sorry,” I state quietly, watching my sister storm into our room. When I look at Deadeye, he is looking away from me.

“Go on in,” He offers coldly.

“Can I ask you something?” His head turns slowly to look at me, a heavy sigh leaving his chest. I hear Striker comment rudely behind me, aggravated.

“What?” He inquires, eyes softening.

“Does XCOM hate aliens?”

Striker scoffs behind me.

“No,” Deadeye replies instantly, gaze unwavering.

“Do you hate aliens?”

“No,” He states again. “...is that all?” I taste the air with my split tongue, looking for signs of deception.

“Why have we not seen any other aliens on the ship? If XCOM is apparently.. so tolerant,”

“Because we don’t want you fucking messin’ with them,” Striker interrupts. “...now go into your fucking room. My whole day isn’t dedicated to babysitting your ass,”

Clenching my jaw, I abandon my conversation and slither inside. My sister is waiting for me, settled on my bed while looking through the photos.

“I see you are interested now,” I try to tease, though the moment is much too serious to fully commit.

“None of these prove anything,” my sister replies back to me, shuffling through them. “...all these pictures could be taken from their own facilities. There is nothing that indicates they are strictly ADVENT labs. No logos, no guards wearing our armor, no famous scientists…” she trails off.

“Watch the videos,” I reply, crawling in next to her. “...there are interviews from members known as the Skirmishers,”

“What about them?” She hisses angrily.

“...they are vat-grown clones based on humans, but manipulated with alien DNA,” I whisper back, opening the laptop. My sister immediately smashes it closed, holding her scaled hand over it.

“...and?” She states coldly. My eyes widen at her angry orange ones.

“You do not think there is anything wrong with that?” I ask her in disbelief. I hold up the images of humans lined wall to wall in vat tubes. “...you do not think there is anything wrong with this?”

“These are volunteers, and even so- those pictures have been clearly doctored to be more dramatic than they are,”

“Are you listening to yourself??” I shout, exasperated.

“Are you listening to yourself??” She throws back to me. “...look okay, sure ADVENT is prolly doing some shitty things. But they are doing it to protect us- to further our place on earth. They are fighting for our right to live, for ALIENS right to live. You think XCOM cares about our species continuing? About any other species besides humans? No, they do not,”

“So humans do not deserve to live?” I question her. “...it doesn’t matter what happens to them, as long as our species continues?”

“Yeah,” My sister admits, crawling off my bed. I stare at her incredulously. Not believing the words I am hearing.

“How can you say that? Those humans, are the reason you are still breathing right now,”

“No they are not. You are,” She sighs back at me, rubbing her snout with her hand.

“I did not patch up your open wound that nearly killed you. I did not keep your stitches clean. I did not give you medicine to fight off the infection,” I argue with her.

My sister sighs dramatically, throwing her hands up in the air.

“I do not understand why you are so easily just.. accepting everything they tell you! Have you no loyalty?? ADVENT is the only thing keeping our entire species alive!”

I turn away from my sister, pulling the black laptop onto my tail.

“You aren’t even going to answer me now? Really?” She taunts, tails flickering back and forth angrily.

“It is clear you do not want to listen to anything I have to say,” I state simply, ruled by my own anger. “...I never said we had to betray ADVENT. All I wanted is for you to acknowledge that ADVENT has been hiding a lot from us. XCOM is obviously not all they claimed them to be, so what else are they lying about?”

“It literally does not matter,” My sister replies, picking up some of the photos in my lap. “...at the end of the day, none of these things they may or may not be doing matters. All that matters Is we get home and back to the way things are suppose to be,”

“It doesn’t matter?” I whisper. “...it does not matter if they are killing and experimenting on humans? On aliens?”

“No,” Xena states harshly, tossing the photos back onto my lap. “...you have to make sacrifices,”

“They will end up sacrificing an entire species,” I mutter back, picking up the photo of humans lined in the laboratory.

“...and spawning a new and stronger one,” My sister replies coldly, turning away to crawl into her bed.

“And the video in the cafeteria?” I mumble, glancing over at her back.

“...necessary war tactics,”

The room grows quiet after that, my will to fight exhausted. I have never been so torn on a subject with my sister before. We have always seen eye to eye. Yet, every time I glance down at the photos; replay the videos in my mind- all I feel is ache.

Compassion.

I close the laptop and slide it back into the confines of its black bag. Neatly securing the contents of the folder back in, slotting it over the laptop; before zipping it closed. Depositing the bag on the floor beside my bed, I will the curiosity in my mind to cease.

Laying down under my comforter, I watch the rise and fall of my sister's chest. I can not remember a night where I slept separate from her, in my whole life. Not many vipers can say the same. We emerged from the same egg, identical twins. All I have ever known is the warmth of my sister, the comfort of her strength.

She is right, like she always is. Like she has to be.

“Xena?” I whisper, small and unsure.

“What?” She sighs heavily, pulling the blanket over her shoulder.

“I love you,” I watch her roll onto her stomach, flipping her head to face me.

“I love you too, sis. You think too much,”

“You’re right,” I respond quietly, breaking our eye contact.

Family always comes first.