Joshua / Deadeye POV

A subtle knock at the door startles me from my thoughts, pausing my hand that currently wipes down my matte black sniper rifle. I glance up from the position on my loosely made twin bed, to spot Central Officer Bradford at my door. Realization courses through me as I hurriedly jump up from my position, saluting him.

Officer Bradford looks ragged and aged compared to the old days of his commandment. His hair is messy, a five o’clock shadow spread over his lower jaw. His eyes are worn and tired looking- giving the appearance of a bitter war veteran; a scar on the side of his face to boot. He wears dark standard combat issued pants and boots, a dark green long sleeve with a gray abdomen. I spot the combat knife he has holstered to his shoulder with interest. Rumors say there was a time where he sported a bright green cardigan, with a shirt and tie… the image makes me chuckle lightly.

I realize I am in my boxers, but try not to appear bothered by it.

“Sir!” I bellow, unprepared for the visit from such a high ranking Officer.

“At ease soldier,” He replies calmly to me, taking a step into my small abode. He holds his arms behind his back, eyeing me up and down before giving me room to breathe; as he looks away from my lack of clothing.

“...Just here to tell you we need you ready for a drop mission later today. There is a supply train moving towards one of the main cities under ADVENT territory. We need the medical supplies on board, badly. Could use your sniping skills. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir!” I reply instantly, saluting him again.

“Good... Make sure you wear pants at the briefing,” He comments back lightly, eyeing me as he exits with a very subtle grin. When my door slides closed behind him, I let out a loud sigh; falling back onto my bed. My sniper lays beside me, freshly cleaned and prepared for battle.

“Here we go again bud,” I mumble lightly to my gun, like a pet I keep around with me at all times.

The next couples hours I spend preparing my choice of weapons for battle. I always bring a spare pistol with me, along with my standard issue combat knife. I clean and tidy them, strapping them to my combat pants as I prepare my uniform. I spend extra time buffing my combat boots, steeling my nerves with each pass over. After a meal and some idle chatter with some of the other soldiers, I hear the announcement over the intercom for my squad to report to the briefing room. I wave goodbye to my comrades, pacing through the halls quickly among the avenger.

I knock lightly on the briefing room door, the metal sound echoing loudly through the chambers. The door slides open to reveal the conference room. A large rounded table sits in the middle. On the far end my eyes widened to see Dr. Tygan, Chief Shen and Central Officer Bradford. On the end closer to me, I spot three other soldiers, similar to my position. I shuffle in and take a seat, eyes meeting my comrades with a curt nod.

“Commander will be here shortly,” Bradford states, arms crossed over his chest. “...mission details are in the folders in front of you. Dr. Tygan and Shen are here to help you identify the specific medical supplies we need. Overall, we would like to bring the whole supply train home; but, these medical supplies are the top priority,”

“Yes Sir,” vibrates through the room from all of us as we open our folders.

Inside are various pictures of the supply chain that we predict will be used. There are shots of heavier loads being pulled on wide trailers, guarded by berserkers. The supply train seems to be a collection of goods, I spot a lot of food rations mixed with the medical supplies. Pulling the map out from underneath, my eyes trail over the city they circled in red marker.

It is one of the mostly human populated cities under ADVENT. We had gone there several times before to try and recruit others for the cause. Humans there detest the XCOM rebellion because of the ADVENT propaganda fed to them. They think they are living in peace, when really they are just cattle for ADVENT gene therapy.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The next pictures have text next to them, citing the dangers and weaknesses of the alien guards. It seems vipers will be in the majority, a low sigh escapes my lips. Two of them seem younger in years, their scales still fairly large and shiny against the sunlight. The last one is older, scales smaller from years of shedding and a matte finish stretched across them. They are accompanied by a berserker and a sectoid. Overall a strong guarding team for something as simple as a supply escort.

“What else is in the supply train?” I ask loudly, before I can think about it. The Officers seem surprised I noticed it, Bradford hiding a very subtle smirk.

“What do you mean?” Bradford questions me back, eyes staring me down as a forefinger and thumb hold up the side of his face.

“This is… kinda a heavy guard team, right? They frequently have supply trains to this specific city. We have interrupted them a couple times that I know of, sure, but most of the time it's not really worth the trouble. So why are there three vipers and a berserker... for supplies?”

“Good catch,” The Commander's voice rings through the room as he enters. I watch him with a surprised expression. He takes his seat at the end of the table, pushing his folder away.

“...the medical supplies are not just basic necessities for everyday wounds and illnesses-” The Commander begins, calmly.

“Wait. I do not think-” Dr. Tygan interrupts, but Commander merely waves him off. The doctor sits back in his seat, sighing.

“The medical supplies also contain samples of human DNA that have been manipulated with gene therapy. We believe there might be the next generation of alien hybrids encased and hidden in that supply run,” The Commander finished, waiting for a response.

“Isn’t there rumored to be an ADVENT lab in that city?” The soldier next to me asks. I look down to read his name on his chest, Striker sits there in bold letters. Striker is a heavy muscular soldier, hair buzzed short on the sides with more length on top. His cut is even and trimmed to the T, darker than night. He catches me staring, his dark eyes narrowing to meet my green ones. I shrug in response, looking away.

“There is,” Dr. Tygan supplies, pushing his glasses up against his face. “...it is taking cover as an ADVENT burger factory,”

“That’s hilarious,” I mutter quietly, shuffling through my folder.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you what happens if you get captured,” The Commander states seriously. “...you will be tortured for information. Mind probed and controlled. More than likely, DNA harvested. Experimented on. The list goes on… If you think you can not make it home intact,”

“Execute yourself,” Officer Bradford finishes. “...It is very likely they might try to send you back in as a double agent. Naturally, we would inspect you if that were to happen...but no promises can be made that we would be able to save you,”

“I understand,” I reply, various agreements going around the table.

“What about them? Should we try to capture one of these scumbags?” Striker asks, staring at a pair of identical vipers.

“If you can, and it is easy, yes. do not waste any extra energy doing so though,” The Commander responds. “...The priority is the medical supplies. Anything else is just helpful,”

“Yes sir,” We all reply again.

“We will be leaving in about an hour on the Skyranger. Make sure you are loaded and ready. Deadeye, you will be the sharpshooter. Try to take out enemies before they get close to the troopers we have gathering the supplies. Striker, I want you on the ground mobilizing the other rangers. I want you to focus on eliminating the berserker first, and then moving on as you see necessary. Deadeye will support you while minimizing the risk to the supply raiders. Let's bring everyone back home tonight, okay?” The Commander finishes, rising from his seat.

“Yes Sir!”

Immediately we all head to the Skyranger, equipping ourselves to the teeth. I strap my sniper to my back for easy carrying, walking onto the Skyranger and selecting my seat. I breathe deeply for a moment, willing my nerves to settle and calm. This isn’t my first mission, and I’d like to make sure it was not my last.

“You ready?” Striker asks me, sitting across the walkway. His dark eyes flit across my weapon in what I can’t help but feel is judgemental and condescending.

“I am good,” I reply back, tight lipped.

“Can not wait to surprise these motherfuckers,” Striker laughs, a wide spread grin on his lips. I do not comment on his enthusiasm.

“You hate ADVENT?” One of the rangers asks, adjusting himself in his seat.

“Don’t we all?” He snaps back quickly, defending himself. “...Damn aliens stole our whole planet. Made us into slaves and...fucking livestock, for gods sake. You think I am gonna walk up next to one and be friends?”

“No,” The soldier replies quietly, with a sigh.

“You know, we have aliens that work for us too, right?” I bud in for some reason. I can feel the tension skyrocket in the room.

“We are just using them for information, otherwise they wouldn’t be alive,” Striker spits back at me, a scowl on his face.

“Or… they do not believe in ADVENT goals or ways of doing things. Maybe… hear me out on this, they support our cause,” Striker stares blankly at me before I notice the temper bubble under his skin in the form of thick veins appearing on his forehead.

“What, you part alien or something? ADVENT stick it's pretty needles in you and make you into a loyal mutt?”

“No,” I snap back, trying my best to keep my tone calm. “...I am just saying you're no different from ADVENT if your just going to kill aliens indiscriminately or claim that their only use is as knowledge slaves,”

“The fuck did you just say?” Striker growls, leaning forward in his seat. My eyes briefly flit to the seat belt across his chest, holding him back.

“Shut up,” We hear the pilot order from the cockpit.

“Yes Sir,” Our squad replies in unison. Striker sits back in his seat, arms folding over his chest as he stares me down.

It doesn't take long to reach the drop point after that. The Skylander hovers near the front of the supply train, ADVENT troopers scattering upon visual of our ship. The metal doors open on both sides with a loud whirl and my stomach drops.

I hate this part.

Grabbing the rope, we all simultaneously drop out of the ship. We cling to the rope as we descend low enough to drop down. The wind blows harshly in the air. I am ecstatic when my feet finally touch the comfort of the ground, adrenaline coursing through my body. I immediately duck behind a large rock, watching as Striker and the two other soldiers move out. I listen to rapid gun fire as I wait a moment to still my beating heart.

Poking my head up, I begin zeroing in on ADVENT soldiers surrounding the supplies.